#redid this entire set

[sqwigeon]

Hearts

[sonknuxadow]

overall i think movie sonic being redesigned was a good decision but sometimes i wish they had never done it with how annoying people are about it with the constant spread of misinformation about how/why it happened + this attitude people have gotten from it thinking they can get anything they don't like in a movie or show or game changed if they complain on twitter enough regardless of what exactly they're wanting changed or how close the release date is or what company is making it or whatever

[brittie-frog]

Some stuff I found while doing the summer cleaning of my room:

- 2 dead bugs on my desk, no clue when they died

- an eviromentalist silver medal to celebrate when I first slept over at their house 6 months after I was born

- my baby book of firsts, mostly filled in except for my first words

I was originally going to have been named after my grandfathers

First time I held a spoon "hit self in mouth, then head and then dropped it"

"I drank from a beaker [5 months old] bypassed the bottle but would only drink water not formula"

"I copied noises and screams like big sister"

- that I have half of series 3 of GoGos Crazy Bones (now on display on my bookshelf)

- A perfect line of my cat's hair

- all of my preschool and infant school report cards saying I need to improve in talking in groups rather than just one on one (never got better, still struggle now)

- A million and one hair bobbles (I have a short mullet so not really needed)

- A bag of gems I thought I lost when we moved

- my trampoline certificates (i was in the middle of getting my level 10 when the gym shut down)

- earring backs I thought I lost last week

- random shit my mum kept for no reason (asked her and she didn't even know why)

My authorisation slip from my infant school to take a week off in the year to see my dad stationed in Europe

Notes from my babysitter about how my day was when I was a baby (do want to highlight the "rejected new food, even gipped" though, that was funny)

My preschool and infant schools' acceptance letters

- and 4 pairs of 3d glasses

And I still have the bottom of my wardrobe but I'm pretty sure I know everything that's in there so no more fun surprises.

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

⭐

ALRIGHT! I told myself I would write this as a reward for finishing today's tasks, so lets go!

Here There Be - Director's Commentary :D!!

Starting with Chapter 1 part 1 (pages 1-4)

First of all, everyone say a big thank you to my friend and editor OurLadyOfCoffee for double checking the spelling and grammar for this comic.

Any mistakes in the writing are my own fault for making last minute changes and not showing her before posting. If she had gotten her hands on this page "missing in all the time in this city" would never have happened ( u_u)... I'll go back and fix the page eventually.

Pages 1 & 2 (and 20) did not exist in the original draft of the chapter. I made it to the lineart/inking stage and the page flow was not working. April's narration felt too cramped and boring. I completely redid the whole 4 page section, and the end the final result is so much better!

Page 1 - Panel 1 had two purposes! One, the establishing shot, introducing our setting. Two, to show that NYC is rebuilding after the Krang. Its been a few months and thanks to cartoon logic, they have made significant progress fixing everything.

I love to experiment with colour as a storytelling device. I use red/orange multiple times at specific points throughout the chapter. It simply morning in NYC or is there something dangerous on the horizon... (figuratively)? The good ol' "Red sky at morning, sailors take warning."

Page 1. Panel 2 has a little 1987 April reference with the lady in the jumpsuit on the right. I was really excited to see a few folks point it out, even if it's not quite the iconic yellow jumpsuit. The colour had to be muted or the bold yellow would pull attention away from April (the focus of the panel).

Hello Junior, what do you have there? Something that won't get context for a while? These panels almost didn't make it into the final cut due to page/panel limits. I was very happy that the added pages gave space for it.

Page 2 - someone sent an ask a while back confused about what April was saying, so to explain the text in a more straightforward way: "the mutants that started out as humans have been going missing, but no one knows how long it has been happening or who has taken them. April has figured out that the non-human based mutations disappeared first."

that orange again, this time over the spots where the now missing mutants used to be :)<. I have no idea if this sort of thing is too subtle or not subtle enough, but it makes me go eheehehee and rub my hands together like an evil mastermind.

Page 3 - I debated whether or not to have them move after the movie. How much structural damage did the Krang do on their way through? What are the chances of the lair being discovered because of this? Would the city be too focused on cleanup elsewhere to bother finding it? Do I really want to design a whole new lair when this one is cool and we barely got to see it? In the end I decided that it was more important to have a familiar visual that the readers can instantly identify as the turtle's home. We'll see if there are consequences for remaining in a potentially compromised lair. :)

Despite only showing two rooms in the page, I spent several hours gathering references and building a layout for the entire station lair. I do not control the hyperfocus, it controls me.

Did you know that there are two different designs for this one archway in the main room? I love seeing stuff like this! If an animation studio with multiple background artists can have small inconsequential inconsistencies like this, then it's completely ok if it happens in my own work. It's relieving in a weird way.

PAGE 3 - panel 5 is another way I tried to show that a few months have passed since the movie. They have put some work into unpacking some of those boxes stacked in the back.

Page 4 - Hello Two Phones Jones <3

The Jones Duo! They both have a little outfit change :D! CJ has a rough edged jean vest calling back to the 1990 movie with 03 colours. Casey has a base outfit colour change to match and a cropped hoodie reminiscent of 1987, in pink ofc.

I do not yet have the skills to show the fight that happened in that shipping yard, so I decided that this comic would begin in the tense quiet after it. This also starts us closer to the actual plot instead of dilly dallying. Maybe I'll eventually make a prelude comic to show what all went down.

Aaand that's pretty much it for April's 03 style narrated opening sequence! This is where the intro theme would start playing~

Thank you for the star, I hope this was interesting! I make so many small decisions per page, it's nice to share some of my thoughts. :)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

SCREECHiNG

WAKE UP HON WE GOT NEW OFFICIAL ROLLO CONTENT (thanks to curekibouka for the translation!) 😭 (Bless him, he came home so quickly at only 40 rolls…)

***Rollo profile, Groovy, vignettes, and chibi spoilers below the cut!!***

As you can see in the card art shown above, it looks like his official English name will be "Rollo Flamme", not some other variation.

His coffin icon has a bell on it! Very fitting.

Yes, he’s triple fire magic and has a Duo with Grim.

… LMAO his Buddies are Malleus, Idia, and Azul 🤡

He's a third-year student at Noble Bell College, Student Council President, (but we already knew this) and 18 years old

His birthday is Feb 2nd! (There was a mistake in the initial launch of the Rollo card and profile in which his birthday was incorrectly stated as Feb 4th, which is Cater's birthday. Man was so mad when he realized he shared a birthday with a NRC boy so he redid his birth certificate/j)

(Here are screenshots of before and after the change; I happened to take a picture before the update:)

178 cm tall (LMAO I guess he doesn't meet a certain Ghost Bride’s standards)

Right-handed

Comes from the Shaftlands (again, we already knew this)

HE'S IN THE HAND BELL CLUB????? TF... HE JUST STANDS THERE AND RINGS HIS LITTLE HAND BELL????? ? ???? ?? ???

Best subject is Potionology

His hobby is cleaning malewife trait

He obviously hates magic 😂

Favorite food is not, in fact, croissants; it's actually grapes

Least favorite food is savarin, which is a ring-shaped cake soaked in flavored syrup and then garnished with cream and fruit

HIS SPECIAL SKILL IS GARDENING WHICH MADE ME LAUGH OUT LOUD... considering what he used that skill for... 🤡

His official description in the profile states that Rollo is admired by his classmates for his seriousness and no-nonsense attitude, but he also has a tendency to be… neurotic 💀 gee, ya think

His vignettes are set at NBC, not Night Raven College. They seem to be set prior to the events of Glorious Masquerade.

It's said that the reason he is at NRC now is because he is there temporarily to study.

We see Rollo going about his daily routine. He tends to the Bell of Salvation and the gargoyles early in the morning when the sky is still dark which probably explains the dark eyebags. He’s able to witness the sun rising as he does his cleaning. Rollo finds the dawn peaceful! and loves listening to the bell ring.

OMG the gargoyles are so excited when he pays attention to them 😭 They hop around like excited little puppies… NOT ROLLO WANTING TO GET RID OF THEM

Rollo also has his duties as a regular student. I believe he discusses grades with his vice president. He thinks his classmates are stupid 😂 and finds it ironic that these people look up to him and see him as a top student and a great magician…

Rollo eats his lunches alone because he finds people noisy. Bruh, he has 2 croissants, 16 grapes and 1 cup of cafe au lait (coffee with milk) for lunch every day of the year…

He shops in the City of Flowers and has a routine of buying a plain letter set, only all white paper and envelopes—even if there is a better deal on other sets. If Rollo is one thing (besides angry), he’s consistent and likes to stick to a routine and to things that are certain!

LMAO Rollo hates the City of Flowers because it’s flowers blossom because of magic ✨

Rollo runs into some trouble when a community goat wants to chomp on rhe letter set he bought in town 😂 He’s calm at first but then gets mad because he considers the goat unsanitary and it’s trying to eat his robes…

I want to stress that this boy is suppressing his rage and disgust the entire time 🤡 He’s trying so hard to pass as well-adjusted… Man’s literally going to send this goat flying but stops because he realizes there are too many witnesses…

At the end, Rollo writes a letter to his parents to let them know he is doing fine. Apparently, they’ve been worrying about him ever since “that” incident 😔 The letter reads as very formal and stiff, as though he’s writing to strangers. Maybe he has emotionally distanced himself from his parents (perhaps as a result of “that” incident), although he isn’t outright rude about it.

HIS LITTLE EVIL SMIRK... IT'S EVEN MORE FUNNY WHEN PAIRED WITH HIS VOICE BECAUSE IT'S SO SOFT AND CALM, THE KIND OF VOICE YOU'D NORMALLY HEAR IN LIKE AN ASMR VIDEO 😭

The fact that he writes with a feather quill instead of a magical pen………… ….. ….. … … . .. . … … . . . . .. . … .. . . .

Also the fact that he's by default in his big, bulky uniform with tons of extra material that would make it TERRIBLE for P.E. 💀 and has nothing else to change into... The last screenshot of the group above also looks like Sebek has leaned over to Rollo's ear to spread the GOOD WORD of WAKASAMA and Rollo is trying to do his very best to ignore him...

P.S. I want everyone to know that he does THIS whenever he has a Perfect in Magic History... ROLLO'S LITERALLY A CARTOON VILLAIN PLOTTING REVENGE AGAINST HIS CLASSMATES.... .. . .......... . .. . . . . . . . . . yes, I stuck him in a class with Malleus, Idia, and Azul :))

AND NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HIS GROOVY...

WHY DOES iT MAKE ME WANT TO BULLY HIM INTO THE DIRT 😭 jUST Lo0OKK AT HIM, HE'S tryING sO HaRD THAT I T HAS THE OPPOSITE INTEndeD EFFECT AND HE COMES oFF AS A MOREN SKRUNGLY L0SEr INSTEAqd 2reqrbhyygo13ogyt68p9egflbagj;jlg.DIHOBbyOFSYSvtdDOVFEILBcsnkmg2myoeqofadnm,vd..go0i424ph13nifIUSFVsofsgotfFIUOFOVUEWVOQEGYVbiypfpb OTL

I'M SO NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS, I'M SO NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL

I aM SO ASPoRRY fOR THE PERsON I Am AbOUT To BecOME 🤡

[theninthlaw]

JOB STONE WIPs I redid Urianger’s and Raha’s foundations to do a new set of those two since I wasn’t entirely happy with how they originally turned out. Long way to go with these as well as draw the rest of the jobs. Once all the basics are done for all the jobs, I’ll move onto colouring and stuff. Black mage: Yshtola Dark Knight: Fray Astrologian: Urianger Paladin: G’raha Tia Monk: Lyse Red Mage: Alisaie

[sunkeji]

Heyyy can i ask for tsukishima and sakasu were them and the reader try those periods simulation things! The reader is all fine and chill while the boys are screaming bloody murder and asking how the reader deals with these on a monthly basis! Separately please! Thank you!!!!

Period simulator ft. Tsukishima & Sakusa

a/n: I'm sorry I got to this late!! I didn't like how I wrote it originally so I scrapped the whole thing and redid it. Hopefully you like this (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Warnings: curse word used in sakusa's part, not proofread, if taken out of context it sounds pretty weird,it feels like i wrote a descriptive essay.

Imagine you make a bet against your boyfriend that if he was a girl, he wouldn't be able to bear the pain of period cramps but he says otherwise. So after that conversation with him, you purchase a period simulator to try during the weekend with him. Sitting on the couch side by side with the period simulator between you two, he steels himself for what's about to come while you are brimming with anticipation.

Tsukishima Kei

He was super confident at first that he would be able to withstand the pain. Not because he undermines the pain of period cramps but because he thinks he has a high pain tolerance. But little does he know...

At the first setting, it was still alright. It was uncomfortable, but still bearable. He brushed off your teasing comments, telling him that it's okay to back out now if it was too painful. He merely rolled his eyes and quipped back, saying he could go to sleep at this setting.

You crank the pain to level 3 and you see Tsukishima jolt. You give him a teasing smile and he quickly says that it was just very sudden and how he didn't expect it and blah blah blah.

You don't even give him a minute to get use to it when a mischievous smile makes its way to your face and you switch it to the highest setting.

Just as quickly as you switched its setting to the highest, you hear a quiet whimper come out of him. The both of you freeze and time seems to have stopped save for the ticking of the clock in the living room.

You hit him with the:

You open your mouth and are about to say something but he quickly interjects in a quiet voice; "no, keep it to yourself, I don't want to hear it" all while avoiding eye contact. You know he's not being mean, just a bit embarrassed or sulky maybe 🤔 so you don't take it to heart.

After that whole fiasco, he made you promise to not utter a single word to anyone about this. And one more time you bring up the fact that the great Tsukishima Kei had actually whimpered, he might actually strangle you for real this time.

Jokes aside, He's left speechless that you actually have to deal with this each time you get your period. He's much nicer to you now when you're on your period, You get less sass from him when on your period and he's more understanding of your situation now.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Can’t believe you actually bought it. Scolds you for wasting your money but since you’ve already bought it, might as well try it. He pretends like this whole thing is a nuisance but he is actually very curious.

He’s kinda nervous because from what he’s seen with you on days where your period cramps are really bad, it looks like you’re suffering from an unknown stomach disease that’s plagued the entire female population in the world and you are just another one of its victims.

Some very tiny part of him wants to be tough and show you that he’s strong but in actuality, he’s in for a rude awakening. He takes level 1 and 2 like a breeze but when you turn it up to level 3, beads of sweat are rolling down his forehead and he’s gripping the armrest of the couch and the veins in his arm are visible.

You glance at him, waiting for another reaction but when nothing else happens, you feel a tad bit disappointed and tell him you’ll put it to the highest setting now. He’s about to protest and reaches out to grab your arm but the intensity of the period simulator takes him by surprise and instead he ends up grabbing your thigh and squeezes it hard.

Now the both of you are screaming profanities and are thrashing around. If he doesn’t let go, you can’t adjust the setting of the period simulator. And if you don’t adjust the settings of the period simulator, he can’t let go because it hurts like a bitch. It’s a whole never ending cycle.

So its a few seconds of the two of you thrashing around before you reach under his shirt and yank the wires and simulator off of him. Then, it’s just the sounds of the two of you heavily breathing and trying to catch your breaths. You turn to him and your eyes go wide when you see he actually has a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he stares at you blankly.

Now you’re left wondering what’s the appropriate course of action. Do you start cackling like a maniac because you never thought he’d start crying then console your boyfriend or do it the other way around? Well you didn’t have to think about it for long because a few seconds later, his head fell ontop of your lap with his arm covering his eyes.

You ask him if he’s feeling okay with a goofy smile plastered on your face from the event that had previously unfolded. You hoped your boyfriend wouldn’t move his arm now otherwise he’d pinch you for smiling at his misery. He mumbles softly about how he just needs a few minutes to recollect himself and then he’ll be good to go. So in the meantime, you brush your fingers through his hair. After a few minutes or so he asks you with a sigh; “You’ll never let this go will you?”. You laugh and plant a kiss on his head “Nope!”

You remind him how it feels even worse by adding the nausea, dizziness and low blood pressure you may get. So now he takes extra good care of you 🫶 he feeds you lots of red meat, refills your water bottle and even gives you massages anywhere you're feeling sore.

[monbons]

Stitches and Sentences Sunday

Thanks for the tags @confused-bi-queer and @roomwithanopenfire. I am excited about all of your projects!

STITCHES Now that y'all know Beautiful Things is a collab, I can share that all my stitches have been going towards making TWO sets of smutty Baz and Simon. The second is a gift for @rimeswithpurple to thank her for all the effort she's put into the beautiful art for the fic. (Y'all are truly not ready for how amazing it is!) Since this is a new body design, the second set is all about perfecting mistakes from the first.

As you can see, the first Simon had very skinny calves. I used the Baz pattern as a base and fattened only a little, which was truly dumb of me, I know. For the second Simon (and the one I am gifting Arianna), I redid the entire pattern--both width and length--and the leg looks SO MUCH BETTER.

I suppose there is a lesson in there somewhere about taking shortcuts or constant improvement. Either way, I am excited for how much nicer this second set is turning out, even if Arianna has nowhere to display them since she has Little Purples in the house! 😆

SENTENCES So, in the spirit of sharing an actual WIP, I don't think I will preview more of my EGF. The fic is so short that I don't want to give too much away, but I do have a WIP I've been trying to workshop the last couple weeks.

After my Cheer AU for COC, I couldn't get cheer Simon out of my brain. So, I decided to try to tackle it as my next long fic. It is still very much in the planning phase, so literally everything could still change. With that said, here is a snip of a scene I've partially drafted trying to get a sense of the story and narrative style I'd like to adopt.

I cackle maniacally and shove my finger against Baz’s lips. The corners droop in distaste. “Lick it, Baz,” I insist. “You know you want to.” Baz closes his eyes and shakes his head, smearing orange dust all over his mouth like some kind of psychedelic lip gloss. He looks ridiculous. His face is all frowny and his arms are curled against his chest like the fetal position can save him from being soiled with fluorescent Cheeto crumbs. Like this doesn’t make him an even better target for the ill-considered antics of his favorite person in the whole world.  (I’m his favorite. He’s told me so.)

Happy Sunday to all. May no one smear you in cheese dust. Unless you want it, I suppose. @alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy

@best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @bookishbroadwayandblind,

@confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla, @drowninginships, @emeryhall, @harrie-leithillustration

@hushed-chorus, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli

@larkral, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @messofthejess, @mooncello,

@orange-peony, @prettygoododds, @raenestee, @rbkzz, @rimeswithpurple

@roomwithanopenfire, @run-for-chamo-miles, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee, @stitchyqueer

@supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @technetiumai, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon

@thewholelemon, @valeffelees, @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

from scratch | chef luca x oc

Summary: Emily Tyler had to completely start over nearly three years ago. She got fired from her job as a sous chef in New York, had to move back in with her mother in Chicago, and the father of her unborn child was a complete asshole. Now she is a private chef for a wealthy family, has her own apartment, and her little boy Henry is the most precious thing in the world to her. But what about her love life? (wc: 10840)

Warnings: single mom!oc, inaccurate cooking and chef world things, food and eating mention, language, i gave luca a last name, SMUT 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI (f oral receiving, chef luca king of pussy eating, possibly too many eating metaphors, pinv, use a condom unlike these dummies, Big Boy Luca)

✎……welcome back will poulter phase it's good to see you 🫡 um yeah there's prolly gonna be more of this oops

The only time Emily ever felt truly relaxed was when she was cooking. It was like making art — only this art could be tasted and enjoyed by so many. Who didn’t like to eat? Who didn’t find some comfort in sitting around a table with friends and enjoying some food? If the preparation was the part she liked the most, watching the looks on people’s faces as they took the first bite had to be a close second.

As she cut the gnocchi with the pasta spatula she bought in Florence over five years ago, the ring of the doorbell echoed throughout the house. Setting the tool down, she wiped her hands clean of flour before jogging down the entry hall to answer the door. She knew who was there, there was no need to look at the keypad next to the door showing the live feed of the front stoop.

“Hey, Carmy, how’s it goin’?” she asked with a smile as he stepped inside.

He looked just the same as always. Shorter, stalky, covered in tattoos, curly hair falling in his eyes. He smelled like cigarettes — no doubt having smoked one just before he came inside. She always hated that he did that, but he never listened when she advised him to quit. 

“I’m gonna die sometime anyway.”

It made her shake her head even now before pulling him in for a hug.

“S’good, s’good,” he sighed as he patted her on the back, then he pulled away with a look of awe on his face. “This is where you work?”

Emily turned to look into the house as well. She had gotten used to the sight over the past two years. The grand staircase, the baby grand piano sitting perfectly polished in the entry hall, the crown molding, and vaulted ceilings. She remembered that she couldn’t help but gawk in her first few weeks. Now it was like any other house to her. Even if there were ten bedrooms, two kitchens, and an entire wine cellar.

She started making her way back to the kitchen and Carmy trailed after her hesitantly, hands shoved into his back pockets like he was afraid to touch anything. And she really couldn’t blame him.

“Yep, this is it,” she responded. “He owns three businesses here in Chicago and two in Indianapolis — and now he’s running for congress. He bought this place five years ago and completely redid it.”

“Fuckin’ insane,” Carmy muttered under his breath, eyes darting all over the kitchen. With its black and white marble countertops, flat white cabinetry, and beautiful gas-burning stove. It was a home chef's dream. “And the wife doesn’t even work?”

She went to the other side of the island and went back to her work on the gnocchi. She laughed, “Nope. She’s at some mommy and me yoga class right now with their youngest.”

He watched her work for a minute. Her hands moved swiftly and accurately as she rolled out the little balls of dough and pressed them with a fork to get that signature shape. It was just like back when they worked in New York. Like nothing had ever changed. 

Only everything had changed.

“H-How’re things goin’ here?” he finally asked, setting himself gently down on one of the barstools pulled up at the island.

“Good. The whole…Private chef thing is workin’ out well despite what you said,” she replied, glancing up at him through her lashes.

Carmy’s face pinched. “Wh-What did I say?”

“That the private sector is where good chefs go to die.” Emily smirked as she scooped up the gnocchi and placed it in the pot she had waiting.

“Ah,” he huffed, resting his arms on the marble and fiddling with his fingers. “This…This seems like a good gig.”

“The hours are still shit but I get paid way better than any restaurant I ever worked at, so…I’ll take it.” Emily snorted as she began working on the next batch of gnocchi. “They actually just asked me to move into the place above the garage. Said it would be easier for everyone while John’s working on the campaign.”

“No shit?”

She shrugged. “They’re crazy rich people.”

“You considering it?”

“Maybe. It’s nicer than my apartment now. Way nicer.”

Carmy made some noise like he understood and they fell into silence while he watched her work. She was slower now than she was when they worked at Empire. She took her time and made sure every gnocchi was handled with care. He supposed that was what happened when you only had to cook for one family instead of dozens of diners every night. When you weren’t being yelled at or bullied or told you were worthless. He asked quietly what she was making like it might disturb the process. She had a small smile on her face when she described her play on steak and potatoes. Potato gnocchi, steak cooked in herbs and butter, button mushrooms, and fennel. HE wished he could try some. Emily finished the gnocchi and wiped off her hands.

“So, uh…What’re you doin’ back in Chicago?” she asked with a small smile as she leaned on the island across from him.

It was like Carmy stared straight through her as he said, “Mikey died.”

“Oh, fuck.” The smile instantly dropped from her face. “I’m so sorry, Carmy.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine. He uh…He left me the restaurant, so…”

Her brows furrowed. “The beef place?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Emily looked at him in that way he always hated but craved. In that way like she cared. In that way like she would genuinely do anything for him at that moment. She always had understood him. Even when they were in high school together. Even when she came over to his house and had to stand there and watch as his mom lost her mind on him. Even when she saw the worst of him in New York. Even when he did nothing when she got fired.

And Carmen looked right back in that way she knew so well. In that way she knew he was ignoring it. In that way she knew things were shit but she wouldn’t push. In that way she was like the sun he could barely look at. Her family had known the Berzattos since before she was born. How could she not understand him in some almost complete way?

“Do you need anything?” she asked gently.

He licked his lips before he replied. “Yeah, I — I want you to come be my Chef de Cuisine.”

Her expression instantly changed to one that screamed really? Brows furrowed over her blue eyes and her lips downturned on one side. He knew that expression well too. It nearly made him laugh.

“Your CDC? At the…Beef shop?” she questioned.

“I’m thinking about gutting the place,” he said, sitting forward in his seat. “Turning it into something high end. Classic. My own restaurant.”

“Do you have the money for that?”

“Not yet. Maybe in a few years.” 

“Carmy, I love you…” She trailed off and sighed, ringing her hands in the fabric of her yellow apron. “But no.”

“Em, come on, you’re a fuckin’ great chef. Creative, organized, patient. I never understood why Empire let you go. I mean there was that honey incident but that was an accident —”

“Carm, Carm.” He stopped talking and looked up at her with raised brows. “I didn’t get fired because I got honey everywhere and people’s shoes were sticky for a month. And I didn’t get fired because I took some liberty with the recipes either.”

He shrugged. “Then what was it?”

“I was fired because I got pregnant.”

“The fuck?” he was instant in his reply, sitting up straighter in his seat with his face pinched in anger. “What the fuck?”

Emily sighed as she moved over to the fridge to get out the mushrooms for cleaning and cutting. “He who shall not be named, when I told him, said I wouldn’t be as dedicated so he told me to pack my knives and go.”

“What the fuck?” Carmy repeated.

“Yeah,” she sighed again, taking the mushrooms to the sink. “It was for the best. My mom’s here and I found this job…Lets me be with him more.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Henry.” She smiled, showing all her teeth, when she said her son’s name. 

Carmy had seen pictures. He never had thought much about kids but Emily’s was cute. Curly blond hair like his mom, big brown eyes, and dimples on his cheeks. He was curious and, from pictures he had seen, loved to help in the kitchen. Had been helping cut fruit and making sauces since he could hold a spoon. There was a video of him making pizza that he had to show the entire staff of Empire at least three times.

Another silence filled the space between them. Carmy’s eyes were trained on her as she cut the mushrooms from their stems but his mind lost somewhere else.

Then he suddenly muttered, “I still think you’d make a great CDC.”

Emily chuckled. “I appreciate that, but my answer is still no.”

“I thought working in a restaurant was your dream?”

“It was, when I was younger and had no responsibility except myself,” she answered, “I don’t have the freedom to take that kind of risk anymore. I have Henry to take care of. Restaurants have always been risky business and this job is stable. They pay me way more than they probably should and have offered me a place to live for free. I can’t…I can’t give that up.”

More silence. Filled by the soft fump fump of mushrooms landing in the saucepan as they were cut. That was another thing about Emily. She never beat around the bush, she never softened the blow, she never gave any room in an argument. Soft but hard. Kind but stern. It was something Carmy had needed in New York. Back when he thought he was the shit but he was miserable. Back when everything was falling into place but he still felt empty. And then she left…And it was even more empty than before.

“I understand,” he said, quietly. 

She cut her eyes over at him from her spot at the sink. “You do?”

“It’s a good gig. The beef…It could all fall to shit.”

“Thanks, Carm,” she smiled, then added, “If you ever need my help though, just let me know.”

Emily walked into The Bear kitchen with her knife bag thrown over her shoulder to complete and utter chaos. 

Richie was banging on the walk-in door handle with a hammer, yelling about how he was going to get someone out of there. Three chefs were still trying to make food but were clearly behind. Dishes were piled up yet clearly missing elements. All the while the CDC was still trying to call out orders and call for hands amidst the screaming from Richie and the loud banging of the hammer on the metal door.

It was the most chaotic kitchen she had ever seen. And she didn’t expect anything less from Carmen Berzatto.

She knew at least part of what happened from the very loud call she had received not twenty minutes ago. The Bear was opening that night and one of their line cooks had suddenly been fired. She wasn’t about to ask why. All she knew was that Carmy needed her help and that she could give it. So, with her mother there to watch Henry, she left her client’s house wearing a chef’s coat for the first time in nearly three years.

“Cousin! Hey!” Richie yelled when he spotted her standing just inside the back door.

Emily waved with a tight smile, unsure what the hell she was getting herself into.

“A-Are you Emily Tyler?” the CDC called out from the stand.

She walked further into the kitchen with a nod. “Yeah, I am. Where do you need me?”

“On the line. Tina will fill you in.”

Tina was a small, older woman with short curly hair. She had a motherly air about her and seemed calm enough despite the disarray. Emily quickly went to the empty station and unrolled her knife bag. Tina flashed her a smile but got right to business, telling her what to cook and how to plate the dish that was her responsibility. It felt like getting back onto a bicycle for the first time in over a decade. Did she even remember how to do this? Did she remember what the CDC’s calls would mean? Would she be able to handle the pressure? But it was just like getting back on a bike. She remembered just what to do. It felt like second nature to start the dish and get it together.

“Where’s Carmy?” she asked the pastry chef as she put together a sauce by his station.

He glanced at the walk in while fiddling with some needles. “Locked in there.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Halfway through service, she glanced up at the clock. Just beneath it, there was a corkboard hung up. And on a crumpled piece of paper there was her number and clearly Carmy’s handwriting that said: 

If we ever need help, call Emily.

It made her smile.

“So did Carm tell you why he wanted you to stage with me today?” Emily asked lightly as she tied her apron around her waist.

Sydney, the CDC of The Bear, stood beside her behind her client’s kitchen island also wearing an apron. She looked unsure as she tied her hair back with a multicolored silk scarf. But she also looked tired — and for good reason. It was five in the morning. The sun hadn’t even come out yet, the birds weren’t even singing. The large house was quiet and still. All of the lights dimmed save for the kitchen and breakfast nook.

Just another price paid for being a private chef. An absolutely absurd call time to get breakfast on the table before John had to be at work and Cindy had to be…Wherever she was going that day.

Emily had been in the kitchen long before Sydney had arrived. The kids had requested her homemade bread with the dish she was making that morning and she really was a sucker for their puppy dog eyes. So the rustic loaf was already in the oven and close to being ready.

Sydney sighed. “Not explicitly. He just said you were good at making up dishes.”

“Oh, God,” Emily laughed as she opened the fridge and pulled out the ingredients she needed for the breakfast she wanted to cook. “Well, he picked a good day I guess. John is hosting a dinner tonight for the biggest donors for his campaign. He told me to go all out.”

“What’re you making?”

“Salmon Wellington,” she replied with a knowing smile.

Sydney guffaued. “What? How does that even work?”

“Listen, I tried it once years ago when I was working at Ever. The first dish I ever put out there. Andrea Terry called it ridiculous but it stayed on the menu for a few months.” Emily began to chop up the peppers and then pointed with her elbow towards the large tomato out on the counter. “Since you’re here — could you dice that for me?”

She got straight to work, pulling the proper knife from her bag and beginning to cut the tomato easily. They worked in silence for a while. Once the peppers and tomatoes were cut, Emily threw them into a pan with oil and butter. The combination was mashed once it was cooked down and eggs were added into the pan. The eggs were cooked until just done and then Emily added hunks of feta cheese to the top and let them melt.

“That smells amazing,” Sydney added as Emily cracked fresh pepper on top as well as some red pepper flakes.

“Thanks,” she smiled over at her. “This is a recipe I learned in Turkey. Menemen. I ate it almost every day I was there.”

“When did you go to Turkey?” Sydney asked as the timer for the bread went off. 

“After I stopped working at Ever but before I worked for Empire,” Emily sighed, pulling the loaf out by the end of her apron. “One of the best years of my life. I traveled all over Europe. Learned from some of the best in the world.”

“What made you come back to work at Empire?”

Emily looked over at her with a smile as she tapped the bottom of the bread to make sure it was done. “Carmy. He called. Said he got CDC and wanted me on his team.”

“Carmen? Seriously? You dropped everything just because he called?” Sydney scoffed.

“Yeah, I did. It’s Carmy. We’ve…Known each other since we were kids. He’s the one who introduced me to cooking. I would do anything for him.” Emily looked down at her watch. “Now get the jams and juices out of the fridge, please. They’re gonna be down here in like ten minutes.”

They worked quietly. Sydney set the table while Emily finished up with the bread and Menemen. Eventually, the entire spread was set out on the table, just before the Yotter family came down the stairs to enjoy it. They all said their thanks to their two chefs before they disappeared back into the kitchen where Emily broke out a diet Coke and a bit of cottage cheese for herself.

“It’s seven in the morning,” Sydney commented with a grin about her drink of choice. 

Emily sighed. “Sure is.”

“I gotta know. Did you and Carm ever…Ya know?”

Emily nearly choked on her Coke. She coughed and spluttered and thumped her first into her chest. All while shaking her head. 

“No. God, no.”

“Okay, okay, okay — just checking,” Sydney said with a smile.

They moved through the rest of Emily’s typical day. Tending to the garden in the courtyard. It used to be just a patch of grass, but after the Yotters had tasted the fresh produce from the farmers' market, they wanted the stuff as readily available as possible. And gave Emily the free reign to grow whatever she wanted. Herbs, peppers of all varieties, squash, tomatoes, and berries. 

Going grocery shopping for dinner that night. Buying fresh salmon, savoy cabbage,  shrimp for a pâté, beurre blanc, salmon caviar, and Robuchon potatoes. Sydney could picture the entire dish in her mind and worried whether or not they would be able to pull it off. But Emily seemed calm as a cucumber, even going so far as to pick up flowers for a centerpiece at the table. Sydney wished she could be like that when it came to making a dish. Wished she wouldn’t overthink every little detail or 

Visiting her son Henry at her apartment where he was being watched by her mother over the lunch break. He screamed with joy as soon as his mom opened the door, running as fast as his little legs would take him so he could get to her faster. Emily laughed as she scooped up her son, peppering his face with kisses and listening to him giggle. They had mac and cheese with hotdogs and peas for lunch. The eating life of a chef. Just bought caviar but they’re having box mac and cheese for lunch.

“How did you…Do it?” Sydney asked as they say at the dining table, watching Henry play.

Emily looked over at her. “Do what?”

“Have this job and take care of a baby?”

It made Emily laugh softly as she turned back to her son. A thousand memories rushed through her mind. Being exhausted down to the bone. Henry screaming for hours. Her milk drying up from the stress and having to switch to formula. Feeling like a terrible mother. Not knowing how anything was going to work out. She could nearly feel the tiredness of that time creeping back in as she sat at her dining room table. Nearly a year removed from the worst of it. 

Now she didn’t have to cook lunch for them. Now she had Sundays as a half-day and Tuesdays completely off. Now her mother was able to watch Henry instead of paying almost all of her salary for daycare. Now her life as a single mother was finally falling into place instead of completely falling apart.

She looked back to Sydney with another, smaller, smile. “I honestly have no fucking idea.”

When they got back to the Yotter residence they needed to start the prep for the dinner. Deboning and skinning the fish, making the pastry dough, all of the mise en place that needed to happen. Emily was more than happy to have the help. There were going to be ten people at that dinner and usually by this point she would be a giant ball of stress. But with Sydney’s help, she felt at least slightly more calm.

Nearing the end of the day, when the Wellington was only a few minutes away from coming out of the oven and the guests had already been served the soup course, Emily looked to The Bear’s CDC and smiled. 

“There’s honestly no way to become great at coming up with dishes,” she said, “It takes years upon years of trial and error. Knowing what would go well with something. Experimenting and failing miserably. But you can’t give up…Even though you might want to with Carmy around.”

Sydney cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Carm is…He’s the best. Gifted. It’s really easy to feel like you can’t do shit around him.”

“I —”

“Just trust your gut and tell him to fuck off every once and a while.”

Sydney sighed with a grin like some weight was being lifted from her shoulders. The timer went off. The Wellington was ready. And only a couple minutes later did they hear, all the way in the kitchen as they prepared dessert, that all the guests thought it was amazing.

Emily got the call about Ever closing its doors when she was home for lunch. Of course, she felt her heart sink at the restaurant closing and people losing their jobs — but she also felt glad for Chef Terry. She was a hardworking woman, and a brilliant chef, but owning a restaurant was hard work. Stressful. All consuming. Emily understood, maybe more than some, the relief Terry must feel at being free from what she had worked for all of her life.

So, of course, she accepted the invitation to Ever’s farewell dinner. She bought a new dress. Finally got a curling iron. Her mother even offered to watch Henry at her place so she didn’t feel guilty about staying out late or getting some well-deserved rest.

But when she stood outside the restaurant doors that Friday night, she felt like she didn’t belong. 

She was freezing, and her coat felt like it was doing nothing to stave off the chill. Didn’t help that she had no layers underneath the wool. Just her satin, olive green dress. Nearly felt like she was naked standing in the middle of Chicago, shaking in her platform boots.

Everyone in there was going to be working in a restaurant. Or owning a restaurant. Executive chefs. CDCs. While she was just a private chef. No James Beards. No spots in Food & Wine. Just somebody who cooked for a wannabe politician and his wife who couldn’t be bothered to work or be a homemaker.

She shouldn’t go in there. She would just embarrass herself when she was asked what she was doing these days. Three years ago, she was an up-and-comer. Carmy’s right-hand woman. A brilliant culinary mind that, if put to enough practice, would have made it big. But instead, she got pregnant. Decided to keep it. And faded away into nothing. No one. 

What was she even doing there? Standing outside the restaurant where she was told she was a great chef — where she worked tirelessly day and night to be worth something to anyone. 

Now she was nothing to no one.

Emily took one step back away from the door.

“Are you going inside?” a voice asked from down the sidewalk.

The voice had a deep timbre, lilted by a British accent. It made Emily jump as she looked over wide-eyed at whoever spoke. He was smiling slightly, hands raised at his sides like he was approaching a wild animal. He wore black pants and a coat, wavy hair streaked in blond cut in almost a mohawk.

She knew him. 

He worked as a line cook at Ever when she came in as a commis. They only overlapped for a few weeks but she remembered. Remembered that she thought he was attractive but never made a move. In fact, they never even really spoke to one another save for him telling her he needed more of something for a dish. But she still got invited to his farewell party when he went to work at Noma in Copenhagen. 

If only she could remember his name.

She nearly hated that she thought he was still attractive now. Maybe even more so — somehow, despite not having changed much. He took a few steps closer and she reddened to realise she hadn’t said anything yet.

“Y-Yeah, I’m just…” Emily looked back at the front door and tucked her lips between her teeth apprehensively.

“Petrified?” he offered as he stepped up beside her.

She chuckled softly. “You could say that.”

“Me too,” he sighed.

Emily looked over at him with raised brows. “Really? Why?”

“Some of the best chefs have come out of Ever or are friends with Andrea Terry. And they’re all gonna be in there.” He pointed at the door and she got a glimpse of the bell pepper tattooed on his hand. “Fucking horrifying.”

“Do you wanna…Go in together? There’s strength in numbers,” she suggested with a small smile.

He grinned back, showing nearly all his teeth. It lit up his entire face almost too bright for her to look at. God damn it, what was his name? It was on the tip of her tongue. Something with an L? He probably remembered hers and she’s just the dick who forgot. 

“Let’s do it,” he said as he took the few steps towards the door and opened it for her. And as she passed by him he asked, “Wha-What’s your name again?”

Some relief flooded her at the mutual forgetfulness. “Emily — Tyler. We worked here at the same time for a few weeks, actually.”

“No shit? God, can’t believe I don’t remember working with you.” There was something unspoken there in the way he looked at her as they paused beneath the dried fruit and other assorted items hanging from the ceiling. He stuck out his tattooed hand to her. “Luca D’Arcy.”

“Nice to meet you.” She grinned up at him as they shook hands.

Luca’s blue eyes glinted in the dim lighting as they caught on the decorations above them. “Just like it was back then, huh?”

“This one was always my favorite.” 

She reached up and lightly touched the ball of what looked like cotton candy. Just beside his head. He looked over at it with a crooked smile. 

“Excellent choice,” he said. 

Humming lightly with pursed lips, Emily walked further into the dining room. There were already about a dozen people scattered about. Standing with glasses of wine or champagne — chatting about food and restaurants and travels and spouses and children. Everyone was finely dressed and looked like they popped right out their articles in the Chronicle or New York Times or the Michelin Guide. Emily’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked out at the sea of famous culinary faces. She was nobody in this room of somebodies. She was even sure Luca had gone on to do amazing things with his talent.

Her breath shook slightly as one of the staff took her coat and gave her a ticket for it. Luca had his coat taken as well, only to reveal his rolled-up sleeves and tattooed arms. A cap, a merman, a nurse, a stick-figure walking up stairs, the Roman numeral four, a rowboat. Random and weird and she wanted to know the story behind every single one.

“Strength in numbers, remember?” Luca spoke low with a wink thrown her way. 

It made her smile but it also made her heart pound even harder.

They ordered drinks. A white wine and a champagne. While they waited, they looked through the picture collage out in the entry hall. Emily laughed and recounted the memory of the day a bag of flour ripped on the shelf above her head in the pantry and it got all over her. There was picture proof to prove it. And Luca told the story about how he cut off the tip of his finger, nail and all, just before service. He had to wear a glove the rest of the time and get it sewn back on the next morning.

“So, what are you doing now?” she asked, drinks finally in hand and standing off in a corner of the dining room alone. 

She knew the question would be asked back. But if it was from him she didn’t really care. 

“Still at Noma, actually,” he replied after taking a sip of his wine. “Finally figured out what I actually want to cook.”

“And what’s that?”

“Dessert.”

“Oo, a pastry chef, nice!” She laughed and he did too. “De Partie or Sous?”

Luca pumped his brows once. “Sous.” 

“Oh, damn, okay, chef,” she joked for a second then reached out and patted his arm. “That’s amazing, though. Figuring that shit out is so important.”

“Yeah, I mean, the people at Noma have been so great at helping me grow.” He nodded and sipped some more of his wine. “What about you — what’re you doing?”

Emily looked away from him and decided to stare at the painting on the wall behind him instead. She knew he was going to ask. Part of her thought that maybe he would understand her life choices. But what if she was wrong? What if he told her, like any other chef she had spoken to in the past three years, that she just needed to take the risk? That she just needed to get back into the restaurant game. That she was just wasting her potential. 

When she sighed and finally decided to look back at him, he was looking at her with furrowed brows. Concerned and patient. It nearly made her ribs crack.

“I’m…I’m a private chef now,” she spoke quietly just in case someone else might hear. “Work here in Chicago. Keeps me cooking but ya know…Keeps me sane.” 

She decided not to mention anything about Henry. Even though she very well could have or maybe should have. But tonight was her night to be selfish, as her mother even told her as she went out the door. Tonight she was talking to a cute guy she used to work with. Tonight she wasn’t a single mom who hadn’t had a date in three years. What Luca didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him anyway.

The pinch of his brow released at her words. Eyebrows ticked up his forehead like she just said the most interesting thing in the universe. He took another sip of his wine while she took a gulp of her own drink in an attempt to calm her nerves. 

“Private,” he said, “I’ve always wondered about that. What’s a typical day like?”

He wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t questioning her decision. He was just genuinely curious about the job. It made her heart soar, feeling lighter than she had all evening as he looked at her with a quirk of his lips and his hand in his pants pocket. So she described a day in the life. Four o’clock wake up time, lunch break, gardening, grocery shopping, meal planning, almost event planning.

“And their house is literally insane. Like, baby grand piano in the entryway insane. They even have a separate apartment above their garage with a full kitchen and two bedrooms.”

“Fuck me,” Luca groaned with a grin. “That honestly sounds amazing, Em. Good for you.”

Em. Nearly everyone in her life called her that. Everyone who knew her for more than ten minutes called her that. But when Luca did it? It made something inside of her flutter. Butterflies or moths or something else with wings that were threatening to escape. And they partially succeeded in the way she looked up at him with a massive grin she couldn’t control and inched ever so closer to him without even really noticing. 

He didn’t seem to mind, however. In fact, he seemed to be of the same accord as he pulled himself off the wall to be nearer to her. For her to smell his cologne and the slight hint of wine on him. 

But then he spotted someone over her shoulder and he excused himself with about three different apologies. She told him not to worry and watched him go, seeing Carmy standing out in the hall looking at the collages. 

There really was strength in numbers. She felt alone in a room full of people without him. Not seeing anyone else she knew, she sat down at a table tucked against the wall.

So many days and nights were spent in that restaurant. Doing mise en place, cleaning, eating family meals, goofing around with friends, making mistakes, learning new things, and garnering an entirely new love for food. Ever was her very first fine dining job. Andrea Terry was her very first mentor in how to create a true eating experience. It made her heart heavy to think that after that night there would be no more mise en place, no more cleaning, no more family meals for this restaurant. Ever was done. She was thankful for the place, despite her attempts to block out the memories because they made her bitter. Thankful for it all.

“Emily Tyler,” a voice spoke from across the table. 

There was a self-assured air about the voice. She looked up, startled. Only for her face to fall at the sight of David Fields.

“Chef,” she responded, quiet and small, with a nod.

“I’m surprised to see you here. Thought you would be…I don’t know…Making sandwiches for the hubby or something.” Fields grinned at her, wicked and cruel.

“Nope.” She knew if she said anymore it would just encourage him.

“But, seriously, I heard you’re a private chef now.” He sat down in the chair across from her and she had to resist everything in her body not to groan. “So what’s it like to throw away all your potential?”

Emily glared as hard as she could, but he didn’t even blink. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me? For what? I’m not the one who gave up.”

“You are the one who fired me — for a piece of shit reason, by the way,” she scoffed, crossing her arms.

Fields shook his head. “You need to be dedicated in my kitchen. You couldn’t have been with a kid.”

“Fuck you,” she repeated.

“Is that all you can say?”

“It’s all I’ve wanted to say for three years.” She shrugged, eyes focused on the little candle on the table between them. “I…I was scared, okay? And I stupidly came to you because — because I looked up to you and thought that maybe you could…Help.

Fields’ face softened for the first time.

“Couldn’t tell Carmy 'cause he’s — fucking Carmy. My mom probably would have lost her shit if I told her over the phone. And I thought…I thought you gave even an iota of a shit about me, so I came to you when I didn’t know what else to do, and you fucking fired me. So yeah…Fuck you.”

Some understanding passed between them then. Some pent-up confusion and rage and hurt went up like smoke as Fields nodded and sucked his teeth. He didn’t say he was sorry. And really he didn’t need to. It was enough for him to know how she felt.

Then he got up from the chair and straightened out his jacket. “Have a good rest of your night, chef.”

And she watched him go with tears burning the backs of her eyes. But she refused to let them fall. Blinking them away hard as she twirled the stem of her half-full champagne glass between her fingers. She had imagined that conversation with her old boss too many times for her to count. Sometimes she imagined punching him in the face. Other times she imagined him begging for her forgiveness. But this, what happened at that table, was what she expected. At least she no longer had to picture it. Now it was over and done. She nearly felt free.

Luca sat down beside her with a smile. “They’re about to bring out the first course. You alright?”

He looked concerned again, searching her face for something she hoped wasn’t there to begin with. Sniffing back the last of her tears she smiled with a nod. 

“I’m good. I’m good. Just thinking.” She watched him settle into his seat, legs spread so wide his thigh nearly touched her own. “You don’t…Have to sit here you know. I’m sure there are far more interesting people to talk to here tonight.”

“None as interesting as you.”

He looked at her like he knew that was smooth. And he was right. She felt her cheeks burn as she looked down into her lap.

“Good Lord,” she muttered, hands reaching up to cover her red cheeks.

She heard Luca chuckle from beside her as he leaned in close. “Did it work?”

“Yes, it worked,” she whispered, catching a glimpse of him with a grin between her fingers.

“Come on, now, peach, don’t hide,” he spoke low and sweet in her ear, taking her wrist in his large hand and pulling it away from her face. “Lemme see how cute you look.”

Peach. No one had ever called her that before. And she didn’t know why, but she liked it. Liked the way it made something tingle between her legs. Liked the way he looked at her when he said it. Like she really was the most interesting person in the room. Like he didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Like she was a summer peach sweet and ripe for the taking.

Luca didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he took it and began to fiddle with the turquoise set ring she wore on her middle finger for a moment. Adjusting the way it sat. Then he set it down gently in her lap. 

“Do you do this with all the girls?” she asked, almost sounding like she was out of breath.

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. I — actually this is the first time I’ve done this in a long time. Been too focused on my career for all that love and dating stuff.”

“Been a long time for me too,” Emily answered, “Don’t even think I remember how.”

“I’d say you’re off to a pretty good start, peach.”

A few more chefs joined their table. Their conversation was interrupted by greetings, introductions, and handshakes. A few minutes later, Carmy and Sydney joined them. Emily of course hugged them both. Then the table talk started as the first course was brought to their table. About first dishes and when people knew they wanted to be a chef and funny stories from the kitchens everyone had worked in over the years. 

And Emily felt like she belonged among them. Among these accomplished chefs who owned restaurants and published cookbooks. Who tried and failed just like her. Who didn’t judge when she said she was a private chef. Who asked her about her time in the professional kitchen and even remembered some of the dishes she created.

All the while, Luca’s chair had somehow scooted closer and closer to her own. Somehow his thigh became pressed against her own — only a few layers of silk and wool between them. It made her skin feel like she had just been freshly sunburned. Tingly and alive and warm. He caught her eye from time to time. Over the rim of his wine glass. Around the fork in his mouth. It was always some knowing look like they shared some secret. 

And maybe they did.

Then she noticed that Carmy had barely said anything all evening. That he hadn’t even really touched his food — even though it was beautiful and delicious. 

Leaning over so she could look at him past Sydney she asked, “You okay, Carm?”

“Yeah, who are you staring at?” Luca chimed in.

“Just a fucking asshole over there,” Carmy replied, nodding his head at the other side of the room.

Emily looked, and there was the executive chef of Empire sipping on his wine.

“David Fields,” Luca sighed.

“Oh, shit, from Empire?” Sydney looked over at Emily and she nodded.

Luca leaned back in his seat, arm thrown over the back of Emily’s chair. “Yeah, he’s a dickhead.”

“Yeah, he’s the fucking worst — and one of the best chefs in the world,” Carmy went on, eyes laser focused on his former boss across the room. “Total prick. Fuckface. Bastard. Made me very, probably, mentally ill. Dead inside. Cold. Never turns it off. Accomplishes more by ten AM than most people do in a lifetime. I don’t think he sleeps. I don’t think he eats. I don’t think he loves. Hates black pepper for some reason I’ll never understand.

“Did-Did you know he was here, Em?” Carmy suddenly asked, leaning on his arms against the table.

“I did,” she sighed, trying not to notice Luca’s fingers lightly dancing over her bare shoulder. “We…Talked earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, you worked for Empire too,” Sydney said, looking over at Emily.

“Yep. Most intense ten months of my entire life.”

“Oh, fuck, he’s getting up,” Carmy suddenly said, jumping up from his seat and going out into the hall, ignoring everyone's calls of his name and warnings for him to leave David Fields alone.

Sydney sighed as she turned back to her nearly empty plate of food. “Yeah, that’s not going to end well, is it?”

“Nope.” Luca took a drink of his wine.

“Absolutely not,” Emily replied.

Then Christina Tosi, the founder of Milk Bar, leaned across the table with a smile and a hand outstretched towards Emily. “So, I’ve actually wanted to meet you for a long time.” 

“Me?” Emily put down her drink with an unbelieving smile. “Why?”

“I ate at Osteria when I was traveling in Italy four years ago — you were staging there at the time. Girl, I have been thinking about that campfire peach cake with the blackberry compote and pistachio cream every day since.” Tosi patted the table with a laugh. “It was seriously one of the most amazing desserts I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, wow, um — thank you.” She glanced over at Luca to see him already grinning at her. “Gosh, I didn’t think anyone knew I made that dish.”

“I made Fousto tell me.” Tosi winked. 

“Well, thank you, I really appreciate that.” 

Emily would have to remember to make that for her client's family come summertime. She was sure the kids would love it — would maybe even want to help her make it. 

“How did you do it? Those crispy edges that were just a little bit burnt — my God.” 

“They’re not called campfire cakes for nothing,” Emily laughed as the next course was brought out. “The individual cakes are cooked in these small Dutch ovens that are set directly into a fire. They bake for maybe fifteen minutes max and while they’re still warm you add the compote and the cream so it's all nice and melty and delicious.”

“How many times did you catch something on fire?” Tosi asked.

“I think I singed like five aprons that summer.”

The other chefs around the table began discussing how much harder it is to make desserts than savory dishes — how most of them don’t even really like to do it. Christina Tosi had a lot to say about that. But Emily was quickly pulled away from the conversation when Luca put his hand on her thigh. Lightly, he just wanted to get her attention, his touch was gone in a moment. But it made a fire shoot up her spine as she nearly jumped to look over at him. 

“Peach cake, huh?” he asked with a smirk.

“I do really like peaches. You got me on that one.”

“Would you mind if I stole your idea?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s like rule number one in the chef’s code. Don’t steal someone elses idea.”

“Yeah, but…What if I named it after you?” Luca cocked his head, little grin on his face as his arm returned to the back of her chair. 

“I’ve never had a dish named after me before,” she replied, trying not to show how affected she was. “An honor. Sure you wanna name it for a girl you just met?”

“The girl I just met is pretty amazing.”

The meal finished and the previous employees and friends of Ever began to mill about the restaurant once more. Emily ended up speaking with Cristina Tosi more about Italy and her stage at Osteria. About desserts she had come up with since being a private chef. About the Milk Bar and Tosi’s cookbook, they didn’t seem so different from one another. 

Eventually, Emily ended up in the kitchen. Memories rushing back to her of late-night prep, family meals, inside jokes, and cut fingers all rushed back to her. Making sure no one was looking, she ducked under the prep table and looked underneath. There, dozens of names were stuck to the bottom of the table with tape. She found her own rather quickly, still stuck near the edge. Her name was written in her usual bouncy letters, bracketed by little flowers she had drawn. Carmy’s tape was towards the middle — letters small and chicken scratch. Luca’s was close to hers, nearly overlapping on one edge. His letters were in all caps and thin. Reaching up, she smoothed down one peeling side. She hoped the next owner of that restaurant never found them.

When she stood back up, Luca was standing beside her with a grin at the corners of his mouth. She knew someone had walked up and she expected it to be him. 

“Looking at the tape?” he asked. 

Emily stepped closer to him, close enough to touch, with a nod. “Do they have something like that at Noma?”

“I think almost every restaurant I’ve worked at does,” he replied, “On Noma’s pantry wall is the signature of everyone who’s ever worked there.”

“Osteria had a book in the owner’s office. So many famous chefs signed that thing.”

“Including you,” Luca said, scooching in even closer — nearly chest to chest.

Emily looked down and shook her head. “I am not famous. I…I’ve gotta be honest. When I was standing outside I almost turned around and left.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a private chef. Because I walked away from the restaurant world and I don’t know…I just felt a little less than, I guess.”

She looked back up at him then and his face was so soft. So endearing and open. His blue eyes bore into her and she nearly wanted to look away. But she couldn’t. It was impossible to. Even as he took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“From everything I’ve heard tonight, you are not less than. You are an amazing, talented chef.” He squeezed her hand again and tugged her into his chest. “Besides, who gives a fuck what they think? There’s an after-party at Sydney’s place and we’re going.”

Emily beamed up at him. “We are?”

“Yeah, we are.” Luca reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and she felt the burn of being seen for the first time in nearly half a decade. “Still can’t believe I never talked to you when we worked together. Wanna kick myself.”

Taking a deep breath to collect herself, regather her thoughts, and stop her knees from turning to mush, she said, “You’re talking to me now. That’s all that matters.”

Why did it feel so natural with him? Most of the time, when a man tried to hit on her, she turned tail and ran. It scared her to think about opening herself up to someone like that again. To open up Henry to someone being in his life with a good chance they might leave. She couldn’t put herself or her boy through that. Not again. But that night, without her son, an entire night, and an apartment to herself, she didn’t feel the weight of all of that. She felt free to flirt and lean into his touch and just for a moment…Just for a moment…She wasn’t a mom. She didn’t have any responsibilities besides her work and herself. She could let Luca, the kind and mellow pastry chef, slip his fingers into her hair and draw her in for a kiss. 

She could let him take her to an after-party with a keg of beer, music, and dancing. She could play dice and win. She could help Andrea Terry and Sydney Adamu make frozen waffles and pizza. She could let Luca pull her into his lap and get yelled at for making out on the couch. She could stay out until two in the morning and come home with a boy trailing behind her — his hands on her hips as she unlocked the door.

It was dark inside the apartment, and Emily was glad for it. In the shadows, he couldn’t see the dinosaurs and play construction vehicles all over the floor. The light over the kitchen island was still on. If he noticed the drawings on the fridge he didn’t mention it. She hoped he would think they were from her client’s children or something like that.

After kicking off her boots, Emily opened the fridge and pulled out a container, attempting to delay what they set out to do to wrangle her nerves into submission. She could do this. She could have a one-night stand. She could do this.

“What’s that?” Luca asked as he leaned against the island with his palms flat against the quartz countertop.

“Rosemary syrup cake with mead cream.” She opened the container and put one out on a napkin. “My client had a bunch of his college buddies over for dinner a couple nights ago. He said to make a manly dessert — whatever that meant.” 

He smiled as he looked at the dessert then he nodded for her to come closer. “Feed it to me.”

She had to stop herself from rubbing her legs together before she walked up to him with the pastry in hand. Looking down at her with a smirk on his pink lips, he hooked his hands beneath her thighs and lifted her up onto the counter. Those tattooed hands never left her, fingers bunching up the satin of her dress as he clutched her thighs in his wide palms. For not having done this in a long time, Luca was very good. He could have led her into a burning building and she wouldn’t have cared as she looked into those deep blue eyes. And she tried her hardest to hold that eye contact as she held the cake up to his lips. 

He took a bite and licked the cream off his lips. Then his eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned. 

“Fuck me!” Luca licked his lips again and she laughed. “That’s fucking delicious. Can I steal that one as well?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, taking a bite herself. “I worked hard to make this manly dessert.”

“Mm, can I have another?” He pointed at the cake still in her hand. 

She nodded and held the cake back up to him. But before she could finish it off with the next bite, Luca leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. He tasted like rosemary, mead, and cream. It made her moan soft in the back of her throat from the taste as well as the feeling of his lips on hers. She could feel his smile against her lips as he pulled in closer, chest to chest, hands eclipsed on either side of her hips. His tongue slipped in easily, more rosemary and cream, as she dropped the dessert and threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging softly. 

One of his hands trailed down and down her leg until he found the slit in her olive green dress. Until he pushed it up and up to find the seam where her leg met her hip. Her hips rolled forward of their own accord, some stunted noise muffled in his mouth as his fingers danced over her inner thigh. Luca broke the kiss just to trail his sugar-sweet lips across her jaw and down her neck — Emily easily tilted her head to the side with a sigh. Hands falling to feel the planes of muscle beneath his shirt and fiddle with one of his buttons.

She parted her legs even further for him at his urging, and she jumped only slightly when he ran his deft fingers over the core of her. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked, peach,” he muttered in her ear.

“L-Like I said…Been a long time,” she replied breathily, leaning back slightly on her hands. “S-Shouldn’t we go to the bedroom?”

“I always have been better in the kitchen,” Luca was quick to reply, but then he looked up at her in his gentle way. “Unless you would feel more comfortable there.”

Emily had had this specific wet dream many times before. Only the face of the guy was a generic blur and his voice always matched the sound of whatever audio porn she was listening to those days. But there Luca was. Tall and handsome and wanting to fuck her right there in her kitchen. Her heart was going a million miles a minute. Would she feel more comfortable in bed? Probably. Did this, right there on the kitchen island, scratch some itch she had wanted to for years? Absolutely.

“N-No,” she finally replied, “Here is…Good.”

“Okay,” Luca laughed softly. “You tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

All she could really do was nod as he leaned back in and kissed her. Soft and slow, taking his dear sweet time as he moved his lips against her own. Something like a growl got caught in his throat as she tugged at his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. And he couldn’t help but grin at the way her breathing picked up as he pulled at the zipper of her dress.

She only hopped down from the counter for a second so her dress could easily fall to the floor, and then Luca picked her right back up and set her on the cold quartz. Underneath the dress, she wasn’t wearing anything other than her underwear, and Luca groaned like he had about the cake at the sight of her. 

“Fucking beautiful, peach,” he muttered as he smeared kisses along her neck and collarbone.

At his gentle urging, she laid down on her kitchen island. She could barely breathe let alone think as he trailed his tongue and lips down her chest and stomach. That hand tattooed with a pepper ghosted up her side, only to come to rest beside her chest. His thumb passed over the pebbled flesh and Emily could not stop the breathy moan that escaped her.

“Luca,” she gasped as he nibbled at her hip bone, his hand kneading her breast like dough. 

Her entire body tingled like static on an old tv screen. Her center cried out for attention. She could feel her desire dripping out of her.

He released himself from her flesh with a soft pop. “Doin’ alright, peach?”

“Uh-huh —” But then she shook her head. “Need…Need you to…”

“Need what?” He peppered a line of kisses along the line of her underwear. “Need me to eat you out like your dessert?��

Emily couldn’t nod her head fast enough. He chuckled lightly against her skin, then he peeled her underwear down her legs and kneeled down on the floor. At first, he simply pressed a few experimental kisses to her seam. Making her wriggle and whimper against the counter. But then he parted her with his tongue and her spine curved of its own accord — her hands fisting into his hair as she gasped. 

He dipped his tongue into her hole then swirled it around her clit, like he was eating ice cream, then pulled away to practically pant into her inner thigh. 

Making sure to catch her eye he whispered, “Taste so sweet.”

A moan hadn’t even fully left her lips before he dove back in. Lapping at her like he was starved for it. A craving finally satiated. He groaned into her like she was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Hands gripping onto her thighs hard enough to leave marks. He drove her closer and closer to release with every lick, suck, and kiss. Her hands pulled and tugged at his hair as the pleasure tingled at the base of her spine.

“L-Luca! Oh!” she gasped, back arching off the countertop as he gave her clit a hard suck. “So good — So good. Fuck.”

He groaned into her flesh again and this time it shot all the way up her back and made her see stars. It had been so long since she had been with someone like this. She thought that, maybe, she could get at least one orgasm out of it and they would pass out. But no. Luca was taking his dear time with her — memorizing every sound and every reaction. He was eating her out for God’s sake, something she had to beg and plead with her last boyfriend to do on a rare occasion. But Luca wanted to do it. Enjoyed it, clearly, from the way he shoved his face into her so far she feared he couldn’t breathe. 

Her toes began to curl and her entire being began to feel molten hot as he pulled that sensitive little bud between his lips again. Her breath came out in stunted little gasps as she moved her hips against his face. 

“I’m — I’m gonna —” she tried to get out, tried to warn him. 

But he paid it no mind. He just kept going until she cried out and went stuck still beneath his expert tongue. And didn’t stop until she was pushing at his forehead and whimpering at the back of her throat. 

Luca pulled away with one final kiss to her now oversensitive clit. It made her whine and he laughed softly as he wiped at his chin. She felt boneless as she lay there and stared up at the ceiling, trying to collect herself. But it felt like she was in a haze as he tugged her to sit up and smoothed her hair back behind her ears. 

“That good, huh?” he questioned as he took her hand in his, smiling when all she could do was nod. “Good. Want you to feel good.” 

“Want you to…Feel good too,” she managed to string together as she reached out and tugged at his belt.

“Trust me, I feel great.” But when she cupped him, hard and aching, through his wool pants, his chin dropped to his chest. “Mm, fuck.”

Emily’s eyes widened as she felt the size of him. For a moment, she wondered if she would be able to take him. But then Luca was scooping her up by the backs of her thighs and she didn’t have time to think about it anymore. Not when he was mouthing at her neck like that and asking where her bedroom was. Down the hall on your left. Not when he brought her to release with her spread out on her sheets on his fingers. Not when he revealed hard muscles and even more tattoos scattered across his skin like so many stories. Not when he pushed in nice and slow and gave her all the time in the world to gasp and whine and tell him it wouldn’t fit. 

“I’ll make it fit, peach,” grumbled against her jaw as his fingers connected with that bundle of nerves once more.

No, she really couldn’t think about it at all once he was buried to the hilt and she felt so fucking full. And she told him so — it made him twitch inside her into something no boyfriend had ever found before. He made her see stars and constellations and entire planets as he hit that spot again and again and again. Until she screamed and cried and couldn’t say anything other than his name.

And when he spilled inside her with a groan and his hand so soft around her throat — she felt on the edge of consciousness. Tired down to the bone but in the best way possible. 

She didn’t even bother to say anything as she curled into his chest and let him pull the covers over them both. In the back of her mind, she knew she should have told him to leave. Told him this was fun but it was time to go. But she just couldn’t. It felt too good, too natural, too everything for him to leave her bed after that. It almost felt like he was supposed to be there.

And in some ways, she told him so, when he kissed her forehead and she burrowed deeper into his embrace.

Luca woke up before her the next morning. The sun was up and looked like it had been for hours. Her bedroom was a mess of clothes and empty water bottles. It made him smile to see a photo collage of all her travels and some of her favorite dishes on the wall. 

But it made his brow furrow to see pictures of a baby up there too. 

Maybe it was her nephew or something?

Luca was careful as he got out of bed and put his clothes back on. He didn’t want to disturb her — she looked so peaceful. Tangled up in a homemade quilt with her hair fanned out on the pillow, mouth slightly open as she breathed deeply. He smiled as he looked at her, not really wanting to leave but knowing that he should.

Then he spotted a notebook and pen on her bedside table. Probably filled with recipe ideas and dreams scribbled down in the middle of the night. He only thought for a split second, knowing if he did it any longer he would chicken out before he scooped up the notebook and wrote down his number on the next available page.

Out in the main room, he gathered up his coat and shoes, noting the toys scattered about the space. Dinosaur figures, little construction vehicles, plushies of some cartoon dog he didn’t recognize.

Maybe the nephew had been over recently and she hadn’t had time to clean up?

He wanted to stay and study the space. Learn just a little more about her before he left. But he didn’t want to be there when she woke up. Didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on her.

So he went out the door with his coat in hand, smiling to himself thinking of the blush on her face or her reactions to his touch. Emily really was amazing. Talented, accomplished, confident, calm, and sincere. He wasn’t a praying man, but as he walked down the hall to the elevator he hoped that she would text him.

Pressing the call button for the elevator, he stood back with his hands in his pockets. It had to go up five stories, so it would be a bit of a wait. And while he did, the door to the stairwell opened.

An older woman with grey hair and a toddler stepped out. He wore a backpack that was a little too big for him and she looked tired but happy. The woman smiled at Luca as they passed and he returned it with a nod. He even waved slightly at the little boy and he did so tentatively back.

The two of them went down the hall from whence he came and he watched them go. The boy was cute, with curly blond hair and a freckle-covered face. He reminded Luca of someone but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Not until the older woman opened Emily’s apartment door and the little boy ran inside with a shout of “Mommy!”.

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

[rageandroarcustoms]

Recently, I got to refurbish a tail I made for a suit back in 2022!

I redid the entire mouth and added in a hidden belt loop ^-^ all teeth from DVC (cut down saber fangs and then full set of manokit teeth)! Also, I tried my hand at a bendable tongue, just a nice fun extra feature! Also, all teeth glow in the dark :3

Really love getting to refurb older work of mine 🥺💕

Video: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C-rrLlCuBxd/?igsh=MWNlMGF3YXFyMGkxbA==

[thefollow-spot]

A Leap of Faith by Misery_C_Epicaricacy & Ynnéalay

Merlin confesses his magic, upending the trust between him and Arthur; when he goes missing from Camelot, a conflicted Arthur must reckon with his fears and prejudices as Merlin’s life is put at stake.

Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: Gen Relationship: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon, Minor Gwaine & Arthur Pendragon, Minor Gwaine & Merlin Words: 40,475

Fanbinding of A Leap of Faith. Process, commentary, and additional pictures under the cut ♥

First of all, thank you to all the lovely folks from the @renegadepublishing discord for enthusiastically encouraging me to fanbind my own work, though this is not entirely just-mine. This fic was co-written with the awe-inspiring @whoawhataconcept (Misery_C_Epicaricacy on AO3) and this binding is as much a love letter to her writing, her mind, and our creative collaboration as it is to my own contributions.

On: Textblock & Typesetting

I've bound a couple fics at this point, but was saving Garamond for this one because I fell in love with how these particular words look set in Garamond. The headings are done in a simplistic all-caps Calibri with expanded spacing to pay homage to how many hours editing this damn thing were spent looking at the font in question. I've also used font 'Merlin' for the front title page—which I got linked out of the @merlinbingo discord server—and Felix Titling for the interior title page.

The body is printed on EarthChoice colour cream paper, and stitched with red crochet thread.

On: Endpapers

The endpapers were a tricky one for me! They are prints of my own fanart which was not the correct aspect ratio to use as endpapers for a book printed on letter paper. This was also the first large map I created, and if I could go back, there are things I would do differently. But in the end, I decided to use it as-is because I'm proud of it. To fix the sizing issue, I up-sized the map so the width was correct for a letter-sized print, which left a border on the top and bottom of the image—this I filled in with black and red checkerboard pattern to match the banners and standards of Camelot.

Originally, I wanted it printed on this textured, pearl-finish linen paper, but then the print shop I use didn't have it in a large enough size to do endpapers on and I was heartbroken. I ended up using topkote gloss paper by Oji.

On: Endbands

Hand-sewn in red and gold crochet thread. I redid these like three times to find a core I liked, and ended up doing them over tightly rolled paper.

The Dust Jacket

I'm not a graphic designer, so the jacket design is simplistic. It includes a cover, back cover (with a 'praise for' section), and two inside flaps (which contain the fic summary and author bios). I took some cues from this dust jacket post. It's printed on a thicker weight of topkote paper by Oji, this time with a dull finish.

Closing Thoughts

I'm so proud of how this turned out! It's my best work yet in terms of straight-ness of the spine/cover paper, and I learned a lot about printing. Lots of firsts for me here, and I feel that every time I make a book, I improve. I've gifted this copy to my co-author, Misery. Seeing her flip through it, and seeing it on our shelf, is giving me a lot of joy today!

[zombeebunnie]

Game development Trembling Essence progress:

Hello and welcome new followers! It'll be some time before there's another update for the '[Extended Demo]' so it will no longer be in the title of game development posts to avoid confusion. Also the next couple of game development posts for April might be a bit short and/or spread out. :]

Behind the scenes:

So far a lot of what's been going on has been brainstorming/going over the script with breaks in between!

I had a very long talk with one of my play testers and it was very fun! One hour ended up turning into several and it really helped me get a better idea of what I want to do for some of the routing/paths and the overall story in general. I believe that this entire month+(?) will just be overlooking the script and brainstorming more ideas/quality of life changes for the game!

My writing style has developed significantly and I'm trying my best to fix all of the multiple pacing issues in the story in a certain order. Noah's backstory is one of the focal points being thoroughly worked on since he expresses sections of his past throughout the game depending on your choices. I can't really share too much else because a lot of it has spoilers and happens later on in the game so right now I'm just writing everything down. So far, I'm still in the early writing stages and I would consider it about 20%(?) done.

I was browsing through some files and happened to across something interesting! This is from when I initially redid all of the old backgrounds in the game for the March 2023 demo and just for fun, I wanted to show some of the different Day/Night settings from this CG. This will be something I'll talk about later when I get to this part! :]

I'm still in the process of creating Noah's reference sheets too but I think I'll end up ditching some of the sketches since angled faces/poses are still difficult for me to draw. :,]

Q&A / Ask box is still open:

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

Thank you to those who have sent in asks! I'll try to get to them when I can. I just need time to answer since I like to respond with doodles/drawings as practice. :]

Right now this is all I have to share so far, thank you to everyone for the continued support while I continue working on the game. :,]

[skekdris]

The Visitor - Behind the Scenes

"The Visitor" is my first big story of mine that saw the light of day. In this post, I'll be explaining my thought process behind why and how I made it. In a future post, I'll be explaining my Arhulian species, and my character Niadris in more detail. But for now, I'll be on to explaining my creative process. Firstly, a few months ago I got back into tumblr after finding the blogs of @chocodile and @kwillow. Their characters, their art, their stories. They moved me, they inspired me! Drawing was never my strong point, (I had to enlist @aryeonos to graciously sketch my species reference for me <3) but descriptive writing is something I can do! So through that, it was the avenue I expressed my creation. That said; Ary being my editor and proof reader really helped me achieve a level of polish I don't think I could have accomplished on my own. <3 The Amaranthine characters are so rich and vibrant, I just wanted to write for them. Their personalities just seemed really fun to write for, as well as gave me a clear picture of how each character would behave in a story. A solid baseline for my weirdo badger-pede to contrast with. So I poured over Kwillow's and Chocodile's art pages for information about the characters and the setting. I wanted to respect the lore and setting as best I can; as well as the fact, the more information I had, the easier it would be to write.

Feelin' A Bit Drafty In Here

In a very early pre-draft version of the story (where I was still ideating over it), I thought I would try to tell the story from Niadris' perspective, but Aryeonos felt it would ruin a lot of the mystery and suspense surrounding Niadris, as well as deprive me of character interaction moments for the rest of the cast. So I redid the entire tone and course of the story to focus on the Rising dawn quartet, (sans snoozing bunny) with Niadris being the add - an apt decision since the cast literally considers them an intruder! In the new story format, I thought about Theo being so nerve wracked by Niadris that he would try to poison them, only for it not to work, and for Niadris to then reveal their life-sensing ability to Theo and tell him that they are not mad because always knew where he stood as a veiled threat. The story would have had a more adversarial tone; but then after doing some more lore spelunking, I learned that Theo prefers to handle confrontation openly and honestly as opposed to taking the scoundrel's way out.

So after learning that wasn't a very gentlemanly move, I decided to shift gears and redo the story (again) to what you see today. After that, I looked up the other characters for pertinent lore and information about them. I was already pretty familiar with Hyden, and Theo was the first character I discovered since I'm a diehard rat/skaven fan and always combing the internet for rat characters!

Then came to Alex and Ridge. After having my "cast" in hand, I figured out what to do with them. In the current iteration of the story, I wanted Niadris being self-conscious of their frightening appearance (they've certainly been screamed and shot at enough) and opt to meet the cast in a way that does not end in violence. Hence the Arhulian observing the cast for a long time and then making their carefully planned move. Likewise, first impressions are very important, and Niadris trying to approach the situation in a delicate manner (whether or not it worked) was one of my central goals in depicting them, and Arhulians as a whole. They are far from mindless brutes... Switching back to the the Amaran quartet, they are not my characters obviously - I'm just writing for them - so I tried to make educated guesses on how'd they react based on the information I had at hand. So keep in mind these are my personal head cannons of these characters!

Character Dynamics

Hyden - Due to the way the story was structured, he was not utilized very much. Which, is a shame on one hand, but on the other, it leaves my options open for how he would react in a future story. He could be just as lost as the rest of the cast, then shift to be deeply fascinated by the unnatural being that is Niadris. Treating them like magic buddyTM Ambroys 2.0. (Though he may find it much more difficult sink his roots into Niadris, as they are far sharper, and not blinded by idolism like Theo.) Or, alternatively, Hyden being a time displaced scholar could know something about Arhulians the present day cast does not, and is trouser-browningly terrified. But that is as much as I'll reveal for now. We'll see what way the coin falls. :) Theo - Theopolis North was the most fun to write for. Poor little Rat man pinballed through many different emotions across the story. Firstly, fear. Secondly, he's even more unnerved by the fact Niadris can go toe-to-toe in his smartassery which means it's intelligent. And that's extra dangerous in his eyes. I thought about writing Theo being even meaner and more hostile, but I decided Theo has a few reasons to keep himself reeled in. 1) Theo - though a poorly adjusted meanie - has enough sense to know that trying to stress-test this thing's patience would not go in his favor if the matter escalated. Especially with a thing that could throw him across a room or eat him alive. Unmetaphorically. Best to let a sleeping dragon lie so to speak. 2) I've noted that Theo appears to be a dire misanthrope, so a thought occurred to me that Niadris is just so alien they just end up in a loophole of sorts. And I decided that is a funny dynamic, and I'm going to roll with that. :) 2.5) Theo's aggression seems to be heavily rooted in his own insecurities. Niadris is somewhere between socially illiterate to too logically minded to care. So in a way, from theo's perspective; that's big wall that isn't there for him. 3) As much as it agonizes him to admit, the alternative is telling this thing to sod off, resulting in them just roaming about unaccounted for entirely. At least this way, he can keep an eye on them... 4) Granted, he does not want to admit it outright and 'encourage' them, Theo is personally intrigued by Niadris. Although he hasn't quite put it together it yet; Arhulians are intelligent, sentient, beings that definitively exist outside of "ascension". The implications would be defining to say the least. Theo's name would go down in the books for sure... And lastly, this being gives him a sense of deja vu he tries not to think too closely about. Henceforth, I laid down the roots of what may be the beginning of a very odd "friendship" as hinted at in the closing paragraphs of the story.

Alex - From the lore I got on her, she jumped out to me as the most rational and calm-minded of the group. She's a cool, collected soldier. Her perception is sharp (and unlike Theo, it's not calibrated in entirely the wrong direction via paranoia). Her nature as a sniper means it's natural for her to sit back, absorb information, and think about a decision before making it. Because of this, it felt natural that she'd fall into the role of "team mom" because she's the most level-headed and surprisingly enough, the most socially adjusted of the group. Especially since her competition is: 1) Hyden; a washed up noble that doesn't know what century he's living in - whose social resume is bossing around servants and bullshitting noble asses.

2) Theo; a misanthropic, paranoid, bulgy-eyed weirdo that's a reclusive shut in. 3) Ridge; Likely the best of the three. But if I remember the lore right, it's heavily implied that Ridge was in jail for some time, so I'd wager that has not done his social skills any favors. So with that in mind, Alex is the glue desperately trying to keep (the now) quintet from unraveling.

Ridge - Of the four characters here, Ridge has the least information available that I could find, so a lot of his character is implied from his surface level details, like him being big and brawny, that he had spent time in jail, and is at the very least in a non-hostile relationship with Alex. With all that said, I guesstimate he has the least amount of emotional baggage and personality extremes, so I felt that Ridge would be the best fit for a layman character. Niadris - Beyond what I already mention here, I'd rather keep their inner workings hidden, as they are both a mysterious, and a still developing (both in-universe and in a meta sense) character...

What's Next?

Without giving away too much, the logical path forward to the story is that Niadris is playing it safe as they have never been around multiple people for an extended period of time before. So they take on a passive role to learn and observe the... odd group dynamic the rising dawn quartet have. There will be a great deal of funny character moments and learning experiences for all involved! Over time, Niadris will start to make their own waves as they get accustomed to the group, and begin manifesting their own wants once they feel comfortable exerting their own social pressure. Likewise, everyone is wary of the big, scary Arhulian. But on the other hand, their value as an asset is undeniable! And they would be a pretty definitive tie-breaker should a schism arise... Various parties will likely be setting plans into motion to try and vie for Niadris's loyalty now that this wild card has scuttled their way into the group. With the groundwork of Niadris' and the Arhulians' introduction laid, I have to spend some time thinking about the path forward; as this is the point where things can really diverge, so I must decide what direction the story is going to head in. So alas, I don't really have an ETA in mind for the next chapter of this fan-story.

[manymanydolls]

Since I recently redid my meet photos for all my girls, I thought it’d be fun to do a post with some fast facts about my original characters. Look under the cut to learn more about them!

Jennifer:

Favorite season is autumn

Plays with her mother’s Miss America Barbie doll

Loses track of time easily and will stay up very late working on her knitting projects or watching TV

Katherine:

Has sensory processing disorder and is especially sensitive to loud sounds

Favorite holiday is Halloween

Puts glitter stickers on everything she owns

Evelin:

Favorite musician is Rufus Wainwright

Sets up a hummingbird feeder outside her bedroom window every summer

Got into making amateur radios as a fun way of communicating with her friends during the Covid pandemic

Nancy:

Favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day

Listens to at least three Talking Heads albums a week

Wants Amanda to play drums so that they can be like Van Halen

Amanda:

Favorite book is The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate

Broke her wrist skateboarding when she was 11

Watched a TV program about volcanoes once and now is a little afraid of them but also fascinated by them

Rosemary:

Never sleeps with a blanket because it feels too constricting

Favorite food is a grilled cheese sandwich with a fried egg on top

Bakes lemon bars with her Mama at least once a month

Daisy:

Is afraid of ghosts

Loves foxes and has a beloved fox Squishmallow

Pours soy sauce directly on rice to make her grandparents mad (manners in Japan dictate that you dip a bite in sauce instead of pouring it over your food) (and Daisy knows it)

Ruby:

Has a scar on her ankle from a Razor scooter with a vengeance

Most treasured possession is a sunflower-print fleece blanket from her grandmother Marie

Favorite food is 4th of July hot dogs

Marguerite:

Wants to live in an old Victorian house

Has a huge collection of interesting rocks and crystals and wants to have an entire rock display wall

Once had a really intense cottagecore phase and refused to eat bread that she didn’t bake herself

[valsnonsense]

The HollyVal Family

I redid this one like five times kkjhsakjdhakjhsdk

Also changed Holly’s lower half to match her upper body color more, instead of the blue. Still not drawing the Country Trolls with pants, I’m sorry I just can’t do it lskdfjsdkl

Okay story time. As anyone who’s watched Trollstopia, we know the relationship between Holly and Val is a close one. The two, alongside Poppy, become best friends over their time in Trollstopia.

Well, eventually, this friendship begins to turn into something more, at least on Val's side. Val begins to slowly fall for Holly, loving how caring, sweet, and attentive she was to everyone she knew. Especially with her and Poppy. At first, Val keeps these feelings locked deep down inside her, because despite how much she had grown to be honest with herself and her feelings, talking about crushes was NOT something she was willing to disclose with ANYONE!

Until Poppy found out.

Poppy didn't even need to ask her or have Val tell her. She figured it out on her own. When Val asks how the hell she did it, her only answer was, "I'm Poppy! I thought we established this?"

Well, Val caved and asked Poppy to help her ask out Holly, which the Pop Queen was MORE than happy to do so. The two began concocting elaborate scheme after elaborate scheme, each one more grandiose than the next. Val thought Holly was one of the most amazing Trolls she knew, she only deserved the best!

And when the moment came for Val to finally confess to Holly, the entire thing blew up in her face. Something about setting up an elaborate song performance with bright lights and giant speakers out in wild attracts wild animals or something. Making them destroy said equipment.

After putting out several fires and calming down a series of wild animals, Holly asks Val what she was trying to convey with all the lights and speakers. Val ends up nearly sobbing, saying how she wanted Holly to know her feelings, how she deserved only the best and biggest things in the world, and that any other method wouldn't be NEAR enough for a Troll like Holly! She needed to tell her how much she loved her and how she meant more to her than any other Troll in the world!

And before Val can start apologizing for the mess, Holly shuts her up by pulling her in for a kiss. That's you had to say, silly!

Holly and Val begin dating, and only a year or so after that, the two tied the knot.

The two moved to the main city of Trollstopia together and settled down, while still performing their duties as Councilors for Country Corral and Rock Hollow. Several years passed, and two decided they wanted to try for a family, after seeing all their friends start raising kits of their own.

Imagine their surprise when Val went to the doctor and found out she was carrying a whopping FOUR eggs.

Val and Holly were overjoyed at the news, and began preparing for their new babies. Since Val had four eggs, she lost a lot of energy to them, and was bed bound most of the incubation. Having so many eggs was considerably dangerous, and since both Rock and Country Troll eggs are naturally tougher to endure harsher environments, they took up a lot more energy then Val was exoecting. The incubation was a bit frightening since Val became very weak towards the end. But after a few months, their four little kits successfully hatched.

In present day, Holly and Val continue to raise their babies. With two having successful music careers, one pursuing a floral career, and their little free spirit, the two couldn't be prouder of their little herd. Knowing that their kits will be adults in a few years makes the both of them emotional, they're not ready for their babies to grow up yet!!

And that's the HollyVal fam!! Since none of their kids are adults and moved out, there's not much to describe about their present day lives xD

Also I added a little headcanon in there that depending on the environment, a Troll egg might take more energy to develop. Since Rock Trolls live in a fuckin volcano, Rock Trolls eggs have super thick shells, almost like rocks, to endure the intense heat. And since Country Trolls live in the desert/flat lands, their eggs are tougher to endure harash winds and heat. So put that together, and you've got eggs hard as steel that suck up a LOT of energy.

Will be starting the Lownote/Dante kids tomorrow (if I don't forget lol)

[archiepiscopus]

- interview -

In time's flow See the glow Of flames ever burning bright On the swift River's drift Broken memories alight…

What has led you to where you are today?

“...-eiros. Pay close attention.”

Hues of emerald blinked, a slit pupil adjusting to the sunlight above before finding the voice’s source. Pointed ears framed by deep viridian locks tied into intricate braids, belonging to an older girl possessing a warrior’s face and a kind spirit. Her stare is questioning, but soon after is replaced with a knowing smile as she shakes her head. “By the skies, your mind really is elsewhere today.”

“Ah! Marcelle, forgive me. I am listening.” The young one known as Seiros replies, slightly embarrassed for having spaced out despite the other’s insistent calls. “You may continue.” She urges, feet shuffling as she redid steps in her mind. Marcelle- one of her older siblings, had taken the day off to teach her close combat. As much as Seiros was slowly turning out to be a fierce swordswoman, it wasn’t enough. It was one thing to face battlefields clad in ivory scales, able to set entire fields alight with a single puff of breath, but this human form was different. More frail, more delicate.

But not inferior, as Mother once told her. Humans, these curious creatures whose lifespans were but a fraction of their kind, were strong in their own ways and it was only for that they learned their methods. Be one with them, share our blessings and spread everlasting prosperity. At least those were her words before they found themselves at the end of blades, stared down with ungrateful eyes filled with arrogance. Return our land, wicked beasts- they spat. Though still young enough to be called a hatchling, Seiros never forgot the contrast of the two situations. Her Mother’s boundless love, and humans’ sudden betrayal. 

Marcelle’s voice cut through the wind, blanketed in concern. “Doubtful. Pray tell, what occupies your thoughts? It is unlike you to be so absent minded.”

The young Seiros looked to the side, unsure- but still chose to confide in her sister. “I was…just thinking about Mother, that is all. She has nearly moved the stars for this land and must rest to regain her health, but…I cannot help but worry. It has been so long.” The war had nearly turned Fódlan upside down- and while they came out victorious, ultimately it felt bittersweet. Individuals they once wished to walk side-by-side with are now banished to the underground, their friendship torn into hatred. “I know she will awaken one day…but with each passing day I find myself missing her more.” Perhaps she was too young still to be struck with that mindset, a child upset that her mom has left for a while and has yet to return- it felt embarrassing, each time she caught herself thinking about it.

“We must have faith in Mother, Seiros. If we do, I know she will return to us sooner than we expect.” With a hand on the younger one’s shoulder, Marcelle offered a nurturing smile. “And she will be stronger than ever.” 

Looking up to meet her sister’s gaze, Seiros squinted her eyes. Behind the older nabatean’s head, the sun formed a luminous halo as beautiful as it was blinding. Her features became harder to make out, blending with the contrast of light and shadow- lines blurring between viridian hairs and cerulean of the sky above, losing shape with each blink. “Marcelle-” Bringing hands to her face, Seiros rubbed her eyes to better face her sister to no avail. Less and less clear, a silhouette of her sister that no longer seemed real.

“-ros!”

“Marcelle?”

“Seiros!”

Simone, not Marcelle.

The ash and flames invading her lungs were not of her own blaze, infinite cerulean was lost into looming black clouds as the horizon glowed red. The ebbing aura of her flamberge jolted the young nabatean- slightly older now, back to focus as the silhouette before her took shape once more. Lime-green braids, looser, tied tightly into a bun under a golden helmet. The metal was scuffed, chipped and burnt displaying a clear picture of her other sibling’s condition. With each blink, another injury marred Simone’s body as emerald blood soaked white cloth.

Where once was Marcelle’s calming gaze now stood Simone’s look piercing with despair.

“Si-”

“You have to get out of here! Leave Zanado immediately!” Grabbing Seiros by the arm and trying to drag her to her feet - it had been only then that she noticed she had been knocked to the ground, the side of her leg filled with cuts and bruises - Simone didn’t give her time to speak.

Taken from her trance, Seiros found her voice with a harsh intake of air. “I am not leaving any of you behind! Mother is still asle-”

“Mother has been killed, Seiros! They took her body! There is nothing more to be done!”

She’s still asleep, I know she is. It was just as Marcelle told me, she’ll return stronger than ever. I know she will.

She’s still out there.

Even if I miss her more than anything, even if it hurts my heart every day, I know she’s asleep somewhere.

_

The flamberge sat loose in her grip, Seiros stood as the sole living being at the canyon’s throat. Simone had dragged her to one of many caves and thrown her inside, sealing the entrance with a boulder with only a kiss to her forehead as a goodbye. The night was spent sleepless, attempting to find another exit without resorting to destroying the system with a fierce blow of energy- it was by dawn that she was able to spot a clearing to pass through and finally fly back to Zanado.

Eventually, she found Simone again. Her head missing alongside her weapon and two of her limbs, the only identifiable clue being pieces of her armor that weren’t warped or soaked in blood.

Marcelle was too, somewhere out there. Split into many for her to find.

Humans- those blessed with the kindness and love Mother told her about centennia ago, helped her gather her family’s pieces one by one as not a single body was left intact, be it human-like or draconian. Midday sunlight shone bright and harsh against her head as she worked to grab whatever she could identify, sweat mixing with puddles of blood as it dripped onto the ground. Humans - new ones that Mother had created, in the image of their old friends but lacking their arrogance - brought their tools and ways of transport to help with the process. Seiros could only watch as her siblings were placed in white cloth bags and placed on carriages, each one of them given sorrowful prayers by a few priestesses that had shown up at some point before being removed from the canyon.

Perhaps it was that simple display of empathy that brought her to her knees as shellshock wore off, staring down tearfully at a single Crest Stone she had managed to find behind a rock. As her flamberge clattered onto the ground, the small round stone was cradled close to her own heart, teeth gritted in a mix of anger and anguish. 

Seiros opened her mouth, a raw scream of distress ready at her throat, before her eyes shot open to face the darkness of night.

Quickly sitting up on her bed and bringing silk covers close to her chest, Rhea let out a shaky sigh.

What do you believe are your greatest strengths? Your greatest weaknesses?

“The Knights of Seiros will be accompanying me the entire time, do not be concerned.” Voice as gentle as the summer wind, the archbishop offered a short nod of gratitude at a bishop’s worries. “This is a journey I have performed for many years now, my absence would be met with upset by the town’s faithful as well as the local clergy, do you not think so?” Stated as a matter of fact, without much room for contestation. Confidence sewn in subtle thin threads of gold as she stood sure of herself all while taking others’ inputs into consideration. Not too much, not too little. Just the right amount.

It was a short journey to the Cathedral of Camulus, in the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, as a means to offer blessings for the upcoming winters. It was extremely uncommon for the Archbishop to leave Garreg Mach in such fashion, the logistics behind it all running many of the Church’s staff ragged as they ensured Rhea’s guaranteed safety throughout all phases of the journey.

“But Lady Rhea, the reports surrounding the region…bandit attacks have been at an all time high!”

A pale green brow rose. “And would these bandits be somehow able to take on the Knights of Seiros themselves?”

“O-Of course not, Lady Rhea. But I beg of you, please consider postponing this event. I am sure the Cathedral will understand.”

Her poise suffered no changes. Rather than face the pleading bishop in irritation for challenging her word, her eyes softened in sympathy- to the point one could perhaps wonder if there was hidden pity behind the verdant veil. Rhea was always grateful for the clergy’s worries and inputs, always willing to listen and consider whatever ideas or advice they may have in mind to offer. Even those not fit for the situation were still given an ear for the sake of honoring their time and attempt, wishing not to silence them but rather allow their voice to be heard regardless of what it is. 

“My decision is final, but I shall alert the commanders to your concerns so vigilance may be higher. Does that compromise soothe your heart?” Each one of these people were held dear to her core. Humans she has surrounded herself with like one does with a clan, all in the name of Fódlan’s peace and order- but also perhaps to fill a thousand-year old void. Humans who were kind and docile, much like those she once heard from Mother, humans that Rhea decided to nurture, guide and protect- as they are unable to do so themselves. 

It was an odd, paradoxical mixture. To hold faith in all of them, love them with all her heart, all while a sliver of distrust sat at the very back of her mind. Fear that history may repeat itself, or that they may somehow figure out how to destroy themselves as soon as her gaze turns away. Rhea truly cared for all humans of Fódlan as they too were creations of the Goddess in one way or another, but said love meant limiting them from complete utter freedom. 

It is for the greater good, for all of us.

Within all limits of her benevolence and gentle nature, she had to hold them back from the truth, and from themselves.

In the end, the bishop seemed satisfied with her proposal. It wasn’t like she was willing to give much more leeway, and perhaps the bishop did catch on and chose to take whatever flexibility they could get, but their leave earned a blooming smile in her features all the same as she watched their figure disappear beyond the chapel’s doors. A soft sigh escaped her lips alongside a brief laugh, her gaze all too knowing before turning around to face one of the Goddess’ stained glass windows.

Last night’s dream still left a shiver in her hands, carefully concealed by keeping them together with fingers lightly intertwined as if in a perpetual state of near prayer. Emerald hues lined the mural’s details, always falling back to the Progenitor God’s expression- eyes closed in gentle, motherly bliss, the warmth of her presence overwhelming and yet her gaze hidden behind eyelids, distant. Distant to her. “Mother…one day.”

If a story were to be written about your life, what role would you play?

The figure of Seiros knelt below, face obscured by a white cloak as her sacred flamberge was proudly displayed. Above, the Immaculate One shielded the Saint’s form with wide wings of ivory, its head turned up towards the sky to face the Goddess. Always looking up, reaching, longing, only for its eyes to never meet Sothis’ own.

A Saint who spread Her Word to all of Fódlan, blessing the rise of Adrestia alongside Emperor Wilhelm and purging evil from the Ten Elites due to their committed acts of sin and blasphemy. Every step taken overlooked by an immaculate beast of the heavens, sent by the Goddess herself to ensure Seiros’ success in enforcing divine justice. Fódlan grew with Seiros by its side, its saint and savior, its sole way of communication with the Goddess above in fulfilling her teachings.

Fódlan too, grew with Rhea by its side. A woman with many pasts and many names, always overlooking the Central Church in one way or another. A paragon of faith and grace, her omniscient presence more than enough for villagers to kneel in gratitude for feeling blessed. For the nations, she was a point of reference- for the people, a safe haven.

But the longer she looked at the Goddess’ mural, a distant realization set in with a tone of melancholy.

A Saint, an Archbishop, a leader, a priestess, a warrior, a sister.

A lost child, holding on to faith that Mother will return one day, stronger than ever.