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sirianasims · 1 day ago

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Hey babe! Hope you’re enjoying Sorrento. What a view from the hotel, right? Send pictures if you can and let me know what you think of that restaurant I recommended. I got the linguine. Changed my life. Oh, and one small request, if you have space in your bags, could you get a bottle (or two, or three) of limoncello for me and Leon? We got ours at a small specialty place somewhere in Old Town. Ran out a couple of months ago and CRAVE it. Please, Astrid. I will love you forever. Give your sexy boyfriend a big kiss from me. xx Elias.

“What should I tell him?” Astrid says, lounging there on the bed. The midday sun streaks across the sheets and her body, patterns of shadow on her skin. She hands me her phone.

“Well, we can confirm the view is nice.”

“Do you think we will go to Old Town? We probably should.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to.”

“Me neither.” She rolls over to pluck a few grapes left to wrinkle slightly in the heat. They were plated up yesterday, breakfast brought by room service. This is the only way we have been eating for two days. Food as fuel, without concern for the quality or taste.

A knock on the door now, and a muffled voice. “Salve, posso entrare per pulire la stanza?”

“No,” we both say, picking idly at these wilted grapes. A shuffling on the carpet as the cleaner goes away.

Two days of this already. The kind of dissolute fantasy you’d have at sixteen, lonely at night, enjoying so much the idea, while knowing with all the practical knowledge you have, it will never happen to you. Knowing it is never like this. Not this much, this often, this particular way. I don’t want to re-enter my life. I want to stay in this Sorrento hotel room with the beautiful view and the room service, and the cleaner we won’t let into the room. If I could pause time here and live this weekend forever, I would.

“Do you think we’re wasting time?” Astrid says, rolling onto her back, and I smooth my hand down the length of her glorious body. Bare and white among rumpled sheets.

“No, I don’t really care about seeing the sights, do you?”

A smile. “No.”

“Same. And fuck the limoncello. We can get some in the airport.”

“Do you think he’ll be able to tell?”

“We’ll play dumb.”

“Hm.” Her face grows dreamy. She’s elsewhere, chest rising and falling with slow breaths. I touch her just to touch her, my hand over the soft skin of her waist, her hips, the back of her thigh. She’s ticklish there, and twitches away with a gentle objection. “I am still fantasising about what you did to me this morning,” she says, that particular, sexy rasp in her voice.

“Mm,” I say. “You can tell me if it was weird. I just wanted to see…”

She shakes her head. “I loved it. You can do anything.”

“I feel like I’m still getting my head around that. I never imagined I could ask for that”

“Well, you can.”

I only half believe she’s real. There. Gorgeous. Obliging. Mine and I hers. I feel goofy around her, even now, aware my obsession is obvious, reduced to a love-struck teenage boy babbling incoherencies at her as she lies there, so tranquil. “You’re insane. Did you know that? In a good way, obviously. Like, insane. You know, if I even suggested that to another girl I went out with…”

“I’ll go further, just in case you ever wanted to. Tell me.”

I let a slow smile spread over my face. “Well, there is one thing, maybe.”

“Show.”

I fall over her, and though my muscles ache and my body protests, I still want her. Over and over, forgoing my body’s needs for more. “You sure?”

“Yes, let’s try it.”

I groan. “God, you’re amazing. You know that?”

“Shh,” she says. “Just put me where you want me.”

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#reblog #sims spice

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sirianasims · 1 day ago

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Night; the sun set on my last day in Amalfi. I’m having a cigarette on the balcony, and light from the bulbs strung across the overhang catches rising smoke. Headlights pull up outside, beams of yellow light slice through the black.

Chatter fills the air. Slamming doors. One, two, three. Ah. Okay. Fuck my life. Silvio, Suzana, Astrid, laughing together all the way up the path towards the villa. The merry sound of hours spent drinking. She spots me; her face tilted up towards the balcony, flooded by the soft glow of the bulbs.

Seriously? I think. You’re bringing them here? We don’t speak. Not worth it, but Silvio does. A vast white grin. “Oh! Jude. Astrid said you were busy today.”

“Well, I was.”

“We are going to drink. Just hang out inside. Come and join.”

“Maybe in a while.”

“Cool, man. Cool.”

Yes. Cool. That’s me. Up here, sucking the butt end of a cigarette on a Friday night while everyone else is out enjoying themselves. Very cool is the state of my life. They go inside. I light another, then stay there for a while, chain smoking then, the stars in a slow rotation across the sky.

“Jude! Come in, come in!” I have made the mistake of passing the living room door, wide open, on the way to get a drink from the kitchen. There they all are, a bottle of wine drained, another half empty on the coffee table, music playing from my portable speaker. The one I’ve been using in the background as I spend afternoons drawing in my sketchbooks. They’re on the table now. I imagine the three of them leafing through the pages and laughing at the sheer quantity of foliage studies. As if that’s funny. Wow, he draws a lot of trees, kind of thing.

“I was just coming down to grab some water, to be honest.”

“Have wine. We have a glass.” Silvio, holding it up. “Feels wrong without you here, man.”

I go in and slump into an armchair, accepting reluctantly the glass thrust into my hands. I can barely look at Astrid next to Silvio on the couch. Can’t bring myself to, and wonder if it is palpable, the awkwardness between us, or if our guests are too drunk to notice. I move my things from the tabletop to the floor beneath.

“What a place, man,” Silvio goes on. “I mean, this is nice, this is fancy. Who’s paying for this?”

“I am.”

It is not my sofa, but I wish he wouldn’t sit on it like that, sprawled all over it, legs spread, and arms resting on the cushion behind Suzana, smug, possessive. Where are you, Jenny? I think. Look at this clown. My hand twitches towards my pocket, of half a mind to take a picture of him on my phone so I can prove he’s real when I bitch about him later.

“You are paying?” He echoes. “You mean your rich daddy?”

“My father isn’t rich.”

“Astrid mentioned something…” Suzana says, and my girlfriend shakes her head. “I said Jude’s father is an orthodontist. Not that he is wealthy.”

“Well, there’s money in dentistry,” Silvio says, eyes sliding around the room, appraising the value of the details. “Some of that tooth shit is expensive.”

He would know.

“Yeah, well, he’s not the type to pay for me to lie around an Italian villa for a week.”

“He’s selfish?”

I don’t answer.

“Does it run in the family, selfishness?”

I glance at Astrid for clues about what he is talking about, but she’s staring into her glass.

Silvio laughs then, loudly, and throws his head back over the couch. “You have such a serious face, man, did you know? Sometimes I am thinking you don’t know how to have fun.”

“Right.”

“I think he can,” says Suzana. “He’s just shy. I think he is adorable.”

He nudges Astrid. “What do you think about that? Do you agree? Your boyfriend is adorable?”

She sighs, a touch of impatience. “Well, yes, I suppose. You could describe him that way if you wished.”

“And what about Suzana, Jude?” He can’t give it a rest. Him all week, like, look at my girlfriend. What’s your opinion? Do you like that bikini? “She’s amazing. Sexy. Look at her in this dress. What do you think?”

I don’t answer, but don’t have to because, evidently overcome by his obsession with Suzana, Silvio leans in and kisses her. Full, open-mouthed, kissing tongues and all. No sound now in the room but their wet mouths and the beat of whatever hip-hop song they’ve queued up on the speaker.

The correct reaction is unclear. Do I avert my eyes? Ask them to stop? I feel there isn’t any obvious social protocol for this. Do I look it up on the internet? Like, people are kissing on the sofa in front of me. What to do?

I drain my glass and place it on the table, deliberately clinking against the other glassware, on the off chance they have forgotten there are other people in the room. Astrid, face blank, thoughts indecipherable.

“Right, okay,” I say. And they keep kissing.

Silvio’s hand, resting now upon his knee, slides sideways and slowly across the sofa cushion and onto Astrid’s thigh. I stare at it, certain it isn’t happening. His hand, the artificial tan, hair on his knuckles, brazenly gripping my girlfriend’s leg, and her there, letting him do it.

Then I’m standing, a ringing in my ears, thumping in my chest. I’ve been extremely stupid. I’ve been stupid my whole life, and this is the culmination. God’s ultimate punishment. In my rush to leave, I tip a glass from the table, and red wine pools over the white rug. There’s an exclamation of concern for it; background noise as I clamber up the stairs.

Through darkened hallways and into the bedroom. Door shut behind me. My body is an explosion of feeling. Tingling hands and face. It’s that feeling I had on the sailboat, at the restaurant. Unruly and strange, but it is worse now than it was then. It’s unbearable. On my knees by the bed. I’m stupid, I’m stupid, I’m stupid. I think I want to go home. Or die. Whichever is less painful.

The screen of my phone is glaring, blue light in the dark bedroom. My call history. Mom. I should call my mom. That’s what a normal person would do, right? If he thought he was caught in a bad situation?

The phone sits in my palm, the screen fading to black. And who am I? Who does that man think I am? Someone who would just let that happen? He’ll try to seduce my girlfriend right in front of me, there, while I am watching, and it will be okay? Except I left the room, of course, which could lead to the assumption that I am, in fact, alright with that. Maybe she wants that. It was coming all week, let’s be honest. I was just too stupid to see it. Maybe she is evil. Like, a deeply broken, bad person, and my curse is to love her anyway.

I cringe at the idea of Silvio and Suzana, night time in their hotel room, coming up with a seduction strategy. Talking about us like that, fucking each other to the idea of it. It makes my stomach turn.

“Jude,” Astrid is there. The length of her pale legs there by me, and the hallway light pouring in through the open door. “Jude,” kneeling now, my face in her hands, my cheeks hot. “I sent them home.”

Breath in my lungs. “Oh.”

“They made me uncomfortable, so I asked them to leave. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’re upset.”

“Clearly.”

“Oh,” joining me on the floor, we lean against the bed. She strokes my leg. A gesture of comfort I know is unnatural to her, which she knows, theoretically, is helpful. “I hope you don’t think I wanted it. I didn’t wish for that to happen.”

“To be honest, I don’t know what I thought.”

“I didn’t invite them here so that we could… swap partners, or whatever it was they wanted to do. I didn’t realise they were like that.”

“Me neither. I feel so stupid.”

“Yes, me too,” she frowns. “I should have known, I think. There were things they said to me…”

“Like what things?”

“Oh, just Suzana always talking about their sex life in so much detail. She was interested to know what I thought of him. You know, Silvio. I didn’t know that she expected that I might have sex with him.” She looks at me, eyes wide, an uncharacteristically innocent expression. “He’s going bald,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t ever.”

Laughter bubbles from me. It’s the look on her face, the horror, the youthfulness there that I’ve never quite seen before. It seems refreshing. She seems relatable for the first time. “Well, I thought he was odious.” I say.

“He is! He is odious. Awful, awful man. What is she thinking? She can just share him around? I imagine she must have a hard time finding women that want to swap with her. Imagine, a whole holiday spent trying to poach women for such a creep.”

“Oh my God, Astrid, I didn’t know you thought that.”

“Yes. I thought they were interesting, I suppose, and I wanted to impress them, but not like this,” a small, shocked little laugh behind her hand. “I can’t believe it.”

“You wouldn’t do it?” We are whispering. With an empty house, our guests gone and there’s nobody but us. Crouched upon the rug by the bed, the subject still feels conspiratorial, and loud voices wrong.

“Not with him. Would you have? With Suzana?”

“No.”

“Well, even if they misunderstood, it’s nice they thought we were sexy.”

I pause. “Well, we are.”

“I think so too. Maybe it’s them that should have been trying to impress us.”

“Weren’t they? At least you. They wanted you to like them.”

“Maybe. How stupid, anyway. I don’t know why I cared what they thought.”

“I’m surprised you care about what anybody thinks, to be honest.”

She looks at me. “Why?”

“Why should you have to? You don’t seem the type to be bothered by that kind of thing.”

“Well, I’m human.”

“I see that.”

As we lapse into silence, her hand finds mine, weaving our fingers together, just to touch, and I watch her face, staring contemplatively out through the balcony doors to swaying trees, black shadows against the sky. I whisper, “what are you thinking about?”

She makes a sound that sounds like “hm,” a small smile at the corners of her lips. “That it was a little bit shocking that Silvio thought I might like to sleep with him, but also, maybe… it was a bit sexy too.”

“Ah, you’re turned on by Silvio,” I tease. “You fancy him, now.”

“Of course not. He’s repulsive. But maybe, you know, it was exciting to be desired like that.”

Stroking her wrist with my thumb. “Mm.”

“Maybe I enjoy knowing there are other men out there who want me.”

“You can’t see that?” A shocking concept, if true. She must be the number one most blatantly ogled woman on the planet. She may also be about to reveal herself as the most oblivious.

“I see the way they look at me, but for one to want me so much, even inside his own relationship, even inside mine… to break boundaries because of the wanting. I think I liked the intensity of that.”

“Ah. So someone wanting desperately, but never being able to have you; making a total fool of himself in the process is what turns you on.”

“Is it terrible?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I’m certain women have made fools of themselves for you, though I don’t think you would tell me if they had.”

Naturally. I admit nothing.

Her eyes move restlessly, landing nowhere. Her chest rises and falls, neck blotchy.

“It actually really turns you on, doesn’t it? You’re not joking.” I whisper.

“I think so,” she looks at me, vulnerable. “It shouldn’t.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fight it.”

“I think I want–” she breaks off, trembling.

“What do you want?” My hand is on her leg, stroking gently towards her inner thigh.

“Jude, do you think can we get into bed now?”

“Okay.”

We are hands and mouths, touching, kissing. Lifting her, laying her on the bed, my fingers tugging the straps of her dress, giving up and pushing it over her hips. Hers under the elastic waistband of my shorts. Touching each other, I, the damp spot on her underwear. Her breath on my lips, her throaty moan, fisting the sheets while I slide my fingers through her.

“Anything you want,” she whispers. “Please.”

“Like this, then.” I put her on her front, holding the back of her neck, my fist in her hair. “Yes? This is how you want it?”

“Ah–yes. If you do.”

I hesitate, sweat beading on my brow. This shouldn’t be allowed. Pushing her into the bed like this, still mostly dressed, her breath so shallow and desperate, her neck at that angle. Actually, kind of begging me for it.

“I love you, you know,” I whisper.

A low laugh from her then. “Yes, Jude. I haven’t forgotten.”

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#reblog #awkwaaaaard #sims spice

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sirianasims · 1 day ago

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“Si prega di restare in linea. Un membro del nostro staff sarà con lei a breve.” Out the back of the Villa, Friday morning, phone to my ear, just me, and the crackling, classical hold music.

A woman comes on, terrible English, my Italian worse, and we engage in a stunted back and forth about the accommodation in Sorrento, why it’s too late to cancel. “The day before you arrive…” she’s saying. “It is impossible. You must pay the full amount.” And obviously I don’t want to do that. I want my money back, because I think my girlfriend is on the brink of breaking up with me. Listen, I slept on the couch last night. My neck actually hurts quite a bit, so if you could just give me a refund, that’d actually be so cool. Very much appreciated.

These are my thoughts, not what I say to the nice, hassled woman on the phone. “Okay, thanks so much. See you tomorrow,” I hang up, then go typing things into the internet. Things to do alone, Sorrento. Activities for solo travellers, Sorrento. Best restaurants Sorrento -romantic -couples. Pulling up pictures of the room, trying to decipher how likely it is there’ll be a couch I can sleep on there, or if I’ll just take the floor.

Afternoon sometime, I call home. Facetime, my mother’s iPhone, and she picks up wearing a rollneck jumper. “I’m cold looking at you,” she says. “What temperature is it?”

“Dunno. Twenty-seven or something.”

“All going well?”

“Yeah, it’s great. Is Ivy home?”

“Yes. Seeing as it’s the Easter holiday, she’s home all week.” Emphasis on the words “Easter holiday”, like I’m already aware of the details and intricacies of my sister’s schedule. No, I don’t. Sorry. I actually don’t live there anymore, but share the Google calendar link if you want.

She passes the phone to Ivy, her new braces on, a flash of metal there, to fix the lower crowding and the gap between her central and lateral incisor. Green bands this time. Last time they were red. She likes to switch it up.

“How’d dad feel about the highlighter green?” I say. “Surprised he even had anything other than medical grade beige and silver in stock.”

“He said it’d make my teeth look rotten from far away. I said ‘good’.”

“Nice. When I had mine, he gave me the clear bands, you know that? Nothing fun allowed.”

“Yeah, and he said yours got stained because of all the Fanta.”

“I was a foul kid. How are you?”

She’s in the kitchen. I can see the garden through the patio doors behind her. The way she slumps onto the settee is hilariously adult, the laboured sigh, the eye roll. “Oh, fine. It’s been busy.”

“Busy? Doing what?”

“I’ve been at Ella’s house a lot. Hanging out. We had a sleepover a few days ago.”

“Uh huh? Any drama?”

“Oh, yeah. We passed around notes that said ‘do you like me?’ and then we had to write yes or no.”

“Wow, great idea.”

“Yes, well. Someone wrote ‘no, we all think you’re annoying’ on Olivia’s.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I have my suspicions.”

“What did Olivia do?”

“Nothing, I don’t think. Some people just don’t like her. She was crying and all, then. Got her dad to collect her afterwards, which was good, probably, but then everyone was just going on about it. I said it wasn’t me, so I’m not bitching behind her back.”

“‘Bitching’? You can’t say that word.”

“Oh, well, I can.”

“Mom says that, does she?”

Ivy, cheek on fist, a wry smile. Of course not. She’s trying it out, casually tossing it in to see what she’ll get away with. My sister, a smooth operator. Ten going on twenty-five, apparently.

“What’s happening for Easter, then?”

“Granny’s house.”

“Exciting.”

“Back to the haunted house.”

I laugh, genuinely, and make her run the highlight reel of her impressions. Granny Hyland when the electricity went out. Granny Hyland when the centre-left election campaigner came to the door. Granny Hyland when a bird shat on dad’s windscreen on the way into town.

She’s the funniest person I know, delivering spot on impersonations with no need to laugh at herself. The better sibling in every conceivable way.

“Where’s Astrid?” she says. “I want to see her.”

She means it literally, the seeing her thing. They won’t talk, because Astrid never knows what to say, but Ivy likes to look, anyway. There, usually, somewhere in the background curled up on the couch, or in the kitchen, where I’ll walk in, pointing the phone at her and force her into an awkward “hello”. It’s a girl thing, maybe, my sister’s perception of her, the standard of what all little girls want to be when they grow up. “Show me your nails,” Ivy will say, and Astrid will, usually glossy and flawless. “Now your earrings, can I see them?” and then, tucking back her hair, those golden hoops with the leaf. I bought her those for Christmas.

I see the appeal. Pin straight blonde hair, slim and tall, the Scandinavian slope nose, she might have been factory made. Moulded from the same template used for fashion dolls, the ones Ivy has played with her whole life, and still does. In her room, ten of them hanging out in the bookshelf she emptied to make an apartment. She wants to see one in the flesh. She’d come back on a week later with the same nails, only shorter, the varnish lumpier, and earrings from Claire’s that have already made her lobes green. “Show Astrid my fashion,” she’ll say, and my girlfriend will do her best to smile.

“She’s out,” I say.

“Oh, where?”

I don’t know. She’s been gone since this morning, would you believe? I woke up, sore neck after she shunned me to the sofa, and she was gone. I texted her to check in and she didn’t even read the message. God knows, to be honest, Ivy. She’s probably hanging out with these two absolutely bonkers friends she met on a boat last weekend, so much older than her and the weirdest vibe about them you can imagine. You’ll know what I mean when you’re older. Anyway, she’ll be back eventually, and then I’ll get her to show you her nails. They’re pink at the moment.

“Shopping.”

“Oh, okay. Buying something cool?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Hope you’re having fun.”

“I am. Lots of photos to show you. I’ll call again soon, okay?”

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#reblog #the better sibling

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sirianasims · 4 days ago

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🦖 RAWR!! means 'i love you' in dinosaur 💚 keep this dino on his journey and send him to all the blogs you love 💚 RAWR!!

Thank yooou! Exams are kicking my butt so this is me trying to get in the Christmas spirit ❤️🎄

#thank you ❤️

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sirianasims · 4 days ago

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Robin: These things are kinda stupid. Alex: Hm, maybe.. like, who knows what they wanna be when they grow up at this age? Robin: Exactly. Alex: I guess it’s just for ideas. Robin: Still, half the adults here don’t even know. Alex: Lol. [Robin gazed over the crowd toward Levi, his nose crinkling. He could hardly “hear” his friend’s conversation above everyone else’s, but he’d caught enough to make him pull a face] Alex: It’s not mandatory, is it? Robin: No-.. doubt I’d get in with my asthma anyway. Alex: Guess that’s a plus… Robin: Ooh, churros. Alex: [laughs] Now, that’s what I wanna be! Robin: I’ll be the stall attendant; you can be the display churro I never sell. Alex: Never? Robin: Never ever. Alex: I hope you still love me when I’m mouldy.

#reblog #none of these characters will ever be mouldy to me ❤️

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sirianasims · 5 days ago

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Passing this positive potato along to spread good vibes, love and positivity to my wonderful mutuals. 💕💕pass it along 😍

#thank yoooou #right back at you #💖🥔

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sirianasims · 5 days ago

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Poppy: I'm sorry. Ale: Sorry is not an explanation, nor is it an answer to my question Princesa.

𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵? It is a simple yes or a no.

Deflated and out of defense mechanisms to deploy, Poppy let out a frustrated sigh.

Poppy: 𝗢𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝗜 𝗮𝗺. But that's the problem! Ale: This is a problem? Because of our work? Poppy: No no. I was trying to protect you. Ale: From what? Poppy: 𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗺𝗲.

Ale: Do I not deserve a say in such things? Poppy: 𝙉𝙤 … Yes? Watcher, I don't even know anymore.

Poppy: How can you still like me? After everything that’s happened. Ale: It is not something easy to forget. Like riding a bike. Poppy: I'm serious. Ale: So am I. And you are a very pretty bike.

Poppy: Ale, I'm not a good person. 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂. Ale: You are so sure of this? Why?

Poppy: Because tonight a man punched out a cult leader for me, asked me to be his girlfriend, and 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦- and I'm standing here wondering what you would look like stripped naked and handcuffed to a bedpost.

Ale: And Did you say yes? To this man? Poppy: 𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘀𝗼. I'm not even sure any more. Ale: I see.

Ale: Well Princesa, it is a funny thing about smuggling- after a while you become very proficient at 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

Poppy: I thought you were just good at paperwork. Ale: You underestimate me Poppy. I am the best at paperwork.

Poppy: It wouldn't work. Ale: We haven't tried. Poppy: And if I break your heart, then what? If I drop it and it shatters? Ale: Then at least you'd have held it for a moment. That is all I could ask of you.

. . .

Ale: By any chance are you still undressing me in your hea-

Poppy: You only have socks on now.

#reblog #alejandro “steal your girl” florez

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sirianasims · 5 days ago

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In a moment he was up, taking her tired face gently into his hands, fingers warm against her cheeks as his focus traced every inch of her for sign of injury or illness- lest she pass out in front of him again.

Ale: I thought- my glasses. They fell off while I was unloading the car- and then you- Poppy: Yes. And then you. Ale: I carried you upstairs, I didn't know what else to do. 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘢-

Poppy: 𝗜'𝗺 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲! Just got a little dehydrated. 𝘞𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘱𝘴! Desert. My bad. Sorry! Thanks for the help.

Ale: I don't understand. Poppy: Didn't drink enough water, got a headache- Ale: Poppy I know what dehydration is- what I do not understand is why you're here. Poppy: It's… 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗱. Ale: 𝘋𝘪𝘰𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘰.

Poppy: And what are 𝘺𝘰𝘶 doing here? Ale: 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗱. Poppy: Awesome. Ale: De acuerdo.

Poppy: So if we're all done here - I should probably head- Ale: You texted me. Poppy: No, I'm not sure if that rings a bell. Ale: Last night.

Poppy: Look- 𝘍𝘐𝘕𝘌, but it was a moment of weakness! I was spiraling, you were taking a selfie with some dirt. And it's just- you never took down the post from our first date and I thought 𝘩𝘦𝘺- crazy thought, maybe he doesn't completely hate m-

Ale: 𝗦𝗶𝘅. 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘀.

Ale: 𝘚𝘪𝘹 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴! Six months of radio silence, and then out of nowhere you drunk text me! ¿𝙀𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤?

Poppy: I wasn't drunk! I was perfectly sober - and there was more than that!! It was squishy! Heartfelt! Ale: And then nothing! ¡𝘝𝘢𝘺𝘢! Poppy: My phone died!

Ale: 𝗟𝗼𝗼𝗸. Poppy: 𝘖𝘩 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳. Okay - so things this week have been sorta blurry-

Ale: Poppy if you are not interested it would be easier if you could just tell me the truth. Poppy: 𝘈𝘭𝘦 -

Ale: Six Months. 𝗦𝗲𝗶𝘀.

#reblog #¿𝙀𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤?

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sirianasims · 5 days ago

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Poppy: 𝘍𝘜𝘊𝘒 -

Her Phantom's words clamped heavily around her throat as she awoke from the dream. But slowly, finger by finger, the nightmare released it's grip on her as the stinging cold black ether was traded for a warmer, more comforting darkness.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗻. She was free from him, but for how long she didn't know.

Phantom pain subsided, sensation had begun to return. Poppy could feel the mid-count cotton bedsheets against her fingers, the cold sweat beading off her brow, and she could smell -

- old books, rain, and cheap spiced deodorant. 𝗔𝗹𝗲𝗷𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼.

So it hadn't all been a dream.

Slowly, gently, she eased the door to the patio open. Curiosity had won out in the battle with her anxiety upon seeing him again. A moment that 009 was ashamed to admit she had thought about more than a few dozen times.

And with a small snap of an old skill book- his dark eyes met her own, and it was as if no time had passed at all.

Poppy: Hey Stranger.

#reblog

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sirianasims · 5 days ago

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🦐Download🦐(Googledrive Free)

On the fifth day of Jeffmas, my true love gave to me, a troubled expression, but I also got this fantastically shiny boudoir collection by @simmingnate!

My fifth prawn, is the multi-skilled creator of the icon Beverlee, the one and only Simmingnate! He decided to make this rather slippery and shiny boudoir collection to share upon this Shrimpmas day!

An invitation to join a league so devout To destroying the tradition of Shromp came about

One knew the occasion must not be brushed off But one struggles with meshing; would one’s gift be enough?

Milkshape and Blender never were friends of mine All past 3D creations, akin to war-crimes

But now ’tis the season for giving, and such, And to give back to Anne, who has given so much

And so one decided “to hell with this doubt! I’ll try some recolours, it’s the thought that’s what counts!”

So recolour, one did, with some pearly prawn pals, A boudoir collection for the guys and the gals

There was meshing attempted, a shirt slightly cropped, But Blender near killed me, and so there I stopped

An Ice-Creamy confidante helped add some shine As N-Job won’t work on this MacBook of mine

And so, there you have it, all shrimpy and prawny, Your Sims can sleep soundly, or woohoo ’til dawny

And so they exclaimed, as they dressed up to retire, “Merry Jeffmas! Now yield to your crustacean desire”

And so Nate created this set, so demure and mindful! Don't combine it with silk sheets, or you may cop a hindful!

Swatches: 6 Polys: Shirt - 4026

Come back tomorrow for a winter treat, from a creative prawn who is sure to brighten up the chilliest of homes.

#reblog

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sirianasims · 6 days ago

Note

Ask Game: List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers :)

My husband. It's sappy as fuck but my life wouldn't be the same without him, he's been my best friend since way before we started dating and he's the most important person in my life.

Clear, sunny days during the winter, when it's freezing and there's snow, everything glitters with frost but you can feel the warmth of the sun on your face despite the cold and you remember that it'll be summer again some day.

Chocolate. It's basic, I know, but there's a reason it's quite popular.

Geeks. All my friends are huge nerds and I love people who are super dedicated and knowledgeable about a random subject, especially if they're good at explaining why it's secretly super fascinating, actually. Passionate people are my passion.

Random messages from friends. If I haven't spoken to my friends for a while, my brain defaults to assuming that they probably don't like me anymore and it gets harder and harder for me to reach out to them. So when someone randomly messages me, it feels like they're confirming that we're still friends and it makes me super happy.

#thank you for the ask ❤️

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sirianasims · 6 days ago

Note

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

I'm in my final year of my MSc in IT, I just need to write my thesis in Spring (and I'm currently procrastinating from my winter exams by answering super old asks, sorry!)

I can flip my eyelids inside out. It looks and feels super freaky.

I have moved 17-19 times in my life (depends whether you count moving back to a previous place or not).

#thank you for the ask ❤️

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sirianasims · 6 days ago

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𝘙𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘏𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘛𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦.

𝘓𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘰𝘦𝘴, 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘙𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 - 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘦𝘴.

Phantom: Hello my love.

There was no distortion this time- no mask, no foggy veil of time or memory lost. No extraordinary forces outside of her control trying to keep her away. Only the unfamiliar face of a mortal man staring back at her. 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗿. The huntsman had come to collect her heart. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘺.

Poppy: 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦? Phantom: My dear, you think I did this to you?

A pause, lingering. Poppy’s face contorted, focusing as she pushed down the stinging, ripping pain. Her Phantom’s own cold countenance softening and settling into a dark piercing glare. He was savoring every second of her suffering with his slow, languid reminiscence, before delivering his response.

Phantom: 𝘕𝘰. I'm afraid this is particular wound is your fault alone to bear. The only part I played, was in helping save you. Poppy: 𝙇𝙞𝙖𝙧. Phantom: Why would I lie to you Poppy?

Phantom: But my, my, my, look at you- so young.

He tutted and tsk-ed at her with a small clever smile- one which might have almost been playful if it had even remotely reached his eyes. Instead his gaze pierced wickedly through her, relishing in the act of claiming every inch of her form for himself.

Phantom: Fresh and delicate like a pale flower creeping towards a new moon. It really is a shame we didn't meet earlier. Maybe things could have gone differently.

Poppy: What do you mean? Phantom: 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼 𝗜 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆?

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭, I catch you.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘯, 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

And we will struggle, and we will fight, but I will always catch you, and you will always give in to me - 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲.

𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥.

Poppy: Let me out. Phantom: 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸? But Kitten, we're just getting started.

And if I remember correctly you're the one that wanted to talk to me.

Phantom: So curious, so full of questions my love. Always poking your nose where it doesn’t belong. And you have such a beautiful mouth. I really do miss it sometimes.

Phantom: A clever little mouth full of sedition and lies. Let's see if we can find something more productive to fill it with.

Poppy: I said- 𝗟𝗘𝗧. 𝗠𝗘. 𝗢𝗨𝗧.

In a sharp 𝘚𝘕𝘈𝘗, Poppy's jaws clamped down on the intrusive digit, teeth digging deeper into his thumb until she tasted hot blood.

He had made his first mistake today. 𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗶𝗺. 𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝘀𝗵𝗲'𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲.

#reblog #🚩🚩🚩#tw: blood

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