#Art Mode Display

[mahbubulalam-799]

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[sundrykitsch]

topsy turvy

[thedeviljudges]

how am i supposed to go back to work on monday like my life hasn't literally changed this past week lmaooooo like what

[mirrorteru]

Forgot to post this here… so I decided to write some notes by them, too.

Sekai AU thought up of with me and friends OC’s, with a more normal world-ish/closer to like Project Sekai’s world as opposed to their usual stuff.

Kadin, Mint, Pepper, and Noel are a group and their Sekai is a Mall Sekai— a sekai that looks like a cleaned up, slightly abandoned overgrown mall.

Like, there’s plants and stuff, maybe some slightly broken looking stuff… but cleaned up to live in, with stores and the food court and whatever else.

And a stage, of course.

KAITO and Luka are the first ones in the Sekai— mirroring / taking cues from Kadin and Noel. But ye. Managed this draw like a few weeks ago now?

But I’ve been in the midst of an awful drawing slump the past few months, so…

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Show was fun.

[nerosdayinanime]

reminiscing about a life left behind

this is after the reunion at the bar, when Giyuu left Makomo tried to talk to him & figure out why he faked his death (then came back??) and left pretty soon after when he not so subtly brushed off her questions and vaguely apologized for disrupting things. Tengen & Kyojuro got extremely worried about him immediately ordering as many drinks he could at a time and being his usual happy-go-lucky self after Giyuu- the quietest and least confrontational person in the whole office -sent him to the floor in a fit of cold rage. They watched (and joined, though not to the same extent) as he got absolutely wasted, his suddenly saccharine attitude showing off just how much of his personality is just a performance.

Between the revelation that hes a demon slayer- a hashira just like them -and finally noticing the seam in his otherwise perfect mask, the both of them figure he's just as fucked up as they are from their job. Tengen has his own guise of extravagance, Kyojuro always being loud and proud to hide his insecurities- but Sabito was subtle about it. He was happy and playful, but not too much so like Kyojuro was- he also became a master of diverting attention from himself, they didn't know much about his personal life or hobbies- or anything outside of when they hung out or stopped by the little grocery store he worked at. Didn't know his favorite color, what genre of music he liked, what his favorite movie was- didn't know if he's ever had a partner or other friends, nothing about his school life or parents or if he had any siblings- nothing! He was a ghost of a person, like he merely popped into existence when they met him. That's probably not too far off- they didn't meet Sabito that day, they met his empty smile. Without ever realizing there was nothing behind it.

Thoroughly disconcerted by the realization and very worried about Sabito chugging alcohol like he had nothing left to live for while laughing like there was nothing wrong, they kept a close eye on him. When he starts getting quiet they force him to stop drinking and drag him back to his apartment and stay the night crashed on the couch & floor. In the morning Sabito was fucked. Absolute shit time. Had a vague feeling he shouldn't think about anything so he didn't, just fucked around with a worried Tengen & Kyojuro until they left. Continued not thinking about anything, did a bunch of chores and errands so he didn't have to think about Giyuu. Even fixed a neighbor's ac unit with the help of a youtube tutorial. As soon as the sun started setting he donned his slayer uniform and ignored painful sting in his heart at the sight of his old fox mask hanging on the wall, settling his face into the same empty smile as the default slayer mask he uses now. That night he was a beast- merciless and scathing strikes, chasing down terrified demons like he had a score to settle. Completely ignored other slayers he ran into, simply pushing past them dealing the kill and moving on.

This little routine continued for a few days- overworking himself desperately trying to keep out of his head, deflecting and straight up ignoring Tengen & Kyojuro asking about how he's doing, fleeing any of the other hashira or water-fox squad trying to ask about him and what all he's been doing the last several years, pissing off lower-level slayers he steals kills from. He works until he passes out from exhaustion, getting up and doing all it again when he wakes. A few weeks later and it catches up to him despite his attempts at running.

Giyuu hates him.

Rightfully so, he left him to burn like a coward and a fool. And did what with his time? Do nothing but make more mistakes? How many people hes lied to and let down? He's done nothing but run.

He knew it'd happen. As soon as he stopped moving he would never want to start again, as soon as he stopped running, as soon as he tripped- as soon as he hit the ground he'd never want to get up again. Years of grief stress and denial hit him all at once, he doesn't know what to do. Walls too high to see over, too deep to dig under, too thick to simply power through. No one on the other side who really needs him anyway.

Why does he even bother?

He stares at his fox mask. Hand crafted by the man he thought of as a father, who took him in and taught him to defend himself and protect others. Real good job he did of that. All he's done since he started running was hurt hurt hurt. The people he cared about and respected the most- abandoned. Everyone else left in the dust like they were nothing.

What fucking good..

...

He thinks of the better days. When he was a son, helping his mom water the plants so they'd bloom bright and vivid. When he was a brother, helping his little sister reach the top shelf for candy. When he was a student, fueled by his grief and anger with a promise not to let anyone else lose as much as he had. When he was a friend, pulling Giyuu out to see a meteor shower in their favorite clearing. When he was a boyfriend, feeding popcorn to Giyuu laying across his legs watching a movie together. ...He threw that all away and for what? So he wouldn't have to face his failures? How fucking pathetic.

He'd never have any of that again. Burned his bridges, destroyed the foundations, turned the ground to shifting sand. His head thunked against the wall behind him, why did he have to fuck everything up?

[fiomeras]

My laptop is on 24/7 because im afraid that my huion will break itself again if i turn it off

[rheya28]

Lucio's Market [Restaurant, Grocery, Teaching Kitchen] ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Lucio's Market is where culinary passion meets community connection! Nestled in the heart of Anchorpoint Wharf, this venue seamlessly blends a fully stocked grocery store, a dynamic teaching kitchen, and a cozy restaurant—all under one roof. [Lot Can be set as a restaurant, generic, or retail]

Market In Lucio's Market, you'll discover a curated selection of fresh, locally sourced ingredients, handpicked for their quality and flavor. Kitchen Step into our state-of-the-art teaching kitchen, where cooking enthusiasts of all skill levels can embark on a culinary journey led by our expert chefs. Restaurant After a satisfying cooking class, savor the fruits of your labor in our inviting restaurant area. Our chefs take the spotlight, crafting a menu that showcases the artistry of local ingredients.

Note:

♥This lot has been semi play-tested. ♥To make the Grocery part of the build functional, you can turn this into a retail lot. There are also grocery mods available such as SS realistic cooking mod and the Bulk Grocery Mod. Please keep in mind that I did not follow any requirements for these two mods as the grocery part of the build was made simply for aesthetics and storytelling. You are welcome to make adjustments! [I will be building a much bigger grocery store in the future, which im hoping will be more functional] ♥We do not have a teaching kitchen venue option in the sims 4, however, the gameplay can be achieve with some imagination! You can turn this into a generic lot and simply have your sims cook/bake together on different stoves simultaneously (I suggest making a club and setting preferences!). Also I've added a chef's station in the kitchen where you can hire a chef who can act as the "teacher". (Warning: considering there are plenty of appliances in this kitchen, a fire or two will most likely happen lmao) ♥Lastly if you want this lot to function as a restaurant, simply change the venue lot type in build mode. I would recommend downloading LittleMsSam's lock mod to lock the testing kitchen's door. This will prevent customers from using the kitchen appliances!

♥ Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ♥ Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ♥ Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ♥ Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ♥ Thank you to all CC Creators ♥ Please let me know if there's any problem with the build!

♥ SPEED BUILD VIDEO 00:00 Beginning 00:02 Intro 01:25 Speed Build 16:38 Photos

♥ Sim Featured in video Courtney Ajak & Tiara Robinson by  @aashwarr Emi Grey by  @jaxplaysthesims

♥ LOT DETAILS Lot Name: Lucio's Market Lot type: Restaurant + Generic lot + Can be retail Lot size: 30x20 Location: Archorpoint Wharf, San Sequioa

♥ MODS: TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST: Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make life a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, peacemaker.

Awingedllama: Blooming Room plants

Lilis Palace: folklore (only deco jars)

Severinka: Grocery Store pt 1 (cash desk, display island only), Grocery Store pt 2 (all), Grocery store pt 3 (Shopping cart and basket only), Grocery store pt 4 (all)

Around the sims 4: Bulk grocery

FelixAndre x Harrie: Baysic, Harluxe, Orjanic, Kichen

Bbygyal123: Abstract Prints

FelixAndre: Berlin pt 3, Chateau, Fayun , Kyoto , Florence , Grove, Shop the look, Soho

Charlypancakes: Chalk

Thecluttercat: Dandydiary pt 2, Helloo horse, Sunny Sundays

Harrie: Brownstone, Brutalist, Coastal, Klean, Kwatei, Octave, Spoons

LittleDica: Rise & Grind, Delicious kitchen

Myshunosun: Harbalist Kitchen

Peacemaker: Pointless Renovation

Pierisim: Auntie Vera, Coldbrew, David Apartment, Domaine Du clos, Mcm, Oak House, Winter Garden, Woodland Ranch

Max20: Poolside lounge pack (floor pattern only)

S-imagination: Cottage kitchen (Decorative bag with scoop only)

Sixam: Home Improvement, Hote Bedroom

Syboullette: Boulangerie (chalk board only)

Taurus Design: Lilith Chilling Area (sul sul sign only)

Tuds: Cross, IND, NCTR, SHKR

♥Tray File: x ♥Origin ID: Applez ♥Twitter: Rheya28__ ♥Tiktok: Rheya28__ ♥Patreon: Rheya28 ♥Youtube: Rheya28__

[officialbruciewayne]

Observations on Kryptonians:

Their Biology, Behavior and its Dynamic with Beauty

An anecdotal entry by Bruce T. Wayne, regarding his experiences with the Kryptonian People.

Over the course of the last century, Earth and Humanity has become aware that not only are we not alone in our universe- but that we are not alone on our world. At an undisclosed moment in our history, our homeworld became a refuge for the last children of Krypton, a world that was lost to unknown disaster.

Kryptonians are mysterious and alien, a recipe for rejection and prejudice on this planet. Not only this, but they have exceptional powers, which lure our worst impulses of greed and exploitation. We have not always treated them with kindness.

Despite our own lack of humanity, the most notable Kryptonians of our society continue to share their unique gifts and perspectives, choosing to help wherever they can.

As a Jewish man, and a Father, the legacy of the Kryptonian people, both in entrusting our world with their children, but with it, their future in the face of diaspora, humbles me.

I would like to offer my voice of support to our kin from beyond the stars. I have some personal experience with Kryptonians, and will attempt to demystify their habits and nature, to present them to you not as strangers from the skies, but as part of the infinite diversity of our world.

Not to be feared, not be used, but to be welcomed.

ברוכים הבאים לבית שלנו

Caveat on Kryptonian Powers

Most discussions of Kryptonian biology begin and typically conclude with a long list of the powers typical to Kryptonians. These powers are considerable, but are generally used to justify how they are treated. There is no value in me lingering on this much-speculated aspect of our Kryptonian kin.

Instead, I would like to discuss the lesser known traits that I have found to be personally charming.

Diurnalism and Sun-seeking

Kryptonians are naturally diurnal by nature, and are drawn to sunlight. When relaxed, they enjoy basking in our sun's warmth and when injured, or unwell, should rest in either natural sunlight, or be placed near a sunlamp.

Many Kryptonians display a tanned or dark-skinned complexion, which I found initially counterintuitive since it indicates protective melanin in Humans. In a Kryptonian, this coloration is actually indicative of stored solar radiation. In layman's terms, it's a sign of good health in your local Kryptonian.

(Art credit to @domnorian, please support the original work here, it is used here as an example)

Dentition and Diet

The intense demands of the Kryptonian body are supported by an incredibly high metabolism. Although they are primarily sustained by solar radiation, they can and do display a remarkable appetite. This energy is readily burned off by their bodies, so it should be considered offensive to shame or draw attention to how hungry a Kryptonian may appear to a Human.

Instead, attention should be paid to the variety of their diet. I have concerns that Kryptonian nutrition is not necessarily met by traditional human foods, and believe that supplements of various metals, sillica and crystalized minerals may be of great use to them. Further research is indicated, but consider they may not be fully satisfied.

This viewpoint is supported by the Kryptonian dentition, which features a diminutive but handsome set of fangs. As this is one of the more readily visible distinguishing features, some Kryptonians experience self-consciousness when smiling.

If it is of comfort to any Kryptonians reading this, Humans enjoy 'teefies' and like to remark upon the canine teeth of our companion cats and dogs. We find it 'cute'.

Ocular Notes

It has come to my attention that Kryptonian vision is more specialized for use during flight. It has great telescopic capacity, amongst its other various modes, but this can put them at a disadvantage in our society. Being so far-sighted, Kryptonians may struggle to read letters, smaller signs and newspapers without assistance.

If you see a Kryptonian puzzling over a piece of paper, and holding it at arms' length, any offers to help should be gently made. However, Kryptonians are notoriously friendly and inclined to offer help as much as receive it. You may well make a new best friend. In fact you probably will. Statistically.

A smaller note is that Kryptonian eyes- on account of the multiple facets to their vision -all appear to be a unique type of blue. This particular shade is potentially a generative emission of scattered sunlight, though it would require more detailed research and a far longer examination on my part to confirm.

They Purr

Yes, it is true. Kryptonians purr. It is a delight to listen to.

From my observations it seems readily triggered by the presence of children, or a desire to comfort others. As well as by their own contentment, whether physical, emotional and often both.

The frequency of the oscillations seem to differ between the two circumstances, supporting my current theory that this purring is both a form of communication, but separately resonant to encourage bone growth and soft tissue repair in the sick and injured.

Reproduction and Courtship

Having not conducted a relationship with a Kryptonian, I speak from a limited capacity of research. That said, to Humans looking to court Kryptonians, they appear to be receptive to forms of lip contact, and saliva exchange.

Further erogenous zones are speculative, but there is marked sensitivity along the length of the throat and just below the occipital bone.

Love

I put it to you that Kryptonians are not powerful - they are uniquely vulnerable. An endangered culture and people who have shown us compassion alone. They deserve our protection and understanding.

This is the only home they have ever known. They are not strangers from the stars, they are our friends sharing the same sunlight.

They love us. We should love them in return.

B.T.W

PS. @official-clark-kent I am no reporter, but I did enjoy trying my hand at a small thinkpiece. Perhaps we could go fishing sometime?

[agoodflyting]

Why Aziraphale's White Satin Pumps Are Ridiculous (And I love them)

So this is a continuation of the lengthy rant I posted here about Aziraphale's outfit in the Bastille scene of GO and all the ways it would have pissed people in Revolutionary Paris off. I got to the shoes and realized they needed their own post.

Aziraphale's Blessed Little White Satin Pumps

To recap: in 1793, Paris is in control of The People, who are making up for decades of oppression and poverty by beheading the fuck out of everyone remotely nobility-adjacent. And into this mess strolls one Angel in white satin heels.

Some facts about this style of shoe:

The buckle means they're specifically court shoes as opposed to streetwear. Buckles were out of fashion unless you were hanging out with royalty and needed to look fancy. Everyday shoes had laces by this point.

This heel style for men is specifically called Louis Heels because they were popularized by Louis XVI. Y'know... the king Paris just beheaded in 1793. Here's a pair in a similar style from the late 18th century:

One big difference you may notice in Aziraphale's shoes and the ones above is that the ones above are normal, practical leather whereas Aziraphale is wearing white satin shoes. This is because Aziraphale is ridiculous.

The Allure of White Satin Shoes

In this modern world of laundry machines and affordable shoes I feel that people do not fully understand how absolutely over-the-top ridiculous a pair of white satin shoes would be to people in 1793.

First off lets address the fact that they're white:

If you have ever known anyone who was super into sneakers, you know that keeping white shoes white is a full-time job. It was even more so in the 18th century. The fact that Aziraphale is wearing perfectly clean white shoes says one thing: "I am rich enough to be able to pay someone to clean these, and to replace them when they invariably get stained."

And they would get stained. Oh would they get stained.

Because he is not wearing them for their intended function - lazing around indoors. No, he is wearing them on the streets of 18th Century Paris. And 18th Century Paris was fucking disgusting.

Kind of like how London had its famed London Smog, Paris had its own brand of filth. A unique Parisian muck made up of mixtures of mud, offal from the slaughterhouses, animal waste, human waste, household garbage, and rotting dead animals, all mashed down into what a British visitor called, "A thick, black, unctuous oil, that where it sticks no art can wash it off."

Voltaire said: "We blush with shame to see the public markets, set up in narrow streets, displaying their filth, spreading infection, and causing continual disorders…" and called Paris a city, "Partly of gold and partly of muck."

This is a city with over a million people, with no central plumbing, and no public sanitation laws. Households threw their waste in the streets. Businesses like tanneries and slaughterhouses threw their waste right out into the streets. Horses were the main mode of transportation and nobody was cleaning up after them. It was apparently a thriving hustle that Parisian beggars would hang out in the worst areas with big pieces of wood, and charge wealthy people money to walk on the board over the worst puddles of filth.

That's where Aziraphale is wearing his pristine little white satin shoes. In a city so gross it has its own world-renowned stinking black mud.

And on the subject of those shoes, lets look at the satin part... By the 18th Century, France was no longer dependent on Asia for its silk and satin. There was domestic production, but it was still expensive. A book about the cost of living published in London in 1770 lists the price for a single yard of satin at just over 18 shillings. For comparison, here are some other things you could get for 18 shillings in London at the time:

two box seats at Covent Garden

six barrels of oysters

a really nice wig

a week's wages for a skilled tradesman

15 steak dinners

3 secondhand coats So the outer fabric alone on Aziraphale's shoes cost what it would take a skilled worker about a week to make. Again, that's just for the fabric. Since the shoes themselves were high quality, would be handmade, and required skilled labor, the shoes themselves would be expensive even without the satin. In 1788 a pair of leather gentleman's court shoes cost about 6 livres in France. By comparison, a pound of bread, which was considered a day's food for a peasant, cost roughly 10 sous. So we'll roughly estimate that Aziraphale's shoes without the satin cost the equivalent of 12 days worth of food for an average person.

And, I cannot stress this enough, he is wearing these white shoes, which could easily feed an entire family for weeks, in a city that is abso-fucking-lutely filthy with stinking, staining, sticky mud.

Aziraphale's shoes, probably:

I mean - imagine you're a normal everyday French peasant during the Revolution. You spend decades struggling to feed your family, and some dingbat walks up to you in white court shoes styled after the king you just executed. Shoes that cost more than you make in a month, which he is wearing around your notoriously filthy city with apparently 0 fucks given for the fact that they will be absolutely ruined and will have to be thrown away. (Obviously Aziraphale could just miracle them clean but you're a revolutionary peasant, you don't know that.)

And then this walking audacity asks you for cake.

Aziraphale, hon, you are so lucky they decided to try to execute you and not just like. jump your dumb ass in an alley and steal your pretty little white satin shoes.

[villainoustrioau]

Okay, guys, here's the plot

Fanfic by Milkyr (thanks @peachyfnaf for editing <3)

Art by CreesA

Reunion

“Eclipse… Promise me one thing before I turn off and you're loaded into your own body..."

"Yes, of course! Anything for you, Sunny."

"No matter what happens… Don't lose yourself."

Gray fingers touched golden ones, and Eclipse looked at Sun. At his beaming smile and pale blue eyes filled with care and slight excitement.

"Whatever that means, I promise."

This was the last time Eclipse saw his Sun happy and alive.

***

Emerging from his own memories, Solar raised his head from the table. He fell asleep on the blueprints again. Grumbling softly to himself, the inventor got to his feet and stretched, hearing his iron joints creak. The animatronic soundlessly walked in soft slippers to the laboratories exit door. Focusing his hearing module on the space beyond the door, Solar listened to the sound of… nothing.

It was pretty quiet here.

Leaving the lab, Solar shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat.

"Ruin?"

He called softly, going first into the living room, then into the kitchen, then into one of the bedrooms.

"Eclipse?"

But he wasn't here either.

"Jack?"

It seems that he was completely alone in the bunker.

Solar went through all the rooms once more to make sure that no one was here, and then returned to his lab, blocking the front door and turning on the sound insulation in the room.

He pulled off the worn gray cloth from a capsule, which was located in the depths of the lab and was securely disguised as a "garbage can" so that no one would have the desire to ask questions about what was there. Pushing aside some wooden crates, the mechanic looked at the horizontal capsule with regret in his eyes. Inside, under the glass, laid Sun. But not Sun of whose dimension they now live.

It was his Sun. It was Sunny. The one who was always kind to Solar when he first woke up in someone else's body and didn't understand why he was no longer part of Moon. The one who sacrificed his life in order for Solar to get a chance at his own. The mechanic shook his head, pushing away the obsessive thoughts. His gaze was determined.

He's going to get Sunny back. He will get Sunny back. He's sacrificed too much not to. His fingers quickly tapped on the keyboard of the hidden device in the capsule, and the light inside it lit up. Solar frowned in concentration as he immersed himself in his calculations. He has been working on restoring Sun for several months now- it was very dangerous to work when someone else was in the bunker. His plans could be discovered, so he had to do everything slowly and carefully.

Suddenly, the computer let out an approving beep. The inventor opened his eyes in surprise, looking at the big green check mark on the screen. Did… Did he do it..? Did he really succeed..?

With trembling hands, Solar typed a couple of commands, and a progress bar was displayed on the monitor, gradually filling in black. The mechanic pressed his palms against the glass of the capsule, watching with hope in his eyes as the light inside grew brighter.

“Download complete. All systems stabilized. All external modules running properly. Turn designation: ‘Sunny’ on?”

Solar pressed the confirmation button on the keyboard, staring in fascination as the animatronic in the capsule began to make soft noises. At first it was the crackle of electricity, then the noise of the fans, which became quieter almost immediately as he switched to silent mode.

Sunny opened his eyes.

At first, his eyes were cloudy, he heard only isolated sounds- an incomprehensible buzzing- and felt a heaviness all over his body. He saw a dark blue spot above him.

"Moon..?”

His vision began to clear, and the dark blue spot turned into a dark orange. Who is that? Sunny could say with confidence that this was the first time he’d seen such an animatronic model, but his gaze caught on a couple of details in the appearance, and he gasped.

"Eclipse..?"

Sun spoke with hesitance, still unsure of his assumption.

"Yes."

Solar replied in a quiet, trembling voice, feeling tears running down his cheeks.

"What… What happened?" Sunny asked in surprise, noticing out of the corner of his eye that he was lying in some kind of capsule, a lot of wires were plugged in all over his body. "There must be some mistake here..."

"What do you mean? You're alive, and that's good!"

Solar replied in euphoric disbelief, opening the lid of the capsule. "...You probably didn't understand me," Sunny smiled awkwardly, "the separation should have killed me. I knew I was going to die, but… I wanted to give you the opportunity to live in your own body, live your own life!..

Or..." Sun's gaze suddenly became sad and hesitant. "Or… Or are we both dead and this is the afterlife? Oh no- I'm so sorry- I never meant for this to happe-..."

"-No, no, it's okay! I'm alive, and you're alive too," Solar grabbed Sunny's hand so that he could feel his touch, squeezing it like he would leave him again if he dared to let go, "And I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Never again."

"...Wait!" Sunny suddenly realized something. Attempting to sit up, he rapidly looked around, whipping his head from side-to-side. But Solar restrained him from his attempts, holding Sunny still as carefully disconnected the capsule's wiring so that nothing would be damaged. "W- Where are we? Where’s Moon?!"

"Be careful! Your systems are still very fragile after such a long period of inactivity," the inventor replied, "I'll... I'll explain everything, just let me make sure you can move safely, okay?"

"...Solar, you're making me a little nervous. Where is our brother?"

Sunny asked his question once more, feeling a familiar anxiety slowly creeping up on his mechanisms, making its way under his endoskeleton and stirring the very core of the animatronic. Finally, he was able to sit up and look around. What kind of place is this…

"...Yes. Yes, you did die that day." Solar began with bitterness in his voice, trying not to look into Sunny's eyes as he recounted the memory. "It shocked both Moon and I, and it broke us, and then… And then..." the inventor's voice went tight as a lump formed his throat, forcing him to sound on the verge of tears as he continued.

"...His killcode took over his body. I couldn't save him, Sunny. There was an… accident." He bitterly squeezed out the words. "I'm Sorry, Sun. I'm so, so sorry. Moon is no longer with us."

The final statement hit Sunny like the crack of a painful whip. The whole world trembled right in front of his eyes. Shaking hands clutched at the face plate, despair flooding his features.

"...N-No... nononono, NO! T-This can't… It can't be..." Sun's voice warbled out in despair, "Please, tell me you're lying! T-That this is all a bad joke! PLEASE!"

Before Sunny could lose himself anymore, he felt thin and trembling arms wrap around his back. It was Solar.

Sunny buried his face in Solar's shoulder, shaking and sobbing like a traumatized child. He was absolutely shattered by the news. Moon was his day-one. His other half. His brother. The animatronic he was closest to before they separated and Eclipse appeared.

Gradually, slowly, the sobs in the air began to subside. A numb, pulsating sadness took the place of despair. Sun slightly pulled away from Solar and sighed loudly, causing his fans to flare up for a moment.

"But... What happened then..? H-How are we here?" He asked hollowly, looking at the mechanic.

"I had to conspire with dangerous criminals to survive. Working with them, I at least had a chance to get you back." Solar lowered the tone of his voice, "As of now, my name is no longer Eclipse. My name is Solar."

"Oh my God…" Sunny gasped in fright, taking Solar's face in his hands and looking at his rays. It was only now that he noticed how dirty and broken they were. "D- Did they do this to you? The criminals?!"

"No, no, I'm fine. They won't touch me, we have an… agreement," the inventor shook his head slightly, "But they must not find out about you. We're currently in a bunker under the pizzaplex. This is my lab, and we're in another dimension. But I promise we'll escape from here. I'll find a way.”

"B-But how can they not find out about me if they literally live here?" Sunny shivered, feeling fear creep up his spine. Poor Solar, what kind of mess did he get into..?

"Don't worry, they won't come into my lab. This is my personal space, and no one can come here without my permission." Solar took Sunny's hands in his own once more and looked into his eyes.

"Their names are Ruin and Eclipse. They're both very dangerous- Ruin can infect you with a virus that makes you want to kill, and Eclipse is just out of control when he's not in the mood- and he's always not in the mood. Knowing him, he'll tear you apart as soon as he sees you! Swear to me that you will not leave the lab under any circumstances. Please."

"Solar, I..." Sunny spoke quietly, confused and terrified eyes gazing into the tired and sad ones of the mechanic. "...I trust you. I promise that I will do whatever you say, and help in any way I can."

"Thank you, Sunny. Thank you." Solar leaned forward to hug Sun again, "I'm glad you're back." "Yes..." Sunny hugged the animatronic in response, "I'm so glad to see you, too…"

[killerpancakeburger]

One man's penalty is another man's prize

SUMMARY: When agreeing to lend a hand with the organisation of some military tests, you thought it would be limited to marking times and keeping scores. Statistically, there was no way that the... "creative" penalty you came up with would be selected, right?

And the chances for your boyfriend to be the one subjected to it had to be close to zero, right?

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (Soaps calls Reader Ma'am twice, that's it)

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Fat!Reader, Smug!Soap x1000, a bit Possessive!Soap, Established Relationship, flirting, banter, teasing, partial nudity. Making Shit Up for the Plot/military inaccuracies. Suggestive content but nothing graphic.

WORDS COUNT: 2k

A/N: crackfic...? Soap does push-ups fic. Soap wears booty shorts fic. That actually no one One (1) person asked for.

If you need "visual on the target", this piece by @rusticfurnace and this one by @wombywoo have been on my mind. (Hoping its ok to tag, if not, tell me)

For @glitterypirateduck Cod Vacation Mode Challenge, prompt 27.

A drop of sweat falls from your temple and lands onto the stack of papers you were scribbling on. You wipe off your dripping wet forehead with the back of your arm.

The torrid sun is beating down hard on the ground and bodies alike.

This unforgiving heat left you no respite all day long, despite the fact that all you did was sit and take notes. Drenched in sweat, you fan yourself with your notepad. Perspiration keeps accumulating between the rolls of your stomach no matter how many times you dry it off. Today's the base annual testing day, an unofficial gathering meant to measure soldiers’ performance and entertain some friendly competition.

You would almost regret committing to helping today by playing scribes, but the sadistic satisfaction of seeing others toiling away while you twiddle your thumbs is enough to thwart that feeling. That, and Soap's little… display.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head when you arrived this morning and stumbled upon him stretching his legs, bent over, fingers aiming for his feet, wearing the shortest, thighest shorts you've ever seen. Then he greeted you as if nothing was out of the ordinary. You glanced in interrogation at Gaz and Ghost, who were respectively wearing Bermudas and tracksuits, and were met with a shrug and an eye roll.

To make matters worse, he traded his blue shirt for a sleeveless top that did wonders for his arms and shoulders - as if his tanned biceps weren't already a work of art and a weapon of mass destruction all at once.

You don’t know which incubus possessed him to wear booty shorts, but you definitely aren't complaining.

You spend the day ogling him shamelessly, knowing he was putting on a show for you. He'd sponge down his glistening face with the bottom of his shirt, offering you a tantalizing view of his toned stomach. He'd throw dazzling smiles, teasing winks and blow kisses your way. At some point, he even emptied his water bottle on his head, resulting in his shirt turning transparent and sticking to his skin in an almost obscene way.

His myriad of attentions made you dizzy, in the best of ways. You may have made yourself look like a lovesick fool, with your blissfully happy smiles and your stupid giggles, but except for the people you were close with, no one would dare to nag you about it - lest a certain Scottish sergeant with a big mouth and no fear of confrontation gets all up in their face.

Strong, bronzed hands heavily lean on your desk. Palms are turned towards you, fingers gripping the table's edge.

“M ‘ere fer my penalty.”

The voice is raspy, accent thick, tone charming and teasing at the same time.

You slowly look up from your paper to meet Soap's cerulean eyes; along the way you can’t help but peek at his tanned arms, his bulging biceps, the beads of sweat rolling down his neck, the familiar chin scar in the middle of his dark stubble. His shirt is soaked with sweat.

He's wearing the grin he has every time he lays eyes on you; a blinding, earnest thing. However, even that beguiling smile cannot hide the spark of triumph and playfulness in his gaze.

Johnny's terribly competitive, that's an open secret. It's no surprise that today's tests would fire him up. The perpetual FNG has a title to defend, after all, and with you watching, the stakes are high despite the tests’ results bearing no influence on their file.

But that excitement wasn’t supposed to target you.

“A penalty?” you repeat, unconvinced, twirling your pen between your fingers. “You?”

Doubt infused with sarcasm seeps in your tone, very much on purpose. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, on your guard. 

Your first instinct was to withdraw, prop yourself against the backrest, the distance between the two of you reduced to something too trivial to be proper, but you can’t back off from his implicit challenge. It's a well-crafted game with the two of you as its exclusive players. A dance of provocation and endearment, a mischievous yet comfortable back and forth.

The lack of privacy of it would usually discourage your bashful nature, who avoids confrontation at all costs. But the sergeant has figured out how to appeal to the competitive, driven part of you. So you stand your ground, brazenly, like you're the only two people in the world.

There is no way that Soap earned a penalty, no way that he lost. He's one of the best there is, if not the best - not that his ego needs the boost.

The SAS's youngest prodigue who beat all previous records, his name forever carved into the archives and his legend whispered among impressionable new recruits.

Not to mention that the way he said “my penalty” sounded more like “my prize” than anything else.

“‘ere. Proof.”

He hands out a piece of paper to you, a smug smirk not leaving his lips, one that is not without evoking the satisfied expression of the cat who got the cream. Your fingers brush his as you retrieve the “penalty receipt”, the contact feeling like flames licking your skin.

You take a break from defiantly holding his gaze to glance at the note. Its contents sends an ominous shiver down your spine, your eyes slightly widening in understanding.. and horror.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The odds were, what, one in hundreds? Amplified by the fact that Soap was the one to get ahold of it, out of all competitors.

You vainly stare at your own scrawl, as if that could make the ink vanish, but reality simply gazes back. 

When asked to participate in making up a penalty, you wrote the silliest thing that came to mind, as a sort of inside joke only yourself would be privy to. Eight innocuous little words that would sign your downfall.

“Do fifty push-ups with me on their back”.

The fifty was an arbitrary pick between twenty that you judged too lenient, and a hundred that would take too long; however, you've thought a bit more about the “me on their back” part. You were heavier than the average soldier's rucksack - significantly so. It had to be a challenge, so you've made it this way.

Yet you never expected to actually end up on someone's back.

How Johnny managed to get his hands on your penalty out of all of them, you'd probably never find out, but you couldn’t deny that the “me” mentioned was you. Indeed, on top of your… recognizable handwriting, the note was adorned with little scribbles you had mindlessly doodled while bored. They were simple but easily identifiable: a foamy bar of soap, a deadpan skull, a jerrycan wearing a cap, and a stack of cash with a hat, or, put differently, the Task Force 141 stylized.

A version of the team that Soap was well-versed with, having witnessed you drawing it countless times.

There was no way out of the corner you were backed into - Soap put you on the spot, the brightest one possible, and that little shit knew it perfectly - did it on purpose.

You sigh exaggeratedly as you get up. You bypass your desk to stand in front of Johnny, not missing the way he looks you up and down. This is the first time he's seeing you in shorts, and despite how self-conscious you are about the girth of your chafing thighs, he makes it obvious how much he's enjoying the view. You cross your arms with an amused smile on your lips.

“You know you’re not supposed to enjoy your penalty, right? Kinda defeats the purpose.”

His smile mirrors yours as he bends over to whisper in your ear, close enough for you to feel his body heat, but not making a move to touch you.

“And ye do know I’d never let any of those eejits sweat and grunt under ye? That's my prerogative.”

Despite the shiver his gravelly voice sent down your spine,you throw your head back in laughter.

“Ooh so that's what this is! You're jealous.”

He remains unfazed by the accusation.

“Call it what ye want.”

“You do know I'm heavier than your rucksack, right? Much heavier? You’re going to hurt yourself.”

His eyes glint with hunger for challenge.

“Don't knock it til you've tried it.”

“Fine. Drop and give me twenty, pretty boy.”

His grin becomes blinding. He reaches behind to grab the back of his shirt and rips it off like it burned him. 

You gape despite yourself in front of his glistening chest, all tanned skin, white scars, hard stomach and soft pecs, and he gently lifts your chin up with his index finger to close your mouth, an extremely smug smirk adorning his lips.

“Yes, Ma'am. Right away, Ma'am.”

From a stranger's perspective, his reply drips with an insolence that matches the cockiness he exhibited all day. But you know better; you can hear the underlying docility in his tone, the one he expresses when you two are intimate.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he kneels, the display way too lascivious for how public it is. You bite your lips, frowning your eyebrows in warning, but say nothing as he obeys and performs the twenty push-ups asked - on one arm. It is good that the position prevents him from staring at you, because you reckon otherwise he'd be giving you the slyest grin.

More than the impressive show of strength; more than the way his skin glows with sweat; more than the flaunting of his imposing muscles; the knowledge that he's undertaking it all for you is what tightens the band of arousal in your stomach, along with multiplying the bubbles of happiness and affection in your chest.

“Gonna take a seat, bonnie?”

He's forced to heckle you since you were so caught up in your staring that you forgot that the next part of the penalty required your participation.

And of course, he chose the cheekiest way to do so. The question, innocent at first glance, sent you back into the bedroom. The last time he asked you that was right before you sat on his face. And the time before that was when you rid him.

You oblige yourself to focus on the here and now, and carefully straddle Soap's back.

“Are you sure you can- Woh.”

He interrupts you by suddenly lowering and rising his body, obliging you to grab his shoulders to keep your balance, but easily demonstrating that the added weight has very little impact on his performance. 

“Alright, alright, you convinced me,” you yield. “That's only one out of fifty, though.”

“And yet ye dare doubt me again,” he grumbles under his breath, initiating a steadfast pace.

It is a shame that your current position prevents you from watching his face, but you concentrate on other things instead. Never before did you have the opportunity to revel in the glorious vision that was his powerful back.

You tease him by periodically clenching your thighs without warning, squeezing the meat of his shoulders or ruffling the back of his drenched mohawk.

You let out an impressed whistle when he reaches fifty, before scrambling to liberate him. He pretends needing your help to stand up, and you give him your hands without hesitation. Once he's up, you affectionately shove his shirt into his naked torso, an implicit command to make himself proper.

Following his dressing, you two stare into each others' eyes, hands in hands, like lovebirds until his stomach roars like thunder. 

You giggle; he sighs exaggeratedly, suddenly bowed down by an invisible weight, like he wasn’t overflowing with energy a minute ago.

“M starvin’. Tae death.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed.”

He starts walking towards the canteen's building, after a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and his eyes motionning between you and the coveted reserve of food in a silent but strong proposition. You purposely let him take the lead so you can sneak behind him and grab a generous handful of his ass.

He turns his head towards you with mock outrage on his face, a hand pressed on chest, quickly replaced by appreciation.

“Been itching to do that all day,” you confess with an impish smile.

Walking side by side, you start happily humming, and just as you let your hand drop, he seizes it and puts it back on his buttock.

[curvingsunsets]

Museums and Madmen

Five Hargreeves X reader

Synopsis: Five thought you finally deserved a proper date after the years you spent together, but he gets some visitors

WARNINGS: descriptions of blood and violence, not at all proofread, (please lmk if i missed anything!!)

Five’s hand is clasped around yours as he pulls you into the abandoned museum. You’ve never seen him this excited to show you something since he found a snapdragon growing near the lake by your house. The small corridor expands into a huge cathedral, beautiful paintings adorning the ceiling, light spilling through the windows, perfectly illuminating the room in a golden hour light. Five breaks away from you to start rummaging through his bag, muttering to himself about the contents. 

You take yourself around the room, scanning through every detail of the ceiling. “What are we doing here?” you ask.

Five breaks his concentration on the bag, taking your hand again. “Thought you deserved a proper date. Figured with your love of all things history, this would be the perfect retreat.” He gestures around the two of you. 

“Such a romantic,” you note the light seeping in through the window that hits his shoulder, an idea popping up quickly. You push him back gently, positioning him just right so the light illuminates the chestnut brown of his eyes. “You’ve got the prettiest eyes,” you gawk, just above a whisper. 

He smiles warmly at you and his hands find home on your waist. He pulls you into a sweet kiss,  humming with content. Breaking away from the kiss, he brushes a loose strand of hair out of your eyes. “It took awhile for me to find this, so you better eat up every minute of it,” he pulls away from you, leading you down another corridor. 

“Roger that, Captain Five,” you give him a salute and follow his lead. 

The two of you make your way through what seems like the endless museum, taking your time to admire every single exhibit and art piece. As you’re both debating the translation of an ancient tablet, Five looks over your shoulder. 

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, breaking your focus on the tablet. 

“What’s wrong?” you move to look towards his gaze, but he stops you, pulling you down to duck behind the nearest pillar. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle this. Just…” he trails off, finding the right words, “Close your eyes for me?”

You do, a cold gust of air enveloping you. You open them after a moment, Five nowhere to be found. You go to look over the edge, a splatter of blood and what you can only guess is an arm flies past before you can. A guttural scream escapes your throat, hands clasping over your mouth. Footsteps approach, and you scuffle away in fear, your back hitting the side of a table. 

Five appears to be the owner of the steps, appearing from behind the pillar. He scans over the room, eyes quickly finding you. His stern and focused face melting into worry and concern for you. “Are you okay?” he falls to his knees, hands gentle as he places them on your cheeks. His eyes meet yours, and his heart nearly shatters at the fear he sees. “I’m so sorry,” he pulls you into a tight hug, “I never wanted you to see this.”

You don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel the hot tears spill down your cheeks. You throw your arms around him, clinging to him like he’s the only lifeline you’ve got. He’s rocking you softly, running a comforting hand up and down your back. 

“Find him!” is what breaks the two of you apart, Five immediately returning to focus mode. 

“Trust me?” he asks, offering his hand. You take it with a nod, a flash of blue and the same cold air from earlier surrounding you.

And you’re suddenly on the opposite side of the room, tucked behind the curtains of a display case. You can’t even bring yourself to question how he pulled that magic trick, more focused on the mess of blood and violence on the other side of the curtains that surround the two of you. You find a small bit of solace in the corner, hands wrapping around your torso as an attempt to ground yourself. Five tells you to stay put and you listen without arguing.

He slips out of the case in perfect silence, like he’s done this before. You watch him through the gaps in the curtains. He’s fighting two fully armored men with their own weapons. Five grab’s the collar of the man on his left, throwing his head into his knee. The man falls backwards and Five goes for the man on his right, interjecting the barrel of his gun and lodging a small blade into the side of his neck. He blinks, appearing next to the wall of weapons behind him.

There's a special little twinkle in Five's eyes as he’s tearing the nearest sword off the wall. He’s lunging at his next attacker, the blade of the sword slashing across his throat. He goes limp immediately, collapsing in a pool of his own throat blood. You continue to watch the bloodbath go on until every man is down except for Five, nearly unscathed, save for a few wounds that’ll surely heal within a week.

He takes only a moment to breathe before going to you. He tosses the curtains aside and runs to you. “Did they get you? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He starts to ramble, adrenaline rushing through his veins at the thought you could even have a scratch. 

“Five!” you stop him in his panic, bringing him back to reality…at least you hope. “Please tell me who all of those guys were.”

He sighs, the one thing about him he never wanted you to have to deal with is now unraveling in front of you both. He grips the hair at his temples, an angry cry escaping with it. He curses under his breath, hands balling into fists and unballing again and again. After a few moments, he regains his composure, looking into your eyes with a level of desperation you’ve never seen. “Don’t be mad at me?”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping upon your cheeks even through the chaos surrounding you. Ignoring the blood he’s painted in, you place a gentle hand on his cheek, to which he nearly dropped the entire weight of his head into. “I could never.” 

So, he starts his story, from his siblings, his powers, the men from the commission chasing him, and finally, how he ended up here, with you. “I tried to get us out before the end…but something went wrong and I can’t find my way home. But, I met you after years of trying to get back. So I figured I’d just…start over. You took me in, and you saw through all my stubbornness, and made me feel like I didn’t have to waste my life fighting a losing battle. I could just be here…with you.” By the end, he’s crying, another thing you’d never seen before today and with his serious demeanor you’ve grown to love, you’re sure most people haven’t seen it either. 

Your thumb runs over his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have been the best thing I’ve ever experienced. In every timeline.”

You gawk at his sweet words, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you,” you tell him softly, kissing him once again.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “Now, can we finish our date? I still have a lovely picnic waiting for us in the butterfly garden.” 

“Lead the way.”

~~~~~

tysm for reading :) send requests for more!!

TAGS: @momokyuuu

[rad-batson]

Damian, 7yo: Am I going to rule the world some day?

Damian, 21yo, he/they non-binary, panromantic demisexual, painted nails, dating his best friend Jon, only plays Minecraft on creative mode, art is currently being displayed at MOMA, tutors elementary schoolers on weekends, got accepted into his favorite vet program, does stupid TikTok dances with his siblings, more pets than he can count, current life plan is to fuck off to a farm and never be a vigilante again if it’s the last thing he does, the happiest he has ever been: Yes

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Kalim Al-Asim - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

­­­­[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Kalim: Woah! I've seen this artist's work before. I think we have a bunch of their stuff on the walls back home.

Kalim: So, the Land of Dawning's National Museum of Art's gottem on display too, huh. Hehe, that's pretty neat!

Vil: Oh, this… I think this is a painting of the moment when the beloved princess and the impoverished, yet kindhearted young man were set to be married.

Kalim: Yeah, that's right! The guy on the left is the sultan, and…

Kalim: Just so the princess could marry who she wanted, he went and changed the law for her.

Vil: Oh, hello, Kalim. I wasn't expecting you to know the particular details of the tale.

Kalim: The attendants back home would read me books with their stories. I really like the ones that have happy endings!

Kalim: Oh yeah, and did you know? The sultan here loved to collect miniature models.

Kalim: In his room, he had carriages large enough even a kid could ride in it, and statues of horses with wings…

Kalim: He even had a model of the royal palace! Apparently he'd always be playing with it.

Vil: Mhmm. Quite the childish hobby for a country's ruler to have.

Kalim: Oh, is playing with models childish? I'm always playing with mine whenever I go back home.

Kalim: Once, I mentioned to my dad I was curious what our home looked like from above, y'see.

Kalim: So then, he went and made a miniature model of our whole estate and a special room to put it in.

Vil: He made something like that just because you asked one thing… I suppose I shouldn't expect anything less from the Asim family.

Vil: But if it had its own room… How big was this model, anyway?

Kalim: Uhhh… I think at first, it was about the size of a magic carpet.

Kalim: Back then, it was just the estate buildings, but before I knew it, the land had been tacked on as well.

Kalim: And every time we added to the house, the model got an addition too, so it just got bigger and bigger.

Kalim: Whenever we'd buy new furniture, the stuff in my room, or my siblings' rooms would move around and change, too…

Kalim: There was always some kind of change whenever I looked into it. Sometimes I really couldn't tell what changed, though. Ahahah!

Vil: Even your furniture is a part of the model? Well, isn't that ridiculously elaborate…

Kalim: Yeah! That model is super awesome! The small clocks and furniture actually function, and…

Kalim: The roof and the walls of the model are made of the same stuff as our actual home, so it looks just like it.

Kalim: Water'll actually come out of the marble fountains, and even the trees and lawn are apparently made of real moss.

Kalim: Anyway, since it's a perfect replica of my real home, it really lets me feel like I'm a giant!

Kalim: Oh yeah. And on the ceiling of the room with the model, there are monitors and sprinklers…

Kalim: So night can turn into day, or it can rain or whatever.

Kalim: If the switch next to the model is pressed while in nighttime mode, the whole model lights up and it's so pretty!

Kalim: Also, we'd get miniature elephants and camels on parade…

Vil: Enough already! You've already convinced me just how special your personal miniature model is!

­­­­[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Vil: This is a painting of the Lord of the Underworld and his men.

Vil: From what I hear, the Lord of the Underworld's subordinates had the power to change their form and voice at well, and even could take on the appearance of children.

Kalim: Woah～ They must've been amazing. Oh, that reminds me, I once turned myself into an adult, y'know.

Vil: You turned yourself into an adult…? Do you mean you disguised yourself as one?

Kalim: Yeah! When I was little, my family and I went to go see a play and there was this one scene where a ruler dressed up like one of his servants.

Kalim: I wanted to try the dame thing, so that night after the play, I put my plan into action.

Kalim: Like, if I were to wear the household attendant's clothes and wear shoes with bigger soles, I'd look just like an adult, right?

Kalim: And then I even put on a huge hat and covered my face with sunglasses, too.

Vil: You really seem proud of yourself… And you're saying no one realized it was you?

Kalim: YEAH, IT WAS A PERFECT DISGUISE!

Kalim: They didn't even call my name, just said stuff like, "Perhaps it is time for bed, my young, esteemed colleague?"

Vil: They absolutely knew. No one in their right mind would tell their colleague to go rest in the middle of their duties.

Kalim: Eh? …YOU'RE SO RIGHT!! You're amazing, Vil. I never even realized before you said that just now.

Kalim: But then, how did they even figure out it was me?

Vil: I wouldn't call what you did a disguise or anything. All you did was wear your attendants' clothing.

Vil: Your behavior and speech were the same as usual, weren't they? Then there was nothing disguised. It was no different than you changing between your school or dorm uniforms.

Kalim: So if they figured it out 'cause of my behavior…? So then, I shouldn't've talked like I normally do, right?

Vil: Yes. Think back to the mannerisms of the attendants in your estate and how they treat you.

Kalim: Their mannerisms… Hmm…

Kalim: Oh, I think I got it! So I should've tried to speak more polite-like!

Vil: I wasn't really talking about something as minor as that, but… Well, I suppose that's a step in the right direction.

Vil: If you are going to disguise yourself as another person, you cannot just mimic them. You must completely change your mannerisms, speech, everything.

Kalim: I got it. Thanks for the advice!

Kalim: I know what I have to fix now, so… I gotta try again as soon as I can!

Vil: You're going to try again…? Here? And who exactly are you planning to disguise yourself as?

Kalim: Obviously, one of my family's attendants! This time for sure, it'll be the best disguise ever!

Vil: I think dressing up as an Asim family attendant would just be too conspicuous… But I do look forward to seeing how you pull it off.

­­­­[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Kalim: Woah! Look, Vil! There's a painting of a tea party.

Vil: According to legend, this tea party was ridiculously strange…

Kalim: It's super cool, don'tcha think! This is one of my favorite displays.

Kalim: It had teapots whistling along to songs, and plates that could be eaten after being doused in tea…

Kalim: On top of that, there was a cake that would fly up into fireworks as soon as its candles were lit!

Kalim: And their large table was just completely covered in all those tableware and foodstuffs! Awesome, right!?

Vil: …You look at that tea party and genuinely think it 'awesome'? It looks as though we have completely different tastes.

Kalim: Oh, you don't think so, Vil?

Vil: Mhm. That's because I like enjoying a quiet teatime.

Kalim: They say that the girl in the tale didn't even have time to drink her tea, so it sounded pretty fun to me.

Kalim: If I ever get to attend a tea party that's this chaotic, I'd totally be down!

Kalim: Ooh, or, should I throw a tea party myself? We can act out this specific scene.

Kalim: I bet it'd be fun to sing along with my dormmates as the teapots jammed.

Kalim: Oh yeah! Don'tcha think everyone'll be surprised if the teapots also danced and leaped around with the rest of us?

Vil: Yes, I'm sure they would be.

Kalim: Yeah, I can't just try to imitate the legends. It should be an even grander extravaganza!

Kalim: I'll have to prep a lot of edible plates… And a buncha different teas they can use to dip the dishes in…

Kalim: What's left… Oh right, the cake!

Kalim: I should make it a much larger cake than what the girl in the tale got.

Kalim: That way there'd be even bigger fireworks, and it'll get everyone real excited!

Vil: I can absolutely picture your dormmates running around so loudly.

Kalim: Right!? After that… Hmmm. Vil, you got any good ideas?

Vil: You shouldn't ask me, but instead ask your dormmates for their opinion.

Kalim: Yeah! Of course, I'll definitely check with them.

Kalim: But, I want to invite you too, Vil. So tell me, what kind of party do you want it to be?

Vil: [sighs] …I just told you. I would rather enjoy a quiet teatime.

Vil: Thank you for the invite, but I'll have to decline. Bye, now.

Kalim: Okay…  Then you definitely gotta come to the next party I throw!

Kalim: All right, which painting should I check out next? Ooh! Is that…?

Kalim: Yeah, just as I thought! It's artwork that shows the young man marching in a parade on an elephant's back!

Kalim: There were 75 golden camels, 53 peacocks, and a bunch of other animals and dancers following him...

Kalim: Looks like he was trying to entertain the whole country on the way to visit the princess.

Kalim: He went through all that effort just to make everyone happy… There's no doubt about it.

Kalim: This guy is definitely an awesomely good guy. I'm a real good judge of character, after all!

Requested by @starshiningsirius.

[simdertalia]

🏛️ ACNH Museum Displays Set 🏛️

Sims 4, base game compatible. 7 items

I hope you enjoy!

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

Set Contains: -Pole Partition 1 | 2 swatches | 342 poly -Pole Partition 2 | 2 swatches | 342 poly -Pole Partition 3 | 2 swatches | 196 poly -Display: Enclosed | case: 5 swatches, inside art 9 swatches including blanks, total 45 swatches | 502 poly -Display: Large Island | 2 swatches | 254 poly -Display: Stand | 5 swatches | 104 poly -Display: Stand (glowing light) | 5 swatches | 114 poly

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