#poster maker free | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

helpimstuckposting · 9 months

Text

I couldn’t get my earlier post out of my head, and then this happened so… I hope you enjoy a little famous!Eddie and dingus!Steve ficlet (ft platonic soulmate Stobin)

Part one | part two | part three

—

Steve and Robin had lived in Indy all of their lives. They shared the same schools, same teachers, same jobs, it would never end. They were platonic soulmates in a way they understood but couldn’t explain to anyone else, and that was okay. It worked for them.

Since they graduated, they’d been ice cream scoopers, movie rental employees, pizza makers, delivery drivers, movie theater security, bartenders, and now - surprisingly - musicians.

They had originally started messing around with song covers during their bartending era. Every Thursday was karaoke night, and they were both too competitive to see it as anything other than a chance to win, both trying to upstage the other. After a while, Steve started writing songs in his free time and Robin wouldn’t let anyone but her sing them. She posted their songs on Tiktok and Instagram just to see what would happen, and eventually they made their way onto Spotify and other streaming services.

A few of their songs went viral enough that they had a steady stream of listeners, and spent their free time putting more and more songs together. Their boss even let them play live at the bar on Wednesdays (and of course they’re still just as passionate about karaoke night).

It was a few months into their Wednesday shows when he showed up. Eddie Munson. It was just another bar in Indy, just a stop on their tour, just a coincidence that he happened to choose Robin and Steve’s bar. Steve noticed him during their set, and he was so glad in that moment that Robin was the lead singer because he was absolutely sure his voice would have cracked. Corroded Coffin was one of Dustin’s favorite bands, the kid wouldn’t shut up about them any time a new album or single was released.

Steve knew they were in Indy on tour, he’d witnessed Dustin’s spiral about not being able to afford a ticket, but he couldn’t believe they stopped in this bar. Dustin was gonna freak.

Once Robin and Steve finished their set, they went back to the bar to resume their actual jobs and Steve was once again stunned when Eddie Munson walked right up to him for a drink. Obviously Steve should have expected that, what else was someone going to do at a bar? But seeing someone he knows from the multiple posters plastered over Dustin’s bedroom wall, right in front of him - in the flesh, was beyond anything he could have predicted. Internally, he was absolutely freaking out.

Externally, he tried to keep his professional mask on. Munson was a regular customer, just a guy buying a drink, Steve could handle it without a meltdown. But man was the guy attractive. His band tee was ripped at the hem, jean vest with all its pins and buttons catching the light, and Steve could see the tendon in his neck pull as he laughed at something his band mate next to him said. Steve wanted to bite it.

He finished a customer’s drink, collected their card, and braced himself as Munson stepped up to the bar, a dimpled smile on his face that made Steve’s heart flutter like a dying butterfly in his chest.

“Nice set, man, your friend’s voice is gorgeous,” he said. “Can I get three rum and cokes?”

Grabbing three glasses from the bar, Steve began on the drinks. “Absolutely,” he said, his smile probably nowhere near Eddie’s level. “Are you here often, or just visiting?” Steve asked, attempting to play it cool, like Eddie was just any other person. This is ridiculous, Steve’s gonna throw up. Keep calm.

Eddie looked him up and down and smirked, “Just visiting for the weekend,” he said. A growing lump in Steve’s throat made him want to scream ‘I know!!! I know why you’re here!!! I know who you are!!! Hi!!!’ but he shoved that down as far as it could go, ready to choke on it if need be.

Steve set the finished drinks on the bar in front of Eddie, the musician handing over his card in exchange. “Open or closed?” He asked.

“Open. So, are those songs originals?” Eddie leaned into the bar, putting his face just a bit closer to Steve’s. He was gonna have a heart attack before the night was over, for sure, if Eddie kept this up.

“Oh, yeah, I uh… I wrote them,” Steve stuttered out. This was insane, he could pinch himself, there was no way this situation was happening. Eddie was gorgeous, dimples firmly in place because he wouldn’t stop smiling or smirking, his curls just begging for Steve to bury his hands in them and bring their faces closer. If Steve hadn’t been on the receiving end of hundreds of Dustin’s rants about Corroded Coffin, he knows he’d still want to drag Eddie out back and see what those lips tasted like, if they felt as much like sunshine as they looked.

Eddie nodded appreciatively and looked Steve up and down once again. “I’d love to hear more some time,” he said as he turned to leave, three glasses balanced in his hands.

“Well there’s karaoke here tomorrow night,” Steve blurted out, all attempts at remaining calm flying out the window because was that Eddie flirting with him? How did we get here? “You could stop by if you’ve got any free time.”

Eddie laughed, amusement flickering in his eyes and suddenly Steve remembered chasing fireflies in Robin’s backyard when they were kids. He started walking backwards towards his friends, “I’ll see what I can do!” he said with a raised voice, flashing one more smile that made that butterfly in Steve’s chest absolutely flip out. He was frozen in place, the shock of the whole situation settling deep in his bones. Honestly, Steve wasn’t sure he was still alive. Did he choke somewhere between the stage and the bar? Did he even make it to work in the first place? What day was it?

“Earth to Dingus!” Robin shouted at the other end of the bar. “A little help here?” she frantically gestured around her to the rising number of patrons.

A pretty decently sized mob was forming around the bar, snapping Steve out of his rock-star-induced-coma. He could freak out later in the privacy of his own home, right now he had work to do. And if his brain short circuited every time Eddie ordered drinks, that was nobody’s business but his own (and Robin’s).

—

Thank you so much for the encouragement !

#these dingi have somehow snapped me out of my writers block #help I can’t stop thinking about them #I’ve never successfully flirted with a bartender but I’m sure rock stars have a different score sheet #steve harington #eddie munson #steddie #famous eddie munson #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #robin buckley #helpimstuckwriting

450 notes · View notes

chronically-ghosted · 8 months

Text

the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5309

summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.

warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder

a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.

🤍AO3 Link 🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour.

There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.

Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round.

And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known.

Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity.

To your complete and utter annoyance.

You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?

One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it.

“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying.

Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”

Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”

She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.

“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”

“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth.

“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”

“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.”

Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.

Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.

“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?”

“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”

Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”

“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”

Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.”

Trish smacked him over the back of the head.

“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”

“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks.

Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious.

“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”

Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”

“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely.

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”

“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”

“To Ned!” Ken yelled.

“To Ned!”

Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?”

Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”

At this, everyone groaned.

“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.

“Here, here!”

Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick.

“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”

“Is that right?”

Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat.

“That’s right.”

“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”

“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”

“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”

Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo.

Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap.

You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour.

Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –

What was that?

You stand up right on the third to last step, listening.

In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you.

And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.

God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.

You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement.

At least, the only person you can see.

You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing.

One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –

The stairs creaked.

The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”

As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.

Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all.

“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”

Okay, that was definitely breathing.

Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze.

Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here!

The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –

The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?

Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –

“Fucking let me in!”

The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way.

Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –

No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –

The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –

Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap.

It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –

“Got you.”

That voice.

That condescending, snide, bratty, little –

You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint.

Caravaggio, eat your heart out.

“Max, what the fuck was that?”

He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”

You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.

“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I what?”

“You scared –,”

That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall.

His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple.

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.

“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”

“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”

His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth.

“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise.

In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder.

Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.

And he knows exactly what that does to you.

You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.

“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier.

You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth.

Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt.

You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.

“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”

“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”

“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?”

You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.”

Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,”

You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits.

The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around.

He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down.

“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat.

“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”

Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”

You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt.

“Please, Max, just –,”

“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .”

He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you.

The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation.

“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.”

It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear.

“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”

With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this.

This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.

“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”

You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily.

“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,”

Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you.

Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.

Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning.

Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”

“Can you handle it if I touch you?”

You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.”

“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.”

“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“You scared I’m gonna?”

“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs.

“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”

Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –

He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:

“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.”

His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours.

His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office.

This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be.

Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable.

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin.

It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that.

He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.

He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks.

“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.”

“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.”

“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”

He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.”

“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours.

It is dangerous, your feelings for him.

He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes.

“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”

He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door.

His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.

You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water.

You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches.

Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords.

And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term.

Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.

He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.

You open the bathroom door and return to the world.

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips smut #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters

276 notes · View notes

jellazticious · 1 month

Text

“You can’t rush art”

I think everybody can recall the quote from Toy Story 2. From the most satisfying part of the movie where we see a montage of Woody getting restored by a toy maker. It’s one of my favourites too, I absolutely loved looking at the different procedures used to fix a single toy. The toymaker’s precision and care were found mesmerizing by everyone. As a multi-hatted artist, one that can draw, sculpt, animate, and write, I can say that it’s spot on that there’s so much to do for a single piece of work. HOOO boy, you should see how me and Beefy are organizing Cursed to Charm, there’s so much.

For the upcoming webcomic, we design characters, give each and every one of them their stand-alone story, design different clothes, create the map, draw renders and posters, polish scripts for the episodes, plan to program the comic’s own website, make the backgrounds eventually, etc. To people who aren’t artists or take art for granted, to them, art is stroking a paper using a pen and BAM instant masterpiece. No no, it’s more than that.

Another thing I’d like to say about the comic is that the progress is very slow yet very fruitful because of the time taken. Me and my co-author came up with the idea at late November, which makes the comic four months old now. However, with all that time passed, we have already finalized the list of nine episodes of season one. We have also written seven out of nine summaries from that season before actually writing the dialogue in detail. We have a rough four seasons worth of story progression in the span of four months. Nyeh, excuse the little ramble about CtC, I’m just giving insight of how much should be done for the production of anything which leads us to the next point.

Art production in general.

Movies, animation, shows, video games, books, comics etc etc

All of these are part of art, some people would deny because it isn’t sophisticated like they’re lead to believe art is supposed to be. Art is literally just creation man, can’t get any simpler than that 😩 if you made something, then you made something woohoo! Congratulations you made art, cooking included. It came free with your fucking humanity.

Anyway, just like the webcomic, every single one of these listed also have a set of different procedures that will piece together the final output.

Let’s take Disney movies as a specific example, I want to talk about something real quick.

So one time, I was watching Tarzan with my parents and we stuck around for the end credits. My mom pointed out the animators are divided into sections and there’s so much names on them. There are different teams of animators for each character and these teams are divided in two for the storyboarders and the clean up artists. When the credits rolled a bit more, it showed that the background artists and colorists also have their own sections too. There’s so much people working on different body parts of a movie. I got the habit of reading end credits of every movie I watch, animated or live action, then I would compare the credits of old and new movies. Boy, let me tell you that the work space on old movies are FILLED compared to newer movies. One thing I noticed about Disney movies although, is that the old movies have more sections compared to new ones. The major difference of old Disney and new Disney are the length of the credits and the time gap of the movies. I’m really not trusting the way new movies have way shorter end credits while the publish time of new movies are getting narrower and narrower. Before the 2000s, movies usually come out twice a year and sometimes there’s a two-year hiatus before the next batch of movies are published. Now there’s at least two or three movies that publish yearly while also releasing a bunch of shows in the middle of it. I really don’t understand business talk with the way it sacrifices quality over quantity. Like I get having money is great and all but what’s the use of hoarding it? Especially when there’s so much news of people about to be in poverty and mass layoffs. Why should companies earn money if they’re not going to redistribute it back to the economy at all? This is a little off topic but I want to point it out that people in the 80s used to buy whole houses by being a janitor but nowadays people could barely afford a one room apartment even with three jobs. The Simpsons is an example of this because it was set in the 90s and the family is constantly reminded of how “poor” they are. They even created an episode that talks about the same job that supported people’s fathers will no longer support you nowadays (Poorhouse Rock ep22 s33). It’s fishy and I’m salty about it especially because I hear so much people complaining about how they’re not being given a chance to work. Anywho! Let’s go back to art.

I’m just spitballing my thoughts here but somehow they’re connecting either way. All I’m trying to say is that for the people who care so much about the quality of art, it’s noticeable that they get downgraded, not just by the look but by the way they’re written.

Example.

Clone High.

Jesus Christ, the new show is a nightmare and an insult to the original Clone High. The difference is clear with this one. The original Clone High was heavy satire of every single high school trope used in shows and movies. Every single character was meant to have one personality and that personality is the butt of the joke. The original did not care about making the characters appealing because the appeal is found in the way they interact, they clash so much and a lot of them are idiots. The writing is funny because the dialogue flows so easily unlike the renewal. The renewed Clone High takes itself too seriously and it tries too hard to be relevant. It’s funny to me that fans can draw the original’s art style more accurately than the animators hired. What’s even more frustrating is that concept art was released from the art head and the concept art looked way better than what they decided on the final designs. Other than the art style that tries to be marketable, the writing is insufferable with the way they try to be “relatable” without understanding why the original jokes were funny to begin with.

Now we’re all familiar with this cheap tactic of using the title of successful franchises to grab clicks and views. It’s every live action Disney film, it happened to Scooby Doo, Marvel shows, FNAF, some Cartoon Network shows, Megamind, and now even Kung Fu Panda. Basically MILKING. It would have been better if the productions TRIED to understand the original’s intentions which they forgot about. They ended up being disappointing at best and soulless at worst. I won’t be explaining much cuz I’ve already reached the minimum word count lmao. I’m just rambling here, I better not see anyone interrogate me in asks or replies. ANYWAY, I’m gonna get to the point real quick.

Back to the quote at the start of the post, people tend to forget that. Art is a skill, not a button people press and it gives you pretty pictures or videos. Art is a job and an effort. While art is subjective and it differs from person to person, one thing for certain is that art that is made ingenuinely will never be better than art that is made because the artist loves art. This is why the Tom & Jerry reboots with the lineless art style even if they had a storyboard artist who understood the cartoon wackiness (which were discarded for a “cleaner” and faster style). This is why it’s so frustrating to see concept art of movies which have more appeal than the final 3d models. This is why FNAF Security Breach was nearly unplayable.

Because they all rushed art.

They rushed in favour of what is marketable, no matter how unappealing it is. Everything could have been better, some final products are good, but all of them could have been better. As good as what were released pre 2010s when production had a passion. You can’t spell heart without art.

I’m just really passionate about art in any form since it’s everything that created me too. I will not be here at this point in time if it weren’t for me learning that there’s so much beauty in the world if you could just squint and appreciate why that’s so. I’m defined by my works and it only hurts and infuriates me that people who have the ability and accessibility to create better art than I do waste it for their personal gain or selfish intentions. Everyone could be a better person because of art just as it did to me. Again, it came to us the moment we’re born, art isn’t just a pretty picture, it’s everything we create out of love, passion, time, and effort.

But really, to the wise words of Chef Saltbaker, “like any good bake, heart and soul is the secret ingredient”

You can’t rush art.

#Jell tells wisdom #<-keeping it PG #I wrote this

96 notes · View notes

shepherds-of-haven · 5 months

Note

I know it will never happen, but after hearing those voice claims on Patreon, I would pay ungodly amounts of money for a Fire Emblem-esque SoH game. Like, I don't know where you would even start, but if you did end up deciding to make one, no bank would be safe from me 💰

Hey, never say never! A Fire Emblem-esque ShoH game would be a dream! 🥹 You never know, who knows where my future in game development goes after this entry gets published?... I can dream too, right? 😂

Actually, if you want some little-known trivia, before I started working with ChoiceScript, I actually made a proof-of-concept intro for Shepherds as a JRPG-style turn-based pixel game back in early 2017! It was basically just to learn the engine, RPG Maker (my thing seemed to be throwing Shepherds as a story template at any new programming language I came across), and didn't follow the prologue of our version (no Caine or Prihine, the protagonist just gets plopped into Haven right away and joins the Shepherds), but I built a whole map of Ashtown and Whitestone in it; that 100-hour venture ended up planting the seeds for some of the stuff that takes place in our version of the game! You could explore every nook and cranny of the Shepherds' compound and Ashtown, talk to several hundred NPCs who all had their own routines and walkabouts around the city, and even play minigames and engage in turn-based party combat!

Unfortunately, it was all made on the 3DS version of RPG Maker, so it's not shareable as a demo unless you have a 3DS and are willing to download a free app (but Nintendo pulled the servers for the 3DS, so I don't even think that's possible anymore). I do have some bad pictures I took of the 3DS with the demo running, though!

Is this a proto-Chandry or just some random clown? ↑ If you keep bugging him he starts adding the below to his speech lol: ↴

Dog!! You can sneak a peek at Trouble hanging out in front of the Shepherds' compound on the left: this version of RPG Maker only allowed for premade assets, so the character art for the Shepherds themselves was extremely limited... 😔 ↴

Thieves Guild, though the player doesn't know it because Rafe won't move until later in the game: the only hint present in the "prologue" is that there are little wanted posters of Chase all over the city, but this particular one, if you read it, has the words altered to: "WANTED FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE AUTARCHY BEING VERY HANDSOME" ↴

Miscellaneous stuff (Qael-Qanaeon, Arta and Hal's house, etc.) ↴

Shepherds' compound! I only took screenshots of a few of the rooms, like a sparring gym, Blade's office, the main atrium (there were two guardian 'Viveks', lion gargoyles named Leo and Lionel, and they'd randomly stop you if you walked by them to engage in some silly random dialogue and generally be a nuisance before letting you get through the door), the refectory, one of the dormitories, etc.) ↴

#Shepherds of Haven #random #RPG Maker #sorry this was so long-winded lol I went hunting for the photos and took a trip down memory lane #have to make a part 2 because I ran out of my allotted number of images in 1 post LOL #long #long post

129 notes · View notes

anachrosims · 1 year

Photo

[TS4CC] 18TH CENTURY MILITARY CAMPAIGN SET

Wow! Wowowow!! It's finally DONE!

This set was inspired by 18th century military campaign equipment. This set is really for storytelling, since pretty much all items (aside from the bed and surfaces) are decorative. I'd like to do more add-ons for this in the future, but for now I think we're good as-is.

Some items were converted from the Werewolves pack but are now BGC.

WHAT'S INCLUDED:

43 packages! Nearly all are new meshes! Everything is BGC unless otherwise noted.

Cutlasses - Laying, Wall Mounted, Leaning

Pistol, Laying/Leaning Rifle

Laying, Mounted Tricorn Hat, Dragoon Helmet

Soldier's Wall-Mounted Coat

6 Tents, Large & Small - Each size has open, half open, and closed variants

Short Boots, Tall Boots Laying & Upright

Field Cannon & Powder Keg

Trio of Bottles, Inkwell with Quill, Books with Wax Stamp, Knitting Box (Nifty Knitting Required), Pile of Journal Inkwell & Letters

Printed Posters & Broadsides, Hanging Military Maps, Desk Map with Compass

Large Steamer Trunk, Officer's Dressing Table (Cottage Living may be required), Soldier's Laundry Pile

Soldier's Single Bed, Campaign Chair with Cushion, 2x3 Floor Cloths

Deco Teapot, Knitted Blankets, Box of Matches, Soldier's Rations, Deco Fire Spit (fits OVER and works with most fire pits)

Functional Telescope

I'd also like to thank these people:

historicalsimslife for the pistol which you can get as an accessory here! @historicalsimslife

Viktor Violetta Enterprise for the Ferguson rifle accessory which you can get here! @viktorviolettaenterprises

Steve Henderson at Archive3D for the cannon model, which is here!

revolutionsims for the dragoon helmet hat & British tricorn, which you can get here & here! @revolution-sims

Also, some recommended CC-makers to make your 18th century experience a little more authentic outside the palaces:

@historicalsimslife / @300yearschallenge / @revolution-sims / @edorenelredirect / @simulatedstyles / @peebsplays / @simsfromthepast / @thejim07 / @strangestorytellersims / @historicalfictionsims / @linzlu / @javitrulovesims / @buzzardly28 / @sunlittides / @sifix / @llazyneiph (stays & wigs & mods) / @gilded-ghosts / @joliebean / @lilis-palace / @stereo-91 / @simverses / @bruxel-reign

***

@emilyccfinds / @ts4history / @historicalccsims4 / @allhistoricalcc / @historicalsims4cc / @southernsccfinds / @maxismatchccworld / @mmccfinds

***

-->GET IT ALL HERE @ PATREON, FREE, NO ADS!!<--

EDIT: IT TOOK ME SIX HOURS TO GET THIS POST AND GRAPHICS TOGETHER I’M NOT REDOING THE GIFS Y’ALL ARE FINE I PROMISE

#historical sims 4 cc #18th century sims 4 #ts4cc #s4cc #sims 4 custom content #historical sims 4 #georgian sims 4 #rococo sims 4

569 notes · View notes

adjusted-karma · 5 months

Text

SMALL SIMBLR SATURDAY ❤

(listen i know this was supposed to be last week but i was busy so you're getting it this week)

First, thank you to @tau1tvec for organizing this! This is a wonderful idea ❤ I've listed a few favourite free CC makers but there are sooooo many incredible people that I could go on forever. Thank you all for bringing little bits of joy to my game!

@nucrests - ALLLLL my sims wear nucrests cc, its so versatile and lovely! ❤ Some faves: Comfy collection redux + Bloom underwear set

@simkoos - soooo many incredible clutter pieces AND gorgeous CAS items ❤ Some faves: the morning routine collection + the stamina collection

@surely-sims - I simply adore everything anne releases!! ❤ Some faves: Kitchen of Tomorrow + Unpacked Chicken plushies (+ extra love to the testpa which I've made 8573958 poses with)

@herecirm-warcry - Whimsical and fun poses (and some misery) that I download IMMEDIATELY when I see them released ❤ Some faves: Plant Magic + Against The Wall

@simmireen - queen of romance poses!! ❤ Some faves: The Ultimate Romance Pack III + Little Love

@beebeedee - CAS CC for tots and infants, I love the pieces they've released so far! ❤ Some faves: Short ruffled jumpsuit + triptails for infants

@powluna - sooo many lovely CAS items for tots and infants!! ❤ Some faves: Lulu Pacifier + Mischa Overalls

@laeska - absolutely gorgeous hairs and also some of my fav earrings!! ❤ Some faves: Sirella hair + Vivika set

@bayfier - I LOVE her posters!! It's so nice for my sims to not have bland walls ❤ Some faves: Josie and The Pussycats Poster + Lollipop Poster

#ts4 #smallsimblrsaturday

32 notes · View notes

simsycatx · 4 months

Text

House Tour: 715 Falls Park Drive

Watch the House Tour

2 Bed 2 Full Bath Mudroom Coffee Nook Walk in Closet Price: §117,301 Lot Size: 20 x 20

Occupant: Jennifer Smallwood

CC/DLC List below along with my ramblings/notes on the build too :)

Gallery ID: SimsyCatx - tick to show custom content and use bb.moveobjects

I wanted this home to be super cosy with "Live Love Laugh" vibes. Very much decorated with a feminine eye with lots of cute B&M/Best Buy/cheap & cheerful clutter decor.

I have play-tested this and it all works except the two bathroom sinks because the sinks aren't designed for those counters. I'm guessing the counters are too high which puts the sinks too high to use. I did try to play around and try and get it working but couldn't manage it. It doesn't bother me (it kinda eliminates the dishwashing in the bathroom) so I left it for the ✨ aethestic✨ but they can easily be replaced if you want!

I've also removed the custom images in the bedroom (you can see them in the video), just because they are boudoir shots :)

DLC LIST:

Essential: For Rent High School Years Cottage Living Eco Living Seasons Get Together

Non-Essential: Growing Together - lamps & light Island Living - landscaping plant Get Famous = stairs Cats & Dogs- sculptures City Living - Rug Get to Work - sculpture Dream Home Decorator- plant Dine Out -plant Spa Day - towel Outdoor Retreat - condiment clutter My First Pet Stuff - blinds Romantic Garden - landscape flowers Free Holiday Pack - lights

CC LIST:

by House of HarlixORJANIC Brick Foundation Sectional Sofa Curtain Right & Left - Short Cushion 1 & 2 BAYSIC A good chunk of it BAFROOM Scrub Bathtub Shampoo Towel Rack Toilet roll Soap Dispenser Face Cloth KICHEN Rubber Plant Olive Oil Lovely Lady Bush Cabinets Shallow Counter Wine Rack Glass Pendant Short Chopping Board Set Bay Tree HARLUXE Sink Beach Bag Coffee Table JARDANE A good chunk LIVIN' RUM Stacking Box Tiny Tray Remote Simsung Frame TV Magazine End Table Book Series

by The Clutter Cat Understairs Shelf - Short

by @simcredibledesignsOh Reykjavik Paintings Cushions Zara Bed Nothing to Fear Geomentric Shelves Silky Intentions Toilet Brush Lotions Nuance Mugs Scandi Fever Sideboard Plant 2 3 Cushions TV Rug Naturalis Hanging Plant tall Hanging Plant Suculenta Coffee Maker Calligaris Purse Rug Sandals Purse Rack Hanger Welcome Sculpture Paper Shop Bag Botts Bag Rack Country Coffee Flower Straws Wall Mug Board Painting 1 & 2 Deco Cutting Board Capsule Tower Capsules Pomeriggio Candle Jules Sandals Lipstick Dream English Latitude Make Up Trays Toilet Brush Shampoos Cotton Swabs Agata Candle - Small Keep Life Simple Bathroom Towel Toilet Bidet Bedroom Mirror La Femme Painting Small Go Trendy Plant Bottle Spotlight Desk Daydreamer Pillow Love the Less Sphere Glass Cloche Decor Cotton Plant 4 Cushions

by @onyxsimsExcelsior Toilet Paper Toilet Paper Holder Free Standing

by @simkoosMorning Routine Closet Clutter Shoe Box Plant Mum II Mini Plants Eucalyptus v2 Cup of Straws Metal Tongs Tiny Living Room Television - Standing Thermos Makeup Palette Hanging Purse Shoe Box Storage Container V1 & V2 Stacked Cups Napkin Holder Cup of Straws

by @pralinesims Decal Posters 9, 8, 7, 5, 4, & 2

by @awingedllama Blooming Rooms Plants Paranormal Plants Apartment Therapy v2

by @soloriyaBarber Shop Decor Hair Mousse Hair Spray

by @lapanemona Harmony Set

by @syboubouCountry Kitchen Glass Jars Pot Holder Olive Oil, Pepper & Salt Induction Stove Kitchen Sink Millennial Utensils Rack Utensils Pot Wall - Halftiles Wall - FulTiles Dish soap Breadbox Life Living Room TV Remote Magazine Pile Candles Life Bathroom Razor and Cream Toilet Deodorant Soap Products Bathroom Mens Products Sophie Cushions

by @nynaevedesign Breeze Plants & Planters Kala Bathroom Soap Dish Towel V2 & V3 Toothpaste Toothbrush Soap Dispenser Lyne House Number & Lights Set Amber Bathroom Glasses

by @redheadsims-cc Nintendo Switch

by @sims4luxury2022 Christmas Collab Star Clock Rug Collection #8 White Siding Wood Wallpaper Norrland Plain Wallpapers Grassy Cobblestone Floor Farmhouse Entry Square Artwalls Doormats

by @peanutbutterjelly02 Functional Photo Frames

by Mutske Wonders of Ivy

by @peacemaker-ic Matilda Mudroom Pointless Renovation Short 2 Tile Arch Colour Me Rug - Beige, White, and Brown Gently Draping Curtains

by SnootySims Asymmetrical Vase Small Candle Scent Diffuser Home Design Books Ceramic Vase Ceramic Bowl Candle Lamp

by @ravasheencc Never Been Bedder Platform Bed Frame - Double Nothing Else Matters Mattress - Double Binge Innking Stacked Books

by Severinka Mirror Arrows Mirror Lotus Cleo Hallway Floor Mirror

by @xplatinumxluxexsimsx Luxe Hair Tools Set Wall Letters Chanel Tennis Rackets Chanel Tennis Racket Case Chanel Tennis Balls

by @mechtasimsWelcome Home Cookie tin Clock Moonstone Hanging Dima Mirror

by @madameriasims4Back to Basics Tile Wall Pot Holder Wall & Flat Wall Paint Coffee Tin Modular Shelves

by @kerriganhouse Dormitory Fairy Lights

by @pierisim Winter Garden Pillow

by @networksims Modera Coasters Legacy Coasters

by @kliekie Open Shower

by @arwenkaboomBluem Office Books 7 Arran Wall Tiles Fridge Floor Tiles Dish Rack

by @pinkbox-anye Holly Trinket Dish Jade Roller

by @sooky88 Bath & Bodyworks Candles

by NOSTYLEWOODLAND NSWL Shampoo Lobhe Mirror Folfor Large Mirror ALAS Wall Shelf

#ts4 home tour #ts4 builds #sims 4 houses #sims 4 lots #sims 4 cosy builds #showusyourbuilds #simblr #sims 4 interior #ts4 decor #I used a shit ton of CC again the list is so long but it's all beautiful and I can't not use it anymore #sims 4 cc builds

21 notes · View notes

blueathens · 1 year

Text

Act One Teaser (It’s Not Like The Movies)

Character Profiles||Playlist||Masterlist||INLTM Teaser

Not my gifs - credits to the makers

Teasers are from my planning - so not official! If you guys have any ideas for series’ then feel free to send them in - if used then I’ll credit you :) (e.g. references to Disney/fairytales etc)

If you want to be added to any taglist for any of my works - let me know and who/what for!

“That was reckless! What’s the point of being pretty if you’re completely brain dead!” “You think I’m pretty?”

It been a month and Charles was still fifteen, and they were still gone, and his father busied the young prince with meeting many well-known families around the world to see if their daughters, nieces, or even their granddaughters were well fit to be queen of their country – fit to be his wife. He didn’t care about any of them, not giving any of them his time of day as he sits boredly on his throne next to his fathers as Arthur tried to make conversation next to him to try and cheer him up. Pierre even joked that this was his favourite month of the year as he busied himself of making conversation with the girls of (or around) their ages. Charles was glad Pierre was happy, but he was quite the opposite as the one girl he wanted still hated his guts, and she was also the one girl his father wanted dead...she was also the same girl who hasn’t yet returned home. Charles Leclerc was fifteen and miserable and lonely and scared. It been two months and there were still not signs of them. His father was now busing him with more classes now that the girls has all gone home after the constant begging from Charles that he was still young and have more to learn – his father agreed, and it gave Charles time to think on how he could get out of the next time this would happen.

He tips her head like a dog at the window. The outside world is so interesting, and he is not part of it; just witnessing.

“You’re bleeding, Y/n.” Christopher’s hand brushes his cheek and Y/n copies the motion, her hand coming away bloody. “Oh.” She wipes her hand on her jeans. “It’s nothing, kid. Can’t even feel it.” It’s not a lie. She can’t feel the small cut on her forehead. It’s nothing compared to the sharp burn of the laceration on her back, or the persistent throbbing of her leg.

‘Smoking is a bad habit,’ Charles thought as he watched Y/n place the cancer stick between her lips, lighting the end of it with her lighter before taking a long drag, holds it, and then she turns her face to let out a long line of smoke, being considerate to not let the smoke be directly near Charles. ‘But man does she look good doing it.’

“Why did you punch that guy?” “He called you an idiot.” “Isn’t that what you call me on a daily basis too?” “Yes, because that’s what you are, but the world doesn’t need to know that.”

Charles shivered as the pair of them stood in the cold. "I swear it has never been this cold in Eynsworth before," his teeth cluttered together as he spoke. He glanced to his right at the sign of movement next to him. "What are you doing Y/n?" She pulled the jacket down the rest of her arm before gripping it into one of her hands and holding it out towards Charles. "Breaking those horrendous stereotypes."

“At least they can get my nose right,” she comments as she looks at Daniel’s wanted poster. “Unlike Danny’s.”

It was a simple comment, so simple yet it ruined Daniel. “You’re lucky that you’re always happy,” it repeats in his head whilst he clings to Y/n, holding her like she’s the air he needs to breath as he sobs in her arms. Yes, Daniel is always happy.

“Can you stand?” Charles asked. Y/n nodded shakily, trying to pull herself up onto her feet. Just as soon as she managed to get upright, her knees buckled. Y/n’s vision went blurry as she tried to grab the wall, or anything, really, to stop them from– Charles catches her before she hit the ground, helping Y/n to sit back down. “S-sorry,” she stutters “I-I-I–” “It’s okay,” Charles slips a hand under Y/n’s legs and another behind her back and picks her up easily. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“So how does someone like you sneak into a charity even hosted by the richest man in the city?” “I’ll take that as your way of saying you couldn’t stop thinking about me since the last time we met.”

110 notes · View notes

blazingstaro · 1 year

Text

DotS: Knights of the Stars file #03 — Sir Galacta Knight

Name: Sir Galacta Asteri of the Stars Age: 528 yrs ( Adult Dream Puff) Rank: 5th Star Knight General ; Puff Chieftain

The greatest, most powerful warrior of the Galaxy; Galacta is nothing short of a force to be reckoned with! He's well above average size for a Dream Puff, and is frighteningly agile in the air despite his weight.

In contrast to his ferocity in a fight, Galacta has a rather warm and jolly disposition. He's a poster child for Dream Puffs, as someone who can find and bring joy even in the darkest of times. With his hearty, contagious laughter, it's hard to wear a frown around this plump, friendly feathery Puffball!

Behind the mask, he has bright purple eyes and a comedically oversized snaggletooth left fang. His mask visor emphasizes the red in his eye color, to help him achieve a more intimidating appearance since he's terribly fluffy and cute. Surprisingly, he has a distinguished Southern accent. When he speaks, one could practically hear gravy poured on a biscuit and a slice of pecan pie being served on your plate. He embodies southern hospitality well in addition, taking strongly after his mother who had a hobby as a starship mechanic.

"A Puff of purest pink shall arise from the ashes, and lay waste to the Warlock and fiendish foes."

Sir Galacta Asteri is said to be the reincarnated, prophesied hero of legend. Following his fall in a forgotten age (back when he was known as the "Aeon Hero") due to a cataclysm which changed his home world forever, he was predicted to return by an oracle of yore. However, his wandering soul was ensnared by the warlock Nightmare, who held him captive for thousands of years. The foul monster maker knew Galacta's power would be more than enough to slay him, and so deeply feared him.

It wasn't until a little over 500 years ago, a talented, brave, and somewhat cocky young Sorceress snuck into Nightmare's base and rescued Galacta from the evil wizard's grasp. She then set him free on the Puff Homeworld; thus the Galacta we know today came to be. He grew to change the world forever, and change his fate.

He was often regarded as "The Chosen" due to centuries of passed down legends and whispered hopes of his coming, and so Galacta was burdened with the fate of the Galaxy since a young age. Despite his incredible talents —as one would expect from someone supposedly reincarnated—, he often felt that his efforts weren't good enough for the world, and silently strove to become better.

Galacta was an only child, so those he refers to as his brothers or sisters are his closest childhood friends; however, that doesn't change the fact that they're close family to one another! These surrogate siblings of his are Sir Meta Knight, Sir Antwan, and Eave. He especially has a tight bond with Eave, who also shares his secrets. These siblings of his, and anyone he deems family, all lovingly refer to him as "Gally".

Coming to knighthood at the ripe age of 18, Galacta soared up the ranks until eventually replacing his mentor, Sir Eavansol, as Knight General of the Star Warriors. In this position, his talent for strategy flourished as he expertly led their armies into great success. With his pure power and might, he spear-headed every battle he attended. He was also responsible for a plethora of things outside of combat, conducting meetings with other Generals of other armies, and maintaining a healthy relationship between the Star Warriors and GSA.

During the war days, Galacta earned the call sign "Muffin Man" due to his somewhat plump form, which quickly became a useful and discreet way to summon him. It is true, however, that Gally is a bit overweight for a Puff, as evidenced strongly when he sits down. He "muffins" out a bit and looks more like a large pink dumpling than a nice round ball. Hence the nickname! He's a bit insecure and self conscious about it, but can't really do anything about it either.

Being a high-power Puff requires a lot of energy, and being in the high-stress position he was in the Star Warriors, he indulged himself often on his favorite sweet treat: strawberry cheesecakes. It became a rather terrible habit (for which Eave got on his case often) to the point where he had a hidden fridge in his office. Everyone knew about it, which he was hilariously unaware of.

Throughout Galacta's youth, he was trained to carry the torch as Puff Chief, leader of all the Dream Puffs of Homeworld, as he knew he wouldn't serve the Star Warriors forever. He eventually took on the mantle as Chief following the fall of Homeworld, and performed a stressful, yet delicate balancing act of leading both his people and the Star Warriors.

Galacta's lived a long life filled with responsibilities and expectations piled onto his plate, and though he succeeded in much throughout his career, he struggled silently and hid behind his own sweet snaggletooth smile. Meta Knight had to learn from someone, after all, and boy is Galacta a master at hiding himself in plain sight. Though not literally— stealth has never been his strong suit.

Many theorize that due to immense amount of pressure, the stress, perhaps the loss of Homeworld and therefore many loved ones including his right hand woman and lieutenant, Mei, or perhaps more. A few, including Sir Antwan, believe that unknown, yet dubious events caused the great and powerful Sir Galacta Knight to fall into a pit of madness.

Eyes reduced to crimson pin-pricks, wild and broken, it was clear that their beloved brother had at last broke and lost his mind. T'was that fateful day, nearly 300 years ago, where the winged warrior was sealed away in crystal by the last high mages of an old kingdom. He changed the world, but he could not change his fate.

According to Sir Meta Knight, his sister Eave was present for this, and swears down to the tips of her wings that there's more to this mystery. However, her investigations were never concluded, for she vanished some few years later.

Now, by a certain lone knight's overly ambitious actions, Galacta Knight is freed once more, and free to wreak his wrath upon the Galaxy. Though one could only wonder how one as sweet and gentle as he could be reduced to a heartless, cold, killing machine?

Perhaps Eave knew something our heroes could only hope to discover without her...

70 notes · View notes

sabo-has-my-heart · 1 year

Text

Letting Them Escape

An ASL + Garp fic I wrote based off of this

@bumblebeeappletree and @whatreality I wrote it, hope you like it. I went a little off script from the original post but wanted to keep it mostly to the core concept.

Warnings: no romantic pairing!

Word Count: 1515

Looking out at the waters, Sabo’s brow furrowed, something pulled at his mind, fighting to escape. He’d come back to the island where Dragon had pulled him out of the waters. He’d been trying to remember who he was lately, though he couldn’t say why. He hadn’t cared about who he’d been for so long, hadn’t cared to remember his past or what his life with his birth family had been like. It wasn’t until recently that he’d started to care, waking up in a cold sweat as voices called out to him in his dreams. His feet seemed to know where to go, taking him high into the forests of Mt. Corvo. Now he was standing at the edge of a familiar cliff, looking out at the sea, memories straining to break free.

“Starting today…… We’re brothers!” a voice cheered in his head. Brothers… Did he… have brothers? Not by blood, not nobles, but loving, caring brothers? “I heard you’re a dirty trouble maker!” “...y! If you can’t keep up we’ll leave you behind!” “Another win for A-” “Gum-Gum Pistol!” “Try not to get eaten this time, Lu-” “Come clean, Sabo!” “Ace! Luffy! Let’s go out to sea someday!” Sabo clutched his head, it hurt, his head was pounding as the memories started to flood back. Ace, Luffy, they were his brothers, his sworn brothers. Falling to his knees, breath coming out in heavy gasps, he tried not to cry out in pain, gritting his teeth, his brain feeling like it was going to burst. He managed to stand, stumbling back into the forest until he reached a large tree. He easily recognized the battered and worn treehouse. It took everything he had left, but he managed to get into the rickety structure, collapsing on the floor before falling unconscious, his mind too taxed to stay conscious. He wasn’t sure how long it was until he awoke, only that the sun was rising and that his head was still pounding, but he remembered, he remembered everything. Ace and Luffy were his brothers and by now, they were both at sea. He had to catch up to them, he had to find them! It might be best to start with Ace, he’d known Ace longer, he should tell him first.

Garp had been following the trail for a while. He was a vice admiral and hero of the marines, meaning he was well informed of many things that happened within the marines. In particular, he received every wanted poster above a certain amount. He’d received Ace’s once the boy had become infamous enough, a fact that he hadn’t been pleased about. Now he was searching for someone else. A boy that worked under his son, Dragon. It couldn't be true, could it? It had to be a coincidence. Still, he’d met the boy, attempted to train him and teach him to be a marine before he died, could he actually be alive? He had to at least try to find him, if it was true, it would be worth it. While he didn’t agree with the Revolutionaries and wished Ace and Luffy weren’t pirates, he still cared about them and had even cared about Sabo too. If he could find the boy and he was alive, he prayed that it really was Sabo.

It took time to catch up with the freckled boy, a lot of time. Ace moved quickly, a result of his method of transportation. He was able to speed across the water faster than any sailboat, that was for sure, meaning that Sabo had to predict where Ace would go based on where Blackbeard was. Thankfully, the Revolutionary Army’s information network was vast and well informed. Still, it wasn’t until Banaro Island that Sabo caught up with him, jumping up onto the rooftop that Ace waited on.

“Finally caught up with you!” Sabo said, giving the black haired boy a large grin.

“Sorry, but do I know you?” Ace asked, looking at the blond in confusion.

“Eh, sort of. It’s been 10 years since we last saw each other, but we’re still brothers, we made a promise after all.” Sabo said with a chuckle, Ace’s eyes narrowing.

“If this is a joke, your humor sucks.” Ace growled, pausing when he heard a familiar voice.

“We’re going to need to put this conversation on hold.” Ace said, turning to face a large, black haired man, both Sabo and Ace growing rather irritated when they spoke of capturing Luffy.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Ace said, drawing the attention of the pirates before them. Sabo let the two talk, glaring at the large man when he talked about presenting Luffy to the government as a gift.

“That’s our little brother you’re talking about.” Sabo interjected, his pipe held in one hand and resting on his shoulder. A few shots fired off, blowing right through Ace, the pirates not paying any attention to the ‘random’ blond haired boy standing next to him. Both boys immediately began fighting, Ace firing off fire ‘bullets’ as Sabo started attacking some of the others with his pipe. The two stood side by side once more as Blackbeard told his minions to back off, knowing that Ace was too strong for them.

“What, am I not interesting enough to be included?” Sabo joked. The three were soon fighting, Sabo backing up Ace as best he could. Still, this Blackbeard guy and his devil fruit were strong, forcing both of them to fight their hardest.

“You’re not a bad fighter.” Ace said as they both breathed hard.

“What do you expect from your brother? Or do you still not believe me?” Sabo asked, dodging one of Blackbeard's attacks.

“What reason do I have to trust you? Dogra saw my brother’s boat get shot down.” Ace replied, Sabo nodding in understanding.

“I should have died that day, I… shit, watch out!” Sabo shouted, tackling Ace to the ground, saving the both of them from another attack, “You know, I really don’t think this is the time for this. Why don’t we save it for after we kick this guy’s ass? I don’t think we can afford to be distracted.” Sabo said, looking back at Blackbeard.

“Agreed, I-�� Ace was cut off as both boys were sent flying forwards, too busy focusing on Blackbeard to pay attention to the shouting behind them until they were sprawled out on the ground. Ace pushed himself up, glaring down at the ground.

“Do you mind, old man? I’m busy here!” Ace growled, his head whipping around to face the older man behind them.

“Old ma- Garp?!” Sabo shouted, his eyes widening as he inched away.

“You remember me, don’t you… Sabo?” Garp asked, a serious look on his face, though his eyes shone with familiarity and affection.

“How could I forget your beatings, but we really don’t have time for this. We’re a little busy.” Sabo said, gesturing to Blackbeard. The look in Garp’s eyes as he looked at the man they were fighting turned dark.

“Now what do you think you were doing to my no-good grandsons?” Garp demanded, glaring at Blackbeard. Sabo and Ace inched back, carefully watching the two men. It was quite clear that Garp wanted to beat Blackbeard into the dirt for harming Ace and Sabo, the man being rather protective of the boys even if he himself beat them on a regular basis. Watching Garp fight off Blackbeard, it was pretty obvious who was winning. Even as old as he’d gotten, he was still the man who’d chased Roger for years, a man more than capable of, if nothing else, holding off Blackbeard.

“Come on, Garp’s got this handled and I don’t want to taste that ‘Fist of Love’ a second time.” Sabo urged, pulling Ace’s arm.

“Blackbeard is supposed to be my responsibility, I was his division commander, it’s my job to-”

“Ace, we were getting our asses handed to us. Gramps has got this, right now we need to retreat, at least until we’ve got some back-up. The two of us aren’t enough.” Sabo hesitated before sighing.

“Listen, if Garp doesn’t throw his ass into the lowest level of Impel Down, I promise I know some people, we’ll go after him once we have help.” Sabo said, pulling at his brother again. Ace hesitated for a moment but followed Sabo nonetheless, both boys ‘sneaking’ away even as Garp shouted at them to get back there so he could ‘teach them a lesson’. Garp knew he could have stopped them, knew that if he wanted he was still more than capable of knocking Blackbeard into the next century, but then he’d have to go after Ace and Sabo, best to let everyone think he was ‘too busy’ to chase after his grandsons.

“Don’t go dying now that you’re back together.” Garp whispered under his breath as he focused on fighting Blackbeard. Ace and Sabo were alive and ‘safe’, that’s what mattered. With any luck, they’d stay that way as they sailed off to meet up with Luffy.

#one piece #one piece ace #one piece sabo #One piece Garp #Portgas D. Ace #fire fist ace #op ace #portgas d ace #second division commander ace #hiken no ace #monkey d Garp #Monkey D. Garp #hero of the marines Garp #vice admiral Garp #op sabo #sabo the revolutionary #chief of staff sabo #flame emperor sabo

64 notes · View notes

autisticempathydaemon · 7 months

Text

Redacted-tober 2023 Day Three

Prompt: Adam & Surprise

Pairing: Adam/Brighteyes

cw: surprisingly none, mild cursing maybe

Summary: Every kid fighting with their dad needs a bad boy- @tepid-judas’s AU where Quinn attacked Lovely and Adam is free to wreak chaos elsewhere.

Available on AO3 here!

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

“So what did you do this time?” a cool, hissing voice taunts. Bright Eyes whips their head around at the intrusion, and Adam is leaning against their door frame with a smirk, crossed arms, and an irritatingly casual demeanor. “Or was it something you didn’t do? Or both. I could hear the cowboy shouting his hat off across the manor.”

“I’d fucking hope so,” Bright spits out, hyperaware of the way their muscles coil and tense in his presence, how some instinct or sense in their “core” or whatever makes them want to either pounce or flee in his presence. “You’d be a shit excuse of a vampire otherwise.”

“You got smart and gave him attitude, gotcha,” he responds, irritatingly immune to their venom. Adam’s smirk widens into a grin, the scorpion tattooed across his throat flexing and retracting in tandem. Bright can’t take their eyes off it, and they know Adam knows that from the way he sidles further into the room, further into their space. “Did maker dearest banish you from lessons and put you in time out?”

“I left for some fucking peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask for?” The longer this goes on, the more bite their tone lacks, and Bright’s voice aims for vicious but lands on petulant as Adam grips the columns of their four-poster bed and leans toward them. Within arms length, the newborn vampire can properly see the stripes of red in Adam’s eyes, the sanguine shade matching the eyes of the scorpion, and their fingers twist in their bedsheets out of an unnamed instinct.

“Vincent tells me you fresh fangs haven’t gone anywhere except WonderWorld and the blood bank. You could have your boring peace and quiet, or you could use your new magic and free time to have some fun.” Bright knows that vampires can’t trance their own kind- they remember that much from their lessons- but they still have an inkling that they should have thought better to look Adam in the eyes. There’s no command or invocation there; worse, there’s a challenge.

“Where did you have in mind?” Both the red in his eyes and the fangs of his bared teeth glint, and Adam is already at the door, throwing their jacket at their head with unwatchable speed.

“Hurry up, and you’ll find out. It’s a surprise.”

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #busybee writes #redacted-tober 2023

17 notes · View notes

yourbelgianthings · 6 months

Text

no greater love

a hurt/comfort fic with aubrey and duck, takes place after the events of episode 28, tw self harm (not actively described)

“GOOD MORNING, DUCK NEWTON! ARE YOU AWAKE?”

“Well, geez, Minerva, I am now,” Duck mumbled as he rolled over and slowly blinked his eyes. He saw Minerva’s imposing form standing over the bed and couldn’t help but chuckle at the borrowed WVU sweatshirt and gray sweatpants she was wearing. All the residents of Amnesty Lodge who had recently moved in between Duck, Leo Tarkisian, and Mrs. Pearson’s apartments were already good to go on clothes due to usually existing in their human forms, but everyone had needed to pitch in to make a few outfits for Minerva. She was certainly enjoying her new permanent corporeal form, but a battle dress just wasn’t practical for laying low in the apartment.

“I WILL GET YOU SOME COFFEE IF YOU’RE TIRED, DUCK! YOU NEED TO GET READY FOR THE BIG STRATEGY MEETING SOON!”

Duck could hear Minerva fumbling with the coffee maker, so he hurried to throw on a flannel and jeans to get out to the kitchen as soon as possible. Minerva was the most helpful roommate a guy could ask for, but she didn’t exactly have the hang of all the human appliances yet. As the two of them got coffee and breakfast ready, Leo, Jake, Dani, and Moira arrived from down the hall, with Barclay arriving shortly after from old Mrs. Pearson’s apartment. He set a tupperware of freshly-baked cinnamon muffins on the coffee table for everyone to enjoy.

“WHERE’S AUBREY, DUCK?”, asked Minerva, looking concerned as the group continued to assemble (Hollis and Keith had just arrived and were looking for a place to put down their motorcycle helmets, with Thacker and Ranger Juno Devine right behind them).

“Come on Minerva, no need to worry. She’s probably just still asleep, she stays up later than either of us and not everyone can get up as early as you.”

Indrid Cold was the last one to arrive, in full striking mothman form, and taking a swig from his thermos of hot eggnog. Duck whipped around to face him.

“Indrid! You’re back?!”

Indrid laughed. “Yes, hello Duck. You do recall that I can see the future, yes? I wasn’t going to leave you hanging on the brink of the apocalypse.”

“Well, we’re sure glad to have you back. Take a seat wherever you can find one.”

Duck turned to survey his living room, which was currently seating an impossible amount of people, and smiled. There weren’t many people left he could trust, but the majority of those were right here. They were going to free Mama somehow, and Ned…well, he was gone for good and there was no use wishing differently, but he made the choice to save Dani and give the rest of them a chance to keep fighting. Duck would not see that sacrifice wasted. Now he just needed to wake Aubrey up and they’d be ready to go. Knock knock knock. No response. He knocked again and raised his voice:

“Aubrey? You gotta get up now, everyone’s here for the meeting. Barclay made muffins, they might be gone if you don’t hurry up!”

A long pause, and then in an uncharacteristically emotionless voice, “Go away,” Aubrey replied. Duck was annoyed but could feel something might be off.

“Listen, I’m not your dad making you get up for school. We’re both adults and you know the stakes as well as I do. So if you need a minute, fine, but you gotta get out here.”

Aubrey screamed through the door, “GO AWAY, DUCK!”

His brow furrowed deeply. “I’m gonna open the door now, okay, Aubrey?” Duck gently turned the knob and then shut it again behind him. His eyes briefly flitted over the Lady Flame show poster on the wall, Dr. Bonkers sitting in his cage, Aubrey’s gloves and a Polaroid of her and Dani on the nightstand, but they quickly landed on Aubrey herself. She was sitting criss cross on the bed holding her pocketknife, flicking it open and shut, and staring at nothing. Duck sat down on the edge of the bed.

“What’s goin’ through your head, Aubs?” Aubrey turned her gaze to Duck but did not meet his eyes.

“Nothing, Duck. Like you said, you’re not my dad.”

Duck sighed and rested his hand on her knee. “Bullshit, Aubrey. Sure, I’m not your dad, but I’m your friend, and we gotta be there for each other or we’re never gonna make it out of this.

“We already didn’t,” said Aubrey harshly. “We was you and me and Ned. And he didn’t fuckin’ make it out.” As Duck raised his eyes to meet Aubrey’s, they landed on the knife. There was blood on the blade.

“Give me the knife,” he demanded. Aubrey was too drained to resist, she simply dropped it on the bed between them.

Duck picked it up and asked quietly, “Aubrey, are you hurt?”

“In what way?” She laughed bitterly. “The last time I talked with Ned, we had a huge fight. He lied to me and I was furious. But in his letter to me, the last thing he said was that he loved me. And he got himself shot to save Dani. I have the Flamebright Pendant back now,” she fidgeted with the crystal as she spoke. “But I don’t want it if it means he’s gone. I owe him so much and I can never repay him now. Dani means so much to me but she deserves someone better.” Aubrey collapsed into sobs, practically falling onto Duck’s shoulder. He awkwardly put an arm around her and held her until her tears slowed. Duck Newton was a practical man, he had never been one for emotions, but he was determined to help Aubrey right now. When Aubrey raised her head, Duck passed over a box of tissues.

“I’ll be right back, just sit tight for a minute here.” Before Aubrey could reply, he was off, and returned with a wet washcloth, a dry one, and some bandaids. Aubrey simply held her arms out in front of her. Duck gently rolled up the sleeves and set about tending to her injuries.

“You know, Aubrey, you have nothing to punish yourself for. Do you think this would make Ned or Dani or anyone else feel better somehow?” She started to cry again but shook her head. “You said Ned wrote that he loved you. First off, you better take that to heart, because I knew that man a good long while and never heard him tell nobody else that. But, when you love someone, you don’t want to see them get hurt. You can’t bleed your guilt out, only time will take care of that.”

The two remaining members of the original Pine Guard trio embraced and stayed there for a while. Aubrey eventually pulled back and sighed deeply.

“Well, I guess I can’t save Kepler in my pajamas,” and she laughed for real this time. Duck smiled and stepped out into the hall. As Aubrey pulled on her ripped jeans and a clean sports bra, she looked at her bandaged arms in the mirror. They had armor now, Duck’s tenderness in caring for her at her lowest point helped her feel even stronger now. Then, she put on a tight black long sleeve t-shirt, her battle vest, gloves, and finally the Flamebright Pendant.

As she sat and laced up her boots, she thought, “The Lady Flame is back!” She was ready to fight with her friends for the sake of their town and the world. Aubrey stepped outside and ran to sit on Dani’s lap. Dani simultaneously laughed and teared up, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“I heard y’all were waiting for the Lady Flame! Well, without further ado, let’s get this started!” As she said this, a smile spread across Aubrey’s face that she hadn’t felt for a while and her fingers flickered with fire.

#message from mirph #mirph's manuscripts #the adventure zone #taz amnesty #aubrey little #the lady flame #duck newton #taz minerva #taz dani #taz fanfic #hurt/comfort fic #hurt/comfort

11 notes · View notes