#wallpapers 16 wishes

[heybrine]

Carved in Stone Pack

Heeeeeey guys, happy halloween! Finally it's time to release this amazing pack that I have been working on since last month! And oh dear, couldn't be a better timing!

My dear patron Georgia requested some awesome statues inspired by Bonaventure Cemetery and when the new expansion pack was announced it was perfect timing! I instantly loved this new EP, and got super inspired by this theme. So "Carved in Stone" was born with 53 new items, such as statues, urn, headstones, wallpaper, decor trims (for walls and roofs), gothic inspired windows, doors, roof decors, fences, monopteros, plants etc. This pack has many little details and I loved making this. Like, A LOT.

I was inspired by many gothic architecture builds and a few drawing in pinterest, here's a few: inspo 1, inspo 2, inspo 3, inspo 4, inspo 5, inspo 6.

I really enjoyed making these and I hope you like it as much as I do, I made it with much love 🧡🖤

You can always see more info on my patreon here!

If you wish, you can get early acess here! 😊 --- available for everyone 11/16/2024

[queenshelby]

Sweet Possession (Part 1)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

It was about four months ago when you met him, this blue-eyed stranger who would change your life forever. It was as if you had stepped into the unknown, shedding your old, familiar skin. He made your head spin with his charm and allure for the unknown.

When you talked to him for the very first time, it was as if you had known each other for years. He listened to you, and you felt as though he truly understood who you were and what you needed in life.

Despite being over 12 years older than you , Thomas Shelby made you feel safe and wanted, desired and accepted. You never felt such a connection to someone who had such an intense personality as Thomas and, most importantly for all, he showed you respect.

Thomas (or Tommy as you called him) was a wealthy business man from Birmingham and whilst you did not know much about his business activities, you knew that he was responsible for import and export of goods such Tabacco and cars.

With both of your parents not having survived the sinking of the Titanic, you had no one but yourself to stand up for and take care of yourself until Tommy came into your life.

He took you in and took care of you a few months ago, admiring your inner strength and determination to overcome all the challenges that life had thrown at you ever since you had turned 16, which was almost three years before you met him, your soon to be husband.

You were 19 years old when you met the 32-year-old in a pub named the Garrison shortly after you had started working there behind the bar. That night, Tommy had saved you from some unwanted attention from some other patrons and as you sat together that night, your connection was undeniable, palpable. Every guess or gut feeling you had ever had about your future guesses or dreams was confirmed in an instant. This was the moment that would change it all.

Fast-forward a bit and soon you found yourself living in Tommy's mansion, which you had yet to fully discover. The mansion was home to your own magnificent bedroom, Surreal wallpapers, wax-leafed walls, brass fixtures, and white porcelain handles.

It was surreal coming from almost living on the street to this and when Tommy asked you to marry him a few weeks ago,  you accepted blindly only thinking of the safety and love he gave you.

The wedding ceremony itself was small, with only some of his family in attendance. You were his second wife; his first wife having died four years ago and this was something that did not bother you. You accepted him with all as his baggage, just as he accepted you.

***

Having respected your wishes not to engage in any sexual activities before marriage, you two waited for the big night, anticipating the pleasure of having each other's bodies.

Tommy had told you through the weeks leading up to your wedding day that he would be gentle, as he assumed you were still a virgin and had no experience with men. He also told you that he would teach you everything there was to know about sex, which was a prospect that excited you. 

You knew that being abstinent for more than four months, must have been difficult for a man his age, and you couldn't help but admire him for his respect towards you and your decision to wait until your wedding night.

Unlike many other men, he said that he had no interest in the services of prostitutes and you believed him. He showed you that intimacy was not just about sex but more about the emotional connection between two people. But as each day passed, the tension between you two grew stronger and stronger.

The big night finally arrived. You had taken a bath, washing your whole body using a lavender-scented soap and then slid your body gently into a silky nightgown that you had bought in an expensive store downtown especially for you wedding night. As you looked at the mirror, you could not help but feel a bit nervous.

Tommy knocked gently on your door and after a short moment, he opened it up.

As you stood there in your nightgown, he couldn't help but stare. His eyes wandered over every bit of your body, and you could see the hunger in his eyes from a mile away.

Approaching you, he gently took your hand and drew you closer to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, making your core tighten. 

"You are beautiful, Love," Thomas whispered in your ear, brushing a loose tendril of hair from your face, his breath warm against your skin.

He then took hold of your left hand again and tenderly kissed your wedding ring – a token of your eternal love. Your heart raced and your nerves tingled at his tender display of affection. Your cheeks felt flushed and the room seemed to be spinning as the moment you'd been waiting for your entire life was finally about to happen.

Your hands felt clammy and you were struggling to find the words to respond to the man you'd married.

"Tommy," you gasped. "I want you," you stammered, looking up into his sharp, handsome face.

He caught your gaze with a knowing smile. "Good, because I want you too," Thomas said, with his eyes blazing and expectant.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself being swept away on a tide of anticipation and desire.

Thomas stood in front of you, his fingers tracing the outline of your delicate collarbone.

He leaned in to softly kiss your quivering lips. His tongue danced upon yours for a mere moment before he pulled away. Slowly, he unbuttoned your night dress and let it fall gently to the floor, revealing your perky, young breasts to the cool air of the bedroom.

He took a moment to admire your inexperienced and vulnerable beauty before he began to trail kisses down your neck, across your chest, and onto your sensitive nipples.

"Oh God," you gasped, your hands clenching in his thick, dark hair as he teased you with his mouth.

"You like that, do you?" Thomas whispered, a wicked grin on his face.

The heat between your thighs became unbearable. You wanted him to do more, to touch you there, to do away with the last scraps of clothing that separated you from the man you married.

"Why don't you lie down for me, Love?" Thomas suggested, as he began to remove his own clothes.

You nodded eagerly, unable to find your voice in the intensity of the moment. Your breath hitched as you watched him undress. His muscled chest and chiseled abdomen were revealed to you as he shed his shirt, and your mouth went dry as he removed his trousers to stand proudly before you.

You laid back against the plush, velvet pillows, feeling self-conscious about your own nakedness in front of such a strong, confident man.

You noticed that his member stood tall and rigid, ready to claim you as his.

"Stop looking at my cock and lay back, Sweetheart," Thomas chuckled, sensing your discomfort. "I promise I won't hurt you," he then reassured you and you swallowed hard, nodding in compliance as you scooted further up on the bed.

Thomas followed, crawling up the bed with a seductive grace. He settled between your thighs and you trembled with anticipation.

"Open for me," Thomas whispered, his fingers lightly tracing your slick folds.

You whimpered at the sensation of his touch, your body tensing as he explored you intimately. Slowly, you obeyed his demand and allowed your legs to fall open. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but also safe in Thomas' arms, which held you with a protectiveness you needed in this new and uncertain moment.

"Good girl," Thomas praised, his fingers circling your clit with a tantalizing slowness. "You are already so nice and wet for me, eh?"  Thomas whispered, a suggestive smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as Thomas began to circle your clit with his thumb, all the while keeping his fingers buried inside of you.

"You are so beautiful Y/N. I am a lucky man," Thomas murmured, sensing your pleasure at his touch.

You nodded again, too caught up in the euphoria of the moment to find your voice.

Thomas began to thrust his fingers back and forth, his thumb continuing to rub your clit in slow, steady circles.

You threw your head back and moaned, your hips moving with a mind of their own. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting close to the edge.

"Let go for me, Love," Thomas whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let yourself go. I promise you'll enjoy it."

With those words, something inside of you snapped. You closed your eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over you, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

"That's it," Thomas murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "That's my good girl. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart," Thomas said, his voice thick with lust as he brushed a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

You smiled weakly, still catching your breath after the powerful release you had just experienced. You had never felt anything like that before and you couldn't believe how intensely Thomas had been able to make you feel.

"I love you Tommy ," you whispered, half-ashamed of the needy tone in your voice.

Thomas kissed you softly, his lips tasting of salt and lust. "I love you too, my wife," he said, before his hand started to wander down your body again.

His fingers found your wetness once more and he stroked you gently before, finally, climbing on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Love," Thomas whispered, his breath hot against your cheek as he teased your entrance with his tip.

"Please be gentle , Tommy," you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer size and intensity of Thomas' manhood.

He nodded, his eyes blazing with desire. "Of course, Sweetheart. I'll be as gentle as I can," he said and, with that, he slowly began to push himself inside of you.

You gasped at the initial pain and pressure of his penetration, clutching onto the sheets as he filled you up completely.

Thomas paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Are you alright, Love?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you tried to relax and accommodate his girth.

"Yes, I'm okay," you assured him, and Thomas began to thrust in and out of you with slow, deliberate movements.

At first, it felt foreign and slightly painful, but as Thomas' rhythm gradually picked up speed, your discomfort gave way to a growing sense of pleasure and desire.

"You feel so good, Sweetheart," Thomas groaned, as he plunged deeper and deeper inside of you.

Your legs wrapped around Thomas' waist, drawing him closer still, as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

You had never experienced such intense pleasure before, and you could feel yourself edging closer and closer to the precipice of climax.

You clung to Thomas, your fingernails digging into the taut muscles of his back as you moaned and gasped beneath him.

"Oh, God, Tommy," you panted, your hips bucking to meet his thrusts. "I think I'm going to cum again."

Thomas' eyes blazed with a fierce hunger as he drove himself deeper inside of you, your bodies slapping together in a primal dance.

"That's right, Love. Cum for me," Thomas growled, his voice low and husky.

"I want to feel you tighten around me, Love. I want to hear you scream my name while I make you come."

With those filthy words, Thomas thrust deeper and harder into you, sending wave after wave of pulsating pleasure surging through your body.

"Yes, Tommy! Yes!" you screamed, your voice mingling with his deep, guttural grunts.

"Fuck, you feel so tight and warm. So fucking good," Thomas groaned, sweat dripping from his brow as he plunged into your depths again and again.

"Don't cum inside me ," you gasped, suddenly remembering a crucial detail as you had previously discussed that you were not yet ready to have children with him. 

"I won't," Thomas groaned. "But I need to feel you a little longer. You just feel too good around my cock, Love," Thomas pleaded as he continued to drive himself in and out of you with wild, untamed passion.

You could feel another orgasm building within you, and you knew it would be powerful. You wanted to hold off for as long as possible, wanting to savor every exquisite sensation that Thomas was eliciting from your hyper-sensitive body.

But your pleasure took over and you succumbed to the tidal wave of ecstasy that washed over you. You screamed his name as you squeezed your thighs around his flexing hips.

"Good girl," Thomas panted in your ear, swirling his hips as he forced yet another powerful orgasm from your aching flesh. "So good. So, so fucking good."

You arched your back and collapsed against the bed, trembling beneath him as pain, pleasure, shame and wonderment coursed through your veins like liquid fire.

"Fuck, I am going to cum," Thomas groaned, the thickness of his cock throbbing within you before pulling out quickly and spraying sticky streaks of semen over your stomach, breasts, and bedsheets.

Both of you were breathing heavily as the room filled with the scent of your mutual pleasure, stocks damp with your fluids and mixed with the evidence of his release on your skin.

Neither of you spoke for a few moments, enjoying the quiet moment of contentment that came on the heels of such intense satisfaction.

Thomas broke the silence, removing evidence of his release from your body, as one would clean a precious piece of artwork after its masterpiece was finished.

"Did I hurt you, Love?" Thomas asked, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"No, I-I wanted that," you admitted, your body still shivering from the intense pleasure. "It was perfect," you told him, and he smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly, recalling how long he wanted to do this. 

Unbeknownst to you, he had been wanting you for many years and now, finally, you were his. His wife. His possession. His triumph.

Tags:

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[keehomania]

come back home (집에 돌아와) – mark lee (마크이)

✧ 16+

you never really knew what it meant to have a home. surely, the idea was simple enough: a place to shelter from the world, a structure that separated you from the cold or the rain. but to you, it was just that—a roof, four walls, something solid beneath your feet. maybe a chair here, a table there, if luck was on your side. if luck smiled, perhaps even a bed. It was the bare minimum, and you learned to make do with it. the word “home” had always felt hollow, devoid of warmth or comfort. your house, with all its peeling wallpaper and creaking floors, was just that—a house.

you existed there, your parents existed there, but it was never more than an intersection of lives that hardly touched. the screaming was normal, expected even. the cadence of their voices raising in anger, the crash of shattered glass, the dull thud of doors slamming shut—it became the rhythm of your childhood, a song you wished you could unhear. at first, when you were young, it terrified you. you were nine, maybe ten, the first time it truly sank in, and you clamped your hands over your ears, tears streaking your cheeks as you cried yourself to sleep. but at least there was a bed, you reminded yourself, even if the sheets were cold and the mattress hard. cold water had a knack for feeling warm when your hands were freezing.

you learned, over time, that cold water felt warm when your hands were freezing. you adapted, hardened yourself to the noise, the tension, the never-ending war waged between your parents. they never divorced. that, too, became part of the routine, the way they lived in the same house but on different planes of existence. they tolerated each other, and you? you tolerated it all.

at nineteen, you left. escaped, really. found yourself in a dingy apartment on the outskirts of hongdae, where the nights were quieter than you expected. so quiet, in fact, that you almost missed the screaming. almost. it never truly left, though. the echoes of their fights lived on in your mind, a constant ringing in the stillness of the night. even when the world outside was silent, the crickets long gone, it was there. but it didn’t faze you anymore. it had stopped fazing you a long time ago.

you met him when you were eighteen, just a few months shy of nineteen, and you couldn’t have known then how much someone could fill the spaces in your life where there had only been emptiness before. mark was funny in the kind of way that made you laugh before he even finished his jokes, like his sheer presence radiated joy. he was sweet in a way that wasn’t forced, his kindness so natural it felt like breathing. but it was his charm that hooked you from the very first glance—there was something about him that was magnetic, a pull you couldn’t resist. he was clumsy, a little ditzy, the kind of person who seemed to trip over his own feet yet laugh about it with the confidence of someone who made falling look graceful. you had sworn, more than once, that he must’ve been a blonde bimbo in a past life, the way he moved through the world with a carefree lightness.

you liked everything about him, even the quirks that might have annoyed anyone else. the way he laughed a little too loud, obnoxious but infectious. the way his fringe had fallen just so over his eyes when you met him, a mess of hair that he never quite bothered to fix. you liked the way he mixed his english and korean, as if his thoughts flowed too fast for just one language to handle. and then there was his scent—the sharp, musky warmth of sauvage that clung to his clothes, lingering in the air after he left like a memory you didn’t want to fade.

what you liked most, though, was how much he seemed to like you. it wasn’t just the way he looked at you or the way his voice softened when he said your name. it was the fact that he embraced everything about you, even the things you were sure no one else would. the first time he came over, your apartment was a mess—clothes strewn across the floor, dishes piled high in the sink, books and papers scattered like debris from a storm. but he didn’t flinch. he didn’t judge. instead, he smiled, wide and genuine, as if the clutter didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“you're way too nervous, dude,” he teased, his voice light and teasing as he stood in the doorway. “it’s adorable, shit, what should i do with you?”

you blushed, avoiding his gaze as his hand ruffled your hair, the touch gentle but enough to send a warmth rushing through you. you fumbled with the keys, your fingers shaking slightly as you unlocked the door. “try not to judge too hard,” you muttered under your breath, stepping inside with him trailing close behind. mark clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if to dismiss your worries. “i’m not judging, promise.”

the interior was as chaotic as you’d feared—blankets draped over the couch in a haphazard pile, magazines tossed onto the coffee table without a second thought. there was a plate from last night’s dinner still sitting on the counter, and you caught sight of a lone sock peeking out from under the tv stand. but mark didn’t seem to notice any of it, or if he did, he didn’t care. he walked in, looked around, and grinned. “feels cozy,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice made you believe it, just for a moment.

you both settled on the couch, sinking into the cushions as the quiet hum of the television filled the room. he suggested watching a movie, something light, something to fill the silence without demanding too much attention. but you weren’t really focused on the screen. your gaze kept drifting back to him—the way he sat with one arm slung lazily over the back of the couch, the other holding the remote, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you as if he could feel your stare.

it wasn’t long before he caught you. his lips quirked up into a playful smile, and he leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you. “you’re staring,” he whispered, voice teasing but low enough to send a shiver down your spine. “i wasn’t,” you protested weakly, but the blush on your cheeks gave you away.

he chuckled, the sound soft and comforting, before he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. his hand lingered for a moment, fingertips grazing your skin as his gaze dropped to your lips. and in that moment, the air between you seemed to shift, thickening with tension that neither of you wanted to break.

his lips met yours gently at first, testing, exploring. but the warmth of the kiss grew, deepening as his hand moved to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. the taste of him was intoxicating, the mix of his cologne and something inherently him filling your senses. when he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him.

“god, you taste even better than i imagined,” he murmured, his voice roughened by the kiss, a hint of something darker lingering beneath the surface. you blushed deeper, the heat from his words spreading through you like wildfire.

later, you found yourselves on the balcony, sharing a cigarette as the night air cooled the flush on your cheeks. the city lights flickered in the distance, casting a soft glow over the streets below. mark stood beside you, his arm casually draped around your shoulders, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as you both stared out into the quiet.

he took a drag from the cigarette, exhaling a slow, steady stream of smoke into the night before turning to you. his eyes were soft, but there was a determination in them you hadn’t seen before. “i’ll do anything to make you mine, you know that, right?” his voice was low, serious in a way that made your heart skip a beat. you looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. he meant every word.

your relationship with him unfolded like the slow bloom of a flower, delicate and sweet, each petal unfurling with every day you spent together. it was puppy love at its finest, the kind that made your heart flutter and your stomach twist into nervous knots. the kind of love that made the world seem softer, more forgiving.

your dates were simple, but they were everything. late-night walks through the city, hand in hand as the neon lights reflected off the wet pavement. you’d stop for street food, sharing rice cakes or steaming hot dumplings, laughing when the sauce dripped down your chin and mark wiped it away with a grin. he had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special. like the time he surprised you with a cup of coffee before your early shift at work, the note scribbled on the side of the cup in his messy handwriting—“thought you might need this. see you tonight, babe :)”

it wasn’t grand gestures that defined your relationship, but rather the small acts of care. the way he always carried your bag without you asking. the way he memorized your favorite takeout order and brought it over after a long day. or how he slipped love letters under your door, little notes scribbled on torn pieces of notebook paper, each one messier than the last, but filled with words that made your heart swell. “you make me feel like the luckiest guy alive. can’t believe i get to wake up every day knowing you’re mine.”

you kept every single one, tucked away in a drawer, rereading them when the nights felt too quiet. he was your safe space, your escape from the chaos that had been your life for so long. and slowly, you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected. one night, after a particularly rough day, you found yourself curled up in his lap, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you whispered the words you had kept locked away for so long.

“never really had a home,” you started, your voice barely audible over the hum of the city outside. “parents were always fighting. it was constant. screaming, throwing shit, doors slamming. they never got divorced, but they never really stayed together either. i guess i got used to it after a while. but it never stopped hurting.”

mark’s arms tightened around you, his fingers gently brushing through your hair as you spoke. you could feel the way his body tensed beneath you, as if he were absorbing your pain, taking it on as his own. for a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just held you close, his breath warm against your skin.

then, in a voice quieter than you had ever heard him use, he spoke. “my dad was the same,” he admitted, his words heavy with the weight of years of silence. “used to hit my mom. me too, sometimes. i don’t think i ever really forgave him for that. he cheated on her. over and over. i remember hearing them fight when i was a kid, and i’d just hide in my room, pretending it wasn’t happening. but you can’t really ignore that kind of thing forever, you know?”

you lifted your head, looking up at him, and for the first time, you saw a side of him you hadn’t seen before. his eyes were dark, shadowed with memories he had buried deep. his usual smile was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “i’m so sorry,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as if savoring the warmth of your palm against his cheek.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, but you could hear the crack in his voice. “i mean, it’s not okay, but i don’t know. i guess i just got used to pretending it didn’t hurt.” and then, without warning, the tears came. first yours, then his. it was quiet at first, a few soft sniffles, but soon you were both crying, your tears mingling as you clung to each other. it wasn’t the kind of crying that came with sobs or broken words, but a deep, shared grief, the kind that had been bottled up for too long.

you cried for the pain you had endured, for the childhoods that had been stolen from both of you. you cried for the loneliness, the fear, the helplessness of watching the people you loved tear each other apart.

“i didn’t think i’d ever find someone who understood,” you whispered through your tears, your forehead pressed against his. “someone who just—gets it.” mark shook his head, his own tears spilling down his cheeks as he looked at you, eyes red-rimmed and glistening. "you don’t have to go through it alone anymore," he said softly, his voice breaking. “we’ve got each other now. i won’t let you go through that again. not ever.”

he had never seemed more fragile. the boy who always laughed too loudly, who joked about everything, who never took life too seriously—now, he was exposed, raw in his vulnerability, and it broke something in you to see him like this. but it also healed something too. in him, you saw a reflection of your own. every time he smiled at you, every time he touched your hand or kissed your forehead, it felt like a promise. a promise that you wouldn’t be alone anymore. and you believed him.

there’s that saying, the one everyone knows but no one really wants to admit the truth of. something about apples and trees. the apple never falls far, but when it does, it rots. months had passed, and he hadn’t changed. he was still the same sweetheart you met, the same boy who made you laugh at stupid jokes, who scribbled love notes and stuck them in your bag when you weren’t looking. the same boy who held you through the darkest moments and promised he’d never let you feel alone again. you clung to that.

but then, slowly, things started to shift. it was subtle at first, the kind of thing you told yourself not to overthink. his phone, which had always been an afterthought, suddenly seemed to light up more often. notifications during your dates, while you were watching tv, even when you were lying in bed together. each time, he would glance at the screen, the light reflecting in his eyes for a moment before he turned it off, flipping the phone over like it was nothing.

you didn’t want to be that person. the one who asked too many questions, who pried, who doubted. but the feeling gnawed at you, deep in your gut, a quiet ache that you couldn’t shake. “what’s the matter?” you’d asked him once, your voice soft, trying to keep it casual. mark had answered smoothly, barely blinking. “group chat being spammed.”

you believed him. you wanted to believe him. so you brushed it off. you convinced yourself that you were being paranoid, that the ache in your stomach was nothing more than insecurity. but then you caught a glimpse of something. a photo of some girl, just for a split second before the screen went dark again. “who’s that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even, trying not to sound clingy, desperate for him to say something that would calm the storm brewing inside you. “my cousin,” he said easily, his tone so calm it almost soothed the unease in your chest. “she’s coming to hongdae next week.”

you nodded, forcing a smile, swallowing the doubt that still lingered in the back of your throat. you brushed it off, again. but the ache had grown, twisting and knotting in your stomach, especially when you noticed something else. the scent of perfume. not his usual sauvage, that sharp, familiar musk that clung to his clothes. this was different. dainty. fruity. feminine. you didn’t say anything that night, even though it felt like a slap in the face, but you got no sleep. you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the smell of it taunting you, the ache now a full-blown pain, throbbing in your chest.

the final straw came one night when you were at his apartment. he was in the shower, the sound of the water echoing from the bathroom connected to his bedroom. you sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through your hair, staring at his phone lighting up on the bedside table, once again buzzing with notifications. curiosity got the best of you. you didn’t want to be the kind of person who went through someone else’s phone, but the feeling in your chest wouldn’t let you ignore it anymore. so, with shaky fingers, you pulled down the notification bar, and that’s when your heart dropped for the first time in nine years.

four girls. maybe five. their names flashing on the screen, some of them sending attachments you didn’t even want to open. you didn’t need to. the gist was clear. flirting. photos. motel meet-ups. you felt sick, your hands trembling as you held the phone, your pulse roaring in your ears, drowning out the sound of the water still running in the bathroom.

when mark stepped out, a towel slung low around his waist, his hair dripping wet, his usual grin plastered across his face, you couldn’t even look at him. “you okay, baby?” he murmured, approaching the foot of the bed. the scent of him, the faintest hint of sauvage, mixed with the steam from the shower, was almost nauseating now.

you stared down at your bare feet, unable to speak. you felt like you were on the edge of breaking, your throat tight, your hands shaking as you held his phone in your lap. his smile faltered as he noticed the phone in your hands. you turned it on, the messages lighting up the screen once more. his heart sank, and for the first time, you saw him panic. “babe,” he started, his voice breaking, but you wouldn’t let him finish.

with all the rage and betrayal you had kept buried, you slammed his phone against the floor. it shattered, pieces of glass scattering at your feet. the sound of it breaking filled the room, sharp and violent, like the crack of something much deeper snapping inside you. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” he said, his voice rising in disbelief as he stood there, staring at the wreckage of his phone. “at least let me explain.”

you stood, rage boiling in your veins, and before he could reach for you, his hands gripping your shoulders, you met his gaze. the smile he had worn for so long, that same charming smile that had made you fall for him, was gone now. and you saw him for what he was.

without thinking, your hand flew up, and your palm collided with his face. the sound echoed in the silence of the room, and for a moment, neither of you moved. mark was stunned, his cheek reddening from the impact, his eyes wide with shock. you should’ve been afraid. maybe some part of you should have hesitated, but you didn’t. not this time.

“what?” you spat, your voice trembling with fury. “gonna hit me? show me you’re your daddy’s son? you’re already halfway there.” you saw the way his fist clenched, his knuckles turning white. but he didn’t raise his hand. he stood there, frozen, his face pale, eyes filled with a mix of shame and anger, but he didn’t strike back. you left right then and there, grabbing your things with shaking hands. you didn’t look back.

the familiar sound of silence weighed heavy on your shoulders, pressing down like an invisible force, suffocating and thick. it wasn’t the comfortable kind of silence you’d once craved, the kind you sought when the world felt too loud, too chaotic. this was different. this was the silence that mingled with the sound of your quiet sobs, echoing off the walls of your apartment. it was too quiet. too still. and in that stillness, the mess of your head overpowered the mess of the space around you.

the apartment was the same disarray it had always been—clothes strewn across the floor, an unwashed coffee mug on the table, an empty takeout container abandoned on the counter. but none of it seemed to matter. not now. not with the turmoil in your chest, the ache that made it impossible to focus on anything but the hollow throb of betrayal that gnawed at your insides.

your phone buzzed on the table beside you, and you didn’t have to look to know it was him. it had been going off for hours now, vibrating insistently, demanding your attention with every essay-length text he sent. you could imagine the words without even reading them—apologies, excuses, desperate attempts to explain away the hurt he had caused. but they were just words, and they meant nothing to you now. he had ruined everything. not you.

you had been a step ahead of him this whole time, guarding your heart as best you could, but that was perfect. he was a step behind you, stabbing you in the back had never been easier. you stared at your phone, the messages stacking up on the screen, the notifications piling on top of each other until it felt like they were mocking you. mocking the love you had given him, the trust you had placed in him.

eventually, you responded. not with the anger or the pain you felt in your chest, but with something colder. numb. a simple message, telling him to come get his stuff the next day. no explanations, no arguments. just the finality of it, the line drawn in the sand.

you didn’t get any sleep that night. How could you, when the shadows of him lingered everywhere? his clothes, his gifts, his belongings—they surrounded you like ghosts, watching over you from every corner of the apartment. even the air felt heavy with his presence, as if you could still smell the faint scent of his cologne hanging in the room, clinging to everything he had touched.

by the time the sun started to rise, you felt hollow. the kind of emptiness that comes after a storm, when everything has been stripped away, leaving only the wreckage behind. that was when you heard the knock at the door, faint but insistent. you knew it was him.

your hands trembled as you unlocked the door, the cold metal of the knob slick beneath your sweaty palms. when you opened it, mark didn’t hesitate to step inside. he barged in, his movements hurried, his breath catching in his throat like he had run the whole way here. his eyes were puffy, red, and swollen, matching your own. his heart broke at the sight of you, standing there in your worn-out pajamas, eyes rimmed with tears. but you? you had nothing left to break. you had already given him everything. your heart, your trust, your love. he had taken it all and shattered it, and now there was nothing left for him to ruin.

“your stuff’s in my room,” you croaked out, your voice hoarse from hours of crying. it was all you could manage to say. you couldn’t even bear to look at him, not directly. you were no longer facing the man you thought you knew. you weren’t sure if you ever knew him at all. but mark didn’t move. he stood there, his breath shallow, his body tense, as if he was fighting some internal battle. you turned your back to him, unwilling—unable—to look at the face that had lied to you for so long. that was when he finally moved.

not toward your room, not to gather his things like you had expected. no, instead, he came for you. you felt his warmth before anything else. his breath, hot against your neck. his arms, familiar and strong, draping around your waist, pulling you close. you didn’t fight it. you didn’t push him away. maybe you were too weak, too tired from all the crying. maybe you just didn’t want to. maybe you wanted to hold on to something familiar, something that reminded you of the love you thought you had.

“i’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, barely above a whisper, the sound of it raw and broken. “i don’t deserve you. i never deserved you. i don’t deserve to beg, but you have to know they meant nothing. nobody will ever top you. nobody will ever come close to you. hate me, but please don’t stop loving me.”

you didn’t respond, but you felt the tears start again, the ones you thought had been drained from your eyes. they flowed silently down your cheeks, mingling with his as he pressed his face to yours, his cheek wet against your skin. you could feel him trembling, the weight of his regret pouring from him in waves, and for a moment, you let it wash over you.

he kissed your cheek, soft, tentative, as though he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer still, his lips trailing along your jawline, your temple. you let him, because it was cold. and he was the only warmth you had left. his lips found yours, once sweet and tender, now salty with tears. you didn’t pull away. you let him kiss you. you kissed him back.

“i’m so sorry, baby,” he murmured between the kisses, his voice cracking, “i love you so much. please, don’t leave me.” you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. his hands were everywhere, gripping you like he was terrified to let go, like he was scared you might slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold you tight enough. that’s what you wanted to believe—that his touch was desperate, that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. so you let him. you let him touch you, hold you, kiss you. because in that moment, it was all you had left.

his hands moved up your body, his touch feather-light as they reached the hem of your shirt. he tugged it over your head, his eyes never leaving yours, and you didn’t resist. your heart was racing, but not with the excitement it usually did when he touched you. no, this was something else—something more frantic, more desperate. you weren’t sure if you were letting him do this because you loved him or because you were just too tired to fight.

you felt the warmth of his skin against yours as his shirt came off next, the soft fabric brushing against your sensitized skin like a lover’s caress. and maybe, just for a moment, you convinced yourself that you could forgive him. that his love was enough to fill the gaping hole that his lies had left in your chest.

you stumbled backwards toward the bed, his arms never leaving your body, your legs giving out beneath you as he laid you down. his kisses grew more urgent, his touch more feverish as he explored your bare skin. you were crying now, your body shaking with each sob that wracked your chest. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t stop, not now.

you felt his hands on your pants, the button popping open, and you didn’t protest. the fabric slid down your legs, leaving you exposed, vulnerable. his eyes searched yours, looking for a glimmer of hope, something to cling to. you didn’t want to give it to him, but your body was betraying you. it responded to his touch like it had been programmed to do so from the very start. his weight settled on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding on as if he were the last piece of driftwood in a storm. you sobbed into his neck as he moved inside of you, the friction mixing with the pain in your heart. you weren’t sure if you were crying because it felt good or because it hurt. maybe it was both.

his breath grew ragged, his movements quickening, his eyes never leaving yours. he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, words that once meant everything now sounding like echoes of the past. you didn’t say anything back, just held onto him tighter, letting his warmth and the rhythm of his body fill the cold void that had taken root inside you. and when he finally came, his body shuddering with the force of his release, he collapsed onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his tears mixing with yours.

it hurt like hell, every bit of it. every breath you took was like a punch to your gut, every tear that fell from your cheek felt cold. it was cold, and it was quiet. it was home.

✧

a/n: if ur reading this and ur in a toxic relationship, and when i say toxic, that ranges from gaslighting to physical abuse—this is ur sign that there most definitely is a way out. if ur reading this while and ur ina toxic relationship thinking, this is awful, how could the reader patch things up with him just like that, this is ur sign. the hands that hold you are the ones most capable of harming you and the words that console you will be the fastest to hurt you. a cold touch will feel warm when ur freezing, but sometimes its just better to freeze. know your worth, and even if you dont know it, know that it has never depended on what a man thinks of you, and it never will

[m0ntylee]

My thoughts on the Anthony Warlow Jekyll and Hyde Musical songs. (my thought are in scrambles, and I'm 2 drinks in and FEELING IT!) 1. Prologue (I can imagine him saying the lyrics in eerie darkness, all ominous.) 2. I Need to Know (Jekyll is a fucking Disney princess and this is his moment!!!) 3. Facade (I would be scared if the houses were all flashy and swank.) 4. Bitch, Bitch, Bitch (SHUT YALL'S TRAPS!!) 5. The Engagement Party (I'm going to maul Simon Stride.) 6. Possessed (Lisa my beloved. Nothing can make me hate you) 7. Take Me as I Am (RAAAAAAAH LISAA!! 💖) 8. Lisa Carew (Nothing will make me like you Simon Stride) 9. Board of Governors (Ladies and Gentlemen, one at a time, I cant not understand all that shit) 10. Bring on the Men (how about this.... Bring on the Frogs! They are so funny, I swear.) 11. Lucy Meets Jekyll (Lucy serves and eats here.) 12. How Can I Continue On? (Utterson is so dear to me, I'm going to tear up wallpaper) 13. This Is the Moment (Can this not be the moment… Please) 14. Transformation (Now this is the moment at 3:17. Yea fellas, It's okay to be freaky, no judgment here.) 15. Lucy Meets Hyde (Indeed you are the man, Mr. Edward Hyde) 16. Alive (I SAID IT ONCE, I SHALL SAY IT AGAIN! HEADPHONES ARE NOT ENOUGH, I NEED THIS SONG UP MY ASS!!!) 17. Streak of Madness (The madness.. Its fucking streaking) 18. His Work and Nothing More (I don't like when the boyfriends are sad :(( ) 19. Sympathy, Tenderness (I love this song, and it makes me violently sad) 20. Someone Like You (Full of magic, whimsy, and pining) 21. Mass (Magic) 22. Murder, Murder! ("I brought you frankincense." - "and I brought you Mur.. Murder") 23. Letting Go (I love their bond) 24. Reflections ("As Hyde, I care only for myself- And nothing for Jekyll!" this is simply not true, buddy) 25. In His Eyes (Seep down this song makes me feel joyus and sad at the same time and my brain cant choose what it wants to do) 26. The World Has Gone Insane (MY FAVORITE SONG!!) 27. Girls of the Night (Another song that makes me :( i wish nothing but the best for them) 28. No One Knows Who I Am (I know who you are. :(( I want to give her a hug.) 29. It's a Dangerous Game (this duet goes HARD) 30. Once upon a Dream (Lisa) (Sigh...... Jekyll when I get you.) 31. No One Must Ever Know (I'm going to hold your hand while I tell you this.) 32. A New Life (This song made my mother frown and look at me all sad like. Then I told her.) 33. Once Upon a Dream (I think you were afraid to bud) 34. Confrontation ("I'm what you face when you face in the mirror." Mood) 35. The Wedding Reception (I feel a little cartoon cloud forming over my head.)

I don't know why I did this, but AYYYYY must there be a reason!! WELP TIME TO DO SHENANIGANS!!! (sleep)

[gravedigginbbydoll]

pencil shavings and shared smiles {pt.2}

Fem! Teacher Reader x Teacher! Eddie

Previous Masterlist Next

AN: I’m honestly so grateful to find people who enjoy my writing :) This started as a bit of fun aside from my current WIP that I’m DETERMINED to not immediately trash, so I wanted to practice some writing on the side, and hey, it’s been a while since I’ve done fanfiction (like, over 6 years…. I think my last fanfic was at age 16! I'm now 23.) so I figured why not? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this next bit (I’ll be honest, I was struggling with it, but the next chapters will be better, I swear!) I don’t have an exact plan for how many parts this will be, but I’m excited to see where it’s headed! 

WARNINGS AND CONTENT:  Minors DNI!!!, Noncanon, Hawkins AU, Normal Hawkins, Rumors about Eddie, Eventual Smut, Very fluffy, Outcasts and Bullying, Mentions of Loneliness, Flirting, Fem!Reader, use of Y/N, older! Eddie, short-haired Eddie, 1995/1996 Hawkins, F! Reader has a dark past, angst.

Summary: You settle into Hawkins, looking for a way to spruce up your place, and bump into a familiar face. You maybe even meet some new friends. Things are looking up. 

The next few days following your encounter with Eddie, you throw yourself into trying to get settled in and getting to know the town. You had been there for a few days before coming to the school but still had boxes piled high and needed some items. 

You focused on moving all the boxes into their designated spaces. But then, you realized you didn’t have much when it came down to it. You had work clothes, plates and bowls, cutlery, basic toiletries, cleaning supplies, and three makeup items. 

In your rush to leave the city, you left so much behind you hadn’t realized. As a result, your apartment looks abandoned in its barren state, and the hideous peeling pink floral wallpaper from the 70s makes your skin crawl. 

That’s what led you to this moment. A shopping spree throughout Hawkins. You’re determined to make the “blink, and you miss it” town feel cozy and like home. It is home now, after all. Though you may need a blanket to cover the ugly cracked green leather couch that came with the place. 

You’re piling up blankets, knick-knacks, and even plants to busy the place. By the time you get to the antique store, you’re sure you’ve burned a hole in your savings. You look around, admiring old furniture with history you wish you knew. You see a large wooden bookshelf, probably older than you, and bite your lip, picturing the perfect reading nook in your large window, a chair with too many pillows, and a table to set your favorite cup of coffee on. You did just buy some new mugs, after all. 

In your daydreaming, you barely notice the presence creeping toward you. 

“As lovely as that little vintage piece is, I heard it’s haunted.” 

You jump a bit, startled by the sudden speaking. When you turn, you feel that familiar creeping of heat across your skin, your stomach twists with nerves while your heart thumps a loud, steady beat. Eddie. He’s wearing a super distressed band shirt with the sleeves cut off, his slightly muscular inked biceps on display. Your thighs tighten at the display, and you mentally scold yourself. 

Now is not the time! Get a hold of yourself.

His brown eyes twinkle with mischief as he tilts his head at you, sticking his thumbs in his jeans pockets. You are instantly reminded of a puppy and feel your insides practically melt. Your heart is thumping embarrassingly loud. You hope to god the cute metalhead in front of you doesn’t somehow have super senses. 

“You redecorating?” 

You shrug, a shy smile gracing your lips. “You could say that, I guess.”

He nods and looks back at the bookcase with intrigue. His expression is thoughtful yet almost solemn as he speaks softly, his words barely reaching you. “Seriously though, that bookcase is bad luck. Belonged to a notorious killer. Henry Creel. Killed his whole family when he was like 9.” 

You feel a chill go up your spine, the sense of fear deep in your belly. But, of course, you knew the old trope of sleepy towns never really being sleepy. Still, the last thing you would’ve guessed to happen in Hawkins was premeditated murder. You peek over at Eddie, who looks at you; his eyes are almost sorrowful as he rubs your shoulder comfortingly. You feel an electric current shoot through you at his touch, and goosebumps shoot up your neck. A flutter in your stomach reminds you that you are far too emotional about this man, despite barely knowing him. 

“Sorry,” He rasps. “I sometimes ramble and forget what I’m saying. I didn’t mean to spook you. It was ages ago. He’s in jail now.” He pulls away his warm touch, and you almost find yourself leaning back for more. 

You shake your head. “It’s fine. Everyone has skeletons in the closet, don’t they?” You remark jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. 

Eddie’s eyes don’t sparkle as they usually do, and he looks a bit more guarded as he smiles softly. “Yeah.” 

You feel a tug at your heart and remember the encounter between the grouchy bookstore owner and Eddie. It’s clear he has a past, but you won’t bring it up. After all, you’re the last person who should be digging through someone’s history. 

“Hey, so a few friends and I are headed to a bar called The Hideout; tonight to bid adieu to summer. I was just wondering…if you’d like to join?” Eddie says shyly, scratching the back of his neck as his cheeks flush. “Of course, I understand if not; I just figured since you’re new here, it may help you get more acclimated and maybe even meet some people-” 

You cut off his rambling with a hand, your lips fighting the urge to smile so vast your jaw may break. “Eddie, I’d love to. What time?” 

He grins, his signature dimples appearing and making your stomach flutter. “Great. Around 7 pm tonight. First drink on me.” 

You feel your cheeks heat once again as you nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Can’t wait.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later on in the evening, you are stressed and pacing. You remember dancing and singing to calm anxiety as a young teen and get the bright idea to turn on the radio to your favorite rock station. 

Now, you're dancing around your living room as You Oughta Know by Alanis Morrisette plays on your radio. You’re dressed in a black slip dress, the satin fabric accentuating your figure. Maybe you’re dressed a little too nice for a bar. Who cares? Dr. Martens on your feet create a more casual look but also possibly causes a noise complaint from your neighbors as you stomp and sing, applying makeup. 

“AND I’M HERE! TO REMIND YOU! OF THE MESS YOU LEFT WHEN YOU WENT AWAY!” 

You scream into your hairbrush, jumping around. 

The singing calms your nerves a bit, and by the end of the song, you’re panting and thinking maybe you should try to hit the gym more. 

You glance at the clock and realize the time is flashing a red and angry 7:30 pm. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” You scramble, tripping over your feet, quickly putting on earrings and a choker, trying to rush out the door. 

Fucking Alanis Morissette. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrive at the bar, hoping to pass off as fashionably late. You look around before spotting Eddie, his back to you in a well-loved leather jacket. He’s at a booth with some friends, a dark stout in his hand. 

You tremble slightly as you walk over, your body thrumming with nervousness, and tap him on the shoulder. He turns, lighting up the minute he sees you. “Hey! You made it! Come on and sit down.” 

You feel embarrassment sink into your skin, hands nervously fiddling as you sit beside him. He introduces the rest of the table, practically making your head spin. There’s Nancy, a petite and beautiful brunette who works as a Chief Editor for the local paper. Steve, a handsome man with an impressive head of hair, works as a coach at Hawkins Middle and High Schools. Robin a talkative and nervous blonde who works as a band teacher at Hawkins High. According to Eddie, this wasn’t everyone in their circle, just the ones he could fit in a booth. You laugh, nerves wracking your stomach as you hope to make a good impression. 

A few minutes in, you’re laughing and practically snorting at a story Steve is telling about Eddie accidentally flashing everyone in a Romeo and Juliet drama production, where he insisted to the drama teacher that they swap the actors and actresses. Eddie had been playing a side character, a plain maiden, when he tripped over his dress and - “Absolutely ate shit! He landed with his head between his legs, and everyone could see his Garfield boxers!” 

You can’t stop laughing at the image of a smaller and younger Eddie, his loud personality causing so much chaos on the stage. You were glad he had gone to buy your drink, seeing as you had laughed so hard you were sure tears had fallen from your eyes. You wiped your eyes and sighed, taking a breath in. 

Eddie returned at that exact moment with your drink, settling it down while playfully glaring at Steve. “Harrington, you better not be talking shit.” 

Steve flicks a paper straw wrapper at Eddie and scoffs. “Can it, Munson. I could kick your ass any day.” 

Eddie immediately leaps into action and pulls Steve into a headlock, tousling his hair while laughing. Steve yells, trying to fight off the taller man and protect his hair. Robin laughs and rolls her eyes while Nancy softly smiles, shaking her head. 

“Knock it off, you two. You’re letting on that you’re both children way too early. I need new friends,” Robin whines, covering her face in embarrassment. 

You feel sheepish, smiling. You’re not used to the attention. Not this much, anyway. But you’re having fun. Eddie’s friends are vibrant, loud, and the most genuine people you’ve ever met. 

Eddie lets Steve go, Steve grumbling about his hair and sitting back next to Robin, who smirks at him while she messes his hair up even more. Eddie then takes his spot next to you, sliding in, and due to the small booth, your thighs touch. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping across your insides from the alcohol and Eddie’s clothed leg pressing against yours, which is bare. You ignore the heat pooling between your thighs at the contact and the ever-so-sinful thoughts about his ringed and masculine hands. 

Eddie leans over to you, his blinding grin causing your stomach to join in on the anatomy shuffle currently happening in your body, fluttering to the point that you think you may have swallowed a bird. 

“Sorry if we’re a bit much. But, now you’ll have a few familiar faces, right?” 

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. Thanks, Eddie.” 

He nods, and you almost swear you see his eyes dart toward your lips before he turns back towards the group, all arguing about what the next movie night should be. You feel your heart skip a beat. You can’t help but be grateful for this introduction and even the awkwardness it brought. You now felt a little less of a stranger in Hawkins. A sense of relief rushes through you. Maybe, things won’t have to be so lonely. 

Eddie interrupts your thoughts once more when he leans over towards you. You almost feel drunk on the scent of tobacco, vanilla, rum, and something spicy like cloves and cinnamon. Your thighs tighten, and you curse your brain for instantly thinking dirty thoughts. You’re in no state to have a physical or romantic relationship. Your throat tightens as you push down the ideas and look at Eddie. 

“Hey, so we're goin' to hang out at the Palace Arcade. It’s usually super packed, but tonight they’re having a party there, so no one under 21. You wanna join?” His eyes sparkle with mischief and something you may be misreading as hope. 

You bite your lip, thinking that maybe you’re too deep and should head to the comfort and quiet of home. You haven’t been to an arcade in years. Much less a party. Sour memories threaten to come up, but you push them down and set your resolve. You are just a woman in her mid-twenties trying to have fun. You deserve that, at least. Even if it’s really a lie. 

You smile at Eddie, nodding. “Sure, I’ll tag along. I haven’t been to an arcade in years.” 

Eddie grins, his dimples flashing. “Great. You can meet the band.” 

You perk up, looking at Eddie quizzically. “Band?”

He nods but puts his finger to his lips and winks, signifying it’s a secret. You furrow your brows and feel your stomach flutter as the ever prominent question wracks your brain again. 

Who the hell is this man?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @bebe07011 @corrodedcoffincumslut @kurdtbean @nerdflash

[irl-simon-riley]

WIP whenever

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THIS. I was going to do this last week but I had some stressful health and ID stuff that I had to deal with and just couldn't bring myself to work on my WIPS :( I wanted to get a bit more written before I shared but oh well. Anyways, I was tagged by the very very cool @pricegouge to post a current WIP. I have a lot to choose from since I am an absent father, but I will go with my slowburn ftm bodyguard!ghost x rockstar!soap that doesn't have a working title atm. This fic is inspired by a dream I had. I hope y'all enjoy :D

//gender dysphoria, misgendering & dead-naming in reference to pre-transition self, emotional angst, Ghost's canon backstory, Ghost is ex-military

Ghost watches his feet as he walks along the side of a forested road, the smell of moss surrounding him from all directions. The forest is too dense to be anywhere near Manchester, the growth too old, like something from a nature magazine. The lush greenery shading him from the summer heat, the sun would only affect him more with his all-black gear.

He's not alone. In front of him is his mother, following him is Tommy. His mum crosses the road and the boys follow like ducklings. Ghost's mother says something that he can't quite hear, all he notices is that he's breathing much too easily with his mask on.

He finally looks up, a shotgun-style house in front of him. His mum and Tommy are already halfway through the screen door, leaving him behind. A concrete staircase leads down from the road to be level with the house, as if the house was built before any roads were around. Ghost follows behind them, opening the doors that were shut in his face.  

Once inside he enters the room immediately to the right. His room.

The layout is almost the same as his childhood bedroom, only the door has switched walls and there are no windows.

The walls are covered in pastel purple wallpaper with white daisies that look hand-painted. Light greens and pinks are the only other colors that occupy the space. A quilt covers the mattress, held up by a white wrought-iron bedframe. On painted wall shelves there are trinkets, the only one Ghost can focus on holds porcelain figures of the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and a cherub-like angel. Everything is bathed in candlelight, but Ghost can't smell the burning over the scent of mothballs. The room denotes nothing but love and care, the kind that Simon could only dream of as a child---the kind he begged for.

"It's just for tonigh'," He grumbles to himself.

The urge to get out of his gear and sleep consumes him. He turns and his eyes catch on the full length mirror directly next to the door.

He sees... her. Hannah: the name Simon never wished to hear again. A name he thought he left behind at 16, but now... he was 14 again and she was standing in front of him in the mirror. She wears a pink, ruffly tank-top and cotton shorts.

Is this even real? It can't be, he---he's supposed to be out! He got out!

Right?

Simon sucks in a breath and reaches a trembling hand up to the auburn hair that covers his chest and rakes his fingers through it. It's real. Her face morphs into one of fear as she feels the soft strands tendril out between each finger.

In this moment he realizes she's exactly the daughter he was supposed to be; and all the other rooms burn around him.

---

pls help me title this work I am so bad at titles

[sun-lit-roses]

Emily of New Moon Book Club Chapters 15, 16, and 17

I am *desperately* behind, so now I get to gulp down several chapters at once 😁

Chapter 15

The Old Lee Well!

Perry!!

Perry and Ilse have such dramatic introductions. Ityfitting - but such a contrast to Teddy who ghosts into the story through hearsay more than anything.

'Keen grey eyes' - another one for the unusual eyes bucket. Actually, Emily eyes are described as grey here, too. Typo or do they change color? They're 'great grey eyes that looked blue under her long lashes.'

Wait, were Teddy's eyes ever described? Yes, 'black-browed blue eyes ' Hm, very normal. (Suspiciously normal?? 😂)

Aw, I forgot Perry decided to hire on at New Moon because Emily lived there. And to start going to school! All in one paragraph. Fast worker, that.

'I told him he should not call his Aunt Tom an old beast but he said he had to because she wasn't a young beast.' I love Perry.

...and the drama begins! Perry doesn't like Teddy who doesn't like Perry who isn't liked by Ilse, except sometimes none of those things are true.

The wallpaper trick does get another mention! I thought it disappeared altogether after the first. I still wonder if it's something LMM could do.

Emily arguing that she'd rather be Frances Willard than Joan of Arc because she's still alive is priceless. No wonder Ilse turned that argument into a fight!

Ooo Cousin Jimmy recited his poetry in front of Perry as well as Emily! That seems significant since he wouldn't do that for anyone but Emily during the potato boiling.

Chapter 16

This whole chapter always makes me just as mad as the first time I read it.

Perry is a brick from first to last in this chapter. The kitchen loft scene is so good!

And Teddy with his drawings! Revenge on Rhoda and Miss Brownell. I wish they'd ever done an illustrated version of Emily with interpretations of Teddy's drawings.

What was Ilse doing while all this went on, I wonder? We only got Emily, Perry, and Teddy's actions.

Dear Aunt Laura!

Chapter 17

'My ears are not big, only pointed.' I know this has come up before in the book, but LMM certainly laid the fae elements in thickly with Emily.

'I thought I need not be fritened. The angels are here. But then I felt I would be as much fritened of the angels as of anything else.'

Emily earned the praise of Aunt Elizabeth! No higher goal doth there be.

I am curious when she baked the cake though - if she didn't start until after the visitors came, was Cousin Jimmy keeping them entertained while she baked?

Emily asking if Aunt Elizabeth would like to be handsome and then wondering why she was annoyed 😂

I'm glad we get a little update on Jennie!

The first Jimmy Book! And an actual date for the age she's turning. I seem to recall the time frame getting muddled in the last book of the trilogy, so it's nice to see some stable time stamps here.

I wish we got to hear some of Aunt Laura's stories about Juliet! We know so little of Emily's mother, so while Emily is learning more about her, she's still a blank to us.

Oh, the letter to Aunt Nancy - it is so much harder to write for a critical audience. But clearly Aunt Nancy just writes from the hip - 'child must be stupid.' 😂

That's all I can read tonight, but I'm catching up! Reading these three all together makes it clear how quickly time passes. They covered November to June straight through!

[hearthpoetry]

things creep up from the ground sometimes

and i alone cannot carry what i find

it must be folded into intricate swirls

complexities placed between petals

for fear it would be misinterpreted

the wallpaper is covered with lilies

paste between paper and paint

then peeled and tucked into gaps in the walls

the garden is lush

but only lends itself

to the bones beneath the soil

their ghosts long to be heard

but what have you done

to deserve the sounds

of drowned voices

of splintered children

neglected in the sun

i couldn't wish those songs on you

but they remain too heavy

to be held with two hands

the lilies can't bloom

unless it is known

what their roots embrace

there lies the irony

torn

hearth, 3/16/2024

[kimmiessimmies]

If you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog!

Thank you for asking, my dear Lana!

Here are three random, non Sims, facts about yours truly, under the cut:

1. I love DIY

I really enjoy DIY and interior decorating. I drill, I build, I paint, I wallpaper. Above are two pictures of my most recent project: my 4yo daughter's bedroom. It's a very tiny room, so finding a good angle for pictures was difficult, but you get the idea.

2. My children have Scandinavian roots

My kids are donor-conceived. I am always open about this, and so are they. Their donor, from Denmark, is unknown but not anonymous. This means that while I never had personal contact with this man, I have a lot of information about him. From his academic and medical background to a handwritten note and a voice recording. My children can contact him when they turn 16, if they then wish to do so. To honour their part Danish background, my children have Danish middle names: Emil and Hanne.

3. I have masklophobia

Masklophobia is a fear of masks or people in costumes. Mine is a bit more specific: I get seriously spooked by people dressed up as animals. Seriously. No. Go away. Stuff of nightmares. There is some childhood trauma behind this, which I won't get into now. Not too long ago, everyone was raving about The Masked Singer, but I immediately knew that was not my show. I don't really like shows like this in general, but this one was particularly bad in my book. ���

[cafeleningrad]

Hiii ! Here some film ask : 1, 2, 7, 9, 15, 16

Merci beaucoup our tous tes questions, chèrie! :D 🎬

What’s the most depressing movie you’ve ever watched? Easy: Tyrannosaur (2011, directed by Paddy Considine)

2. What’s the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched? Ooof, okay that's harder because I've some things that do definitely squick me out. For once I saw El perro andaluz way to early at the age of 11, and I still can't forget the moon-eye scene (I don't recommend looking this up, and if so with massive gore warning.) Given that I might not even have watched the most transformative horror movies yet, I think the movie making me feel the most squeamish was Happiness (1998, dir. Todd Solonoz) - which is not even a horror movie. But psychologically thrilling nonetheless. :D

7. A film you wish had a sequel? Phew, another taxing question. Mostly I like movies which manage to economically tell a story within their runtime. Unless their part of a series or saga. And even with these I think they should contain a logical tale within themselves. That's good story telling, knowing exactly how to tell everything properly. (Also sequels often are not... good - mostly.) Alright, enough rambling, if there was a movie I feel like wanting "more of this, please!", Nice guys (2016, dir. Shane Black) could've been such a fun buddy private eye dramedy series.

9. The most aesthetically pleasing movie you’ve ever watched? Uuuh, so many to choose from. I'm general I really love good photography and landscape shots, so even weaker Tyler Sheridan titles, and some of Scorsese's newer movies strike some aesthetical chords in me. There will be blood is generally a good movie (it has Pual Dano it it, yay!), some landscape shots are still burned into the back of my mind. The photography and background design was perhaps the only things that saved Maquia (2018, dir. Okada Maria) for me. Sorry to be such a weeb on main but The Adolescence of Utena (1999, dir. Ikuhara Kunihiko) is just absolutely fantastic visual direction, framing, colour symbolism, geometrical design, direction, theme, and animation skills are at their absolute peak in this movie. But as we are on the topic of anime, every Yen spend on Akira was worth the visual result. Tarsem Singh always creates gorgeous images, the costuming as story telling, the bright colours, the sets, an absolute treat. Edit: How did I forget about Loving Vincent (2027, directed by Hugh Welchman and Dorota Kobiela)?! One movie which doesn't have the most outstanding editing, or colours but still stands out because of the sheer absurdity of set design was Lucky number Slevin (2006, dir. Paul MacGuigan). There is an entire production process for movies. Did none say anything against these terrible wallpapers?! Their existence in the movie was deliberate but how did this decision come to be. I remain fascinated. (By the way the movie is fun, Lucy Liu is in it, yay!) Also, I am a simple woman: If a movie lives on delicious looking cooking scenes, I am all in!

15. A film everyone loves but you hate? Phew... I think for me there is this sense when a movie gets a lot of general hype how "great!", "fantastic!", and "genius!" it supposedly is, and then I watch it, and... it is well made. It s a good movie. In the sense that the crew knew their craft: Proper story telling, good build-up, good lighting, good sound, good costume, good acting. Over all a good work. In times of scraping for the bare minimum of course it's exciting to see a well put together work, and not Netflix slob to fill the screen and kill time. In comparison to another Rayn Reynolds Netflix paycheck work, Boy kills world looks like pure cinema. :/ Still, there is this weird sense of annoyance when a movie is good but no Park Chan Wook, and the fan adjectives are larger than the work itself. But the movie I really don't get the hype for is Mean Girls. Probably I was too old when I watched it, by virtue of being a non-US-citizen, the high school scenario doesn't make sense either. However the only reason I understood why people liked it was nostalgia ("it's so quotable" girl, even Morbious got quoted, the movie is still garbage). It is racist (when isn't Tina Fey), and lacked the actual depth, and larger insight why girls terrorize each other in school than the much better, much more thought through Heathers had. Don't get me wrong, everyone who likes it shall enjoy themsleves, it just a movie I absolutely do not get (if there're better works about such a topic in comparison as well)...

Edit: Oh wait, apparently, I depsise this movie so much I banned it from my conciousness: Seven (1995, dir. David Fincher). A dear friend of mine explained to me carefully how good the editing was. She is right. Yes Fincher is a good director but the material he directs is so often more about him despising other human beings - and the script of Seven is gross and gory for the sole purpose of making an edgelord edgy point how hopeless and bad people are, man. It's nowhere as deep as it wants to be. Given that I've watched other stuff of his, and how all his villains are put in bright colours, I am convinced Fincher must've been traumatized by his mother getting hit by a paint pot. I don't know how else to explain this drap colour grading. This is a movie I can barely be objective about anything.

16. A film you love and everybody hates? A cure for Wellness (2016, dir. Gore Verbinski). I don't know if it's exactly hated but it received poor reviews, and bombed at the box office. Still, I'd fun.

[sanddusted-wisteria]

Adventures in MTAS datamining (pt. 1/?: art assets)

Because I am incredibly normal about this game, I’ve been poking around in the game’s files (and MTAP’s, too) pretty much ever since I got it. Unity games are pretty easy to datamine, since tools are already out there, which is incredibly fortunate for fueling the hyperfixation. I wanted to share some of the more interesting things I’ve found on my travels. Spoiler warning: There are some midgame spoilers below (i.e. starting with the water tower). There’s also one thing that might be a future spoiler, which is at the very end and marked accordingly.

General disclaimer: If you’re curious to try datamining out yourself, feel free to ask me for how-to’s, but please be careful! Never edit the game’s files directly. Make copies and back up your save files. You’ll also need a good amount of RAM (I recommend at least 16 GB) to be able to handle tools like AssetStudio, since you’ll be loading assets directly into memory. And MTAS has a lot of assets. You may also encounter unreleased future content in there...so preemptive spoiler warning for that as well.

Since there’s so much to dig through, this post will only focus on some of the art/visual things. These can either be found under StreamingAssets > AssetBundles, or StreamingAssets > AssetBundles > art_asset. I can’t really comment too much on the 3D assets (meshs, textures) since I don’t know too much about modeling, but here are some other interesting things I found!

Cutscene thumbnails

You can find thumbnails of the cutscenes without the builder in them. The in-game album uses different thumbnails, which look like screenshots taken when it’s playing for the first time (hence why skipping a cutscene won’t put it in your album). Some of them actually really nice. Wallpaper-worthy, even.

The one they use for the kidnapping cutscene is incredible.

(ask people who don’t play mtas to caption this image.)

Newspaper photos

In The Tumbleweed Standard, the monthly issues are accompanied by these photos. Something about the filter makes it look pretty. Here are my personal favorites:

Family photos

You ever wanted to see the photos in the NPCs’ houses up close? Now you can! They’re all super sweet. Welllll, most of them.

(My favorite one’s the one with babby Heidi 😭 [far right, midway down])

It’s still unfortunately kinda blurry, since they’re meant to show up pretty small in-game. Hopefully you’re still able to see them.

Here’s a bit of a buffer before the last thing I have to show, since it’s probably the one thing that could be a future spoiler. If it is, it’s probably fairly minor. Hop off now if you don’t want that.

.

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Fine with maybe being spoiled? Alright, here we go...

Lastly, I leave you with a forbidden image:

...I’m sorry, who is this???

So, uh...Qi has an alternate set of character art. No other character has one (except Elsie for story reasons). I assume this’ll be a DLC outfit, like those in MTAP? Kinda weird how only one would be loaded into the files so far. The asset name doesn’t really give any pointers, it’s just marked as “Qi2″. It only exists as character art, no model or texture or anything like that.

So is this past Qi? Future Qi?? Qi for one day if he’s forced to wear something nice for a change??? It looks like the neat and complete version of his normal outfit. You can see the same shirt and tie, same pants (except they aren’t rolled up at the ankles anymore?), same shoes. I’m also just now noticing that his suit jacket’s the same color as the mobile suit, haha funni joke. Again, not a single other character besides Elsie has an alternate outfit yet in these files. What is this for?! I have no fuckin clue, but I can say that Qi cleans up pretty nicely 👀

(kinda wish he kept the messy hair, tbh. doesn’t really look right without it)

And that’ll wrap up this little datamining dive! I’ll probably come back to the art in the future, once more gets added, or if I find some other things to share. In the next parts, I’ll be showing off some of the audio and text data, but I do want to wait until future game updates for some of it. Hope you found this as interesting as I do!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to continue reeling from the psychic damage that full-suited Qi’s done to my poor little brain.

ETA: i just realized that it looks like the fucking onceler’s outfit. i am deeply sorry for putting the image of onceler qi in your head

  or am i

Edit 2: Unfortunately, as of several beta builds pre-release, full suit Qi has largely been removed. The full art version isn’t in the files anywhere, but there are still some map icons of him. Not sure if this is something for postgame content or a romantic mission they didn’t have time to add. We’ll have to see :P

ngl i kinda prefer scruffy qi over this lol

[hellconsumed]

get to know the mun.

what's your phone wallpaper: since it's spooktober , it's now a picture of a bunch of tvs stacked on top of each other . and in each other has different halloween characters in them

last song listened to: hit 'em up style ( oops! ) by blu cantrell

currently reading: nothing atm . . . i really don't read all that much . . . dyslexia and all . . .

last movie: i think it was scream ??

last show: vox machina and or buffy the vampire slayer

what are you wearing right now: spandex and a hoodie

how tall are you: 5'4"

piercings/tattoos: i have my eye brow pierced , my septum , my nostril and my seconds ( ears ) . i have like 16 or 17 tattoos , all black / white / gray

glasses/contacts: nope

last thing you ate: pozole , i wish i had more rn

favorite color: dark reds , dark greens and pink

current obsession: literally anything horror related , outlast , silent hill 2 and buffy

do you have a crush right now: on my partner , v much so

favorite fictional characters: arthur morgan , billy loomis , stu macher , carlos oliviera , james sunderland , pyramid head , percy de rolo , claire redfield , michael myers , inej ghafa , kaz brekker , ada wong , jill valentine , buffy summers . . . literally most of these are just my muses but there's literally so many more

last place you traveled: canada was my last big travel

tagged by : found forever ago tagging : @dopplgaenger , @evilstalks , @hisbutcher , @fatalsmile and you !! y'all should totally steal this from me <3

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

MAG10 - Vampire Killer

*turns around in the most ugliest coolest yellowest office chair like a Bond villain, petting a baguette-shaped cushion* so, you came here from MAG9 without expecting the whiplash. Don't worry, you are not alone lmao

Trevor Herbert is like a homeless Chuck Norris, a shaggy Terminator, a Van Helsing lite (the Hugh Jackman one, not the original). He looks in your head like the dog in The Lady and The Tramp but in human version.

And the very first thing this mf says when he writes his statement is "I've been procrastinating this shit for 50 years, but hey, I finally came to the Magnus Institute". So better late than never and all that jazz.

Quoooooooting timeeeee:

"I hear someone even made me a page on the Internet and it got a few thousand likes. I don’t know exactly what that means but it sounds nice." - Trevor Herbert, July 10th 2010

Aww, doesn't he sound nice? :D

"Obviously that’s not why I’m here, though, is it? No, I’m here because I have also dedicated my life to finding and killing vampires." - Also f*cking Trevor

Sorry u wHAT

" (...) but I do not have proof to give you except for the vampire teeth that I will leave with this statement." - Trevor "I brought you a souvenir" Herbert

" I killed my first vampire in 1959." - Trevor Herbert, THE LEGEND THE MAN THE MYTH

You wish you sound as badass xD

"I was hit by a stale, coppery smell that I did not recognise as old blood at the time, since I was barely 16 and did not have then the experience I have now." - Trevor, barely 16 but already a poet

I find upsetting how many statement givers were so young they didn't know they were smelling blood.

"The furniture and wallpaper had clearly not been changed in many decades, and a thick layer of dust covered everything." - Trevor, 16, also an offended interior designer

LOL the landlord when he tells you " I just painted everything, it's all new"

"I remember wondering whether Sylvia McDonald walked exactly the same route through the house always, as I saw other clear lines of passage in the rooms we passed through." - Trevor "WTF" Herbert

" It was 1968, I remember because that was the year United won the European Cup, (...)" - Trevor "Yes, I'm British, why u asking?" Herbert

"I do not know if you’ve ever felt your blood being sucked out of you, but I would not recommend it." - By Trevor, 0/5, no stars

"Regardless, there is substantial evidence to support the version of events told by Mr. Herbert in all aspects except the vampirism." - Jon Sims, April 13th 2016

He really said "I believe everything except the vampire bullshit" XD

"(...) It may be that they take Mr. Herbert’s statement far more seriously than I do." - Also Jon

He sees that a lot of government and law people takes this statement seriously and goes "hm how weird, why tho, it's all bullshit"

Small review:

The vampires in the tma universe are so freaking weird, disturbing of course, personally I can't really tell if they are scary tho, but I'm certain they are a mystery.

Gotta say, RIP Nigel, he seemed nice :(

I must admit Trevor is quite an interesting figure, he's intelligent and resourceful, can do much with almost nothing and put together every piece of information he has in a way he can reach a satisfactory conclusion. And then he just sticks with it. There are these monsters, which I know how to kill, and so I do it. Simple. Efficient. Practical as hell.

This is also the second time going clubbing has ended horribly for someone in tma, and honestly? Wtf

This guy just die in the break room, like, lmao. He really said "no time like the present, may as well reach supersaiyan state in that couch over ther", and he fucking did it

And then Jon ends everything by showing a lot of evidences while acting the sceptic part and it's so goddamn funny. He should be a comedian.

General overview:

Vibe: this one is so fucking wild, nice homeless grandpa ends up being the modern Van Helsing and "dies" in a couch at paranormal research institute. Iconic

Horror: there are cryptids in it, that's horror genre coded

Audio: pretty ASMR in general

Humour: hilarious Terminator Grandpa, feat.Jon being Jon

Score: 10/10

[lynxindisguise]

5, 6 & 16 please and thank you!

5. What's your phone wallpaper?

answered here :)

6. What's a song that your relate to?

I wish I could just flip a switch And just accept your kind of muted bliss 'Cause I don't wanna be holdin' out forever Oh, and if my type is just fireworks An act of faith, even though it hurts To shut that door, am I holdin' out forever?

16. Are we really living or are we just slowly dying?

Living, I think. The term 'dying' as we use it feels like a distinct state to me.

increasingly creepy asks

[japanwords]

一期一会 (ichi-go-ichi-e) “treasure every moment”

一 = one

期 = occasion

一 = one

会 = encounter

Each moment is a unique treasure.

This idiom, which was voted as Japan’s favourite, is often used to show gratitude for the opportunity to meet someone wonderful who enriches our lives.

This phrase serves as a reminder that, if we make the most of each moment, we have the potential to change the world.

************************************************************************

The above image is available to download as a free desktop wallpaper from my Patreon site.

It's free for everyone, not just my Patreons :)

It's available in 2 sizes:

1) 1920-1080 (16:9 aspect ratio)

2) 1920-1200 (16:10 aspect ratio)

Click here to go to my Patreon site!

************************************************************************

If there's a specific word or phrase you'd like to see written in calligraphy, feel free to contact me to discuss your wishes (with absolutely no compulsion to place an order).

For more about commissioning a calligraphy artwork from me,  see my website.

[nakachuchu]

Panic Attack | Park Ilpyo

SYNOPSIS: He comforts you after a panic attack.

READER: gender neutral

WORDS: 1k

WRITTEN: 03/16/2023

NOTE: Thank you for requesting!

You sat curled up on the couch in your shared apartment, breathing heavily as you tried to calm down from the sudden panic attack that had just hit you. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were sweaty, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

You tried to focus on your breathing, inhaling deeply through your nose and exhaling slowly through your mouth, but it didn't seem to be working.

Your mind was a swirling storm of thoughts, all jumbled and impossible to decipher. It was just one of those days when you woke up a bit numb and confused as to why you were feeling the way you were.

It was a normal day, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, yet you still felt off.

Asking yourself why you felt the way you felt was never good, but you couldn't help but self-diagnose yourself. You knew Ilpyo would hate to see you like this, so you were a bit glad he was out running errands.

At the same time, you wished he was here to comfort you. He was always there for you, even when you didn't want him to be. It was one of the many reasons you loved him.

Even when you had random, emotional outbursts, he was still so patient and gentle with you. He had never raised his voice at you. Even when you yelled at him, he would just look at you with those soft, brown eyes, his face twisting into a smile.

'He deserves someone better,' you thought.

Just as you began to feel hopeless, the front door opened and Ilpyo walked in. He took one glance at you and immediately rushed over to sit beside you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his embrace.

"It's okay," he whispered into your ear. "I'm here for you."

You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his comforting scent as he stroked your hair and rubbed your back in soothing circles. His touch was warm and gentle, and it made you feel safe and protected.

As your breathing began to slow down, Ilpyo pulled away slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with concern.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked softly.

You nodded, still feeling a bit shaky. "Thank you," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude toward him for always being there for you, no matter what.

Ilpyo smiled at you, his lips turning up in a gentle curve. "I'll always be here for you," he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

You felt a warm flush spread through your body at his touch, and you realized how lucky you are to have someone like him in your life. Someone who cared about you deeply and would always be there to comfort you when you need it most.

As you snuggled into his arms, you felt your heart rate slow down even more, and you realized that with Ilpyo by your side, you can overcome anything that comes your way.

"I love you," he whispered in your ear. "Always have, always will."

You returned his embrace, nuzzling his neck. "I love you, too," you murmured.

"You are the absolute best. You make me incredibly happy," he said as if he knew what you were thinking earlier.

You smiled, feeling the butterflies erupt in your belly.

"Let's get you something to eat," he suggested as he let go of you and stood from the couch.

He held out his hand for you to take. You smiled and took his hand, letting him pull you up from the couch and guide you to the kitchen in your shared apartment. It was a nice place to live, though a little small.

The kitchen was pretty small, but it had everything you needed. There was a fridge full of food, a stove with two burners, and a microwave. There was even a dishwasher, though you rarely used it. The floors were laminated, and the walls were covered in artfully tiled wallpaper.

Even though you had a fridge full of food, there was a takeout bag sitting on the counter.

"What is this?" you asked.

"I had a feeling you'd need a pick-me-up," he said as he began to open the bag.

"How?"

"A little fox told me."

You smiled. "Do you think I could pet your tails later?" you questioned.

"Absolutely, sweetheart, but you need to eat first. I got you your favorite breakfast burrito," he said, handing it to you.

You happily took it and began eating. Ilpyo sat down at the counter and began to eat his burrito as well. It was peaceful.

You finished your burrito and felt satisfied. You felt like you could conquer the world now. You felt like you could do anything. Ilpyo knew you well enough that food would make you feel better.

"Since you're done, let's wash our hands and go cuddle on the couch."

You nodded, and the two of you washed your hands before moving to the couch. He turned on the television. and lowered the volume as white noise.

He laid down first and you slotted your body in between his legs, on top of him. As soon as you blinked, his tails and ears appeared. He wrapped his arms around you and you did the same. You laid your head on his chest and moved your hands to where you could play with his fluffy tails.

His breathing was deep and regular, and you could hear the soft rustle of his breath as he moved in and out, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. It was the sound of home. It was the sound of safety.

His tails were extremely fluffy. It felt like a cloud in your hands, but based on how he let you do whatever you wanted with them, it also felt like slime.

You could feel yourself grow drowsy. The combination of the sound of his breathing and the softness of his tails lured you away.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he whispered.