#toddy was here

[sir-squibbly]

More FNAFHS stuff in my style. Nothing else to say other than designing Onnie's shirt using the half-tone brush was fun. Oh yeah, and bonus Toddy since she's technically a part of the friend group now.

[apolsup]

Fhs shipping week

February 20th: First Date - Secret Relationship - Polyamory

Seems that you just interrupted their date!

Toddy is not happy about this

[serpentface]

TRADITIONAL FOODS OF THE HIGHLANDS

The Highlands or 'Greathill' is a region in the central north-northwestern territory claimed by (but almost entirely uncontrolled by) the Wardi Empire. They are inhabited by a network of peoples collectively referred to as the Hill Tribes, who are not a unified or monolithic group but share ancestry, similar means of subsistence, and a common traditional diet.

The highlands are regionally unique for their altitude and relatively cool temperatures (and is the only part of the region that can expect snow on a yearly basis, with some of the highest peaks receiving snowfall year-round). The climate is overall dry, though the rivers are usually well fed by high altitude rains and snowmelt, and the river valleys are wet enough year-round to sustain woodlands and more delicate agriculture.

Most vegetables can only reliably farmed in the river valleys, and these key regions are typically under the control of specific clans or tribes who dominate intra-Highlands trade networks. Those living outside of the river valleys have only occasional access to most farmed vegetables, and foraging is an important supplement to the core diet. Hardier crops are grown on terraced slopes, and the vast majority of the landscape is used as grazing pasture.

The regional cuisine revolves around grain (especially barley and most often taken in the form of bread), meat, cheese, milk, and yogurt. The flavoring stands in stark contrast to the surrounding Wardi cuisines, traditionally being only lightly seasoned (few spices are natively available) and mostly reliant on subtle herbal flavoring, though both palates are in agreement on the value of capsaicin.

Many of the Hill Tribes (or individual clans) have trade connections outside of the highlands, but food (aside from livestock) and spices are not common imports. The majority of the population have maintained traditional culinary practices that are unique among the wider region (though with some inevitable cultural cross-pollination).

Most dishes are eaten by hand out of serving plates and bowls, with spoons used for some soups and porridges. Almost every meal is served with flatbread, which is torn off and used to collect and eat the rest of the food. It is considered good manners to save a piece of bread for last, which will be used to soak up any remaining juices after a plate is cleaned (not doing so is a mild insult to the cook).

Tea is an important part of the daily routine, and is served alongside each meal. Traditional teas in this region are exclusively herbal and consumed for both taste and medicinal purposes, and none are caffeinated (though one has a stimulant effect). Tea is by far the most popular edible import in trade with the broader Imperial Wardi region (along with salt), with imports of tea leaves being desirable and having become quite popular in the last century.

Staple foods:

Barley- the absolute most important staple grain. Most barley grown in the region is a strain that better tolerates the highland’s regionally unique combination of seasonal cold, dry climate, and high altitudes.

Wheat- more delicate than barley and not as widely grown, but a key crop in the more fertile river valleys

Kulys- a native hardy, spiny plant that stores water in its trunk and is tolerant to dry and cold seasons. Its young stalks are edible, but the fruits and flowers are of greater regional importance. The flowers are used for a lightly sweet herbal tea, and the fruits are a important to the diet and usually eaten on their own.

Amaranth- a species of amaranth is regionally native and domesticated, with seeds eaten whole or ground into flour and leaves being used for green vegetables.

Squash- grown only in the river valleys and a key item in trade within the highlands. Squashes are found nowhere else on this side of the Viper seaway, and were likely brought along overseas by the original migrant population.

Chili peppers- several strains are grown in the region (ranging from very mild to chiltepin levels of capsaicin) and mostly used to create spicy yogurt sauces and to flavor stronger dishes.

Wild onion- a region-specific onion species, tolerant of harsh growing traditions but difficult to propagate, mostly foraged.

Magah- a farmed. potato-esque tuber, more strongly flavored and bitter than potatoes.

Dairy products- dairy is foundational to the diet and used to create a variety of yogurts, creams, butters, and cheeses, and milk is often consumed on its own. Cattle and horse milk is preferred, khait will be opportunistically milked but have much lower yields.

Cattle- Cattle are of utmost and absolute importance to the diet (in the form of meat and milk) and overall lifestyle. Wealth is primarily measured in the size of cattle herds. The native landrace of cattle is well accommodated to altitude and seasonal cold, though many breeds have been obtained in trade.

Horses- (the small, three toed kind) They are of secondary importance to cattle in terms of livestock, used for meat, wool, and milk.

Taarn- a type of pheasant native to the region that has been domesticated for meat, fares best in river valleys.

Honey- Beekeeping is a well established practice, and honey is the sweetener of choice and highly valued. Bee larvae are also sometimes roasted and eaten.

Bread- made with wheat, amaranth, or barley flower (or all three), a part of most meals. A type of flatbread is used as a base to scoop up other parts of the meal.

Wild game:

gazelle, antelope, hippegalga, and deer.

aurochs (sometimes found in the low river valleys and foothills)

crocodiles (mainly found in the Erubin river valley)

ducks and geese

unkata (a genera of cassowary sized flightless birds, a smaller subspecies of which can be found here as a grazer)

grynaig (a native species of pidgeon which nests among boulders)

piispiispi (a lagomorph that can be found at high altitudes, somewhat resembles a marmot. The name is onomatopoeia based on their shrill calls)

fish (especially trout), frogs, freshwater mussels, and crayfish from the rivers.

Native fruits: wild plum, dirrucag (a shrub that produces small fruits, roughly comparable to autumn olive), wild rose hips (used for tea and jams).

Other vegetables (cultivated and wild): cabbage, onions, garlic, carrots, rapeseed, peas, wild amaranth, mustard greens, nettles (the latter two also being regionally unknown and likely brought in the original migration).

Herbs/spices: relatively few spices are natively produced. Fennel is reliably grown. A type of sumac can be obtained in the river valleys, and a couple native sages and mints can be found throughout the region.

Alcohol: murre (a relatively strong (8-10% abv) alcoholic beverage made with fermented fruit and horsemilk), mead, kulys wine, and a few wheat and barley ales.

Teas/non-alcoholic beverages:

-Kulys flower tea (a mildly sweet herbal tea with nuanced, delicate flavors, usually consumed on its own without a meal)

-Brolge tea (a bitter tea made with the brulge leaf, which has a mild stimulant effect (comparable to coca in composition, but a different kind of plant) and is often consumed in the mornings. (This plant is known as bruljenum in Imperial Wardin))

-Floral tea (tea made with a variety of edible wildflowers, with plum and rose flower being especially favored, and rosehips added for tartness. Often served with milk)

-Nettle tea (favored as a soothing evening tea for its rich, earthy flavor)

-Mint tea (it's mint tea)

-Roasted barley tea (an everyday staple, often taken with milk or butter and honey, or mixed with herbal ingredients).

-Honey-garlic tea (usually uses roasted barley as a base, boiled together with garlic that has been fermented with honey. Preferred by herders for a warming effect on cold nights).

-Green tea (the preferred untreated variant of imported tea leaves)

-Fermented tea (a combination of imported tea leaves and a native preference for fermentation)

-A sour fermented horsemilk beverage, best taken with salt and/or honey.

-a fermented cowsmilk and yogurt beverage, taken with mint.

-A beverage made with mead, extra honey, hot peppers, and chopped garlic boiled together. Consumed for its warming qualities and to treat colds.

Examples of Dishes:

-flatbread (the base of most meals, made with wheat, barley, and/or amaranth flour. Assume that most non-grain based foods described here are served along or atop it)

-a spicy yogurt sauce made with finely chopped hot peppers, sometimes garlic

-a sour yogurt sauce made with sage, mint, or fennel.

-A type of thick dumpling, stuffed with a variety of foods (beef or horse, wild game, onions, fennel, magah, cheese, etc) and used as a common element of meals. Most comparable in shape to a pierogi.

-fried or baked dough balls with cheese and herbs

-taarn pheasant with a butter and plum or dirrucag sauce.

-beef stock soup with dumplings, onion, and curd cheeses

-beef or horse tartare with melted butter. Sometimes eaten on its own, sometimes sprinkled with herbs or topped in a spicy yogurt sauce.

-wheat or barley porridge with milk, yogurt, or butter, sometimes sweetened with honey.

-broth made with beef trotters and lightly flavored with herbs, often used as a base for other dishes but usually sipped.

-savory barley porridge cooked in beef or horse stock (often as a base for meat dishes)

-cheese, beer, and meat stock soup, often with peas, onions, magah, barley, and/or amaranth.

-yogurt, mint and fennel soup

-plain yogurt with mint and honey

-a mildly sweet porridge made with mashed squash, barley, and milk

-sweet snacks made with amaranth seeds, honey, and dried fruit.

-piispiispi stuffed with herbs and onions and roasted

-mashed magah, basic dish of thoroughly cooked magah, mashed with butter, cream, or yogurt.

-boiled, minced magah with minced meat, mild peppers, and fennel, best topped with a sour yogurt sauce.

-mustard and other wild greens, usually cooked down with butter or beef fat and mixed with onions

-an absolute litany of cheeses, often made with delicate herbs or strong peppers. Soft cheeses are generally favored and most widely used in cooking, hard cheeses are eaten on the go.

-Beef or horse testicles, usually cooked in a butter sauce as part of a larger meal. (most commonly obtained as a byproduct of gelding, in which case it is thought to uniquely boost fertility in ways that testicles obtained in slaughter do not)

-a mild pastry stuffed with soft cheese and topped with honey

-a nettle soup and onion soup, best taken in a fish or shellfish broth for enhanced umami flavor.

-Cow head that has been de-haired and de-brained, smoked, and slowly cooked with herbs and vegetables until tender. This is eaten at wedding celebration- the husband's family will have slaughtered the cow as a bride price. The husband and wife are given the choice, fatty cuts, the marrying families share the rest of the meat, and the broth is sipped by all guests.

-cow or horse brain, minced and fried in butter with onions and served atop mashed magah.

-blood sausage, with grain or magah and wild onions for filler.

-a spicy soup or stew made with boiled crayfish, onion, hot peppers, and cream.

-smoked trout with honey

-roasted honeycomb with larvae

[dretanya]

....discovered what? discovered the entire building? the civilization of dragons that predates your entire history???

[pezvivo]

i know week one just ended but i needed to get this off my chest before it consumed all my waking thoughts forever

[nikidykeachu]

Wanted to draw but she was the only one i could draw^__^

[sstri]

I'll post something good at some point

[doctorjennifermelfi]

i think zac efron would bring the same compelling dissipated older brother who missed his shot vibe that he brought to the iron claw as kevin von erich to his portrayal of platt barbour. if they were to make a goldfinch movie

[10hourshift]

Ahhh, les hice una playlist a estos weyes :p

Lista bajo el corte

Birds Dont Sing | TV Girl

Otros Colores | Daniel Quién, Bratty

Lovefool | No Vacation

I Don't Know You | The Marías

Something About Us | Daft Punk

melt bitter | satomoka

Two Time | Jack Stauber's Micropop

Friends | Vacations

[mchiti]

also just saying I'll give lampard man the benefit of doubt. don't think I'll ever forget it's your fault hakims there

[clownstho]

And finally, the leftover weirdos, freaks, and (gasp) even boys. They're not part of the Girls' Night Crew, but they sure are friends, haters, troublemakers and bastards. We're doing these character breakdowns rapid fire.

Hopper the Rabbit is a giant fluffy guy who uhhhh... actually we're not sure what he does. He says he has a job but literally no one has an idea what it is. He's chill though, and everyone likes him even though he brings his ukelele everywhere. Bard.

Flower Power the Imp is a peacemaker and a bringer of chaos. She's most interested in having a good time - love and light, man, peace and joy. Just don't blow her high, or she might pull out a comically large explosive device. Perhaps she'll bonk you with a hammer. Luckily she's easily tricked. Artificer.

Gattina the Cat is the main rival of Girls' Night. She's a solo performer with a very powerful voice. She has the range, and she can entrance any audience, but she is also a certified hater. She hates Girls' Night. She can't stand their frivolous antics, and her bright idea to force them into not performing is often kidnapping Pinky. It does not work out because of the power of friendship. Wizard.

Toddy the Fox is the local hottie and occasionally hired muscle. They've got a reputation for being rowdy and a delinquent but that's mostly because they're friends with Gattina. It's also mostly because they like to yell in movie theaters and get in fights and smoke in alleys with his bros. They're too quick to make friends and very reliable. Fighter.

[pezvivo]

relationships: Dolores Madrigal & Madrigal Family

summary: Tío Bruno had told both her and Isabela, that when a house "mumbles", it is simply resting like everyone else, it breathes as softly as anyone else does when it sleeps, cooled by the long night and the creaks and pops were no dissimilar to someone fixing themselves on their own bed.

This was not that.

[dreadark]

i’ve seen defenderknights this is definitely functional

a niche where you can only use operators of the same height as yourself. how fucked are you?

mine looks surprisingly functional i think. we have busted dps nr 1, busted dps nr2, busted healer, two vanguards, aosta

[ebodebo]

—thinking about jason todd being a smug bastard... MDNI

Wayne Manor was swarmed with people. 

Once again, your parents had insisted on attending one of Bruce's charity galas, dragging you along.

You couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this world of opulence and pretense.

It was fun to dress up with thousand-dollar dresses and jewels, but, Christ, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the sound of clinking glasses, making it stuffy even in the corner of the room where you stood.

They were nothing more than a group of pretentious assholes parading around and gloating about their wealth.

The very sight of them filled you with a profound sense of disdain for the whole event, a feeling that seemed to grow with each passing moment. 

You just thanked God Bruce always provided good booze.

"Cute dress," a deep voice sounded next to you.

You know immediately who it is.

"Was gonna wear red, but I didn't want you to get all jealous, Jason," you jest, your tone oozing with sarcasm.

"Is that right?" He smirked, handing you a glass of champagne. 

"Yeah. So I settled for blue," you shrugged, grasping the champagne.

"I think red suits you better," he hummed, sipping the alcohol. 

"I bet you do, Toddy," you chirp, eyes leering over the glass as you sip.

"You think you're so funny," he mutters, referring to the silly nickname you call him to his dismay. 

"I think I'm pretty hilarious," you smile, clearly amused with yourself.

"I can tell," he jibbed, taking another swig of the alcohol, eye peering over the rim to lock with yours.

You open your mouth to speak but are interrupted by a refined, high-pitched tone dripping with an air of superiority calling out for Jason in the dimly lit, crowded room. 

"Jay," a blonde girl quipped, making no effort to greet you, only batting her lashes at him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Well, you know..." He trails off before mustering a fake smile. "Duty calls."

She lets out a horrendous giggle that has you laughing at the sheer absurdity before her eyes lock on you.

"And...you are?" Her tone is almost revolted, adding to the tension in the air. 

Just take the high road, you think to yourself. 

"I'm a friend," you plaster a ricus smile.

She purses her lips, her eyes betraying a mix of jealousy and curiosity as they dart between you and Jason.

You'll play nice tonight, sure. 

"Don't worry. I have a date of my own," you lightly smile, internally cringing, torn between maintaining your composure and the urge to flee.

"You do?" Jason asks with utter perplexity.

No.

"Yeah," you breathe out.

His eyes squint, you gulp.

"Well...where's the lucky guy?" Blondie poses, her arms crossing over her chest, her condescension palpable in her tone. 

Your eyes quickly scan the room before you hear a familiar voice walking behind you.

"There you are!" You beam, turning around, reaching for poor Dick's wrist, and pulling him next to you. 

"Dick?" She questions, her curiosity piqued.

"Dick?" Jason questions, his tone dripping with disgust.

"Not happy to see me?" Dick teases as you casually thread your arm through his.

You don't miss the way Jason's whole body tenses. 

"How...charming," Blondie quips hesitantly before she threads her arm through Jason's.

Jason doesn't miss how your whole body tenses, issuing a smug smirk at your bewilderment. 

Oh? He wanted to play dirty.

Well, two can play that game. 

"Isn't he just a charmer?" You chirp, your tone laced with unnoticed faulty admiration. "Dick's just so sweet. He just...swept me off my feet," you say, fighting back a cringe, but the sight of Blondie's scowl and Jason's stiff posture makes it all worth it. 

Dick shifts his eyes down to yours; you give him a quick wink, and he nods lightly, pulling you closer to his side.

He would do just about anything to get under Jason's skin. 

"She flatters me," Dick beams. "She's the real charmer."

You smile brightly, your eyes moving between Blondie's perplexed eyes and Jason's narrowed ones.

"Didn't think you two talked," Jason grumbled, his tone simultaneously skeptical and sour, his eyes never leaving Dick's face. 

"Yeah, I can't believe we haven't talked sooner." You smiled, your gaze shifting from Dick's bright eyes to Jason, noticing his knuckles turning white around his champagne glass. 

Got him.

"I can't believe I let you keep her to yourself, Jason. She's a great conversationalist," Dick chimes with a slight smirk at Jason's irritation.

Oh. Dick is having way too much fun. 

"I'm aware," Jason continently says, taking a sip of his alcohol. 

"Even better baker—what is it you made me the other day?" Dick questions, turning slightly to face you. 

Your eyes widen in surprise at his improvisation skills, your brain slightly scrambling before you find the words. 

Hell, if the whole superhero thing didn't work out, he could make a killing as an actor.

"Brownies," you spout after a moment.

"You made this idiot brownies?" Jasom suspires, clearly vexed. 

"I did," you smile, inwardly enjoying his apparent displeasure. 

Jason moves to speak but is quickly interrupted by Blondie.

"I'll have to have some shortbread cookies made for you, Jason," she says, smugness oozing as she pulls him closer to her side. 

Right like he would ever eat—

"I love shortbread," Jason says with a wide grin.

"You hate shortbread. You've always hated shortbread," you sputter out without much forethought. 

"Maybe I like them now," Jason shrugs, a sly smirk growing.

Your eyes narrow slightly before they widen a little in remembrance. "Oh, Dick," you tug on his arm to catch his attention. "I almost forgot you left your jacket at my apartment the other day," you prompt.

"Why was he at your apartment?" Jason instantly says, eyes staring daggers into Dick's.

"Just hanging out," Dick answers plainly, his lips quipping only slightly.

"Well, you two sure seem...close," Bondie quips, sipping champagne. 

"Yeah," Jason mutters through gritted teeth. "They do."

As you sip, your eyes leer over Jason's face over your glass of champagne.

His jaw is slightly clenched, and his eyes are narrowed.

Jason Todd, jealous?

What a sight.

"Speaking of apartments," Blondie breaks the silence, turning her head towards Jason. "Daddy just bought me a new one in SoHo. You should stop by," she says before she follows with a wink.

"Oh?" Jason hums lowly, clearly still a little irritated.

You let out a low scoff. "SoHo's kind of a detour, no?"

"It's not too far from here," Blondie says, somewhat defensively. "Plus, I wouldn't mind a long car ride with you," she brings her manicured finger up to run seductively across the pocket of Jason's tailored suit.

You tasted a slight coppery taste, only then realizing you had bit down so hard on your cheek you had drawn blood.

"If you two wanted to head out now, we wouldn't blame you," Dick remarks.

You whip your head around to face his, mouth agape in surprise.

"Would give us a chance to leave, too," Dick finishes, sending a wink your way.

"Together?" Jason poses, tilting his head to the side. 

"Of course," Dick says cooly. 

As you look back at Jason, a tiny flicker of amusement glints in your eyes. 

You can see the gears in his brain turning.

"That's a great idea, Dick," Blondie chimes. "Let's get a head start."

You breathed a shallow breath before swallowing hard, looking Jason straight in the eye.

"Jason," you murmur, voice almost pleading.

"Yeah," he simply says, barreling his way over to you and grabbing your forearm.

"Where are you two going?" Dick asks, a shit-eating grin growing on his face.

"Move, Dick," you say with much more venom than intended.

"Move it, Grayson," Jason spits simultaneously, pushing past his brother.

His arm is tight around your forearm, guiding you out of the room. 

Dick throws his arms up in defeat. "What the hell did I do?"

"Where are they going?" Blondie asks, noticeably irked. 

Dick turns to look at her, pursing his lips slightly, and sighs. 

"Just—do you wanna dance?" He begrudgingly extends his hand.

Blondie perks up almost immediately, grasping his hand and pulling him toward the dance floor.

"She's so gonna owe me," Dick mutters, referring to you, as he is being dragged to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Jason had led you down a hallway into a nearby broom closet and locked the door behind him. 

"You know, my parents don't think you're a good influence," you say casually as Jason's lips graze your neck. 

"Is that so?" He murmurs against your skin while your fingers thread through his slicked-back hair, holding him in place.

You toy with your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding along. 

The feeling of his hot mouth on such a sensitive area feels tantalizing. 

"They think you're a very bad boy, Jason," you tease before whining as his hand wanders to fondle your ass over your dress. 

You feel him laugh against your skin as his hand skims up your back to grasp for your zipper, pulling it down. 

"What do they think I'm gonna do?" He asks, slipping the front of your dress down as you reach for his tie, pulling him to your lips.

"Make me a bad girl," you murmur against his skin. 

His lips quip in amusement before he pulls back and quickly slips his tie off. "You already are a bad girl, Baby."

You let out a small laugh as you reach out to pull his suit jacket off, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his white collared shirt underneath, before bringing your hand to rest over your heart dramatically. "Me? No. Never!"

He lets out a low laugh that has your stomach in knots as he slips off the collared shirt. 

"Don't think I didn't notice that little game you were playing," he mutters, slipping your dress down to the pool around your ankles.

"You're a little shit starter."

"I was simply evening my odds," you simply say, stepping over your dress and using your foot to push it to the side as Jason unzips his slacks. 

You tilt your head. "She your little girlfriend or something?"

He tilts his head up, mouth opening in amusement. "Come on. You take me for a cheater?" He simply asks, slipping his slacks off. 

"I take you for a lot of things," you begin, pulling him closer by his wrist to press your lips to his. "But a cheater isn't one of them."

He tips his head in appreciation before hungrily engulfing your lips with his. 

"Don't tell me your parents think Dickie would be better for you?" He murmurs in between breaths. 

Your fingers entangled in his hair yet again, pulling him impossibly closer. "Actually, yeah," you suspire. "Or Roy."

He pulls back slightly. "Harper?" Disgust is apparent in his tone.

"Hell, he's worse than me."

You let out a breathy laugh before it contorts to a breathy moan as Jason's pointer and middle fingers skim over your clothed cunt. 

"Besides, neither of them could tame this greedy pussy," he rumbles, fingers delicately moving, pressing up against your clit. "No one could."

You let out a whimper as his fingers move his ease in and out of you, your underwear adding another layer of stimulation. 

"Well, no one....except me," he dips his head to hover over your ear, lips barely brushing the skin. "Yeah?"

You don't respond.

You were too focused on his fingers moving in you and his warm breath fanning your ear. 

"Say it, Baby," he coos as his pointer and middle fingers tweak your clit. 

"Say I'm the only one who can tame this greedy pussy."

You grip his shoulders tight, shamelessly rocking yourself against his fingers to gain more friction.

Your breathy moans shoot directly into his ear as he quickens his movements. 

"Say it," he commands, low and gravelly. "Or I won't make you come."

"Okay—shit," you stutter, trying so hard to get the words out in between pants. "You're the only—one," you begin through gritted teeth. "Who can, can—tame this," his movements pick up at your cooperation. "Greedy pussy," you whine out, grinding your body down on his fingers. 

"What a good girl you are," he praises before, to your dismay, he pulls his fingers out entirely. Your eyes widen in anger, mouth contorting to reprimand him before he moves to slip his slacks and boxers off entirely, revealing his painfully hard erection.

"I'm gonna make you come, Baby. Don't worry," he assures, voice breathy. "But you're gonna come around me."

You release a shallow breath at his words.

Sure, your orgasm had dissipated when he pulled his fingers out, but, fuck, was it back now. 

He leans his head down to press a deep kiss to your lips before his hands move to grip the back of your thighs, easing you up and pushing you against a side wall. 

Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist as his fingers slip into your panties, pulling them to the side to make room for his cock. 

His eyes flick to yours, raising slightly—you sure?

You give him a quick nod before he slips himself into your slit, which was already so slick—ready for him. 

His head goes back at the contact, gripping your hips tighter to keep you in place.

You rock your hips, muttering a curse as he moves against your aching clit. 

"Was he really your date?" Jason props unexpectantly, moving his hands down to grip your ass as he plows into you much deeper. 

"Wha—Dick?" You exasperate, unsure of why his brother was now a topic. 

"Well, yeah," he breathes. "Unless you have some—some other date I don't know about," he pants through labored breaths. 

"I—why are we talking about this when you're inside me?" Your voice is already hoarse as you scramble to grip his neck tighter.

"Fuck. I like that," he groans before returning to the topic. "Just—tell me. Please," he pleads.

"No, Jason." You're surprised you found enough breath to speak. "I don't even talk to him like that," you say honestly.

A slight grin grows on his lips at the admission as his pace quickens.

"And Blondie?" You spit out.

"Blondie?" A cheeky smirk grows on his lips at the nickname before his face turns serious. "Hardly know her."

You give him a slight nod, clearly satisfied with his answer.

He leans his head down to lay in the crook of your neck, groaning and curling into your skin as he drills into you.

"Shit," you curse, starting to feel the build-up of tension in your lower stomach.

"I know, Baby. I know," He croaks into your neck. "Me too."

It only takes him a couple more thrusts for him to groan and spew curses, and you whine and moan as you both simultaneously come. 

After you both recuperate, he eases himself out of you, hissing, as he places you down gently, even helping you slip your dress back up and zipping it up, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder blade in the process.

He slips his boxers and slacks back on as you grab his collared shirt and slip it on him, delicately clasping each button. 

You snicker when you ease the zipper to his slacks up as he groans at your touch. 

"You are a bad girl," he jests, slipping his jacket and tie back on.

You let out a breathy laugh as his hands find your waist, pulling you toward him. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple. 

"Also," he begins his voice a low murmur against your skin. "I hate shortbread."  

You smile and rise onto your tiptoes, hovering near his ear. "I know," you whisper before pulling back, your eyes locked onto his.  

"I've always known."

a/n: lmaoo poor dick

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[madraynesims]

Sofas & Loveseats from The Sims for The Sims 2, Sims 3 and The Sims 4

Happy 25th anniversary to The Sims! Featuring a few sofas this time. I also included some recolors that I thought would help with variety, since Sims 1 objects usually come in one swatch. Let me know if there's any problems! Also, the Recycled Couch and Luxuriare Loveseat are featured in The Urbz: Sims in the City GBA/DS, located in Simquarter/Second Looks Thrift Emporium and Miniopolis Chronicle!

The Sims collection file for The Sims 2 and The Sims 3 can be found on my collection files page: Found Here!

Downloads:

The Sims 25th Anniversary Gift - Sofas & Loveseats! For The Sims 2 - SFS For The Sims 3 - SFS For The Sims 4 - SFS

Alt Download - Patreon credits; LlamaJuice, NoCarbs, Toddy Enjoy my work? Consider becoming a Patreon or buying me a coffee!

Luxuriare Loveseat Information: Recreated by LlamaJuice. Extracted and converted by me. Has 11 swatches. The Sims 3: Fully Create-A-Style enabled. 2 channels Price - §875 Category  - ‘Comfort > Sofas & Loveseats’ Polycount - 2612 Texture Size - 1024x1024

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[urhoneycombwitch]

love light gleams

rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader Eddie and the band are stranded for Christmas. at least the pay phone's working.

foreword: haven’t heard from these cuties in awhile!! here’s my other fic of these two but not necessary to read beforehand. just a bit of schmoopy holiday fluff for the soul <3 (in the timeline, this is set in the early days of Corroded’s first tour where they’re just on the cusp of public notability/recognition)

cw: holiday fluff, alcohol/drinking, R is referred to with occasional she/her pronouns, R is related to Joyce (no specificity), Eddie gets a public boner™️, implied smut

wc: 3.1k

___

Goddamn Murphy and his law.

First, the tour bus breaks down in the middle of Where the Fuck Are We, Idaho, and Jeff maybe could’ve fixed it in time to get them over the next leg of the trip- if it weren’t for the giant snowstorm blizzard from hell. 

After much pulling of hair and frozen appendages, the band decided to call it quits and splurge some of the quickly dwindling Road Fund on a motel for the night; the idea of ones own room and a hot shower swiftly smothered by the front desk clerk. 

“Four rooms, the night before Christmas?” The man looked about as haggard as the rest of them, but Eddie couldn’t find it in his heart to feel too bad with the way the guy was chuckling mirthfully. “Got a better chance of seein’ Santa himself.”

Eddie grit his teeth and paid for a single. Without cussing. A feat that should land him on the Nice List, forever. 

When the group finally trudged into the lone spare room (spreading out as much as could be allowed, they were all sick of each other, at this point), Eddie used the phone to get ahold of their tour manager, who managed to top the evening off with the worst news of all.

“Christmas show at Garter’s is cancelled,” Eddie had announced to his sullen men after slamming the phone back on its hook. “Looks like we’re sitting ducks for the holidays.”

After dejected calls home and a few last desperate, futile attempts to charm airline employees over the phone, Corroded Coffin trooped through the bitter weather to hole up at the only bar in town.

Jeff, Gareth, and Jacob all settled into a booth with minimal complaints, gloved hands wrapping eagerly around mugs of hot toddies while Eddie simmered and stewed at the end of the bench, unable to sit still.

He should probably make the best of a bad situation, buy his boys another round and muster up some goodwill, but Eddie isn’t ready for an attitude adjustment quite yet.

He’s thinking of you, nearly two thousand miles east, cozy at home in Hawkins. In Eddie’s mind’s eye, you’re curled up by the fireplace in soft flannel-print pajamas (the pair he let you ‘borrow’ years ago), munching on sugar cookies and looking deliciously peaceful. 

Jeff throws him a bone, slides two quarters down the table to Eddie, saying- “Go call her, man. You’ll be annoying as hell until you do.”

Emerson chimes in, pointing towards the front doors a touch too gleefully- “Only pay phone’s out front.”

Eddie scoffs- figures, they’d try to get rid of him- but he can’t blame them too much, seeing as Jeff is right. 

Damn Murphy and his damn law. Eddie scoops up the change with an exaggerated flourish and stomps out, icy wind swallowing all the noise of the bar the second his boots hit snow. 

He follows the gravel trail that leads to the glass phone booth, the whole structure at a poorly-crafted slant that makes the door stick; Eddie shoves his shoulder against the iced-over seam four fucking times before it cracks and gives. 

Shoulder smarting, Eddie closes himself inside the booth, and with movements made clumsy by mittens and cold, loads the quarters and dials home. 

The trailer landline’s dial tone drones. With each ring, Eddie thunks a mittened hand against his forehead and watches the frost of his breath suspended in the air. 

You don’t answer. 

His shoulder stings, and he rubs at it, petulant, quarters clinking back down into the tray. He reloads them, grizzling all the while, and punches in Jonathan’s number, banking on the fact that you might be at your aunt’s place for Christmas Eve festivities.

No luck there, either. Eddie’s close to using the returned quarters as eye covers and laying down in the snow, letting hypothermia guide him to the afterlife- when suddenly, inexplicably, the phone on the hook rings.

The first time, Eddie thinks he imagined it. The second time, it jolts him into action, hardly daring to hope as he snatches the receiver up and speaks, breathless- “Hello?”

“Eddie!”

He doesn’t get caught up in the logistics, the why and hows just yet. Upon hearing your voice on the line, full and sweet after so many droning tones, Eddie slumps with relief against the booth’s angled window pane. 

“Sweetheart. Hi. Holy shit, are you a sound for sore ears. God, I fucking miss you.” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose between clothed fingers, biting back tears of joy when your giggles like tinkling bells surround him.

“I miss you too. So much. Gareth called earlier to give me this number, said you’ve been a pest and might benefit from hearing my voice,” you tease, sounding like you’ve cupped the phone around your mouth to hide your words from others.

Eddie is basking in it, the simple act of you speaking doing wonders for his whole system, like a mug of cocoa for the soul. He makes a mental note to do something nice for Gareth, at a later date when he’s not sick of looking at his bandmates. 

“Bet he did,” Eddie concedes. “It’s been a total nightmare shitshow from hell over here, babe. I’m barely holding it together without my handler.”

“Poor thing.” You’re sympathetic but there’s still a playful edge to your voice when you ask, “Don’t you know it’s almost Christmas? Being a Scrooge only gets you so far.”

“Noted.” Normally, Eddie would be better at matching your energy, but he feels like all the wit got sucked out of him somewhere between here and the bar. “Keep talkin’. The tips of my ears aren’t quite warm yet. Wearing anything slutty on this holiday eve?”

You laugh, again (a balm, a blanket, et al cheesy romantic idioms), and Eddie can practically hear the eye roll this time- “Oh yeah, dressed real sexy for Aunt Joyce’s family supper. Light wash Levi’s and everything.”

Eddie makes various dramatic horny noises and you snicker. In the following lull, the noise from the party in Hawkins plays muted in the background. Glasses clinking, indistinct chatter from other people he loves, puffs of your breath quiet in comparison.

“Sounds noisy,” he says, and when you sigh, there’s a weary undertone that plucks a chord in Eddie’s heart.

“Yeah. It is. Gonna come rescue me? My knight in shining armor?”

“Jesus christ,” Eddie groans, hard plastic receiver pressing into his temple. “You know I would in a heartbeat, princess. Gareth told you all the flights are fucked?”

“Yeah. Guess we’re just shit outta luck, this year.”

“Two more weeks,” Eddie says, clawing at the only hopeful thread he’s got left. “Two more weeks of this horseshit and January third, baby, my ass is on a plane to you. If it kills me. Seriously.”

“It’s not gonna kill you.” Buttery soft and gentler than he thinks he deserves, you say, “However much you’re missin’ me, I’m feeling the same. I know it sucks to be apart right now, but I’m so proud of you. And the band. But mostly you. I’m probably too partial.”

Eddie grins and lets the praise wash over him, tucks it away for a dreary day (which’ll be tomorrow, at this rate). “Good thing somebody is. Keeps me sane in this godforsaken wasteland.”

He’s being dramatic and you both know it- but since Eddie’s much worse off in terms of post-call comfort, you let it slide. After drawn out, gushy goodbyes and promises to call sometime tomorrow, Eddie treks back reluctantly into the heat of the bar.

In the time it took to make the call, the place had filled out- mostly farmers and locals eager to celebrate the upcoming holiday with whiskey and gossip; Eddie squeezes through a sea of knit scarves and bobbled hats to get back to the table. 

Upon their Fearless Leader’s return, Jeff’s the only one with balls enough to look Eddie in the eye when he says, “There’s a fan of yours at the corner booth who wants a signature.”

“Gotta be shittin’ me.” Not yet seated, Eddie leans into his fists on the table, but he’s quick to swallow his irritation, even as he mutters expletives under his breath. Bona fide fans of the band are still rare enough to be exciting, and he really, really doesn’t want to be an asshole to anyone, especially not a fan, not on Christmas.

Plus, Eddie’s feeling softer, more charitable, since he got to speak with you. Unfortunately for his not-yet-curated rockstar persona, you make him a better person. Even from across the country.

To show his displeasure with the general situation, Eddie swipes a tall-necked beer from Gareth’s collection and downs a quarter of it on his way across the bar. There’s a line of booths along the back wall, partially hidden by the centralized bar; strings of Christmas lights and tinsel twinkle from the rafters along the path Eddie takes, while an old stereo system plays local holiday FM. 

Eddie winds his way between tables and the bustling bar, trying to come up with a game plan to make this interaction as friendly and speedy as possible- but when he rounds the corner and sees the booth, he freezes.

There you are. Sitting in a bar booth in the middle of Nowhere, Idaho, wearing your downy winter jacket and a smile bright as a homing beacon.

It’s like his brain is on a ten second delay, everything between his ears a high pitched ring as he takes you in while anything that isn’t you melts away into insignificance. 

“Hi,” you say, beaming, rising out of the booth, brimming with excitement.

Eddie almost trips over his own boot to close the distance, pulling you into his arms, wrapping them tight around your shoulders. He buries his face into the side of your neck, breathing deep, memorizing for the next time you’re not this close.

“What the fuck,” he murmurs, hoarse against your hair, and he feels the giddy laughter tremble through your whole frame. 

You’re clinging to him, too, a big handful of his flannel in your left hand, the outline of his skull in the other, thumb sweeping under all those curls, soothing. “Hi, baby. Hi. Couldn’t stand being away from you any longer.”

Eddie pulls away to kiss your cheek, then mirrors the action, then behind your ear and down down until you’re giggling, pushing at his forehead in protest- “Don’t you wanna know how I’m here?”

“Santa,” Eddie says, confident, squeezing your hips. “Or God. Who I will totally believe in and pledge my soul to for bringing you here.”

“I don’t think you can pledge something that’s already mine.” You punctuate this with a poke to his ribs, then a pull of his hand, and Eddie follows you into the booth, sitting close enough to keep a hand tracking a soft path over your thigh. 

It was Gareth’s idea, apparently- he called home a few days ago, confirmed that you were equally eager to pull off the surprise. The original plan was to meet at the band’s next tour stop, but when the Christmas Day gig got cancelled and a blizzard rolled in, your plans went hinky.

“It was Uncle Wayne, in the end.” You kiss the back of Eddie’s knuckles, and he feels a tender part of his heart thump in response. “He covered the extra cost of a last-minute ticket, figured out the bus route to this place for me, too. Said to tell you Merry Christmas.”

Eddie could cry from the wave of gratefulness that swells in his chest, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a shimmering line of tears in your own eyes, and he can’t have that, so in lieu of words he leans in and kisses you.

Your lips slot perfect and familiar against his own, tasting the sweetness from an earlier candy cane. Eddie’s tongue traces the contours of the inside of your mouth, probably a bit too familiar for a public setting but fuck it, it’s Christmas and no one’s watching.

The two of you are mostly sequestered in the corner of the big room, the added bulk to Eddie’s frame from his jacket doing a perfect job of shielding you from view, happily backed against the wall with one leg draped over his thigh.

When Eddie finally pulls back, just enough to see you, your hand slips under the hem of his shirt, fingers warming against his ribs. There’s an inked sparrow you find by memory, one of your favorite places to touch and kiss.

Your thumb runs over the familiar spot, the signals of his skin decipherable to you alone. 

Eddie fills his lungs with air and tries to quell the stiff wave of arousal, and in the same breath, winces, remembering- “Well, sweet thing, I’d invite you back to my place but I’m sharing a one-room with a whole pack of miscreants.”

Eddie’s about to suggest raiding the motel’s blanket stock and sleeping in the van, just the two of you, when something like guilt pinches at your features. “Um. Yeah. About that. I may have bullied Gareth into getting me your manager’s number, and I also may have called him from the airport and chewed him out a bit.”

When Eddie’s brows shoot up in shock, delight, you wince, cutting him off before a word can get in edgewise- “It’s not right that he left you all stranded out here, on fucking Christmas, no less- you’re the ones funding that asshole’s cozy little vacation.” 

With the strength of your conviction, you tilt your chin up, eyes glittering and defiant- “I told him if he wasn’t gonna take care of you boys, I’d take care of him. Get right on a flight just to kick his ass.”

The hand still at Eddie’s ribs flexes with residual anger, your nails digging a quick flash of welcome pain that helps tether him to the present, mind almost completely fogged over with lust at the thought of you bitching out his piece of shit manager. 

“So…” Eddie starts, clears his throat, tries to tug at his pant leg subtly but catches the moment that sharp spark of your hostility melts into a smirk; you drum your fingers against him with a tilted head as he finds his voice- “So he’s gonna, what, promise to be less of an asshole in the new year, is that the deal?”

“Yeah. That and a couple of hotel rooms magically opened up for my favorite rockstar. Four of ‘em, enough for the boys to each have their own- if you don’t mind sharing with me, that is.”

Eddie wants to swallow the coy tilt of your mouth but settles for kissing you again, veins zipping with glee and good cheer; he pulls you in impossibly closer, tugging by the lapels of your coat, nose to nose while you giggle, smothering his affections- “Holy shit. Babe, you’re the rockstar. Replace me with a cardboard cutout and I don’t think anyone would know the difference. What in the fuck are we still doing here?”

Eddie moves to pull you both from the booth, overzealous in his excitement; you shift to keep your weight on the bench, Eddie plopping back down with a little oof while you chastise, “Hold on, I have to give the boys their room keys and I wanna wish them a merry Christmas! Plus, you should probably give yourself a second to- uh- settle down.”

You’re doing a poor job of concealing your amusement and Eddie groans, arms wrapping around his middle and hunching forward, head hitting the table with a dull thunk. “Fuck’s sake. I’m a short walk away from getting you alone in a warm room with a real bed and you’re telling me not to pop a stiffy at the thought? I’m but a mere mortal, have some compassion, jesus christ.”

“Nope, just me.” An escaped lock of dark hair gets caught between your fingertips, then tucked behind his ear. When you lean in to kiss the exposed spot shivers erupt down Eddie’s spine, even more when you whisper, “Can call me whatever you want once you get me in that room, though.”

After a few more minutes in which Eddie attempts to recall every unsexy thing that has ever happened in the span of his life, you’re both presentable enough to weave hand in hand back to Corroded’s table. 

There’s a flurry of exclamations and hugs, well wishes and present-distribution (because of course you packed everyone’s gifts, seeing as you’re some sort of angel or perhaps a fae being from Valinor, Eddie hasn’t decided yet). 

Eddie buys another round of drinks for the troupe, and tousles Gareth’s hair while the other two are distracted with Jake’s new Lego set. “Merry Christmas, kid. I owe you one.”

Gareth’s cheeks are rosy from the heater and the alcohol as he gives a nod of acknowledgement; they clink beers, and all is forgiven.

Once everyone is set up with the hotel address and their individual room keys, Eddie plucks at your elbow, patience stretching thin until the two of you are finally, finally borne out into the cold on a wave of goodbyes.

The snow is blindingly white, even in the low light of a winter’s eve; Eddie blinks, the image of your face tipped up to the sky burned into the black of his eyelids.

A perfectly-formed snowflake lands on the high point of your cheek, dissolving into your skin. Eddie kisses the spot and winds an arm around your low back, pleased when you bundle into his side.

“Our chariot awaits,” he declares, sweeping a grand arm at the endless snow and empty street, which makes you laugh again.

“Come on.” Your eye roll is fond as you pull Eddie’s steps in line with yours, setting off in the direction of a hot bath and silk sheets. “Let’s see if we can’t find us a little Christmas cheer.”

Eddie thinks he might be starting to like Idaho.