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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months ago

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully.

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly.

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones.

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning.

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances.

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.”

“What if it freaks him out?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?”

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum.

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing.

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.”

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute.

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.”

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct.

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes.

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more.

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song.

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.”

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago.

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie.

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room.

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child.

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room.

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment.

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days.

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has.

“No fucking way!”

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it.

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony.

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck.

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.”

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.”

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?”

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.”

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.”

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads.

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won.

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?”

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun.

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them.

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious.

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin.

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake.

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body.

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man.

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught.

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?.

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-(

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots.

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Unimportant.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice?

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons.

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at.

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone?

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying.

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face.

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?”

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.”

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine.

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.”

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin.

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?”

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.”

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care.

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his-

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk.

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment.

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite.

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg.

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight.

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been.

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.”

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone.

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you.

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.”

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon.

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python.

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.”

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder.

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time.

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.”

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is.

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth.

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk.

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now.

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first.

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly.

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.”

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left.

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice.

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight.

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder.

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume.

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this.

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with.

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend.

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.”

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways.

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent.

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.”

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.”

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy.

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it.

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-”

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up.

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy.

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.”

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering.

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise.

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built.

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?”

“No.”

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.”

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.”

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly.

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly.

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you.

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this?

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off.

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?”

And for a second, you almost do.

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still.

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.”

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why.

You’d started this without even considering the consequences.

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?”

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this.

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down.

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!”

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars.

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it.

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest.

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin.

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt.

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?”

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens.

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple.

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples?

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.”

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?”

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin.

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend.

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity.

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree.

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well.

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind.

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-”

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?”

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and-

Wait.

Eddie was smiling.

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together.

He’s just smiling.

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe not.

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.”

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?”

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.”

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles.

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious.

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.”

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.”

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism.

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken?

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief.

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from?

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple.

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.”

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.”

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.”

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you.

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing.

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him.

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front.

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.”

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?”

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on.

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.”

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.”

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely.

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.”

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him.

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it.

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to.

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already.

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat.

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it.

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is.

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that.

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster.

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment.

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation.

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics.

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.”

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.”

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine.

“Eddie.”

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret.

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him.

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile.

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone.

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible.

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely.

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at.

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?”

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both.

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.”

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?”

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.”

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.”

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?”

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains.

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.”

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage.

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT?

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?”

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.”

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur.

“What do you mean not yet?”

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck.

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake.

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?”

“Oh, fuck me.”

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings.

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat.

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S?

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother.

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-”

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession.

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus.

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it.

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles.

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones.

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind.

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap.

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut.

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed.

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.”

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him.

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?”

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back.

“Almond croissants.”

#ghost's stories #twenty four hours #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #beyond the hours #this can sort of be read as a stand alone but there's several references to the main story haha #ive missed them. sigh.#you can tell given the nearly 10k words that almost no one asked for

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nonsensical-pixels · 1 year ago

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as anyone who knows me will know, my house is a zoo i am a sucker for small rodents, especially guinea pigs and hamsters. last year for my 17th birthday i shared these deco guinea pigs, so this year today, for my 18th, have the natural progression of that post: a 4t2 conversion of @kaisosims' rodents pack! 20 new, modular, decorative fur-baby items & accessories for your sims to adore 🥰

everything that could have fitted slots has slots; the hamster shelf, notably, has a grand total of 15! all of the cages are stackable, i.e.: you can put the animals (which are purely deco) in them, then stack them on top of any other surface--the given ones, or a counter, study table, etc.! more info can be found under the cut 👇

this set was originally supposed to be my... wow... 1000 followers and 17th birthday gift. but back then my cc skills honestly kinda sucked and the slots + transparency drove me to insanity. over a year, 1500 more followers, and a mental crisis later, here we are, with the final product of over 30 hours of hard work! 👏 in any case, thank you all so much for 2500 followers!

tysm to @skittlesplays for suggesting this set in the first place btw, you know me so well anna!! if you'd like to see my other, mechtasims pet set, which i converted in her honour, check out my 1000 followers gift weekend starting here.

DOWNLOAD: SFS | MF 🐹

credits go to @kaisosims for the original ts4 meshes & textures, they are so adorable! and of course to all of you, for sticking with me through another birthday 💖

DESCRIPTION

Originally by Kaisosims for TS4. Converted to The Sims 2 by nonsensical-pixels.

THINGS TO NOTE

Pretty much everything that can have a slot, has a slot!

All cages can be placed on other surfaces, like tables, counters, etc.; if you want to place an animal inside of them, do that first, THEN place them on the surface.

Everything is decorative; nothing is functional… yet.

Art pieces are in the Paintings category, surfaces like the Cage Stand are in Surfaces -> Misc, and everything else is in General -> Pets.

You may note that some items have drastically different polycounts from the TS4 originals; this is because TS4 automates the appearance of backfaces, but TS2 doesn't recognise them, so I had to add my own.

ITEMS INCLUDED

Art (28 polys) Cage Stand (398 polys) Cleaning Supplies (424 polys) Ferret (682 polys) Food (100 polys) Guinea Pig (484 polys) Guinea Pig Enclosure (4356 polys) Guinea Pig Enclosure Top (1008 polys) Hamster (520 polys) Hamster Cage (1758 polys) Hamster Table (308 polys) Rat (456 polys) Rat Cage (2140 polys) Small Cage (988 polys) Substrate (144 polys) Treats (1876 polys) Tube (640 polys) Wood Wall Art (380 polys) Zoom Pet (341 polys)

20 items total. Collection file included for added convenience!

much love from my lil piggies: bethany, ivory, emily, and alex!! they're getting new cages for my birthday, just like my sims' piggies 🐽

once again, thank you guys all so much for the support! i wish i could've added more to this gift but i guess this weekend's content will be compensation... 👀 if there are any issues that you find with this set, please don't be afraid to let me know! otherwise, i'll see you in the next one. happy simming, and when you download this, do keep in mind,

Love, ~ Ky 💓

#sims 2 download #the sims 2 cc #ts2cc #s2cc #sims 2 cc #the sims 2 #sims 2 #4t2 #4t2 conversion #4t2 buy #suggestions #sims 2 suggestions #happy birthday to myself #<3 <3 <3

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originalartblog · 7 months ago

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A little event to close off the tiny daycare saga, for those with little guys in need of supervision to have an enriching time with other tiny guys in the brand new daycare enclosure!

In practice, what this means is I'll be taking submitted tiny/chibi bsd characters until Thursday, June 20th and adding them to this background:

THE GUIDELINES:

Submissions accepted until Thursday, June 20th.

The tiny has to be a bsd character.

Only submit art you made yourself! Use whatever medium you wish.

The space allocated per tiny will be around 100x100 pixels (see the picture above). You don't have to submit a file this size, just keep in mind your tiny friend will be compressed to approximately that size and smaller details could disappear. This size is flexible and could be even smaller, or slightly bigger.

The character should be on a transparent or uniform background. For traditional art, be sure the pencil lines are clear on the submitted picture.

Keep it family-friendly, please! Wholesome vibes for this.

One or two tinies per person.

People who have submitted tinies and taken them back are free to resubmit them or submit another one. Tinies currently with me will be added by default (send an ask if you don't want me to add yours!)

*Since everyone is going in blind, be aware that if you rely too much on a specific accessory, it could become a problem if others did the same. I suggest picking a pose that could be used in multiple places to be safe, like sitting, standing, leaning, lying, hanging on, etc.)*

I'll see how many tinies I get, and format a way to include credit with the corresponding art under a cut within the same post.

I await your little guys for this grand finale! 🎉

See the final image!

#tiny skk adventures #so many little guys #please let them all fit in the same picture i have no idea if this will be a cute little thing #or if i'll perish under a tsunami of little guys #it felt big enough as i drew it but who knows

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mikimakiboo · 5 months ago

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Tiny menace

I really have to do everything myself around here /jk

Liiiiittle summary: Bitty Nightmare got adopted by three very creepy skeletons ! Turns out they are nice, but they still give panic attacks every hour

HEAVILY inspired by A Blackened Soul Finally Lightened on AO3

Maybe I will write a sequel... maybe I won't... you tell me

Part 2

And if you like angst with a happy ending, you can check out You Will Be Fine, Now, which is unrelated to these parts but is focused on bitty Nightmare too !

Tw: mention of euthanasia

Bitties have always been very popular. There were so many of them, anyone could find one they would like, and just as any popular thing they were produced in numbers. If bitties originated from a single AU and reproduced naturally at first then it wasn't the case anymore: bitties were now selectively breeded by " specialized farms" in such a way that there would be numerous versions of the same bitty depending on their popularity, which was mostly among children.

Two particularly popular bitties were part of a twin set, they were called Dream and Nightmare, two white skeletons made to be opposites, one being positive and the other one negative. You couldn't separate them, if you wanted to buy one you had to buy the other too. But the more you produced the more you were at risk of making mistakes. In some rare occasions, the Nightmare bitty would come out... wrong. Instead of white bones and two bright purple eyelights, they would come out covered in a black substance with only one cyan eyelight. They couldn't be sell, they were deficient, and bitties could live just as long as any monster or human, so keeping these deficient versions would be a waste of space, time and, above all, money. They called these deficient bitties "Corrupted", and each time a Corrupted Nightmare happened, they would be euthanized.

Only one escaped this fate. An association specialized in rescuing bitties from breeding farms got their hands on the case and managed to definitely close one of the farms, taking every bitty in there to put them in a shelter, with way better living conditions, where they could be adopted. One of the bitties was a Corrupted Nightmare, the only one still alive, a rare one that everyone thought would be the first to be adopted. But no one wanted him. He wasn't as cute as the others, he wasn't appealing, and his personality didn't help: most bitties were sociable and energetic, a few were calmer but they were still loving in their own way, this Corrupted Nightmare wasn't, he was aggressive, he didn't like physical contact, he preferred to stay alone and never went out of his enclosure to see the customers, staying hidden in the dark corners. He wasn't suitable for keeping company and definitely wasn't suitable to play with a child.

How much time did the Corrupted Nightmare spend in the shelter ? He did not remember. More than a year, maybe even more than two, he didn't count, so he didn't really know. He spent his days the same way each time, staying in his enclosure, only going out when the staff forced him to, they said it would help with first impression and getting adopted, but all it had done was confront him to disgusted looks from the customers. "Tomorrow is another day" the staff always said, but to the bitty every day was the same. His enclosure was a little comfier than the others', because unlike the others who didn't have much time to adapt before being adopted, Corrupted had plenty of time, so he gained some advantages such as his own heating lamp instead of the community one for the lamia bitties, as his mucus, his corruption, often tend to be cold. He had many cushions all around his enclosure to lay down, his back often hurting due to the four little tentacles he had. All the bitties had little houses for their intimacy, decorated with some accessories that would be sold with them, such as clothes for example, but also some items. Corrupted had many books, a rocking chair, a bean bag and a little lamp shaped like an apple tree for his reading corner, he also had a room with a round bed with purple sheets and a little bathroom. He liked his little house, he was much better inside of it than sitting in front of the glass wall of his enclosure, watching everyone pass by and never stopping to great him. Some of them looked at him, but quickly turned away to go see some cuter bitties. He eventually got used to it, no longer trying to catch someone's attention by tapping on the glass, he just sat and waited until he could return to his house after spending enough time outside.

He had watched so many bitties leave, all of those who were brought here with him had already been adopted a long time ago, and every bitty who had been brought here after that left too. He had seen the shelter renew so many times, and yet he stayed. Always. Because he was unwanted. Maybe he should have been euthanized like all the others... he knew what happened to them, he knew it because the other bitties told him, the ones who were in the farms with him, they told him that every Corrupted Nightmare would get euthanized, and that it was such a miracle that he was still alive !

He didn't like that miracle. He despised it. He was so scared of dying but he was so done with living. He knew he was going to be euthanized, he remembered that cold metallic box, he remembered all the needles and bottles, the heat of the stove, the look of disappointment on the farmers' face, he remembered all of that... and somehow he got out alive, so relieved, but for what ? Spend his life in another box ? Sure his enclosure was way better, but it was still a box and he was still unwanted.

He got up from where he was lying down, a fluffy pillow near his heating lamp, only to jump with a scream of fright at the sight of two big empty sockets against his glass. He fell backward on another pillow.

- Oop, sorry, didn't mean to scare ya !

He heard the stranger chuckle. He slowly looked up, analyzing the person standing in front of his enclosure: a skeleton monster with empty eyesockets and black tears running on his cheeks. What was this monster doing here ? Shouldn't he be looking at the others ? Since when was he watching him take a nap ? The Corrupted bitty slowly rose his tentacles menacingly, not understanding what he wanted from him, and not reassured by the way he looked at him.

- Ooh threatening me I see, you're a fierce one ain't ya ? Such a tiny menace.

He said, visibly amused as a sharp smile appeared on his face. The bitty didn't like that, what did this skeleton want ? Why did he seem so pleased to see him defending himself ? Did he want him to fight someone ? Was he going to make him fight other bitties ? He had heard the staff talking about dismantling many clandestine bitty fights, many of the bitties ending up in the shelter, was it why this skeleton was there ? The little bitty started to shake, hiding a little bit more behind his pillows.

- Aw you're so cute, the guys are gonna love you !

He cooed, getting up to go directly to the counter, leaving the little bitty even more scared. Was that monster going to buy him ? Why ? He didn't want to fight ! He didn't want to spend the rest of his life fighting other bitties to survive ! He rushed to his house, trying to hide, he didn't want to go ! Not with him ! Why couldn't get a child or a grandma like everyone else ?! Why did he have to get the crazy looking guy ?! He saw the lid of his enclosure opening and pressed himself against a corner, feeling his breathing fastening as he was scooped by a member of the staff to be put in a square cartoon box with little holes so he could breath. He tried to wiggle free, hitting the hand with his tentacles, he screamed, but he was dropped in the box and it was closed before he could get up. He felt the boxt moving and being put somewhere, probably the counter, he heard noises all around him but couldn't decipher what it was, his own soul pounding too loudly to hear anything else.

He was about to pass out when he felt the box moving again, waking him up brutally, he couldn't see what was happening but judging by the air he could feel through the holes, he was outside. He heard a noise, and there was no air anymore.

- I'm hoooooome !

The skeleton sang. Home ? Were they at his house already ? How ? They just left the shelter ! And who was he talking to ? Were there other people ? Would he fight right away ? He pressed himself a little more against the corner of the box, curled up in a ball with his tentacles in front of him, shaking. He heard another raspy voice.

- Brought... food.. ?

- Yep, I got the food ! And I even got better than food !

Food ?! Was he going to be eaten ?! Were they going to eat him ?! To feed him to a snake like a mouse ?! He needed to get out ! If he hit hard enough, maybe the cartoon would break !

- Killer I swear if you brought another chicken I'm gonna make it shit on your bed.

A new voice said. How many were they ?!

- It's even better than a chicken !

Killer, apparently, responded as he put the box down on a table to open it, revealing a shaking bitty curled up in a corner, looking up at them with a wide open eye and fat tears running on his cheek like a waterfall.

- Ta-daaa ! ~

Three skeletons were above him, Killer, the one from the shelter, a big one with a hole in his skull and a glowing red eye, and another one with a hood on, making it impossible to see his face apart from two red eyelights, the one on the left having some blue in the middle. The one with the hole spoke.

- ... Looks scared...

- Why did you buy a bitty ?

The one with the hoodie asked, visibly annoyed.

- He was so cute ! I couldn't leave him behind ! Plus the guy selling him said he had been is the shelter for four years, so I basically rescued him !

He argued. The bitty watched them argue until he flinched, the bigger skeleton was looking at him, frowning. He stepped back for a moment and the bitty couldn't see him anymore, until he reappeared and put his hand in the box. The bitty flinched again, pressing his tentacles against him to protect himself, but he didn't feel anything... he hesitantly looked up, the hand was gone, and a little cube of ham was in front of him. He looked up, the skeleton was looking at him again. What did he want ? Did he want him to eat this dice of ham ? Why ? Was it poisoned ? Was it how he was going to die in order to be cooked ? By being poisoned ?

- For you.. eat..

The skeleton said. The bitty hesitantly shook his head, he didn't want to eat that... the skeleton frowned again but seemed to understand that he was to scared to eat anything. Maybe it was because the bitty didn't know them ?

- Name's Horror.. this is Dust.. and Killer..

He introduced everyone before pointing at the bitty.

- You.. ?

The little one didn't answer. Did he have a name ? He was called Corrupted but was it his real name ? Or was it just because he was a deficient, corrupted version of another bitty ?

- Oh his name's Nightmare ! It's written on the b- ... oh I forgot you couldn't read, sorry..

Nightmare ? But... he was the corrupted version of the Nightmare bitties, why give him their name ? Anyway, that didn't matter as he was going to die soon.

- Did you at least take things to take care of him ?

Dust asked. Nightmare looked at him, still shaking. What did he mean by "take care of him" ? Killer smiled brightly.

- Yep ! Everything is in the second box !

He proudly announced as he went to grab the box and put it on the table next to the first one to open it. Nightmare didn't want to see it, he didn't want to see the tool that would kill him, he didn't.. ! He... he felt everything become dark, he couldn't hear them anymore, couldn't see them... it was all black...

He felt something soft under him as he slowly woke up, he was lying down on what seemed to be a big pillow, big to him at least, as it was normal size to the skeletons gathered around him. Killer was kneeling on the ground, his face at the same level as the bitty, looking worried, while the other two were behind, Dust sitting on a couch and Horror standing up behind Killer. Nightmare looked up slowly, he was on an armchair. He felt something brush against his skull, it felt.. good.. soothing.. he looked up to see what it was and jumped off of his pillow when he saw is was Killer's hand. He heard him cuss as he quickly grabbed the bitty before he fell off the armchair and put him back on the pillow.

- Hey lil' guy it's okay, don't be scared.. !

Nightmare's tears resurfaced as he backed up against the chair back, his tentacles pointing straight to the skeleton.

- You said.. you said you were gonna eat me.. !

Nightmare choked on his tears, his voice quiet, used to not talking that much. He saw the look of confusion on the three skeletons' face as they looked at each other before returning to the scared bitty on their armchair.

- We're not gonna eat you, what made you think that ?

Killer asked, tilting his head.

- You.. you said you bought food...

Nightmare hesitantly answered. Killer frowned for a second before realizing what he was talking about.

- Oh ! No no no, I wasn't talking about you ! He chuckled, I went to the store before passing by the shelter, we were out of vegetables, we're not gonna eat you !

Oh. Nightmare felt his cheeks getting warm, he felt so dumb right now. But that still didn't resolve his first worry: was he going to fight other bitties ?

- Why did you bring me here... ?

He asked, his tentacles still sharp and pointing straight before him.

- 'Cause you were so cute on your little pillow ! At first I was just planning to have a look and then go home, but man, love at first sight ya know.

Nightmare didn't know if it was a good sign or not, after all he had seen some very cute bitties in the shelter who came from clandestine fights. He didn't feel any vile intention coming from any of them though, only excitement, curiosity and caution, so maybe he was safe after all, maybe this skeleton really adopted him to take care of him...

He lowered his tentacles slowly, still shaking a little. His stomach gurgled, catching the attention of the three skeletons. Horror got closer and bent down to hand him the same cube of ham that he must have kept in case Nightmare was hungry.

- Eat.. ?

He asked. Nightmare looked at him for a moment before looking at the ham, he wasn't supposed to eat normal food, it contained too much magic and protein for a bitty, so they had special food mimicking the normal one but with appropriate dosage for them. A treat from time to time wouldn't hurt, though. He slowly reach out to the cube and took it, smelling it before finally taking a bite. The big skeleton gave him an approbating look, glad to see him eat.

He flinched when he felt something touch his skull, one of his tentacles reacting before him by hitting the thing away, thing that was in reality Killer's hand as he made a pouting sound.

- Maybe don't touch him right after he thought he was going to die ?

Dust said from the couch, having been silent until then. Killer sighed and got up.

- Okay, okay, I'm gon' make him a nice lil' spot for the night, I'll go buy wood and everything tomorrow to make a better nest.

He said as he left the living room, leaving the bitty with Dust, Horror and his snack.

- Gonna make dinner..

Horror announced before returning to the kitchen, leaving Nightmare with Dust who was still looking at him from his place. He bent over, his elbows resting on his knees, looking at the bitty.

- I can see why Killer choose you.

Nightmare flinched, looking up at him.

- You were unwanted, right ?

What kind of a question was that ? What was he trying to do ? Nightmare frowned.

- Four years in the shelter, bitties are usually sold faster than that.

He chuckled as Nightmare looked down on his half-eaten ham. Four years. He had spent four years in the shelter. He thought it had been two years, which was already long, but four ? Was he really this bad ? He knew he wasn't as affectionate as the others, he liked his privacy, but was it such a big problem ? He didn't caught it when Killer said it the first time, too busy being terrified, but now that he thought about it, four years was a really long time...

- It's kinda like... a necessary condition to be part of our group you know. I think he saw himself, saw us, in you.

Dust continued. Nightmare looked back at him, confused. What did he mean by that ?

- It's not my place to tell you their story, you'll have to wait for them to tell you, but we all kinda had to deal with rejection one way or another. I think Killer took pity in you like he took pity in us.

He explained. Was it why Killer said he rescued him ? Did he really adopt him to "save" him from the shelter ? A part of Nightmare's soul warmed up at the thought, for the first time in his life someone genuinely wanted him, someone deliberately PAID to have him, to bring him back to their house, and he had been so scared... he felt a little bad for that, judging Killer by his look when he was complaining about how himself was being looked over specifically because of his look.. what a hypocrite he had been.

- Hey lil' guy do you want to sleep by the fireplace ?

Nightmare jumped, clenching on his piece of ham, he didn't expect Killer to appear behind the armchair. He looked at him, looked at the fireplace on his right, and looked at Killer again.

- I can put, like, a blanket with your bed for tonight, so you have a place to sleep while I make a proper nest. I can put it somewhere else tho.. I can put you in my or one of the guys' room if you want ? Oh right I didn't show you my room.. or the whole house... want me to show you around ? I can carry you in my hand or you can rest on my shoulder if you prefer ?

There... there had been too many questions for Nightmare. He looked at Dust, unsure of what to answer, but the skeleton was on his phone. He slowly looked back at Killer who was still waiting. It would be good if he showed him the house, he didn't want to get lost.

- I... you can.. show me the house... ?

Killer smiled at that answer, carefully reaching out to scoop Nightmare in his hand. The bitty tensed at that, not used to being handled, and munched on his ham as a reflex, his tentacles curling around Killer's fingers to ensure stability. In case of stress, eating was apparently the right thing to do, which made Killer snort: Horror did the same thing.

- Want to go in the hood ?

Nightmare nodded, trembling on the hand, he didn't feel safe this far from the ground but at least the hood would be more stable than a hand. Killer carefully placed him next to it, letting le bitty crawl inside at his own speed. Nightmare shifted once inside but ended up finding a comfortable position, letting only his head pick through the fluff. It was so warm here, and so soft too... he felt a gentle pat on his head that made him tense a bit, but he quickly relaxed, seeing that the contact wasn't painful and was even enjoyable...

He fell backward in the hood when Killer moved and had to grab some of the fluff to sit up again, the last piece of his ham in his mouth.

- So you already know the kitchen and the living room, which is also the dinning room, so all that is left is the bathroom and our bedrooms !

He announced as he walked up some stairs before pausing in a hallway with two doors on each side. He opened the first door on the left.

- This is the bathroom !

Nightmare stood up in the hood to look over the furr. It was a small room, with a bathtub, a shower, some cabinets and a sink.

- But it's too big for you so I'll make you a lil' bathtub, don't worry.

They left the room, Nightmare sliding back inside the hood. It was so warm inside of it... warm and cozy...

- That is Horror's room !

Killer exclaimed. Nightmare slowly looked up, seeing a rather messy bedroom with what looked like to be a record player with the records in a box next to it. Did Horror like listening to music ? Nightmare didn't see any books, but given the fact that Killer said he couldn't read it wasn't really surprising. The bitty yawned as they closed the door to go to the next room.

- That is Dust's ! I'm not allowed to go inside.

He said as he opened the door to enter.

- Good thing I don't care.

There was a strong smell of chemicals inside and Nightmare could see many bottles and notebooks opened. No doubt Dust liked to make some experiments... they didn't spend too much time here and closed the door again. Nightmare struggled to keep his eye open.

- And last but not least... this is mine !

This room was messier than Horror's. Like, really messier, with clothes on the ground, bedsheets in a ball on the bed, knives stucked in the wall, ... if one day Nightmare slept in a room, he would chose Horror's. He didn't like the smell in Dust's one. But, for now, he was more likely to take a nap in Killer's hood. He didn't want to, he didn't feel safe enough to do so, but he had such a stressfull day, he just couldn't fight it any longer, he really needed to sleep... he looked up one last time to see that Killer was talking about his collection of knives, but he couldn't understand the words as he was already drifting away, but it was okay, he just needed five minutes... just fives minutes...

- So yeah that's it ! Soooo, where do you want to sleep ?

Killer asked, but received no answer.

- Lil' guy ?

Still nothing.

- Nightmare ? ... oh shit I dropped you ??

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, shoving a hand inside his hood, he let out a relieved sight when his fingers came in contact with the bitty's little tentacles as he made a tiny grumpy noise. He carefully scooped him to hold him in his hand, seeing that he was asleep, he gently pat his head with a loving smile. He put him back in his hood before leaving his room, seeing how he started to shake from the cold air.

- Sleep well Nightmare, and welcome to the family...

Killer already loved their little bitty so much, he hoped he would rapidly get accustomed to them and trust them, he really wanted him to be happy here... he was their little guy now.

- the end ... for now ? -

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 9 months ago

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Your bird adeptus reader posts have me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure theyre so good

Okay okey I see your Bird Adeptus Reader and I raise you one Dragon Adeptus Reader, bonus points for that “not quite mastered shapeshifting yet” human disguise that has reader running around with dragon features.

This doesnt have to be considered a request but I feel compelled to share my thoughts with you in gratitude for the absolutely fantastic works you put out okey brainrot time lets go

Bumping foreheads with Foul Legacy like cats (lets be real here dragons are just lizard hardware running cat software) and having to be extra careful because of y’all’s horns so that makes it even more special. Or reader kneeling to like meditate or something, their tail is swishing behind them, and Legacy goes “!” before swatting at reader’s tail because he’s just Abyssal Moth Beast hardware running cat software.

A Dragon Adeptus would likely be very durable as well, so Legacy doesn’t have to worry about squeezing reader while cuddling or knocking into them by accident; they’re still soft and squishy and cute, but very very sturdy and able to handle all that Moth Affection.

Mutual purring, also another good thought. Legacy likes shiny objects, reader is compelled to hoard shiny objects: you really cannot lose in this situation.

It’s cat-like creatures solidarity babey!!

*unlocks your enclosure* i like the way you think anon

amongst dragons and dragon-type creatures you're considered a bit of an oddity. dragons are grand, powerful beasts that command attention or at least respect, like your secondary caretaker Zhongli (Cloud Retainer is still your adoptive mother- just because you're not the same type of adeptus doesn't mean you're not her child!) but you're smaller with softer scales and a long tail with a tuft on the end of it, still plenty durable and armed with sharp claws and adeptal powers, but you don't really have the same intimidating presence as most dragons. that's just fine with you, though- you're far more content keeping to yourself and spending time with Foul Legacy, who, in contrast, looks strong and vicious but has the softest, sweetest personality you've ever encountered, and that includes the few humans you've met and your fellow adepti

you both share several of the same habits, being essentially cats covered in either scales or armor with you being slightly more put together so you can listen to people's wishes and prayers, meditating for a couple of hours each day. whenever you sit down and close your eyes Foul Legacy always sneaks up behind you, not to spook you or anything, just to playfully bat at your tail as you work- you've taken to handing him a brush whenever he does, feeling him happily comb through the tuft of fur on the end. once he tied a little bell around it and broke into chitters of delight when you stood and instantly started jingling. you got your revenge by adoring his horns with some of the ribbons and ornaments you have for yourself- although, he seems to rather like it, so now you take a few minutes each day to pick out accessories for each other's horns, and you have plenty of shiny items to choose from

napping together is essential, particularly in sunny patches of grass. the warmth makes both of you drowsy and lethargic, Legacy nuzzling his head against your cheek and your tail wrapping around his leg. if you're particularly tired you'll change into your draconic form and completely curl around your very happy Abyssal beast, your purrs synchronizing with his. you also nap together in the most smushed clingy positions, since you want to be as close as possible- someone's face is always buried in someone's neck or chest, at all times. Legacy does make a point to be more alert in sleep than you are- you seem to fall into the deepest sleep whenever you doze, maybe it's something to do with you being a reptilian adeptus- just in case someone comes walking by, so he can wake you and help you cover your horns and tail

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merriclo · 6 months ago

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rating how much i think the members of The Guild would enjoy the Bass Pro Shop Pyramid

Francis Scott Fitzgerald — 2/10

the pyramid cumulatively cost around $300 million, if my memory serves me, so he’d probably appreciate it a little bit. other than that, he would literally never go because his darling Zelda wouldn’t enjoy it.

Louisa May Alcott — 2/10

get this sweet girl out of this strange ass pyramid Right Fucking Now. she’s said to be terrified of heights, so she’d hate the balcony and the elevator. she might enjoy some of the candy they sell there (and maybe the wax melts) but other than that, she’d just patiently wait to go home.

Herman Melville — 10/10

this is an old man whose life’s greatest passion is fishing. he’d fucking adore that place.

Edgar Allan Poe — 7.3/10

this might be controversial but listen guys. listen to me. this man owns a pet raccoon. he’s a professional sniper. he’s going to have a healthy amount of respect for the damn pyramid. plus, due to it being so damn large, there wouldn’t be many chittering crowds to annoy him. and i know it was said that he has a fear of heights, but considering that he spent that time off the Moby Dick scheming and releasing classified documents and the fact that he’s a sniper (requiring being positioned in high-up locations) i’m pretty sure his ass was lying. he still wouldn’t go up the elevator and onto the balcony though because those are crowded and loud places. also some guy claimed that the pyramid was a front for a cult (false) and that there was a crystal skull placed at the top at some point (true) and i think he’d really fuck with that kind of lore.

H.P. Lovecraft — 0/10

would be a 10/10 if the staff let him take a power nap at the bottom of the alligator enclosure. but alas

John Steinbeck — 10/10

this is a man of the country. get his ass in the Bass Pro Shop Pyramid this instant. besides i think he’d enjoy taking all his siblings there and letting them look around and have fun. family bonding

Lucy Maud Montgomery — 3/10

i really don’t think she’d enjoy it all that much tbh. though i do believe she walks outta there with a stuffed moose 100%

Mark Twain — 12/10

he is HOME. he’s looking at all the gun accessories and products available, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn floating around him and giving their own commentary. also you cannot convince me that he didn’t work at his local Bass Pro Shop when he was a teenager. he was employee of the month always.

Margaret Mitchell — 7.8/10

if you’re from the south, you enjoy the pyramid. enough said.

Nathaniel Hawthorne — 4/10

tbh he’d probably be very indifferent. the only reason it’s not lower is because Margaret had a good time

#i don’t know what compelled me to do this but yall are gonna deal w it #i don’t call myself the patron saint of this pyramid for nothing #bsd francis #bsd louisa may alcott #bsd herman melville #bsd mark twain #bsd nathaniel hawthorne #bsd margaret #bsd margaret mitchell #bsd lucy #bsd lucy maud montgomery #bsd poe #bsd edgar allan poe #bsd john steinbeck #bsd lovecraft #bsd h.p. lovecraft #bsd the guild #bungo stray dogs

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littlest-w01f · 10 days ago

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Window Shopping

For @acotargiftexchange

This is my gift for my lovely recipient @cinmawrites

ACOTARGIFTEXCHANGE MASTERLIST

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven

It was a rather sunny afternoon despite the cold, and the lively sounds of the city filled the air as they strolled along the bustling streets, navigating through crowds of shoppers. Mor had convinced Feyre to accompany her to a recently opened boutique, eager to see the stock.

Inside, the store was dimly lit, its walls adorned with eclectic displays of clothing, accessories, and decor. Mor immediately gravitated towards a rack of flowing dresses, running her hands over the silky fabrics with a practised touch.

"Feyre, come check this out!" She called, holding up a dress in a rich, sapphire blue. The garment sparkled with intricate silver embroidery, catching the light and highlighting Mor's already striking features.

Feyre walked over, her eyes widening as she took in the stunning dress Mor held up. "Wow, that's gorgeous," She breathed, reaching out to trace the delicate pattern of the embroidery with her fingertips. The fabric seemed to shimmer and dance under her touch, as if infused with an inner light.

"Try it on," Mor urged, already heading towards the trial rooms in the back of the store. Feyre nodded, following her friend and slipping into the curtained enclosure. A few moments later, Feyre emerged, the sapphire dress clinging to her curves in a way that left little to the imagination.

Mor's jaw dropped as she took in the sight of Feyre, the vibrant colour of the dress accentuating her complexion and bringing out the warm tones in her hair. "Feyre, you look incredible," Mor exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine admiration. "That dress was made for you."

Feyre smiled shyly, fidgeting with the skirts of the garment. "Do you really think so? I've never worn anything quite like this before."

"Then it's about time you did," Mor replied with a wink. "Come on, let's get some shoes to match. Something proper."

As they continued browsing the racks, Feyre couldn't help but steal glances at herself in the mirrors, marvelling at the transformation the dress had wrought. She felt almost regal, like a queen stepping out of a fairy tale. The sensation was intoxicating.

"You know, you'd clean up nicely at one of those fancy charity galas Rhys is always dragging me to..." Mor remarked casually, though there was a hint of something more beneath the surface. Feyre felt a flutter in her chest at the mention of Rhysand's name, her mind drifting to the web of emotions she harboured for him.

"Maybe someday," Feyre said wistfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, moving it around to set it in an updo before letting go. Mor led Feyre to the shoe section, where she was going through several pairs. "But for now, I think I'll stick to my usual. besides, we're here to get you something for your date with Emerie, not for me." She said, even as she stared a longing look at a pair of strappy blue heels that would fit the dress on her perfectly. "I'll just change back. Then we can see." Not waiting on Mor to try to convince her.

After Feyre returned to her original outfit, Mor steered her back towards the main part of the boutique, where they began scanning the shelves once again for potential purchases. Feyre found herself lagging slightly behind, her gaze periodically drifting back from the pretty high heels to the sapphire dress she had set down.

The two friends were trying to find a gift for Mor's girlfriend when Feyre spotted a delicate necklace nestled amongst the other jewellery pieces on display. It consisted of a single, luminous brown opal suspended from a slender chain, the gemstone glowing with an ethereal inner light. The piece was a mesmerizing beauty.

"I love this," Feyre breathed, lifting the necklace from the counter and turning it over in her hands. The opal seemed to pulse with energy, as if responding to her touch. "How about this, Mor? So elegant and understated."

Mor examined the necklace, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Oh, Feyre, yes, this is exactly what I need for Em, it's beautiful and it matches her eyes." A faint blush covered Mor's cheeks like it usually did talking about Emerie, the girl a year younger than them at their university, they had met over a project outside of curriculums.

They purchased the necklace and having it wrapped neatly in tissue, placing it in a gift bag alongside a box of gourmet chocolates Mor knew Emerie adored.

After securing their purchases, including a deep red dress Mor was going to wear, Mor and Feyre exited the boutique, the scent of fresh flowers and perfume mingling with the aroma of the market place. As they strolled along the sidewalk, Feyre couldn't shake the image of herself in the sapphire dress from her mind.

Mor, seemingly oblivious to Feyre's daydreaming fantasy of herself in that gown, chattered excitedly about her plans for the evening with Emerie. Feyre listened half-heartedly, trying her best to concentrate on her friend.

"Hope you don't mind, I'll have to rain check on our lunch plans, I should get these things back to our dorm but I hope you don't mind I told Rhys we were gonna be here."

That was the last thing Mor had said before she flashed a smirk and a wink and dashed off, leaving Feyre alone as a familiar car pulled over near a T-point.

Rhysand stepped out of the sleek black car, his piercing dark blue eyes locking onto Feyre as she approached. He looked devastatingly handsome in a tight black shirt that showcased his toned physique, paired with dark sweats that hugged his lean hips. Feyre's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, this was the most casual she'd seen him, muscles bulging his compressed shirt, as if he'd just done working out.

"Well, well, looks like I caught you admiring little trinkets in the shop windows," Rhys teased, his low, velvety voice sending shivers down Feyre's spine, eyes dancing in amusement. "Did my sister really just run seeing my car?"

Feyre rolled her eyes playfully at Rhys' teasing remark. "She mentioned something about needing to get back to the dorm with her shopping haul. So yeah, she basically spotted your car and bolted, you could say that."

"Did you buy something for yourself?" Rhysand asked playfully as the driver in the car drove it off to parking. When Feyre simply shook her head, he smiled "Aw, poor Ms Archeron, did my sister abandon you before you could get something? Come on, we can always carry on where she left." He raised his arm in her direction, silently asking her to take his arm, muscle flexing under his shirt.

Feyre hesitated for only a moment before sliding her hand into the crook of Rhysand's elbow, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. His strong arm encircled her waist, pulling her close as they began walking together, the city sounds fading into the background.

"So, how was your day otherwise?" Rhysand asked, his tone gentle, curious. "Any excitement?"

Feyre sighed, a small smile playing on her lips as memories of her earlier moments flooded back. "Well, I managed to get around the other stalls here. I've never been in this place, It's... Nice, open."

Rhysand chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent delightful vibrations through his chest and onto Feyre's arm pressed against him. "Ah, yes, this market tends to cater to those who are looking to slpurge, it's not too expensive, I find it reasonable for the fine quality." He explained, guiding them past various vendor stalls offering exotic fabrics, rare jewels, little souvenirs, and trinkets. Feyre paused to look at everything, and then, so did Rhysand, making sure to note what made her eyes truly sparkle. "Although I understand not wanting to spend too much. Everything looks so magnificent one would want to buy everything."

As they wandered through the bustling marketplace, Rhysand pointed out interesting items and shared anecdotes about the vendors, his knowledge of the area was impressive, this place was a childhood favourite of both Mor and Rhysand, The Rainbow, Mor had told her they called it when they were younger, because of how vibrant everything was. Feyre found herself captivated by his presence, enjoying the easy talk and the way he effortlessly commanded attention without seeming arrogant.

As they passed by an art supply shop, Feyre's eyes widened with excitement, drawn to the vibrant colours and array of materials displayed. Her fingers itched to explore the textures, to feel the weight of a new brush in her hand. She turned to Rhysand, her face alight with enthusiasm.

"Oh, Rhys, look! Can we stop for a minute?." She exclaimed, already inside and reaching for a few packed brushes to examine more closely, eyes going over the paints and different colours.

Rhysand followed her inside, an amused expression crossing his features. "You know, I always did guess you were artistic, Feyre," He commented, his tone tinged with curiosity. "What kind of art do you enjoy creating?"

Feyre's eyes sparkled with delight at Rhysand's question, a genuine passion radiating from her. "I love painting landscapes mostly, especially mountains and forests. There's something about capturing the essence of nature that just speaks to me." She explained, carefully selecting a few tubes of paint - emerald green, rich earth tones, and a deep cobalt blue. "But I dabble in portraits too, when I'm feeling more expressive." She held up a small sketchbook, looking through the pages to feel the texture.

One of the shop workers greeted Feyre enthusiastically. "Oh, hello miss, I see some things have caught your eye! Would you like help with anything?"

Feyre nodded and showed the woman the paints and brushes she'd selected, chatting animatedly about her techniques. The employee listened intently, nodding along and making recommendations. Rhysand leaned against a nearby shelf, observing the interaction with interest.

As Feyre continued to browse, the employee pulled out a few additional items, a set of high-quality watercolours, a specialized palette knife, and a unique blending sponge. "These might interest you, miss," She said, handing them over. "The watercolours are particularly lovely for capturing subtle shifts in light and colour. And the palette knife adds such depth and texture..."

Feyre's eyes grew wide as she accepted the extra supplies, her hands caressing each item reverently. "Oh, wow, thank you so much!" She gushed, barely able to contain her excitement.

Rhysand watched with amusement as Feyre's face lit up, clearly delighted by the thoughtful suggestions. He couldn't help but admire her passion, the way she lost herself in the world of art. It was refreshing, "I think we might have to visit this shop again soon," Rhys murmured, his gaze lingering on Feyre's flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. "If only to see you in your element like this."

At the checkout counter, Feyre carefully arranged her purchases. She glanced up at Rhysand, a hint of embarrassment colouring her cheeks as she realized how many items she'd accumulated. "Alright, I may have gotten a bit carried away," She admitted sheepishly, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her shirt. "You were right... I want everything here."

Rhysand chuckled, shaking his head in good-natured amusement. "It's perfectly fine, Feyre. Never apologize for indulging in something that brings you pleasure... Now." Rhysand pressed his palm against Feyre's forehead and put her at an arm's distance, taking her by surprise, "Please get all of this packed and ring up the bill." He handed the cashier his card, the black shining under the direct light above.

"Hey-" Feyre tried to reach over to him, arms stretched out, but Rhysand kept her away from the counter, much to the amusement of the sweet old man behind the cashier, probably the owner.

"And I noticed she forgot those adorable stickers and that brand of markers, so do add that as well to her supplies, and I noticed this pack of multiple brushes, so that too." Rhysand said, waving his card towards the packs.

The elderly cashier beamed. "Of course, sir! Right away!" He efficiently rang up the additional items, adding them to the growing pile of supplies.

As the total mounted, Feyre felt a pang of guilt, knowing Rhysand had covered the entire cost. She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a knowing look and a subtle shake of his head, he let her go when she stopped trying to get to him.

Once the transaction was complete, Rhysand took hold of the bag containing Feyre's newly acquired art supplies, his grip firm yet gentle. He offered her his arm once more, a silent invitation to continue their stroll through the market as they made their way outside.

"You're welcome, Feyre," Rhysand said softly, his voice teasing. "Consider it a small early birthday gift, or holiday bonus, or whatever."

Feyre's heart swelled with gratitude, her fingers instinctively brushing against the side of the bag, feeling the weight of the art supplies within. "Thank you, Rhys, you didn't have to pay." She replied sincerely, her eyes meeting his. "But this means a lot to me." She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with all the appreciation she felt.

In that fleeting moment, a charged atmosphere crackled between them, as they both held the bag of supplies together, a palpable tension that seemed to thicken the air around their entwined hands and the bag between them. Rhysand's piercing gaze locked onto Feyre's, his expression unreadable save for the slight flicker of his eyes. Feyre, too, felt her breath catch, her pulse quicken, as if sensing the shift in their connection.

The air hung heavy with unspoken emotions as Rhysand and Feyre stood there, frozen in time. A single heartbeat passed, two, three... Without breaking eye contact, Rhysand reached out with his free hand, lightly tracing a finger down the curve of Feyre's cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His touch was feather-light, almost imperceptible, yet it sent shivers coursing through her veins.

Feyre's breath hitched as Rhysand's fingertips grazed her skin, the sensation sending waves of warmth rippling beneath her flesh. She leaned into his touch ever so slightly, her eyelids fluttering closed for a brief instant before reopening to meet his intense gaze once more before dipping to his lips.

For a moment, the world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them suspended in that intimate, electric silence. Time seemed to slow, stretching out the seconds until it felt as though hours had passed since Rhysand first laid his hand upon her cheek.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Rhysand withdrew his touch, stepping back with a smile that belied the raw emotion still simmering in his eyes. "Shall we continue shopping or do you wish to go back to your dorms?"

Feyre blinked the haze she had found herself in clear, "I'll... I'll just walk back... I... I should go anyway." She couldn't believe how close they had been. She wanted to feel his hips against hers, despite how cold and chapped they suddenly felt by her own breath.

Rhysand nodded, letting go of the bag and not missing how Feyre clung to it. "Very well, then. I shouldn't keep you..." His voice was steady, betraying no signs of the charged moment that had just transpired as he watched her go, hoping she'd look back, maybe she'd run to him, give him a kiss before she left, reassure him that he hadn't imagined it, but she didn't. And those damned legs of his seemed to freeze him in place. He knew he should've gone easy with his body today.

#acotar #acotar gift exchange #acotargiftexchange2024 #feysand au #pro feyre archeron #feysand #acotar au #pro feysand #feyre x rhys #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre acotar #rhysand x feyre #rhysand acotar #pro feyre #pro rhysand #rhysand #feyre #rhys acotar

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years ago

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The time has come again... What do the icons do with a plushie of their darling? Do they dress her up? perhaps put her on display for everyone to see her cuteness? Maybe even a cuddle when their actual darling is being a bit sour? Descriptions and nsfw welcome :) PS: pinnie you've been cranking out new ocs like a factory honestly I'm living for it-

[Hm, is this a fetish I smell? If it is, I'm not judging. I create ocs with the same ease I breathe, which is to say I probably have ten different breeds of brainworms.]

Reader plush Part 2 - Eletric Boogaloo (Icon edition)

Vesper thinks it's absolutely adorable, he doesn't care what it's dressed with, he just likes it. Surprisingly, he doesn't have much of a desire to desecrate the thing sexually, but he will make stupid lewd poses with it just to make you laugh. He'll let the imps hold it, but if they want to "use it", they have to ask you first. You haven't been informed of this, so it's quite bizarre to wake up in the middle of the night to a flustered imp frantically begging to fuck your plush.

Vorticia keeps it safe and sound in the highest shelves of her manor, where no moron can reach and destroy it. She'll order one tailored outfit for it, matching your best clothes, and leave it at that. It's quite hilarious, but the small extensions of herself seem hypnotized by the doll, hissing and snapping to reach it so they can nibble and rub on it. They fight over it, and Vorticia will flick both if they end up damaging her plushie. You absolutely have to pose with it so she can take a picture.

Zizz looks like an unsupervised child in a candy store. His tail has not stopped swatting like a helicopter for minutes on end. He's stuck staring at the thing and purring deep enough to shake the walls. It's his favorite now, he's keeping it on top of every other plush in his pile and he will absolutely hump that thing more often than not. Of course, you're better, but if you really want to get him riled up, cuddle up to it while he fucks you. Never will this demon come faster and harder.

Rinx's initial reaction is very muted, he mentions the plush being adorable and definitely won't let go of it once he's given the thing, but no one would blame you for thinking that he'd just keep it locked somewhere and never touch it again. In fact, one of the first things that runs through his head is to mark it. As soon as he confirms he's alone, Rinx will shamelessly rub his cock on your poor stitched face and drown it in cum. You'll never see that plushie again. For the love of anything remotely holy, find that plushie and wash it.

Kalymir isn't too impressed at first. In fact, he might use it as squeeze toy and make jokes about how it might be tougher than you. Everyone who touches it gets flung into the wall however. Although he's not one to play or love on the thing, he'll show off to it to feel confident. Sometimes he has odd, one-sided conversations with the plush. Anyone who walks in on it, besides you (mock him forever), is possibly decapitated.

Cero scrutinizes the quality heavily, and if he finds a single blemish, he's sending it back to demand complete perfection. Anything else in as insult to the two of you. He would prefer a doll, in all honesty. The thing is kept immaculate, in its own little custom-made case, and the Icon has no desire to manipulate it. Cero's very anal about the position and detail of the plushie, imps have been stabbed for dropping or merely dislodging the makeshift enclosure. That plush might as well be an SCP given how well it's guarded.

Livius is smitten with it. But he's also creepier than he should be. He'll use it as puppet and make it "interact" with you, a hyperbolic version of your traits that might actually be more accurate than you'd like. This will get annoying fast. The grossest thing he'll do is jerk off while gripping the plush close to his chest. He's absolutely going to go above and beyond to replicate your clothes and accessories for it, the mini-Queen is spoiled rotten.

#Cero oc #Rinx oc #Kalymir oc #Vorticia oc #Livius oc #Vesper oc #Zizz oc #freeflowersofmuseums

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tomorrowsgardennc · 3 months ago

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today, let's talk about

✨️ aphids ✨️

specifically, when you have a basic greenhouse enclosure (aka not a commercial-built high tunnel with all the accessories).

aphids will be a problem. guaranteed. this is due to lack of airflow (like, legit airflow from wind or a very robust intake/exhaust system). i have a fan or few for my greenhouse tunnel contraption, but it's more for to help prevent stagnant air and keep the temperature uniform. i'm not at aphid-prevention level of airflow yet. and that's ok, because over the past few years i have learned the signs and what to do about them and today i am sharing with you.

✨️ step 1: finding ✨️

there is one tell tale sign that indicate you are in the presence of aphids. just like other pests, the sign you'll see is poop. for aphids, this looks almost like white and clear glitter on leaves. on the soil, it will look more like white glitter. the leaves will also be very sticky. sticky, glitter poop.

✨️ step 2: locating ✨️

ok, we found the pest poop. now to find the pests.

aphids nom on two parts of the plant: the newest growth, and under the leaves. as you see here, the very tip of this pepper plant has some babies. now when we get to the next stage, keep in mind that since the aphids are here, you already lost the game. there's no hope in this new growth unless you do the following and final step.

✨️ step 3: elimination ✨️

no no, put that neem oil down. neem oil kills any and all bugs. it does not detect which is good and which is bad. no no, dish soap and water legit does nothing except wash the poop away; ignore what pinterest and the influencers say about that combo. ok, army of ladybugs bought at the local hardware store is good, but we gotta do one more thing before we unleash them. and that's 𝓼𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰.

legit, the only way to remove an aphid infestation, regardless of what stage of infestation ("beginning", "haha, i'm in danger", or "HELP I'M DROWING IN GLITTER POOP") the most effective way to have any hope of saving the plants is to squish the aphids. this will not happen all in one day, nor two days, or three. day three is when you unleash the ladybug army, though, and i'll explain why in a second.

day one you'll be in shook and overwhelemed, and squish to your hearts content. but you will not get every single one nor any eggs. day two will show progress. day three is now manageable, and all the subsequent days afterwards will be to ensure you got every. single. last. one. including the eggs that hatch.

✨️ final step: release the hoard ✨️

sadly i can't find my video of releasing ladybug hoards in the greenhouse in years past... so i'll just scatter ladybugs 🐞 as i type this 🐞 part out to help with the ambiance.

ladybugs and other happy 🐞 bugs love to eat aphids. why not 🐞 have them do all the work?

well, think of your favorite cake. like legit the most perfect cake you could ever imagine. mine is yellow cake with chocolate mousse frosting and sliced fresh bananas. mmmm...

now imagine 20 of those, 🐞 and they're capable of reproduction. don't ask how, but they do. at a rate of 10 cakes every 🐞 other day.

🐞 how long will it take for you to be able to eat all those cakes before they can stop reproducing??

also, keep in mind when you purchase a pack of live ladybugs, only about 2/3rds actually are alive in the packet 🐞 by the time they make it to freedom and the remaining will either die very shortly from the last bit of energy to be free and fly away or just fly away and enjoy being elsewhere because they're an 🐞 introvert who was just stuck in a bag for a month or so 🐞🐞🐞🐞 and fuck everyone and everything they just want to leave regardless of the buffet at their feet.

that will leave you with approximately 10 ladybugs. and now that 🐞 you have done all that squishing, they will keep the aphids in check and make sure they don't pop up ever again. now your plants will attempt to regrow and leaves or new growth they lost and be happy.

✨️ the end 🐞✨️

#food not lawns #gardening #home garden #homegrown #food #grow food #gardenblr #garden blog #suburban agriculture #suburban farm #pest management #greenhouse #ladybug #aphids

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voraciousvore · 7 months ago

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Giganterra (Chapter 24)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (23) | Next (25)

Content Warning: soft, safe, unwilling vore; vulgar language

Word Count: 2k

------ Chapter 24: Where Fantasies Die ------

Gio was surprised to wake up in the morning and find his arm was healing. The bone was firm and didn’t hurt anymore. He didn’t need the splint. He was even able to rotate his arm without significant pain, just mild tenderness. So, the giantess had been telling him the truth when she claimed to be healing him. This fact didn’t change his view of her, but it did puzzle him. He could only conclude that she wanted to keep him alive in one piece so that she could torture him more.

A shadow darkened the house full of tiny men, and Gio and Graham trembled. The giantess raised the roof and surveyed them thoughtfully. Cesar beamed up at her and waved.

“Good morning, my lovely princess!” he greeted her, twirling energetically. “Are you looking for a handsome accessory to complete your wardrobe? Look no further: Here I am!”

Bianca scoffed as she looked down at the tiny dancing fool. She didn’t want to indulge him, as charming as he was, and she worried she may get too attached if she encouraged him more. Her eyes roved over Gio, but she believed she had tormented him enough. Besides, his arm was probably not fully healed; he needed more time. The only logical choice was Graham. She snatched him up, indifferent to his cries, and locked him into the latch of her necklace. She shut the lid of the habitat and left for her morning lessons.

Gio felt sorry for Graham, but he was nonetheless relieved that he hadn’t been chosen. Cesar, on the other hand, was upset. He flopped down on the couch and crossed his arms with irritation. “What am I doing wrong, Gio?” he asked forlornly. “Why doesn’t she want me?”

“You’re an idiot,” Gio remarked, shaking his head.

“But Graham is an idiot too, and she favors him,” Cesar whined.

“No, you dunce! I meant you’re blind to reality.” Cesar stared at him blankly, not comprehending his meaning. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s a manipulator and an abuser. She wants us all to suffer, so she won’t give you what you desire. She doesn’t care about you, or me, or Graham. We exist solely for her entertainment.”

“But she must care a little bit, if she healed you. She didn’t have to do that,” Cesar argued.

“Cesar. Cesar.” Gio massaged his temples. His temper spiked, but he stayed patient; he was used to giving advice and explaining his reasoning, as a former advisor to King Charles. “This is a classic pattern of abusive behavior. Can you not see that? She perpetuates her cruelties, expresses remorse, and then what? Keeps performing more deplorable acts. It’s a vicious cycle and it only makes me hate her more.”

“Hmph.” Cesar didn’t have a good answer to Gio’s logic. He wanted to believe that the gorgeous giantess had some good in her, that he could tame her, but he had to admit his faith in her was waning. However, he wasn’t ready to give up so easily. She wouldn’t ignore him forever. “We’ll see,” he retorted lamely.

“Sure. Whatever.” Gio frowned with frustration. He didn’t feel like arguing with Cesar any longer, and the two men lapsed into silence as they receded into themselves. Gio had been on reasonably friendly terms with Cesar before their trip to Giganterra, as fellow servants to the human king, but now there was a significant wedge between them. He was increasingly annoyed with Cesar’s blind stupidity. Cesar regarded Gio as a stick in the mud. He was crabby for not getting his way and in denial about Bianca.

There wasn’t much to do in their enclosure while Bianca was gone. Cesar, who had trouble sitting still when he was bored, entertained himself by juggling small objects, climbing on the furniture and up the walls, and challenging himself with difficult acrobatic tricks. Gio sat in a sullen hush, observing Cesar will rising irritation at his childish behavior. Cesar attempted to make conversation with Gio and lighten the mood by telling jokes and reciting amusing limericks, just as he would when entertaining King Charles as the court jester, but Gio couldn’t muster a single chuckle over his performance. Cesar wasn’t bothered or deterred, however, as he usually got the same lackluster response from the human king. When he was unable to coax Gio into talking or laughing, Cesar decided to sing instead while walking around on his hands. Gio groaned and laid down facing the wall.

The princess returned a few hours later. She was moody after flunking the new tutor’s test. She popped Graham out of her necklace and rolled him around in her fingers for a few moments, examining him. Graham, defeated and exhausted, dangled listlessly in her fingers. Bianca pouted. She was bored of this limp toy and decided she wanted another one, with fresh fighting energy. She came over to the house, opened the roof, and plopped Graham inside on his behind. He slumped in the same spot where she left him, boring holes into the floor with a thousand-yard stare.

“Who wants to join me for lunch?” Bianca asked in a harsh tone, looking over the other two men. Gio paled and backed up into the corner, smashing his body into the walls as if he hoped to disappear. Cesar showed off his pearly whites in his most brilliant, unctuous smile.

“I’d be delighted, my princess,” he expressed. After a pause, he added a hopeful, “Please?”

Bianca stared at him, surveying his tiny bare form coolly from his head to his toes. Finally, she relented. “Fine.” Cesar grinned joyously as her gigantic, elegant fingers, long and dainty with polished nails, wrapped around him and lifted him out of the house up to her face. Cesar basked in her seductive splendor, inhaling the pleasant feminine fragrance of her perfume, which smelled like rose petals. She narrowed her eyes, squishing his face between her fingers and rotating his head to get a better look at him.

“Chester claims you taste nasty. Is that true?” She opened her hand and released her hold on his head so he could speak.

Cesar was disarmed by her statement but sought to defend himself. “That lunkhead doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m sure I taste fabulous. I mean, just look at me! Don’t I look like I’d please the palate?” He pirouetted gracefully in her hand, showing off his limber physique. Bianca raised a sculpted brow and smirked.

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” she replied. She raised the man up to her full lips, which parted slightly as she anticipated tasting him. Cesar’s heart beat faster as he admired the comely features of her immense face. He yearned to taste her lips even more than she yearned to taste his manly flesh.

He reached out his hands and touched his fingers reverently to her red bottom lip, tracing the pleasing, soft texture. He felt her gentle breath on his skin and beheld the glistening white walls of her teeth. He quivered from all the stimulation. Her massive tongue emerged from the dark maw, beckoning for him to enter. The thick, fleshy mass of pink slithered down to her hand and caressed him, sliding over his legs, over the lump of his groin all the way up his chest. Cesar moaned softly, pressing his palms and body into the squishy wet surface with euphoria.

The tongue recoiled back between the lips, which shut firmly, blocking the entrance to the giant mouth. Bianca’s face wrinkled into a grimace as she pulled away. “Ugh! You taste foul!”

“What?” Cesar whined, his dreams dashed to splinters.

Bianca spat and crinkled her nose. “I should’ve listened to Chester. You’re repulsive! Yuck!”

“That can’t be... I don’t believe it. I can’t be THAT bad!”

“Believe it. You taste rancid, like rotten meat.”

“Can’t you just... slather me with barbeque sauce, or something?”

“I don’t like barbeque sauce,” Bianca sniffed, turning up her nose.

“Well, it doesn’t HAVE to be that! Any condiment! Mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise, relish? Ranch? Marinade? Vinaigrette?” Bianca curled her lip in disgust. “Alfredo? Pesto? Soy sauce? Cocktail sauce? French dip? Broth? Hot sauce? Worcestershire? Hollandaise? Tartar sauce? Dry rubs?” Cesar rattled off every sauce, dressing, and seasoning he could conjure up, but Bianca continued to shake her head. “Come on, woman, work with me here! I’m willing to be eaten, so let me in!”

“No,” the picky princess answered.

Cesar’s expression warped with annoyance at her stubbornness. “Don’t be so difficult!”

Bianca didn’t deign to answer. She tossed him back into the house and turned her attention to Gio. “You’ll have to do, little man.”

Gio gasped and scurried back into his corner, clawing at the walls with desperation. “No, please!” Bianca’s massive hand reached down, blocking out the light as she encompassed him in her hand. “NOOOOO!”

“Yes,” she replied simply. She ordered her maid to bring her a repast.

While she waited, Gio begged and pleaded frantically to be let go. “Haven’t you tortured me enough? My arm isn’t fully healed yet! You’ll hurt me!” he rationalized, giving her the most soulful gaze he could muster to sway her.

“I don’t care,” Bianca responded coldly. She wouldn’t allow herself to be tempted by flimsy feelings this time. It wasn’t as difficult as she anticipated, to simply throw her empathy out the window. Besides, she got a huge rush from dominating the small man. “I’ll give you more healing potion.” She dripped a drop of the tangerine potion on his arm and the blueberry anti-digestion potion on his head.

“Spare me, I implore you! I-I thought you were a kind person! This is barbaric behavior, unseemly for a regal lady such as yourself!”

Bianca glared down at him with smoldering wrath. “Watch your tongue, you insignificant maggot. Unless you want me to chew you up when I eat you,” she snarled, baring her teeth. Gio clammed up, his face draining of color. He began to shake all over as the maid walked in with a lunch tray containing a fresh garden salad, hot soup, and a meaty sandwich. The giantess considered each item before opting for the sandwich.

“Find compassion in your heart… please… not again...” Gio attempted one last supplication as the oversized sandwich opened in front of him. Colossal fingers tucked him into an expansive bed of sliced deli meat. He was covered with a sheet of lettuce and compressed between two slices of rye bread, several feet thick and impossibly wide. Gio seasoned himself with salty tears as he grappled to escape, but Bianca grasped the sandwich tight around him with her hands so he couldn’t crawl out. The weight of the toppings heaped upon him—sliced tomato, cheese, pickles, and onion—pinned his small body down with suffocating mass.

The giantess opened her mouth wide and took a bite large enough to completely engulf the human. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the horrors as her teeth cut through the thick sandwich layers surrounding him with a resounding crunch. She processed the rest of the sandwich with her teeth, careful not to crush Gio between her molars. She nibbled his limbs and torso playfully, making sure not to bite down hard enough to injure him, as she enjoyed his flavor before swallowing him whole.

Cesar was fuming as he watched Gio get devoured alive. He resented the giantess for rejecting him, insulting him, and refusing to compromise. Also, he hated to see Gio suffer even more, when he had done nothing wrong. His heart rankled at the perceived injustice.

“You know… I don’t think I like her anymore,” Cesar mumbled, addressing Graham, who hadn’t moved from his position on the floor.

Graham snapped out of his daze, surprised by the dramatic change of heart. He looked up at Cesar. “Fucking finally!”

Chapter 25

#gts #giantess #giantess vore #female pred #male prey #unwilling vore #unwilling prey #giant women #v.ore #v/ore #v0re #soft vore #safe vore

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