#I need to stop making new sims and then never touching them again

[l-e-i-k-o]

SIM WIP SIM WIP!!

[neo127]

spidey senses ! | sim jaeyun x gn!reader

synopsis. jake is a bit overwhelmed with his new spider powers…luckily he has an amazing s/o to help him though it genre. spider-man jake!! + established relationship cw. none!

jake wasn’t sure if he could keep going like this. his head had been pounding all morning and all of his five senses were out of control. he had already come to terms with the fact that he gained spider like powers from getting bitten by a lab made spider, but getting used to them was completely different.

jake could hear his rapid heartbeat in his ears, the person loudly smacking on gum behind him, a dog barking outside, a fly that couldn’t seem to leave the kid two seats behind him alone. jake was extremely overwhelmed, and he had no idea how to calm down.

you noticed how tense your boyfriend looked all throughout class and followed him when he darted out of the room as soon as the bell rang. you called out after him, following jake when he didn’t stop.

he quickly went out the nearest exit, hoping that getting some fresh air would help. it only made things worse and jake began to cry out of frustration. he could hear ambulances blocks away and about five conversations at the same time. every time a car honked he flinched— he simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“jake, what’s happening?” you asked once you finally caught up to him. the boy was on his knees in the empty school courtyard. covering his ears with his arms as he breathed heavily.

“make it stop, i need it to stop.” he whined out. you dropped to your knees beside him, incredibly concerned. jake had never told you about his new found powers, wanting to figure everything out first. he hated keeping you in the dark, but he felt as if it was for the better.

“make what stop? jake, your scaring me.” you asked, trying to keep your voice level as to not freak him out even more. jake couldn’t respond, tears leaking from his eyes as small whimpers fell from his mouth.

you had no idea what was going on with your boyfriend and you wish you knew. but you decided to treat it as a panic attack and hoped that you would be able to help him breathe again.

“focus on my touch.” you spoke up, placing your hands in jake’s. he immediately grips your hands tightly, his breathing still erratic.

“focus on my voice.” you said, causing jake to shake his head but you forced him to look at you.

“yes you can, focus on my voice. focus on what i am saying to you.” you continued to speak, hoping to ground jake. he constantly squeezed your hands and you couldn’t help but notice his strength. you ignored the pain and kept speaking to jake until you could see that his breathing returned to normal.

“sorry.” jake mumbled once he had finally calmed down, bowing his head in embarrassment. you immediately pulled the boy into a hug and placed a kiss on top of his head to reassure him.

“i don’t know what the hell is going on with you— but that doesn’t matter right now. don’t be sorry because i’ll always be there for you.” you mumbled. jake hugged you back, a small smile on his face. he wasn’t sure when he was ready to reveal his secret, but he was glad that you didn’t pressure him and would be by his side regardless.

[cinnasweetss]

Out Of Bounds (M) - sim jaeyun

PAIRINGS: jake x female reader, afab reader

SYNOPSIS: in which jake is your little brothers best friend that knows absolutely no boundaries when it comes to you.

GENRE: smut, pwp.

CONTENT: jake is super whiny, one-sided pining, reader is slightly older, overuse of the word ‘noona’, jake def has a thing for older women, mentions of drinking, masturbation (m), mentions non consensual groping, mentions of verbal threats.

jake is everything but a pleasure to be around. endless flirting, groping, threats aimed at your boyfriend, and other unspeakable things. all done where no one can hear you beg him to just leave you alone, just this once. or hear him grumble about how much he likes you, and won’t stop.

jake is like your brother too, just a little bit more annoying. although his actions can be a bit much, you know he’s a kind hearted boy deep down with pure intentions. even if his actions can be a bit much. it’s nothing you can’t handle.

your never bring this up to your brother either. never would you deny him of a friend just because he has a very insatiable desire for you. boys will be boys! your friends say their siblings friends develop little crushes on them too. but jake’s feelings and wants for you are not little.

so, it’s no surprise that he calls you late at night after a night of drinking with your younger brother. overcome by the feeling of needing to hear his best friends older sister. just to settle him. that’s it.

your phone rings next to your pillow, pulling you from your slumber. it takes a minute for you to roll over, sighing when you pick up your phone and see ‘sim jake’ written across the screen.

“hmm? what is it?”

you know he’s been drinking. that’s why you don’t hesitate to answer. “Just…thinking about my noona.” his noona. you’re always referred to that way. his voice is slow and slurred, hinting at just how much he’s drank by now. “are you drunk?”

you have to say you're flattered. extremely. to be on his mind even when he’s drunk and has likely been around plenty of drunk women says a lot. “a lil- little bit..." you hear an exhale come through the speaker, and another noise follow. "jake, how much did you drink? do you need me to come get you?" you’re sitting up out of your bed, ready to throw on clothes and leave just incase he does need you. there’s a short pause before you hear his voice again.

“Can you- fuck... can you say my name again?" he sounds out of breath, and you can faintly hear some very suspicious sounds coming from the other end. those words mark a new boundary that’s been broken. adding to the multitude of broken boundaries. "what are you doing?" his tone sounded very suggestive, and it makes you stop, pressing your phone closer to your ear. "Thinkin' about you, noona..." he responds, and this time, he moans. "Jake..." you don’t mean to feed into him. not all all. you're just utterly shocked and at a loss for words. but most of all, worried about this would affect your relationship with him. "oh, fuck.” he's shameless in the way he moans, loud and whiny, begging you to say more. "tell me, noona..." he starts, moaning directly into your ear... "y-your panties...what color are they?"

“they’re…red..”

"ahhh, shit." you can hear him struggle with himself like he's imagining you in red panties , likely doing something lewd. "today...in the kitchen. did you like it? when I touched you?" ‘touched’ is too sweet of a word to describe what he did to you. groped, manhandled, fondled, is better. overpowering you when you tried to push his hands away from your chest, beg him to stop before your brother sees. tell him he must learn how to control himself.

“you cant...touch me like that...it isn’t right.” those are words you’ve said to him a million times before. words that go through one ear and out the other without a second thought. "cant help it. fuck, fuck, i'm so close! keep talking, please noona!" you can hear him increase speed in whatever he's doing, which, sounds exactly like he's jerking off.

"you're so pretty, too pretty, noona..." he rambles on in his fit of pleasure. telling you how much he wants to kiss you, and fuck you between very loud moans. "wish I could cum in you instead...agh! I gotta have you...gotta make you mine." his words bring heat to your cheeks despite the vulgarity of it all. "Jake..." you start, the other seemingly seconds apart from coming undone. "yes? yes, yes, noona!" he pants over the phone, whining and struggling to hold himself back from cumming before you get to respond. "maybe one day." those words from you are all it takes, a "fuck i'm gonna cum! i'm cumming! fuck!" being yelled into the speaker as he releases every pent up emotion he has for you in the form of one intense orgasm.

sim jaeyun, is way Out Of Bounds.

[lov-3-rs]

Filthy Mouth

Simon Riley x Reader

(mdni 18+)

-

-

Simon’s name lit up your phone screen, and for a moment, you thought you were imagining it. You hadn’t heard from him in weeks, His last mission was longer than expected. But as soon as you swiped to answer, your heart kicked up in your chest, knowing his voice was about to fill the space where all that silence and loneliness had been.

-

“Hey baby,” you said, a little breathless, trying to keep it light. You hadn’t expected the rush of feelings that came with hearing his voice again.

“Hello love.” His voice was smooth, deep, and as familiar as the back of your hand. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I should be home by tomorrow Night. I have a long drive ahead of me” he said, Simon hated flying public airlines, you roll your eyes as you remember him saying that too many freak “accidents” happen.

“I’ve missed you so much. It’s been too long hun.”

He breathed in and exhaled sharply, it sounded like he was smoking a cigarette.

“Too long huh?” there was a pause. “baby i’ve missed you in so many ways.” he let out another exhale but it was more frustrated than the last. You swallowed, feeling a sudden heat rise in your cheeks. “Simon…” You said his name softly.

“No, baby you don’t understand” he said, his voice dropping a notch, rougher now. “I’ve missed how you feel against me, the way your body fits so damn perfectly with mine. But what I’m really talking about is the way my cock fits so perfectly in you.”

Your pulse raced, your body already reacting to his words. He always had a way of making you feel like he saw right through you, peeling back every layer with just a whisper.

“Simon, you…can’t wait till you get home to say this?” you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of desire and surprise. “You know I hate being teased” You could feel yourself getting wet.

“Wait?” He chuckled darkly, low and slow. “Baby, I jack myself off at what has felt like every night just thinking about you moaning my name…you know that, right?” He paused once more. “Are you wet right now love?” His voice was a raw ache now.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through you. “God, Simon…”

“Yeah?,” he said softly, smiling to himself. “I’m counting down the fucking hours. Hell, the minutes until I get to see you again.” He continued, “baby I need you to do something for me.” you felt like you knew what was coming. The words were tangled in your head, “yeah Si?”

“I want you to touch yourself,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, more intimate.

You closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. Your hand moved slowly under the thin fabric of pajamas pants you were wearing, inserting two of your finger. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve touched yourself because somehow Simon is the only person to really make you cum so you gave up trying to even please yourself. “fuck Simon…” you said in a soft whisper of pleasure.

He smiles to himself, “that’s it baby just keep prepping yourself for me.” Simon had the most outrageous and painful boner but it felt so good hearing you moan and the slick sounds of you fingering yourself in the background. “now baby I want you to get that dildo you got in your nightstand.” you stopped what you were doing and you felt your face get hot.

You didn’t really use your dildo because it definitely wasn’t near his size and again Simon is the only one to truly satisfy you, but he also never mentions sex toys or likes using them during sex so him talking about it was completely new territory, it shocked you to say the least.

But regardless you grabbed your dildo from the nightstand beside you. “okay now what?” your voice was so needy you felt almost pathetic.

You could hear him take a drag from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke once more before speaking, “fuck yourself with it” he demanded. Wasting no time you did as he said and started pumping it in and out of yourself, your head flying back as you moan his name, “god simon.” He chuckled “that’s right baby say my fuckin name” you kept pumping the dildo in and out wishing it was him, hitting that sweet spot inside you.

He doesn’t speak for a moment just to listen to your sweet and aching moans. Eventually he breaks his silence, “When I get home i’m going to fuck you and i’m going to fuck you hard and as i’m thrusting my cock into you i’ll be stuffing that dildo in you too, i’m going to make sure you’re nice and full.” You started to pump the dildo faster, grinding on it while your eyes rolled back into your head, “Simon i’m going to cum” you were breaking ready to explode. “fuckin do it, cream on that fake dick” you kept hitting that sweat spot till you saw god damn stars “oh my FUCK” you moan out-loud and riding out your high.

He grunted as he shifted himself in his seat trying his best to ignore the hard-on in his pants and gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. “God I love you, i’ll see you soon love.” he says his goodbye and hangs up before he makes you do it all over again. You layed there panting for a few minutes and coming down from what felt like heaven.

Fuck.

Him and his filthy mouth.

-

-

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 57 (Reaping Rewards?)

The morning after Heather and Conrad's trip to the lighthouse, he returned from an early morning run with Gord and checked the mail. (That mailbox came with the house in the gallery and I feel great leaving it.) Along with the usual collection of bills and flyers for the fish market down at the docks, a strange newsletter, advertising a so-called "Recipe for Life," had been delivered.

Heather put down the trifold from the Ambrosia Society. She'd never heard of it. "It's a little strange we were just talking about ghosts and unfinished business, and the next day a newsletter arrives talking about ambrosia," she mused.

They weren't sure whether to be intrigued or disturbed - perhaps a little of both - but they couldn't deny their curiosity. Conrad looked them up on his phone. "They look legit, and I can check them out on the police computers on Monday - but you're almost a master gardener and you're already a master cook. Sorta seems like a challenge you could meet without even trying."

"I could learn to make ambrosia treats along with the Recipe for Life, as the newsletter calls it. I've stuck to wellness treats so far, but lots of pet owners ask about ambrosia. Maybe ambrosia treats could help you track down that dog you heard at the lighthouse. And knowing how to make ambrosia could definitely come in handy if the Landgraab curse strikes again."

"What does it say we have to do?"

"We need to get this thing called a Grimophone, then plant a lily and a snapdragon. I should ask my mother for help but I think whoever sent the newsletter eventually wants us to graft and grow a death flower in exchange for the recipe. She harvests them sometimes and taught me how when I was younger; she can sell them for a lot of money, but we don't have a lot of indoor space and the plants are seasonal. We'd probably have to use the hall outside Ash's room."

"Not that I think it's a great idea to give a toddler a bunch of thorny plants, and you know what I think about the curse, but if you load up Ash with a bundle of death flowers, no curse would ever be able to touch him. He'd need at least nine lives," said Conrad.

"Maybe when he's older." She frowned. "I'd rather not scare him or lie to him about what they're for. But doing this could help keep him safe. That's all I want."

Despite their busy lifestyles, they were more attracted to the challenge set forth in the newsletter with each passing thought.

"I don't mind cooking more, learning the recipe myself. I meant it when I said I'd do anything to keep you and Ash safe, but we're a team, and you're not going to do this alone," he said. "It's dangerous messing around with death."

Visiting her family in Henford, Heather picked up some flower seeds from her expert botanist mother and asked her sister-in-law, a walking Simpedia on all kinds of topics, about the Grimophone.

"My mother has one," said Cass. "Anything paranormal, you name it. She bought it."

"What does it do?"

"It plays any music you want, but the real trick is it'll help you summon the Grim Reaper. If you go see my mother, she'd be happy to show it to you."

After work one rainy evening, Heather and Conrad stopped by to visit Bella Goth at her mansion in Cavalier Cove. Through her years spent obsessing over the supernatural, she'd collected various items that now took up space in her attic.

Heather was nervous. "And summoning the Grim Reaper will help us learn to make ambrosia? It won't do anything else...like unleash death and destruction?"

"From Grimmie? Hardly! He's just a courier. Jokes he wears bicycle shorts under all those black robes."

"You know the Grim Reaper?"

"He was the last person to see my brother alive, so I had to find a way to talk to him. But he was so kind. We struck up a nice friendship."

"According to the newsletter, we'll probably have to make friends with him, too."

"I bet Grimmie asked the society to set the challenge just so he could make a bunch of new friends! He knows plenty of people know how to make ambrosia, but he wishes people were less afraid of him. Culling sims all day can be a lonely existence, you know."

Bella led them upstairs and pulled out her old Grimophone, blowing off the dust to reveal a music player made of matte black steel. "If you want, I could pull out the seance table and you could ask the spirits about ambrosia. That should help you learn the recipe in no time."

Conrad stepped forward. "Is it safe?"

"I haven't used it in years so it might be a little shaky, but the spirits who stick around to answer simple questions are harmless. Mostly departed mentors who miss teaching."

She sat with Heather and Conrad at the small round table draped in purple and gold cloth. She blew away more dust, and Heather's allergies made her sneeze.

"Watcher bless you," said Bella. "It's especially important to say such a thing if you sneeze around a seance table. We don't need any spirits stealing your soul!"

"This is a bad idea. Heather, maybe we should think more about this."

"Conrad, it's okay. I still have my soul," Heather assured him. "We're here for Ash, so we might as well ask about the ambrosia."

Bella showed them how to convene with the spirits with their palms open on the table. She chanted a rhyme that sounded faintly Omiscan, and suddenly a blue flame flickered to life before their eyes.

Floating above the table, the flame bent it's shape into a hoop, like a tunnel for spirits and sims to commune on one plane. Heather seemed possessed, swaying with the pulsing circle above their heads as jumbled Simlish spewed from her lips.

"What's happening to her?" Conrad was frightened, but Bella smiled warmly.

"She's fine. They're just having a conversation."

"Make it stop!"

"They'll only be a few minutes. If I pull her out before they're finished, she might not be able to get in touch with them again. They think it's rude if you just leave."

"Is she even conscious?"

"In a way."

"Could she get...stuck?"

"Oh, that's rare!" She laughed while Conrad's heartrate quickened.

"Mrs. Goth, if anything happens to her in there-"

"What's going on?"

Bella's son, Alexander, walked nonchalantly into the room. The flaming blue portal to another dimension didn't phase him.

"Heather's travelling with some of my old gear, sweetheart."

"Is this that newsletter thing?"

"This was my idea," she admitted. "But Heather's fine."

"Do you think you'll be done before Lydia gets back from spin class? This might freak her out a bit."

Finally, disappearing as rapidly as it first appeared, the blue light released Heather from her trance. "Wow!" she breathed, lowering her hands and reacquainting herself with her surroundings. "That was nuts! How long was I out?"

"A few minutes, just like I expected." Bella shot Conrad a satisfied grin while his shoulders dropped in relief.

"I just went to school and learned about ambrosia for three days. I feel like I could make ambrosia treats in my sleep! They said we can only learn the Recipe for Life by following the instructions as they're given, and the next thing we need to do is summon the Grim Reaper on the Grimophone."

"Did you want mine?"

"You don't need it?"

"Grim and I are such good friends, I can just call him on my phone. Go ahead, have fun, but it drops a fair bit of soot in the air from the horn. Just a warning!"

When they returned home, Conrad held her close, still unnerved by what he witnessed. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Conrad, I'm fine," she insisted. "It wasn't a big deal. It was school. Nothing dangerous."

"If we use Mrs. Goth's table again, you're not travelling or whatever she called it. I will. I can't let anything happen to you."

She didn't mind his protective stance despite her independence. He always made her feel safe, and she wanted him to see where she'd been so he'd know the place was nothing to fear. But they were both exhausted by the events in Bella's attic, and they decided to wait to use the borrowed Grimophone.

For now, they'd plant their seeds and wait to see if the Ambrosia Society sent another newsletter. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: As a master vet Heather knew how to make ambrosia treats. She's had a couple in reserve for a long time, but I'm pretending they're not there yet. She hasn't sold or used one because I've been plotting this paranormal storyline and wasn't sure when to bring it in, but Reapers Rewards presented a great opportunity, especially with death on their minds so recently with Ash's accident, and Heather constantly trying to improve her clinic's rating. Yesterday's post was always meant as a soft launch, but it wasn't going to get this supernatural for a while!

The storyline is actually for Conrad more than Heather, but these two are an excellent team so I don't mind that I accidentally sent Heather through the flame portal and not Conrad. He was legit upset, raising his voice to Bella while it was happening, so that stuff wrote itself and proved he's as incredible as we all think he is. Plus Heather's the one with the skills that will hopefully make this challenge a breeze, let me collect quasi-free stuff and write while Conrad gets some skills up, so they're definitely going to do this one together.

[sunjakes]

make a wish ; sim jaeyun

pairing: jake x gn!reader (feat. everyone else) genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff (also borderline suggestive?) warnings: intentional lowercase, established relationship, mentions of food and drinking alchohol, jake gets tipsy and a little handsy, allusions to suggestive content, not proofread word count: 1.5k a/n: happy new year! the mental image of jake being a giggly, touchy drunk makes me v happy and i felt the need to share this with y'all :>

you were elated when your boyfriend invited you to spend new years eve with him and his members. you had been dating for a while, and you considered yourself to be friends with the others, but you didn't get the chance to spend much time with them due to their constantly hectic schedules.

before you could even lift your hand to knock on the door to their dorms, it swings open and you see jake in front of you. the brightest smile appears on his face, and he instantly pulls you into a tight hug. gently rocking you two back and forth for a few moments, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head before pulling away, keeping his hands resting on your arms.

"i'm so glad you were able to make it, angel."

the way he gazes at you never fails to tinge your cheeks with a shade of pink. you smile in response, your hands laid against his chest. you two get lost in each other's eyes for a moment, not even feeling the need to say a single thing. you both simultaneously lean into each other, but a shouting voice stops you before your lips can touch.

"jake, just bring y/n in!! you're letting all the warm air out.."

the sudden complaint from jay startles you both, and jake sheepishly pulls away, taking a step back inside as he holds his hand out towards you. you take it, and he intertwines your fingers as he leads you into the dorm, shutting the door behind you. as you walk towards the main room, you smile again as you take in the way the boys decorated for their little celebration.

the decorated tree is still up from their christmas celebration the week prior, but there's now metallic streamers and balloons littered around the space. faint music is playing from a speaker by the couch, and there's various drinks and soda cans sitting on the table in the middle.

a chorus of your name being called out brings your attention to the six boys boys hovering throughout the kitchen and dining area, not so patiently waiting for jay to finish cooking. despite you and jake being hand in hand, heeseung makes his way over to you, bringing you into a gentle side hug. sunghoon gives you a welcoming nod, jungwon and sunoo smile at you brightly, and niki comes over to playfully mess up your hair. laughing at everyone's antics, you attempt to return your hair to its original resting position.

"we're really happy you were able to come over!"

jay pauses from cutting up various vegetables, turning around to look at you with a smile. you nod in a wordless response, and he goes back to cooking just as quickly as he had turned towards you. feeling jake's arm gently wrap its way around your waist in a back hug, you lean back against him and focus on the lively and family-like energy radiating throughout the house.

"y/n, come over here! let's play mario kart!!"

you turn your head to see niki in front of the television, holding up a game controller. you look back at jake and he faintly nods, letting you go. you press a kiss to his cheek before heading over to niki, grabbing one of the controllers from his hand with a smirk.

"oh, it's on, nishimura."

it feels like hours pass where you and niki sit on the floor, games being won in tandem by both you and the younger. jake stays seated on the couch behind you both, one hand gently making its way through your hair. as soon as jay calls out that the food was ready, niki pauses the game and shoots up from his spot on the floor, practically sprinting towards the kitchen. you and jake look at each other with a chuckle, his fingers intertwining with yours as you head to the table to go eat.

all of the members had their own unique excitedness about the upcoming year, and hearing them talk about their different hopes and plans filled you with a joy you swear you've never felt before. looking over, jake senses your change in demeanor and gently squeezes your knee from under the table. he gives you a loving smile when you look over at him, and you can't help but match his expression. after everyone finishes eating, insanity ensues as jake and his bandmates play a seven-way game of rock paper scissors to decide who's in charge of washing the dishes.

despite jake claiming himself to be a master of rock paper scissors, he ends up losing, much to everyone's delight. you decide to tag along and help him even though you didn't actually play with them, finding it the perfect opportunity to spend more time with your boyfriend. however, you only seemed to serve as a distraction now that jake had drank a couple glasses of wine with you, heeseung, jay, and sunghoon during dinner.

the two of you had managed to finish about a third of the dishes sitting in the sink before you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind, jake's lips placing feathery kisses along the nape of your neck and your shoulders. a shuddery breath leaves your lips, trying your hardest not to let his affection get to you in the moment.

"jake, what are you doing...? we aren't even halfway through the dishes yet.."

you question him in a whisper, not confident enough to speak any louder. without saying a single word, jake just continues to leave wet kisses along your shoulders and up to your neck, using just enough pressure to take your breath away but not enough to leave any deeply colored marks against your skin. you habitually lean back against his chest, completely giving in to his actions. jake decides to pull away from you after playfully tugging your earlobe between his teeth, his arms dropping to his sides as he takes a step back.

"i couldn't help myself, angel, you just look too beautiful like this~"

you could tell that jake wasn't sober by the lilt in his voice and the sudden boldness. typically, you wouldn't be against the attention he's giving you, but you had this underlying worry of any of the members walking into the kitchen to see you and jake in this position. you turn around to see a playful smile on his face, a quiet giggle leaving his lips as you step back towards him again. you press a chaste kiss to the side of his lips, and his hands instinctively make their way back to resting on your hips. placing your hands against his clothed stomach, you gently fiddle with the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. leaning in for another kiss, he whines softly when you pull away, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

"how about this waits until after the party, babe? then we can celebrate the new year however you want to~"

jake nods his head feverishly at your proposition, and you have to hold back a laugh at how quickly his guard had dropped. with a gentle tug to his shirt, you two go back to washing the dishes. the timing seems to work out perfectly as you and jake hear your names being called from the living room as you dry off the last plate.

"guys, hurry up, the countdown is starting soon!"

with an arm wrapped around your waist, you and jake make your way out to the main room. there was no space on the couch with how the members squeezed themselves together, so you two decided to stand behind them all, jake wrapping both of his arms around your middle. leaning back against his chest, you smile at the growing excited chatter from the boys in front of you as the clock slowly grows closer to hitting midnight.

as the countdown reaches 30 seconds, jake presses a gentle kiss to your temple and you decide to turn around in his arms, placing your hands against his chest like you had when you first arrived to the dorm. smiling down at you, jake leans closer to you, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel his nose brush against yours.

"make a wish, my love~"

the moment the clock strikes midnight, you hear the members in front of you cheering as jake's lips press against yours. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close to you as you can manage. people outside were lighting off small fireworks, the flashes of color through the window only adding to the atmosphere. pulling away, you and jake had matching bright smiles on your faces. you rest your head against his shoulder, watching how jake's teammates all high five each other as the eight of you ring in a new year.

pressing a kiss to your hairline to get your attention, jake looks down at you with a playful grin. you cock your head to the side in feigned confusion, despite knowing exacty what words were about to leave his lips as he leans down to whisper in your ear with another soft giggle, causing you to roll your eyes.

"so, how about we head back to your place soon and have our own celebration? we can start crossing off our new year's resolutions~"

[magic-hcs]

hi, i would love a matchup! im nonbinary and on the chubby side, i have a mullet and like to wear cottagecore/hippie clothes. i have a brother who i go everywhere with and would kill for, so family is definitely a priority! i like to crack jokes all the time and my humor varies from dad jokes to really dark. i like to draw and play video games, and i also have so many animals! snails, quail, cats, pigeons, you name it, i probably have it! im also definitely on the lazy side, but wont say no to a good adventure >:)

O.o you got so many animals! How do you keep track of them all?? Do your birds get along with your cats or do you need to keep them apart?

~~matching…~~matching~….~matching~~…~DING~

You match with Bear!

You match with Sky!

✨✨

(HT Sans) Bear:

It took a while for Bear to warm up to you, meaning he doesn’t speak at all if you don’t address him and he would often stare at you. But the moment you start talking about your animals he’ll perk up and open up way faster. He’s more of a listener than a talker. (With the difficulties with speech and all.) So Bear will often let you lead the conversations.

Bear freaking loves your animals. I’m for real, he works at an animal shelter and he feels right at home with animals. Please, please, please, please teach him how to take care of your sweethearts Bear and I swear he’ll take amazing care of them.

It’s also so adorable to watch his red eyelight enlarge as your cats or birds come up to him or perch on him. He will purr so bad it’s so sweet.

He’s so fascinated with your hair. How does it poof up so good at the place you have lots of it? Do you need to shear the sides often? May he touch it?

(If you let him for too long, he'll end up accidentally ruining your hairdo because he keeps touching and pawing at it and tangling his phalanges in your hair and stuff.)

Loves your chub, makes you look healthy and soft. You are more safe from him following you around with lots of snacks to feed you than a skinny partner. He’ll still offer you snacks but not as much as someone who’s skinny.

(Trauma from the underground, he has this urge to make sure his mate is fed and if you look fed his concerns and urges are more satiated.)

Family is very important to Bear, so seeing how much you care about your brother is a big plus in his book.

Hope you’re quite patient and understanding because Bear can be quite slow to process stuff, sometimes needing a hot minute of staring into nothingness to really take in the new information you’ve given him. This is true especially with instructions or explanations of things he’s never seen or done before like movies and videogames.

That being said; Bear likes to watch you play video games. He mostly watches with every now again a question or a comment. He won’t play them however, it often goes too fast for him to catch up or remember what to do or what button does what. A videogame he does like to play with you is either Sims or animal crossing but even then he often loses sight of what he’s supposed to do.

He likes your jokes a lot. Though sometimes it may take a while to get it. You could have said a dad joke and three minutes later he starts chuckling. He’s not as good at shooting rapid fire puns as he once was but he can still semi do it. The dad joke and pun battles you two hold are fun and legendary.

✨✨

(US Sans) Sky:

Agrees with the ‘kill for your brother’ mentally. He respects that. Sky acts as if he doesn’t like your dad jokes but he does, good dad jokes he enjoys more openly.

Sky loves your animal buddies, he treats them as if they are your kids. “JEFFERY STOP STARING AT YOUR BROTHER AS IF YOU’RE ABOUT TO LUNGE AT HIM.”

He really likes your clothing style, it fits you well.

Sky really enjoys tabletop games, he loves to play D&D so if you even dare to show an inkling of interest in it, sky will drag you to join him.

You make sure he sometimes takes the time to relax instead of constantly doing everything. So you being a bit of a lazing around fan is good. He needs to relax sometimes. However, be prepared to go on many walks in forests and parks.

✨✨

Bear is not one for poly, except if your other partner is Bean so sadly enough no poly.

I hope you enjoyed it though!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

And Eat It, Too - Chapter Three: Double-Stitched

In which Georgie rocks, Jon is marked by the Slaughter, Elias is a bigger bastard than usual, and Michael tries its hand at some nifty new surgical techniques...

>>> NOW ON AO3!

Bastard Elias warning.

Slaughter-typical violence.

(Masterpost including playlist)

*

CHAPTER THREE

Going to work is the last thing he wants to do right now.

Jon wants to find the “last resort” Gertrude supposedly left behind.

Jon wants to avoid his coworkers, who no doubt hate his guts and will believe nothing he says.

Jon wants to go back to bed and sleep, except that will mean traveling through other people’s dreams again, watching their suffering.

Two were missing last night. He knows what that means. It means they died. The Fears finally caught them.

He’s ill as he tries to explain to Georgie what happened over toast and tea.

Not last night. No. He won’t touch that. She may not be able to feel fear, but he knows she’d call him an idiot, and she’d be right.

“What good are all these eye powers if nobody could find you for a month?” Georgie says.

“I’m still not completely sure they couldn’t,” Jon mutters. “Elias might have just left me there.”

Georgie looks suitably horrified. “You could have died.”

“Welcome to my life.”

“Jon. Quit. I keep telling you—”

“You know I can’t. We can’t. None of us can. It… it’s been taken from us, somehow.” He sighs. “Besides… I have to stop the Circus.”

“It shouldn’t all be on you, Jon,” says Georgie, and the look she gives him is why he fell in love years ago, it’s why he thought he could make it work even though he was made of spikes and sorrow.

“Well. It is,” he says. “Anyway, I… still need to look for a new place today.”

She sips tea. “Careful. The last time you said you were moving out at once, you disappeared taking trash to the bins.”

Kidnapped again, is what she isn’t saying. “Well, that was hardly my plan, was it?” he says.

“I don’t know. Was it?” And that look is why it did not work, and why their parting was less than amicable. “You weren’t being careful.”

“I didn’t know they were going to do that!”

“I think you should expect it, by now. Make your default mode going to be kidnapped.” She sips her tea. “I haven’t seen a lot of wise choices from you since you got here, Sims.”

Jon sighs. Definitely not telling her about last night. “I’m sorry, Georgie. About all of this.”

“Well, I’m not.” She clears the plates. “Let me know where you move.”

“No. You don’t deserve to be dragged any further into this.”

She plants her hands on the table and leans into his face. “Don’t insult me,” says Georgie Barker, What the Ghost podcast host, once the love of his life, and now the only person he truly counts as a friend. “You’re not the only one who gets to make choices here.”

“Now who’s making unwise decisions?”

“Not me. I’m not the one late for work.” She pauses, putting dishes in the sink. “If you’re gone before I get back, at least… feed the Admiral one more time. Put the key in the mail slot.”

“I will.” I still love you, but not like that. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” She doesn’t look at him again before leaving to dress for work.

#

It’s later that day that Jon realizes he can read French.

But he can’t read French. He was always rubbish at other languages, lacking the focus (or whatever magic it requires) to think through words in something other than his mother tongue.

But that didn’t stop him from reading and living François Deschamps’ recollection of the shit-show that was The Corruption seducing Benoît Maçon, filling him with bugs crawling out from under his fingernails and bliss he never realized was false as he let the thing consume him from within and become, become, become.

Jon read it. In French. And didn’t even notice.

It takes him a moment, but Jon decides this falls into creepy more than it does useful.

At least he knows where Gertrude went from there. Her laptop was finally proving itself worth the effort it took to crack.

New Zealand. Huh. “Right,” he mutters, scribbling notes. “Date range and country—maybe we can find something, some statement showing where she—”

“Jon?”

Jon hunches.

He’d managed to avoid everyone so far, but sure enough, Martin tracked him down. (In his office. Not much of a hiding spot.)

And he brought tea. “I… hello.” Martin inches in, stepping so quietly for such a large man, and places the tea on the desk.

“Martin,” says Jon softly, already feeling awful, the guilt from months of stalking and paranoia just lingering like disease.

Martin suddenly bursts. “I’m so sorry, John, I – Elias didn’t even tell any of us that you’d been kidnapped. I didn’t know –”

This is worse.

Jon raises his hands. “It’s all right! Martin, it… Elias didn’t tell anyone. There’s no way you could have known, and I wasn’t exactly here before, anyway.”

“No, you weren’t.”

It’s weird, that confirmation. Jon half-wanted the lie of social acceptability, the denial of his bad behavior, but Martin didn’t do that.

Jon decides that’s good.

“I mean,” Martin suddenly continues, “I’m sure you would have been, if you could.”

Jon makes a sound. He doesn’t deserve that grace.

“Are you all right? They… didn’t hurt you?”

Jon touches the bruises on his chin, hidden by poor lighting and dark skin. Thinks of warped calliope music, choking on a spray of water, plastic hands and violation. “No, I… I’m okay,” he lies, desperately searching for words, and suddenly has to laugh. “I mean, my skin’s in better condition than… ever. Is that… a weird thing to say?”

“A bit?” says Martin.

Jon could hug him right now. “It was basically all she talked about,” he says, floodgates opening with foolishness and enthusiasm. “Orsinov. I… it was…”

Martin’s face is a journey.

Don’t be so honest, Sims, he upbraids himself, lessons he learned as a child and has apparently forgotten now. “How has everyone been?” he asks instead.

And it’s about what he thought.

Tim is not okay. That’s an ache almost as bad as Sasha, except as long as Tim’s alive, maybe he can fix it.

Melanie (damn you, Elias, for hiring her) is a mess, subtly mutinous.

Basira is vibing. Who knew?

“And I don’t know where Daisy is, and that’s fine by me,” says Martin with the sweetest vindictiveness Jon has ever heard.

“All right.” Questions bubble, trying to burst from him like cooking oil, but he keeps himself to just one more. “Martin, does the rest of the Institute even know what’s going on down here?”

“Not really? I mean, Tim’s been going on about it to anyone who listens, but they just think he had a bit of a breakdown. I mean, they can quit.”

Jon sighs.

And then Martin talks about someone named Hannah whom Jon’s never seen in his life leaving to have her baby, and something about a milk incident in the breakroom, and he is lost, lost, and wonders if this is how people feel when they talk to him.

Martin seems to sense it and jumps back on topic. “So, are you coming back?”

New Zealand, Jon thinks. “I… I’m not sure. I may have to travel. Sort of a treasure hunt.”

“Oh?”

“In the sense of the world not ending, I mean.”

Martin looks exactly as shocked as Jon thinks is appropriate for that. “Oh.”

“I’ll keep in touch,” Jon promises, too little, too late, and then when Martin warms, makes it impersonal. “I need you digging into things. Researching for me.”

Martin’s warmth dims.

Jon misses it. “Um. Here. Anywhere in mid-2014, anything mentioning New Zealand. Can you, ah…”

“Sure, Jon,” says Martin, taking the post-it and brushing his fingers.

Martin goes red, stammers something indecipherable, and runs out of the office.

Jon stares at the door. “All right.”

At least Martin doesn’t hate him.

Jon doesn’t know why. Martin should. But he doesn’t.

Jon takes up all the statements he can find on the Spiral, and turns the tape recorder on.

#

Jon did not go to see Elias, and now, it’s far too late. Past eight; he’s missed his chance to look for a new place to live, too, and he’s kicking himself for it.

“Couldn’t just leave at a reasonable hour, could I,” he mutters, packing his things away with unnecessary aggression. “No, I had to stay until dark fell, because that’s the smart way to handle this, that’s the way to avoid getting kidnapped again.”

Fitting, he supposes, to lose track of time while studying the Spiral.

So many victims. The horror of doubting everything, from whether they really found a child’s tooth in their coffee to their own actual existence. It’s about fear, after all—the slow and terrifying loss of sanity, with awareness, bit by bit—and sometimes, Michael shows up. He’s not the only manifestation of the Spiral, but he is memorable: a charming, handsome blond man, smiling at them and invading their homes and laughing as they go mad and then die.

Elias was right. This was a terrible idea.

He’s not right, and he can go to hell, Jon retorts, shoving it aside, and checks the cheap, prepaid phone he just finished charging. He’s proud of himself for remembering to pick this up on the way in.

(Not so proud of the fact that he thought burner phone like the spy novels, but it was thrilling at the time.)

His bank account is, fortunately, all right. Elias continued to pay him while he was on the run for murder. Go figure. Jon can afford a cab, and that seems a much better idea than dealing with public transport right now. He thinks he has enough for a deposit on a new apartment, too, if he doesn’t stay too close to the Institute—gods know, it’s expensive in Chelsea.

“Not fair, is it?” he mutters to no one as he stalks from his office, glaring around like an angry badger in case he runs into anyone else. “Not enough to deal with the end of the world, no, not enough to sleep with mind-eating monsters and dancing mannequins, but we’ve got to pay bills on top of it. Ridiculous.”

Up the stairs (maybe it’s all those Buried statements, but elevators feel bad right now), through the quiet, dark library, and he’s almost to the front door when he hears the shouting.

It’s Melanie. She’s screaming?

She’s cursing.

Someone is getting their ears torn out, anyway.

Jon’s hand is on the door. A step from freedom. He could just go. He could just do it—

“I’ll kill you!” he hears, and runs in that direction before he can think.

Her raging turns to true screams, and he drops his bag to run faster.

Rosie’s gone home, desk empty, but Elias’s office is lit, the door open, its glass shattered all over the floor.

The screaming stops just as he leaps in.

Melanie is on her knees.

She’s gripping a wicked-looking knife.

She’s also gripping her head, digging in with her nails so hard that she’s making her scalp bleed, and whatever she’s staring at is nowhere in this room.

“Melanie!” Jon cries, going to her.

Elias sits behind his desk, unruffled, eyebrows up. “I was wondering when you’d pop in for our chat. Pity you didn’t come sooner.”

What was this? What was this? “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing I would do to you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Elias.

Melanie screams.

It’s long, drawn until she’s out of breath, and then she just goes quiet again.

She’s cut into her own ear with the knife. Jon pulls it from her hand and drops it on the floor, relieved that she doesn’t fight him. “Melanie. Melanie, look at—”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Jon,” says Elias, who’s already gone back to scribbling on paperwork. “You don’t want her associating her current… predicament with your face, I assure you.”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Elias sighs, puts down his pen, and steeples his fingers with a long-suffering look. “While you’ve been gone—”

“Kidnapped!”

“Yes. While you’ve been gone, she has tried to kill me three times.”

Jon blinks at him. “What?”

“She doesn’t believe me, you see—that my death would result in your death, and Basira’s, and everybody’s. Though the part of her that does believe considers it a fair trade.”

Jon looks back and forth, back and forth, out of words, feeling his experience being eaten by the Eye, feeling pleasure coursing through him as a sick and unwanted thank you for all the new horror, and turns away from them both, panting.

“What did you do, Elias?” he says to the floor.

“I showed her something she did not want to see.” So casual, backed by the scratch of pen on paper.

“Showed her? What, you… shoved… images into her brain?” Another power he knew nothing about?

“I warned her last time that if she did it again, I’d burn them into her memory,” Elias says in a near-whisper. “Well, here we are.” And he makes a genteel shrug, hands to either side, politely regretful with his whole body.

Melanie is shaking, crying silently. She seems completely disconnected, drowned in whatever Elias did.

Jon wonders if any of the Eye’s glaring gifts include setting people on fire.

“That’s more the Devastation’s thing, I think,” says Elias. “Now, we need to continue our discussion from last night.”

“We damn well do not,” says Jon, trying to lift her. “She needs a doctor.”

“She needs to sit in it and learn,” snaps Elias. “And we need to talk.”

“Go to hell, Elias,” Jon says, and pulls her up anyway.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Elias calls after them, but does not follow.

Melanie is hard to move. She’s stiff, unresponsive. Her whole body is a rictus of misery. And she’s panting.

“Come on, Melanie,” he mutters, knowing she can’t hear him. “Almost there. Don’t scream again. We don’t need police attention, or some… predator, drawn toward the sound. You’re all right. You can do this.”

She makes no noise at all.

He looks for a cab. No way she’s good for the tube right now, absolutely no—

Melanie attacks him.

She had a second knife somewhere (and he knew that, he knew that, some part of his Eye-brain knew that she did, but he’d ignored it), and she gets him deep in the shoulder and he goes down with a cry.

She screams at him, roars, raising both hands with the knife overhead like some kind of vampire slayer, and against the streetlights and cloud-dark sky, she looks completely insane.

Instinct curls Jon up, making himself as small a target as possible.

Silence.

He peeks.

She is gone. Off, into the night, who knows where.

“What?” he gasps. “She stopped?”

Did she go back after Elias?

No, he thinks. Even in her current state (and he knows somehow that  this madness isn’t Elias’ fault, but he doesn’t want to believe that, so he doesn’t), she will go nowhere near the “heart of the Institute” for a while. In fact, Elias’ proximity might be why she ran.

His shoulder is beginning to feel…not good.

Jon sits up, panting. His hand comes away very wet and very red.

“I leave you alone for a few minutes, Archivist, and look what you’ve gotten yourself into,” purrs Michael from behind him, sounding on the edge of laughter. “But then, I suppose you can’t be blamed for the Slaughter’s attentions.”

Fear leaps, juddering his already rapid heart.

All the statements he’s read flood through him, there and known in an instant, a half-dozen traumas in the blink of an eye. He swallows. “The Slaughter? Melanie? Since when?”

“Oh, I don’t know that,” says Michael, now crouching in front of him. His human guise is an insult, cherubic, still a large man, but far too innocent for the monster it hides.

Jon blinks once.

Michael is significantly closer without having seemed to move.

That, or blood loss is doing a number on him. I’m blacking out, he thinks, slightly panicked.

Elias has to be seeing this whole thing. They’re still on Institute property.

Jon knows he won’t be given aid. Not when all of this can feed the damned Eye.

I can do it myself, he thinks as he stands.That’s a lot of blood, he thinks as goes back down to his knees.

“It’s almost sad to see you like this,” says Michael, watching him with complete fascination. “Almost.”

“Either help me, or go away,” Jon snaps.

Michael laughs. “No?” it says, because both suggestions are funny, and Jon tries to crawl down the last of the stairs.

Melanie. He has to find her.

He has no chance of finding her.

The Eye could help him find her.

She’s infected by the Slaughter, somehow.

If he finds her, she’ll kill him.

If he doesn’t find her, she’ll kill someone else—or worse, infect other people.

Jon chokes and looks at his shoulder. Is he infected? Is he about to go mad, slashing at innocents?

“You do have some protections, you know,” says Michael, who has crouched again on each step as Jon’s achieved it, watching him at eye-height with the same unblinking interest. “A little wound like that won’t make you their servant.”

“Oh, good, I’ll bleed out with my own mind intact,” Jon says, and tries to stand again.

A car passes. A cab—

Jon couldn’t get its attention in time. Just raising his good hand is… a lot. “Ugh,” he says, and decides to lie down on the cold, stone step, facing the sky, and hope that rain comes to wash the blood away.

Michael leans over, ruining the view. “Are you done already?” it says, hair curtaining Jon’s face.

“If I say yes, will you go away?” Jon says.

Michael laughs, and Jon closes his eyes, riding it through, trying to find some place within it that doesn’t hurt so much.

And then Michael is close, so close that its breath tickles his face, and it has no odor at all. “You. Need. A door,” it whispers, and Jon falls through.

#

He lands in the Corridors with a thud and stares as a ceiling-door—yellow, of course—slams shut and disappears.

Or was it a ceiling-door?

Wait.

Is he on the ceiling?

Wait.

Michael laughs. “I do so love these first few moments, Archivist. I would keep you like this forever, if I could.”

His shoulder is throbbing. His heart is racing. “Let’s see Elias talk to me in here,” Jon challenges no one for no discernable reason, and then moans as Michael prods the wound.

“S-stop that,” Jon says. “It hurts.”

“No,” it says.

Prod, poke, stab.

Jon decides he has enough energy to roll away from it.

Michael stays crouched there. Blood paints its long fingers—his blood—and it seems more interested in him than ever.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Jon says with more courage than he feels, and then realizes what Michael did.

His shoulder has been stitched.

No, not sane stitches. That pattern means something, makes the eyes spin if looked at too long, but by gum, the wound is closed.

He’s stunned.

“I have made you speechless,” observes Michael, deeply pleased. “We’ll add that to the tally, shall we?”

“Wh… why did you…”

“What will you do now, Archivist?”

Jon scowls. “How should I know? I… I need to find Melanie.”

“You do know she’ll return on her own, don’t you?” says Michael. “She is marked by the Slaughter, but she still belongs to the Ceaseless Watcher. You only need wait.”

“You are not the reasonable one in this conversation,” snaps Jon, thinking of a victim who couldn’t sleep until her heart gave out, thinking of a priest convinced he was possessed because the Spiral tricked him into eating parishioners, thinking of—

“You’re very concerned with my dietary choices,” says Michael.

“You had no right to eat them,” he snaps. “They were innocent.”

“Innocent? What is innocent? I am fear, Archivist; fear of madness and delusion, fear that they create themselves. I only drink it, like a flower drinks the light. What is innocent? They create, I take. That is the natural order of things.”

“It’s wrong, is what it is,” Jon says, shaky, aware he’s inside Michael right now, aware that he’ll have no egress unless Michael lets him go. “Those people didn’t deserve to be driven mad and then destroyed.”

“Oh?” Michael tilts its head and smiles, smiles, its face splitting like some sort of alien’s, its darkness spilling out through its lips and its ears and its eyes and its pores until it is a writhing mass of smudgy black, veiling the human form. “And who, in your opinion, does? Not that your opinion will change things, you understand. But I am curious.”

“I am not assigning victims for you!” Jon says, pressing back against the wall (it’s papered, why does it feel like flesh, why does it feel like skin) and then lurching forward again, shuddering.

“Then you cannot critique my choice of them.”

How did this happen, how did he get himself into this mess, is Michael actually asking, will it take advice if given, would it ever stop taking people (Jon knows that’s a no), does he actually have the right to declare who deserves death and who does not—

“Archivist,” sings Michael.

“I’m thinking,” Jon says.

“Do you wish to sleep here?”

That takes a moment to parse. “What, in your stomach? No!”

“Then I shall take you away. If I leave you bleeding on the street tonight, something will just come and kill you. And that pleasure is mine, someday.”

Jon groans. Returning to Georgie’s now feels like some kind of defeat. “I don’t want to.”

“Oh, Archivist,” says Michael, having gone back to looking human. “I don’t want you there. You have to be quiet there, and I dislike it.”

“I said I’m not sleeping in the Corridors.”

Michael grins. Behind it opens a door.

There is a room. A fancy one.

It’s some kind of penthouse. High up, the far wall entirely of glass and framing London’s skyline, a stunning view across the Thames and a glimpse of Westminster Palace.

The only lights are ambient, from the city, and he can only see what’s immediately beyond the door.

Jon could not fight this curiosity to save his life. He has to snoop.

It’s largely empty, furniture wrapped in sheets, dark and cool and slightly golden from the nightlights of the city. Jon wanders to the windows and stares down at the narrow, tree-lined street without cars, across the glittering water, at the distant lighted places of government.

He barely hears traffic. It smells like nothing.

He turns.

Michael has commandeered one of the sheet-covered couches and lies there, watching him.

Don’t do it, Jon tells himself, then goes to explore, anyway.

The kitchen has more (and fancier) cooking implements than he could use for the rest of his life.

The bedrooms have the same glass walls, but darker, as if covered with some kind of film for privacy. They are also furnished, and one closet is full of clothes.

The bathroom is bigger than Georgie’s whole apartment.

He looks for a sign of who owns it, tries to determine if it’s someone Michael has killed, tries to find any indication of what the hell this is.

Nothing. He storms back out. “What is this?”

“It belongs to one of us who is.”

“You’ll have to explain better than that.”

“The worker-of-clay is gone, Archivist,” says Michael, and its tone is bad again, its tone bitter, like when it told its story in the Circus,  and Jon listened without breath. “When Gertrude succeeded, and the altar to me fell, he tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud, and all we had built was scattered. Some of us were cast to all the places that aren’t. Some… survived, though Sanikov Land did not. One of those who lived owns this place. I asked, and he has given it to me.”

“Given it to you? What—someone touched by the Distortion has a job?” Jon has no idea why that didn’t occur to him before. Even Gabriel (the worker-of-clay, indeed) must have had a source of income. Still, it seems absurd. “I doubt you’ll be paying the property tax,” he snaps, fighting the sorrow he hears in its voice, striving not to know the regret and loss at the failure of its ritual, but he cannot help it, cannot push it aside, and he sits on another sheeted thing as he takes it all in.

It had been so happy when the Great Twisting almost came true. Weirdly, innocently happy.

Ivo Lensik's father, he reminds himself, fighting compassion. The man on the stair who wasn’t there. Deborah Madaki and her entire sculpting class.

“Do you think I deserved to fall, Archivist?” says Michael in a light tone.

“Yes,” says Jon, softly. “But I’m…” Not sure? “You’re evil.”

“What is evil? Do you blame the sun for for burning? The water for drowning? Lions, for hunting gazelle? I am a what, Archivist, not a who—and cannot be bound by your definitions.”

“Michael, that’s not true,” Jon says, frustrated.

Michael laughs. “That is a name.”

Jon puts his face in his hands. His shoulder hurts. He feels woozy. “Take me back,” he says, muffled. “I can’t handle your conundrums tonight.”

“No,” says Michael.

“Then I’ll walk out of here,” says Jon.

“Any door you choose will become me, Archivist,” says Michael.

“Why? Why would you do that? You’re trapping me here until I go mad?”

Michael finds his panic hilarious, apparently, and gives it voice.

Jon leans forward, breath shallow, riding it out. He’s almost found it, he thinks: the place to go where Michael’s laugh isn’t so horrid, though he’d be hard-pressed to explain it to anyone.

And Michael answers him. “Because you are not well. Because you will try to chase down a servant of the Slaughter who knows your face and blames you for her pain. Because you have lost more blood than you realize—believe me, your delirium is delicious—and while I will eventually kill you, I do not wish you to die tonight. You are far more pleasing alive, for now.”

Jon sighs and lies back on the sheet. He thinks this might be some kind of settee.

“Rest, Archivist,” Michael soothes.

This is suicidal.

On the other hand, Jon’s not sure he has the strength to go anywhere else right now.

The Eye will do its thing; by morning, he’ll be fine, wound halfway to scarring, blood renewed. Tonight, he thinks he’d make it halfway down whatever fire-escape stairway he could find before passing out.

Assuming Michael even let him enter the fire escape.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” he murmurs, and just to be stubborn: “I don’t even have my things.”

Michael dangles his bag. When the creature had a chance to grab that, he’ll never know.

An idea surfaces.

It feels awful. Worse than worse, like he’s betraying a friend—but like so many moments in his life right now, he feels he has no choice. “Could you hand me my phone, please?”

Michael does, the small, black rectangle delicately pinched between its sharp fingers.

Jon dials.

“Basira,” he says. “I’m sorry to bother you. Do you know where Daisy is? Right. There’s… something you need to know.” He rubs his face. “Please tell Daisy… don’t kill her. I don’t know what’s happened, but Melanie’s been infected by the Slaughter.”

(part four)

[eightmagicballs]

just tossing this out, its a bit long and nonsensical so im throwing it under a read more:

so id been thinking about the stirrups and reins, and they definitely need to be made accessible to change colours and styles, and i'm thinking theres two ways to go about it: -keep them disappearing like they are now until the sim mounts the horse, it'll probably be an easier route tbh but less realistic. if thats the case, then the plan i think would be something like:

--make them not debug (probably through s4s)

--make a script mod to access the swatches/types since there's no current way to do it (bc debug)

--probably through a new object you can put in the tackroom or something, i'm thinking the same way you use the umbrella stand (but im not sure if doing that would make it require seasons or not)

second way would be:

-make them always visible, the reins actually already have a 'resting' pose, so it might be doable, but the stirrups don't so that would have to be done fresh

-then putting in something to stop the stirrups in particular from always being attached to the rider (maybe just add something that reverts them to their default position unless the horse is mounted?)

(all of this is a GROSS simplification the more i think about it the more that would need to be messed around with, and the more chance of it going wrong)

-but this way the saddle and bridles could just include their own reins and stirrups, the pack ones would just have the default attached with some seperation w the stirrups

honestly the more i think about the second option the more doable the first one sounds

then again i've never touched a script mod in my life (tbf i've barely touched modding period)

someone reblogged my stirrups thing asking about toggleability and yeah, i think its super doable but it requires you to be able to change swatches, just to an 'invisible' swatch which means it hits the same roadblock as what i'm trying to do with being able to choose your own stuff. i do think its something that we need because i want to use both western and english tack -and im sure others do too- but the equipment is so different that it just looks wierd to try and have the same for both. also there's so many different styles of stirrups and reins in general.

i will be looking at how scripts work soon to try and figure this out.

[clarktooncrossing]

Hey there people of today and robots of tomorrow! It's me, Clark, back at least with another #throwbackthursday, just in time for the highly-anticipated Across the Spider-Verse! With Miles set to swing across the big screen again, I figured how would be a good time to show off this piece I made in 2020 featuring my characters from 3K. 3K is set in the year 3000 (hence the super subtle name) where robots are as common as people. So much so that a group of them band together in order to defend the planet from internal and external threats. One of its founding members is AH, a robot who went blind after seeing years of war now fighting for peace. Yet in another dimension she is one of a handful of robots who is infused with the powers of a spider, AH herself dawning the mantle of SpidAH-Girl. She fights crime in New York City alongside her friend ERN-E (Classic Spidey) and EMIL-E (Spider-Gwen).

In case this pic doesn't make it super obvious, I am a huge fan of Mayday Parker's Spider-Girl, her series acting as a gateway for my eventual love of comic books. Having fallen in love with the Raimi trilogy around the same time I discovered Google, I stumbled across the cover for The Amazing Spider Girl #1 and my life was never the same after. May zigged in everyway her father zagged. While she wasn't as physically strong as Peter was, I'd argue she was mentally and morally stronger than her old man ever was. Where Pete thinks that someone dies every time he fails, May sees it as somebody lives every time she succeeds. Along with that she has faster reflexes, a keener spider sense, can magnetize surfaces with her adhesion abilities, and even inherited her mother Mary Jane's sense of style. This is most evident by the fact that she looks way better in Ben Reily's spider suit than Ben himself ever did. On top of that she's a big brother, which is also cool.

I have draw AH as Spider-Girl before, as seen with this sketch from 2019-

However, this pic didn't keep me up until 1 or 2 AM. What can I say, when I get an idea in my head, nothing stops me until I see it completed. Especially when the end result turned out so great. I liked how AH looks in both her super suit and casual clothes, not to mention her lil' logo was a nice personal touch. If I were to change anything now it'd be to swap out EMIL-E's Spider-Gwen outfit for MJ's Spinneret from Renew Your Vows. EMIL-E and ERN-E are supposed to be a couple and by now I've jumped aboard the Miles x Gwen ship. It's the one time I will ever ship a Spider-Man with Gwen outside of Spectacular Spider-Man. Otherwise the reason I drew EMIL-E like this was because of a Halloween pinup my friends SIM-N and I did for Halloween back in 2016.

Looking back now, I wish we had named these pin ups something other than Playbot. Chock it up to be being a dumb teenager. Speaking of dumb, hey tumblr, screw you and your limit on image size! This is an art sharing website, I should be able to upload files regardless of size! Especially when I wanna share these old Halloween pin-ups later this year!

For now though, there's other retro Spidey art to show! Such as this DUDEL I made for SIM-N back in 2016.

For those of you wondering, the robot in the Jessica Drew suit is Monova, a bad@$$ character he designed that he now criminally underutilizes. I'd ask him why that is, but he never gives me straight answers! However, he did leave this comment when he saw this pic:

Monova: Okay you two definitively need to get married soon

So, y'know, that was funny. XD

With all that said, I hope you all enjoy this nostalgic trip through my past Spider-3K work and enjoy Across the Spider-Verse when it comes out tomorrow! I know I will! Until then, MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

[dyandyan0]

trying to be philosophical... and #mindful 09.02.2024

currently packing for the big move tomorrow. i procrastinated all day because i didn't want to start until all the laundry was done, and i got way too into sims again so i've been playing that whenever i have the free time and ended up wasting like half the day. anyways, i had this podcast on in the background while packing and it touched on a lot of things that i had been contemplating lately. i initially clicked on it cos i was like wow serj and dwight from the office. it was just very random and unexpected to see this duo on the front page of my youtube. i didn't even know rainn wilson had a philosophy/interview podcast!! besides the point, i was inspired by both of the ways serj and rainn saw creativity, art, and how they connected that to their views on sprituality and prayer. i don't want to butcher what they said and meant by trying to explain it myself, but they lay it out beautifully in the first 20 minutes of the video.

this topic made me think about how i have been able to take care of myself on a deeper, more spiritual level. i have never been religious. i think i believe in god, but i don't know if it's just because i fear what's to come after death, and the thought of a heaven and god is comforting to me. despite that, i often times have a deep resent towards many organized religions and teachings. it's hard for me to meditate and pray in a way that is meaningful to my soul and healing to my mind when i feel so conflicted about the topic. in the podcast, serj talks about his creative outlets and how they serve as a kind of prayer and meditation for him, and it really made me think.

i think about a more peaceful time in my life, when i was in middle school to early high school. i used to draw every single day. i used to draw on any piece of paper i could find. i was constantly sharing art, looking at art online, making connections through a small artist community, and finding new ways to advance my skills. i would start a project, and wouldn't stop until it was finished. by then the entire day would have gone by. i rarely get these bursts of creativity nowadays, with my last piece being made back earlier this year... and before that i don't even know when. it pains me all the time how abruptly i stopped drawing and painting once i hit high school. i feel all the time as though my ego got the best of me, i wanted to give into things that didn't serve me, petty high school drama, toxic relationships, a feeling that i needed to prove myself to people who didn't care about me at all. of course, i don't blame myself for giving into these things. i was a teenager, and most teenagers do. but i'm sad that i feel like i sacrificed my creative drive, my purpose for a very long time, to this lifestyle that i fell into, and i feel like i never got it back. i try so hard to find passion in art again. i look back at the stacks of filled sketchbooks in my closet that i completed from my early teen years often. i get inspired by them, open a new sketchbook, and struggle to make anything that i am proud of or feel like i'm having fun making.

i'm not completely hopeless though. i started scrapbooking earlier this year. it feels like a form of free therapy when i collect a bunch of new photos, receipts, former letters, tickets, etc. and sit down for hours to display them in the book. i felt serj on a deep level when he talked about painting and how he would start, then finish, and notice that hours had gone by. that's how i felt when i used to draw all the time, and how i feel now when i get the chance to scrapbook new things. i just want to have another outlet for me to express myself that's fun again, that makes me feel happy and good about things.

i don't know if i'm being a bit vague or if what i'm saying resonates with anybody. i just feel like i have felt lost for a very long time because i lost my sense of purpose. i lost my drive, a way for me to meditate and feel like i'm contributing to the universe, even in a small way. i'm trying to be more hopeful that i can go back to a point where i'm proud of myself in this way.

[xx-alice-in-wonderland-xx]

15 Questions For 15 Mutuals Even Though No One Likes Me Enough To Tag Me Lmao

1. Are you named after anyone?  Yeah, I was named after an actress from the nineties who my dad had a ‘crush’ on lmao, for a long time they decided on something else for me, but after I was born my dad went ‘let’s name her a after that actress’ and they went along with it 🤷‍♀️

2. When was the last time you cried?  This is low-key kinda ridiculous, but I saw a fake, AI trailer for a new twilight film and I got so excited I started texting everyone I knew who liked twilight only for them to tell me it was fake and I started bawling 😭 idk if I was hormonal cuz the light switch was on or if it was cuz I love twilight sm

3. Do you have kids?  Nope! But I hope to have them when I’m older! Actually, in lockdown I saw this video of a teen mum and she was showing her morning routine with her sim, and my idiot brain was like ‘I wanna get pregnant’ cuz I liked how her room was set out or somet 😭

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?  Girl, if I don’t use sarcasm then it’s either a really serious situation or I’m sick, when do I not use it lmao. My mums been yelling at me to stop and I’ve promised her I won’t 😚

5. What sports do you play/have you played?  I absolutely hate sport because I have anxiety of people judging me, and I have health issues so I can only do certain sports, but I used to do Dance, Gymnastics and Swimming!

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?  Their atmosphere and how they act to me! I always can see if they’re hostile, and don’t like me, or if they’re friendly and are happy to be talking with me!

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Well… this is hard cause I like scary movies, but also happy endings cause they make me less dead inside I mean happy, but imma go with scary movies!

8. Any special talents? Well, i have quite a few! Like I said, I used to do gymnastics but I wasn’t the most flexible, however, I was more flexible in different ways! I can bend my thumb back to touch my arm, when I’m sitting I can twist my legs so the back of my thighs are facing up and my knees are facing down, when I stretch my arms to make them straight the elbow goes forward, I guess like this ➡️ > (left arm) < (right arm), I can wrap my whole arm around my head, and that’s it I guess!!

9. Where were you born?  UK 🇬🇧

10. What are your hobbies?  I am a passionate singer, and in school I was always singing in every production/musical possible! I have been told I’m very good, but there’s still things I need to work on like my breath control and more whistle notes, but I’m getting there!! I also love to dance and learn Kpop dances (my favourite dance is actually Thunderous by Stray Kids!), and I love to draw (Yes, I got that hate comment saying ‘NeVeR dRaW aGaIn’ but that was cause I drew in anime, which isn’t my strong point, realism is, you don’t believe me? See my unfinished Olivia Rodrigo drawing on my blog!) I’m also an avid video gamer, I make edits of my favourite shows (mainly the tudors rn), I also like acting, and I like doing mine, my friends and family’s makeup or experimenting with new makeup looks, hacks, methods and products!

11. Do you have any pets?  Yes!! I have a dog, and I used to have 3 hamsters but they died, 2 Guinea pigs who we gave to my mums friends daughter because we moved and didn’t have room for them, but they’re in good health, and 2 cats who technically aren’t my pets but I classify them as mine.

12. How tall are you?  I think I’m around 4’11-5’2. Somet like that

13. Fave subject in school? Definitely drama! I also like History aswell though!

14. Dream job?  I wanna be in Eurovision, so I guess a singer? But also I wanna be a flight attendant (not cuz of Jeenie weenie), and I really wanna be a voice actor so… idk 15. Eye colour? Bright green with a dark blue ring at the edge!

[jaylaxies]

ENHYPEN AS YOUR FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

PAIRING: enhypen hyung line x fem!reader

GENRE: smut

WC: 856 words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

LEE HEESEUNG:

The best friend.

Heeseung and you had always been close, he was your best friend and, of course, you both trusted each other enough to share your house keys. He had a hard time trusting new people, however, he also wanted to try out new things, just like you did. So, one day when he couldn't help but see the proximity between you both as you sat down to watch a rather, mature movie. Ever since that night, you couldn't keep your hands off each other, he had kissed you deeply, every inch of you before he proceeded to fuck you, thrusting into your hole like he had always wanted to. It became a regular thing afterwards, he loved how responsive you were to his touches and how perfectly he remembered your body and all your sweet spots, he also wanted to make it exclusive, harbouring feelings for you, which he shouldn't have done in the first place. That didn't stop him from coming over to your place and bending you over to thrust into your hole, calling you his sweet fuckdoll as he ruined you.

PARK JAY:

The stranger at a party.

He met you at a party, eyes fixated on your figure. He had never met you before, maybe because you were from a different university, but that didn't stop him from approaching you. Introduction turned into a small talk, which then turned into dancing, with you grinding your ass against his clothed hardening cock, until he couldn't take it anymore and dragged you towards the secluded balcony, his lips on your neck as he pounded into you from behind, your moans all over the place which were soon mixed with the loud music downstairs. “Be louder, baby,” he had said, biting your ear as he proceeded to rub your clit, and soon, you made a mess all over his cock as his own cum dripped down your thighs. Ever since then, he couldn't stop thinking about you, regretting not exchanging numbers with you, until he saw you at another party, this time, he fucked you harder and made sure to turn this into a routine, successfully getting your number and turning your relationship into a friends with benefits one.

SIM JAKE:

The pervy guy next door.

Jake had always been a friendly neighbour, he greeted you with the biggest smile and also made sure to check up on you regularly, which you appreciated a lot. It all started when you baked cookies, packing some to give them to Jake. You rang the doorbell and after a minute, he opened the door, hair messy and cheeks flushed, “Hey, y/n, didn't know you were coming today!” he spoke, hiding behind the door. “Yeah! I baked some cookies, so I thought to share some with you,” you spoke up sweetly and he ushered you inside, asking you to sit down, saying how he'll be back in a minute. However, you didn't expect to hear faint moans once you sat down. Being curious, you made your way towards the bathroom, only to see the door behind slightly ajar and Jake moaning your name as he stroked his red and leaking cock. “Why didn't you just ask for help?” you spoke up. Safe to say, Jake took up your offer, not to mention how he wanted to fuck you since he saw you wearing a short skirt once. He rolled his head back once you started stroking his cock, soon he took you to his bedroom and fucked you from behind, slapping your ass alongside, thrusting into you until you both reached your peak. “Again?” he'd ask before slamming his cock inside you. Since then, he was always there when you felt needy and vice versa.

PARK SUNGHOON:

The enemy turned into enemies with benefits.

You considered Sunghoon your enemy, for he was always ready to tease and disrupt your peace despite being in the same friend group, rarely being civil with you. One day, you came back to your place only to find your whole friend group there, however, the day wasn't the best for you and you needed a little time for yourself. Sunghoon didn't get that, following you back to your room, “Leave,” you simply said, “How about, no?” he smirked and you sighed, “I swear, Sunghoon. I'm not in the mood for you pathetic jokes,” you warned, stepping closer. “Yeah? Then what do you want, angel?” he asked, stepping closer as well until he towered over your figure and grabbed your chin, trapping you against the wall, “Having a bad day? Want me to fuck you better?” he'd offer, not expecting you to give up and whimper out a yes, feeling weak and needy. “No strings attached,” you breathed out as he held you up, fucking you against the wall, hand on your mouth to prevent any noises from coming out, his cock hitting your g-spot while your nails scratched his shoulders as you held on to him. “You'll have to return the favour,” he breathes out once you cream his cock. And by returning the favour, he meant to make this a regular thing.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[dreamstatesims]

i've received a couple asks for a tutorial of how i create gifs. i know there are really great tutorials out there already. personally, i find photoshop too tedious, time-consuming, unstable, and with varying end results due to file size constraints for tumblr.

so, what's my secret for saving time and not jumping through hoops for clean gifs? i cheat. honestly, ezgif does most of the work for me.

for my step-by-step process, see below!

record your gameplay using geforce experience. another free option is obs studio. if you use reshade/gshade, then you'll need one of these programs to capture the game as you see it.

next, upload your video to ezgif and trim the it down to roughly 10 seconds (or less). this is the start time and end time you see just below the video preview. you can use the video controls to see where you want to start and stop in real-time.

then, change the image size to original (up to 800px) and frame rate to 10 (max 30 seconds). you can push the frame rate higher for shorter gifs, but i've found it's unnecessary and this frame rate keeps the file size down.

method should automatically load up as ffmpeg and doesn't need to be touched. directly below that, check the option to optimize for static background.

your settings should look like this once you've uploaded the video and made the adjustments listed above:

now convert to gif! it may take a few seconds, but your gif will appear below this button. notice the file size, width, height, and frame total? we need to keep the file size under 10mb for tumblr. i generally try to keep it under 9.5mb because tumblr can be finnicky about it and sometimes rejects anything close to 10mb.

if you're already under 10mb (9.5) and like the current aspect ratio, then you can right-click and save your gif as-is. if you're still over the maximum file size or want to change the image ratio, let's continue!

optimization under your new gif, you'll see the crop feature. click through so we can change the aspect ratio. this is up to your preferences, honestly. you can select from the automatic ratios (a lot of folks like 1:1) and then center the box freely. personally, i prefer a 5:4 ratio that isn't listed on the site. since i know the ratio in pixels to fit tumblr's dashboard width, i type my custom dimensions into the fields. (width: 540, height: 430) but you can input whatever you like.

convert your gif again for the cropped dimensions. this should hopefully have you around the 9.5mb file size.

if not, click the optimize link below your gif. from the drop down list under optimization method, select remove every 4th frame, then convert one last time for the smallest file size without losing quality.

if you're still over because you have a lot of shifting colors or you're using a gif longer than 10 seconds, then you can either keep dropping frames off or resize the gif to smaller dimensions.

when you're done, right-click and save your gif so you can then upload it to tumblr. never, ever direct-link from ezgif. these previews you see on their site self-destruct after a few minutes and i can't guarantee that tumblr will publish them. always save and upload.

note: a lot of shifting colors in your original video may create unwanted pixelation. the image is having to move colors around in an attempt to stay smooth. even with that pixelation, i've found this method maintains an overall smoother texture than photoshop.

that's it! i hope this helps making gifs easier and faster for everyone since you don't really need any fancy or paid programs. if you have any questions or find errors in this tutorial, send me an ask!

happy simming!

[alittlebirb]

Hhhhhhh thinking about dialtown too long causes me to start bouncing off the walls-

It's about the self-actualization and the player's purpose in the story being to nudge every character along the path to personal fulfillment, from the dateables to Ticket Jerry to Gingi themselves. There is only one universe with Gingi in it, and it's the one where everyone becomes their best selves. It's about the fact that the canon timeline, where Norm takes center stage, purposefully includes the happy endings from each dateable in the same timeline, which doesn't make chronological sense but satisfies the need for each person living in this up and down world to find their joy and keep it.

It's about the fact that, despite Dialtown ostensibly being a dating simulator, Gingi's relationships with each character aren't shoehorned into the simplified box of romance, but occupy the messy and complex and REAL space between where their lives intersect. The character dynamics have CHARACTER, and the overarching purpose of each route isn't to date them, but to make them happy. Your stories don't end with true love's kiss. It ends when Karen says she has to leave to pursue her dream, but you're one thing in this town that she'll miss. It ends when Oliver is able to have a heart to heart with Mr. Dickens, understanding that all the sacrifices he made were so Oliver could fulfill his potential as a person and as a creator, and taking that knowledge to build something new. It ends when Norm lowers his gun and stops chasing revenge, choosing to instead find the kindness which exists in this world and make his own joy, in spite of all the pain it's put him through. It ends, and then it begins again.

It's about the burning dumpster fire of humanity that every person is a part of, and how they each are valued as people in their own right. They all have their own personal histories and stories outside of Gingi; Oliver values Mr. Dickens above everyone else in his life, Jerry has a herd of sick dogs to tend to, Karen knows Bigfoot and has a vault full of his bananas she delivers to him every Sunday, I could go on! I have never played a dating sim where every character is so full of life and interest and value, to the point where the player character themselves, Gingi, has their own distinct personality which could not be substituted with any other person without having the entire story collapse.

It's about the flawed but beautiful nature of their existences, filled with struggle and division but throughout it all they reach out to each other. Gingi helps Karen quit her job and profit as an artist. Oliver doesn't hesitate to shelter Gingi and Norm when they return from exile. Gabby indulges the kids who come into her shop and encourages them to experiment and find themselves. Dialtown itself might be shit, run by a corrupt system that leeches the soul out of its inhabitants, but the people care. The people matter, and they always have.

It's about the inherent queerness which runs through the very fabric of the game, inextricably shaping the story and the world it takes place in. It's about ostracization from a world which cannot understand and thus fears you. It's about finding family in the downtrodden and unwanted, building something pure and good in the midst of all this chaos. It's about not fitting in a box and fighting against the forces which try to force you to.

It's about how this story was made and filled to the fucking brim with love, and it's received with a heartfelt, wild kind of joy from the people it's touched. In a world which aims to commodify every morsel of humanity that's left, Dialtown is the farthest thing from that. It's weird, creepy, absurd and incredibly cursed, but there's something to connect to. And that's all that matters.

It's about Joy. It's about Kindness. It's about Living. And that makes me go fucking wild.

[edie-baby]

we're okay, we're alright | lando norris

summary: When Lando Norris has a panic attack, McLaren's personal assistant, Olivia McKinnon, is there to calm him down. Even if they have to penguin walk.

word count: 2337

warnings: panic attacks

When a seventeen year old Olivia McKinnon first joined the McLaren F1 team as a personal assistant to their drivers, Fernando Alonso and Stoffel Vandoorne were in the cockpits, and she got along well with both of them. Fernando had become a bit of an uncle to the teenager, teaching her Spanish whenever she asked, and ruffling up her hair in the most inconvenient of situations. Stoffel was much like an older brother, he joked around with her, teased her endlessly, and was always quick to worry if anything happened to her - he also threatened to beat up her boyfriend when she found out he was cheating on her, but that’s beside the point.

The day the news broke that two new drivers would be filling the seats of the two men she was incredibly close to, it shocked Oli. She was finally getting used to the specifics of the older men’s orders - how they liked coffee, water, what food they liked in what moods, who they were always happy to answer calls from, and who to consistently avoid. And now she’d be having to learn it for two completely new people.

Carlos Sainz she had seen around the paddock, never spoken to nor been introduced to, however after the first few weekends of seeing her multiple times, they began exchanging smiles in passing. He seemed nice, and Oli figured she might be able to continue her Spanish lessons if they got on well enough.

Lando Norris however, Oli had a complicated relationship with. They had bumped into each other multiple times around the MTC when he was there for meetings or sim work, or during race weekends when he hung around the McLaren garage on account of him being a test and reserve driver. Zak introduced them multiple times, sure that a friendship would blossom between the two youngins quite quickly, however Lando was always quick to leave whenever Oli was near. After wondering if she had offended him, or done something wrong, she began to worry and spoke to Zak about the issue, not wanting to have tension between her and one of the men she would be working for. Zak spoke with Lando a few days later, and found out in quite a memorable conversation, exactly why Lando had such an aversion to the small brunette.

“I’m scared of her.” Lando muttered ashamedly. Zak couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, that the boy who drove fast cars was scared of a five foot two pixie of a girl who had a beaming smile and cute nose.

“How? She’s so small.” Zak chuckled, the image of Lando cowering away from a girl six inches shorter than him was one he wouldn’t forget.

“I don’t know, she’s just so scary. I feel like if she wanted to, she could say five words and I would be ruined. Completely, like she could tear me apart in a sentence. I also think she could probably take me in a fight.” Lando replied, fiddling with the bracelet on his right wrist, a nervous habit he had developed after his Mum gifted it to him. Zak merely laughed in response, a fond smile crossing his face at the young driver. He could see from the beginning the two were made for each other, Lando didn’t know it yet but it seemed he already had a very strong connection with the girl.

“Anyone could take you in a fight, Lando. Just be nice to her and I’m sure she won’t bite. Unless you ask, of course.” Zak teased, thankful for his easy going and close relationship with the eighteen year old. Lando went bright red, covering his cheeks with a nervous laugh, the serious eyes Zak was giving him pushing him to flee the room in the mess of flushed cheeks and embarrassed laughter.

I

“Oli! Have you seen Carlos or Jon?” Charlotte yelled, startling the brunette who was pouring over the weekend’s schedule. Olivia looked up, shaking her head at Charlotte who sighed in frustration.

“According to his schedule, Carlos should be in interviews for the next hour, and Jon should be floating around somewhere. Why? What’s gone on?” Oli questioned, double checking the schedule in front of her.

“I think Lando’s having a panic attack and I don’t know how to calm him down. I figured one of the boys would know.” Charlotte rushed out, causing Oli to stand up from her chair abruptly. She had dealt with many panic attacks during her high school years and knew firsthand how hard it was to ground yourself sometimes.

“Where is he?” Oli demanded, already gathering her belongings on the table while Charlotte pointed wordlessly to the drivers’ rooms. Oli set off, jogging through the McLaren hospitality, making a beeline for the Brit’s room. When she got up there, the door was partially open, and that was enough for Oli to push the door all the way open, then quickly closing it behind her to give Lando some privacy.

“Lando? It’s Olivia, Charlotte’s out looking for Jon and Carlos at the moment. She said you were having a panic attack, and I don’t know if you have them much but I wanted to try some breathing with you? You just have to follow along with what I’m doing, okay sweetheart? Big breath in through your nose, one, two, three, four. Now hold that breath in, two, three, four. And let it out through your mouth, one, two, three, four, five, six. Okay, we’re going to do it again. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. And out, two, three, four, five, six.” Oli attempted the most well known ‘calm the fuck down’ technique, something that never really worked for her but was often good for others. Lando didn’t seem to be able to hear anything she was saying, barely reacting to her presence when the door opened.

He was curled up in the corner of the small bed, his back against the wall, legs pulled tight up to his chest. His breaths were heavy and uneven, and Oli wondered how long he had been breathing like this as it most definitely wasn’t good for his oxygen consumption.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to try something different. I’m going to talk, and I want you to focus on my voice. You don’t need to listen to what I’m saying if you can’t, but just listen to the noise, alright?” Olivia tried again, slowly making her way to the bed. She sank down onto her knees in front of the bed, trying to come off as non-threatening as possible.

“You know, I really like your shoes. I usually don’t like the look of trainers, I’m more of a sneakers girl myself, but they look really nice. But we’ll have to get you some cool socks, they’ll get hidden by your pants most of the time but it’s always fun to have a bit of a secret. I’m wearing beer socks right now. They’re pretty cute, and no one can tell unless I pull my jeans up.” Oli’s ramblings didn’t seem to be doing much to help Lando either, his breathing and rocking completely undisturbed. Olivia wanted to try one more thing before she began repeating the process of different techniques.

She stood up, leaning slightly against the bed Lando was curled on and reached her hand out slowly. She aimed for his bicep, the skin to skin contact startled something in Lando and he jumped. Oli moved back immediately, scared that she had made everything worse when Lando’s hands landed on her own arms, hauling her pliant body up onto the bed and curling his body around her. His head rested next to her shoulder, his nose lightly brushing the fabric of her team shirt, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He was still curled up quite a bit, his knees tucked close to his chest, the bony joints resting against Oli’s hips.

She heard Lando sniffle and turned to look at him immediately, a choked sob left his lips as tears trailed on a warpath down his tanned face. Oli wrapped her arms around Lando, pulling his head to rest on her upper chest, close enough to her heart that he would be able to hear it beating, whilst not completely smothering him in her boobs. Her hands began brushing through Lando’s hair, listening to the heartbreaking sounds of him sobbing so hard he was coughing.

“It’s okay sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay.” Oli whispered, her lips brushing the top of Lando’s forehead. His sobs began slowing, turning into whimpers and sniffles, then finally stopping to the rare sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing from the driver’s lips when he had calmed himself down. He attempted to untangle himself from his assistant, but she only held on tighter. Lando relaxed straight away, her fingers carding through his curls was so soothing that he could have fallen asleep right there.

“Do not apologise. There’s not a single thing to be sorry for, honey. Are you feeling a little better now? Your breathing is much better and your tears have stopped.” Olivia spoke, softly brushing the slowly drying tear tracks with the back of her index finger, the gentleness of her touch causing a lone tear to fall from Lando’s eye, catching on Olivia’s hand. He hadn’t been touched like this in so long, and knowing that she was only doing it because it was her job could have sent him spiralling again, but Oli caught the look swimming in his eyes.

“Hey, hey! Look at me, okay? We’re okay. We’re alright. Do you want to come with me to get you some water? Maybe a cup of tea? And we should get you a hoodie, you’re shivering like crazy, love.” Olivia was so patient with him, allowing him a few moments to process everything she was saying and speaking a little slower than she usually would. She made a move to get up, her arm outstretched reaching for a hoodie hung over the back of the couch that she presumed Lando had ripped off when he first got in the room. Just as her fingers grasped the material, Lando tightened his arms around her, his breath hitching at the lessened contact with the only thing that was holding him together at that point.

“Honey, I need to get your hoodie. You’re freezing and you’ll get sick if you don’t rug up soon. Look, we can shuffle over there together.” Oli held tight to Lando, scooching her body closer to the edge of the uncomfortable bed to reach out for the teen’s hoodie. She got it this time, letting out a breath that she had held in order to stretch her appendage further. She turned back to Lando, his orange and grey hoodie clutched tightly in her hands, his arms still wrapped in a death grip around her waist.

“Can you sit up for me? You’ll feel better once you’re warmer, and you can go right back to holding me once this is on, I promise.” Olivia assured, using her warm hands to coax Lando into a sitting position, his arms still around her, legs coming to rest on either side of her hips as she sat on her knees. His thighs were pressed tightly against hers, trying to keep as many points of contact with her as physically possible, and she would be lying if she said it wasn’t comforting.

Slowly, Oli got one arm off her waist, slipping the orange hoodie onto Lando’s arm, letting him return it to her back once it was pushed up far enough. She did the same with the other arm, pulling it over his head moments after. Once the hood was down off his head, Olivia fixed his hair, small fingers threading through his curls in an attempt to return them to their previous perfection. Lando remained in his spot, eyes trained on a spot on the floor just over Oli’s shoulder.

“How about that water, sweetheart? I don’t care if we have to penguin walk there.” Oli joked, and she saw a flicker of confusion pass over Lando’s face. She figured it would be something to explain in detail at a later date, instead choosing to spin in her spot on the table, still folded up on her knees with Lando’s legs around her.

Olivia slipped off the bed, her own hands covering Lando’s to reassure him that he could keep them around her waist, his body following hers onto his own two feet when she got too far away from him. Oli continued shuffling forward slowly, hands still holding Lando’s while he followed her small steps to the door of the room.

“Are you okay?” Olivia whispered, feeling Lando curl himself around her more, his chin coming to rest over her shoulder, his curls tickling the underside of his jaw. She felt him nod against her and took it as her queue to open the door and begin the slow adventure to the canteen in the hospitality centre. It took them about three times as long as it usually would, and garnered a lot more looks than usual, however a lot of those stares were in awe of the young couple shuffling through the building. The innocence the two possessed while both working in such a cutthroat environment was adorable, the naivety in their unwillingness to let go of each other.

Zak Brown checked his phone when it buzzed, only to be greeted with a video of the company’s youngest employees that he had a certain fatherly protectiveness over. And after seeing them together, much of the McLaren staff were extremely protective of the two youngsters. They were comforted that their young driver had found someone he trusted and could rely on like the two before them.

The connection they made was an unbreakable one, and there was a bright future for McLaren with Lando and Olivia taking on everything side by side.