#I've been out of the game a little too long

[whatswrongwithblue]

As a queer woman in a red state, I needed to see this today. I still love my state. This is my home. Where I was raised, where I went to school, where my wife and I were married, where I work, where we bought our house, where we started our little farm, where my baby will be born, where my friends are. Where my entire communkty and safety net is. I'm so happy here. I love my life here.

Please stop saying "fuck red states."

My dad is one of the most die hard Republicans I know. He voted for Trump and yes, it breaks my heart. It makes me sick and at time makes me feel unloved. And I have to remember this is the man who basically took a bow of silence about me coming out for the first year. THAT man cried happy tears and gave the most moving speech at my wedding. He adores my wife and calls her is daughter now. THAT man's beliefs have changed in what for him is a hugely significant way. It's not enough YET but he reminds me that a lot of people who voted for Trump DO care, they just don't get it. Unfortunately we'll all learn the hard way now but it also means there are allies within the enemy, they just don't know it yet.

Please stop saying "fuck red states."

My in-laws have been so die hard Republican their entire lives and voted for Harris this year. Willing to get into loud family arguments and strain family relations over it. It's a change I had given up hoping to see and yet, it finally happened this year.

Please stop saying "fuck red states."

My tiny town is largely made up of migrant workers. Every business here is bilingual. Including the grocery stores, post office, and city hall. This town wouldn't exist without migrant workers. No one knows more about how much our farming communities NEED migrant workers more than the tiny farm towns in red states. I promise you, in my state, it's the Republicans in the cities here that are pushing for mass deportation, not the farmers.

Please stop saying "fuck red states."

I voted for one republican this year. Yep. An Asian American woman who grew up on a potato farm, married into the family of another potato farmer, ran on a campaign to halt rent inflation, allocate more state funding to education and foster care, and supported controversial decisions in the past to protect the environment. She was an incumbent and she won. She's playing the long game of knowing which party she can win running under in her home state and she's making a damn big difference in her little district.

Please stop saying "fuck red states."

There are young queer closeted kids here. I was one of them. I was voting and protesting for gay rights before there were any and I'll fucking do it again if I have to. Because over 1/4 people here DID vote for Harris and every single one of us have to stay and fight and be visible for the next generation of scared closeted queer kids because if we all left for blue states, who would be left to fight for them?

Please stop saying "fuck you" to the people I love and the home I've built. The future I see slowly building here can still happen. I still have hope. But if those fighting the good fight in red states give up now, if they say too say "fuck red states," then we really will have lost that future.

I love you everyone in red states right now.

I love you everyone who has family that is/will celebrate a Trump victory in your state.

I love you everyone surrounded by loved ones actively voting against your rights.

If you voted, you for Kamala, you did everything you could and you should be proud.

All of your frustration and anger is justified, understandable, and fair.

I’m sending you all love and peace.

[mortalityplays]

Forgive me if I'm mistaking you for another person, but I remember you speaking at multiple points on the unsustainability of free social media services (I think especially in response to the cohost collapse?), and I'm curious on what your thoughts on bluesky are so far. I'm not an expert on the subject, but from what I've read previously it seemed like they were on track to be financially sustainable, but I don't know if the recent floods of users has thrown those projections off. Sorry if I'm mixing you up with someone else on my timeline, in that case just ignore me.

bluesky will almost certainly follow the same trajectory of monetisation => bloat => enshittification => decline as every other major platform built on venture capital and user hoarding. it's a terrible model that only works in the short term as a mirage for attracting funding and making founders look good for a year or two before they sell.

you can see the same effect in the decline of all the subscription box services that came into vogue just before covid: they feel great to use for as long as the initial injection of venture funding lasts, because the purpose of that funding at that stage is to attract users and impress the next round of funders with how pleasant/intuitive/efficient/ethical/good value the service is. that's the stage where they're handing out freebies and bowling over influencers, and every ingredient in the box is fresh and high quality and locally sourced. wow what a good deal, what a great system!!! why hasn't anyone done this before? the answer is because it's unsustainable by design. they rack up good reviews, sign on a billion new users, attract new funding from a bunch of much more credulous investors, and then gut all of the expensive parts. portions get smaller, ingredients get worse, packaging gets flimsier, prices go up, freebies turn into "5% off your first 9 boxes when you invite 3 friends", and customer service vanishes.

with social media (and platforms like discord) the logic is the same, it's just a little less glaringly obvious to the end user because they're not coming home to leaking packages of rancid chicken on the doorstep. bluesky has an advantage over tiny operations like cohost because it was founded by a billionaire making a point for the sake of his own image. it got a really significant chunk of startup funding, and the owner had existing connections and rep in the space to attract more. That's why it has survived the goldrush period, why it still feels good to use, and why users who have been burned so many times before are finally accepting it as a stable, reliable option. It's still in its venture capital honeymoon phase where the only thing worth spending money on is making the service attractive to users.

What I expect we will see next, with another mass influx of users from twitter and new funding from a rogue's gallery of tech venture sickos led by Blockchain Capital is a strong ramp up into monetising that userbase. They've already been pretty forthright about how they plan to do this, and I think it's a solid roadmap of how Bluesky will bloat and decay over the next few years:

this is a huge lol. don't worry, we're not going to hyperfinancialize the social experience through NFTs. the thing even crypto freaks started feigning amnesia about a year ago. real "our health conscious sodas are 100% arsenic free" messaging here. They know perfectly well that rubes users are suspicious of their typical 5 dimensional tech finance chess games and are patting our hands about last week's bogeymen so nobody worries too hard about whatever 'decentralised developer ecosystem' just happens to be helmed by a bunch of crypto guys. this definitely means something good and based and not a google-like single sign on user data harvesting operation.

This is the same shit that's currently rotting the floorboards of discord. Bluntly, there is no way to run a platform on this scale without gating functionality behind paid services. Discord has been squeezing free-tier file uploads and call quality etc. down steadily and cranking up subscription costs over the last year or two, throwing in chaff like animated avatar frames to try and justify the user cost. They're also doing the same misdirection thing again here, pointing to Thing We All Hate to deflect from thing we might not like very much when they do it. Booo elon booo we all hate elon!!! wait how do we feel about subscription models again,

watch out for this to kill porn on bsky like it has killed porn on every other social platform 👍 boooo we hate elon boooo stupid idiot and his 'everything app' booooo wait why do you need my tax information, what's that about mastercard,

Look, we are all aware social media is a money pit. Let's not forget dorsey was looking to sell twitter in the first place, long before elon's very public plunge into total online derangement. Subscription services are not going to plug the hole, so we are gradually going to see more and more spaghetti thrown at the wall while early funders shuffle cards and do their pyramid scheme bit bringing in stupider and stupider investments. this is the window in which bluesky will be temporarily worth using for us, for the idiot public, the poorly rendered crowd jpegs in the background of their venture capital MOBA. it's in their interests to slow and pad the decline as much as possible, because that is how they get maximally paid.

Given the scale of the money involved, and dorsey's weird ego investment, I think bluesky will probably manage a controlled drift for a good few years before it gets really bloated and painful. and by then we will all be so used to the *checks notes* decentralised developer ecosystem that we'll just be posting through it, watching another generation of columnists call another collapsing platform 'their beloved hellsite' and passing around that meme about not getting out of our chairs no sir until idk we all get on a fediverse neurolink alternative to stick it to the elongated muskrat and our brains pop peacefully in our sleep. which I guess is the closest thing to viability any social media platform can achieve.

anyway diogenes the cynic is also on bluesky

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. jealousy is a disease !

there's nothing wrong with a little bit of jealousy, right? as long as you're honest about it, surely...

featuring : till

cw : fluff, gn!reader, mentions of death/being killed but nothing too graphic, probably ooc till...

a/n : OMGOMGOMG ALNST FIC ON TUMBLR???? i wasn't expecting to find any, but i find quite a lot!! i was so happy so i decided to make one myself and joined all the other writers>:) i've never watched any theory videos, so i dont really know how till acts. but from the limited videos alone, i can atleast know his personality;)

he really wouldn't have cared at all if you got closer to another human, or even an alien—is what he thought, as if he isn't glaring at you talking to your fans. your smile at those aliens lining up to shake your hands doesn't help. why would you even smile at all the aliens anyways? they all look ugly. he knows that how popular you are is not under your control, and that this is all arranged by your owner. but still, he doesn't like it, not even a single bit.

but he is happy that you're getting the recognition you deserve, after being forc—i mean, working hard for it all. but it still upsets him at how happily you talk to all the aliens, the smile you gave them, the look of adoration that you gave them. you noticed that he's been staring at you the whole time, though. but you made it seem as if you didn't, which annoys him. if he could, he would grab you by the wrist and ran away as fast as he can with you following him. but he won't. he doesn't want or like the risk of the both of you being killed because of that.

so, he endured his jealousy for what felt like an hour, and it all finally ended. "i'm sorry, have i kept you waiting?" you finally turned at him, your face glistening with sweat. even with how messy your makeup and hair has gotten after all those handshake, you still look as ethereal as ever. "till?" you tilt your head curiously when he didn't reply.

"uh—huh, what? sorry. was zonin' out." he noticed that he have been looking at your face the whole time and unintentionally ignored your question. "what did you say again?" he asked, looking away from your face this time in embarrassment. you only chuckled softly at him before finally repeating your question. "no, you didn't, it's alright." he answers quickly, as if trying to hide something, making you raise an eyebrow. "really? i really didn't keep you waiting?"

"no, it's fine. let's get inside the car before the driver leaves us here." the driver really won't leave you both here, since it's literally his job to drive the both of you from place to place. it's just his excuse to leave the place faster so he could make you get away from all your fans. "you seem to be eager of leaving this place, is something wrong?" you come closer to him, concern lacing in your gaze. with how close you are to him, it's hard for him to hide his flustered face.

so, he just turned around and walked towards the exit, making you even more confused and concerned for him. he walks really fast too, while you struggle to follow him behind.

"till, are you alright? do you feel sick? uncomfortable? or is it something else?" you asked him once again, and he avoided your gaze again. it keeps happening over and over to the point that if someone else were to watch you both from afar, they'd thought that the both of you are playing a game of tag. it took a lot of convincing from you, but he finally tells you why. not directly though, he doesn't want you to think that he's too clingy.

"i-i got a little... annoyed, when your fans got closer to you, i guess..." he muttered to himself, which made you unable to hear what he says clearly. you tilt your head to look up at him, then cup his cheeks in your hands, earning a soft gasp from him. "w-what are you—"

"are you perhaps... jealous?" you grin at him, his face growing redder as time pass. "i'm—not! let go of my face!" he grips one of your wrist with his hand, but he didn't even make an attempt to move your hands away from his face. "really? your expression says otherwise." you giggle when he glares at you, although his red face betrays the 'scary look' he's giving you.

"i said i'm not, end of the story. let's get in the car or whatever..." he finally swats your hand away, not too harsh though, and he walks away from you. your giggle only grew louder at how flustered he got just from one single interaction with you. "wait for me, till. you can't leave a celebrity like me behind... you don't want any of my fans catching up to me, do you?"

"ugh, stop talking about that!"

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[naamahdarling]

What are the elevator game and Three Kings?

They're modern folklore/urban legend ritual games games akin to Bloody Mary, spread by creepypasta memes across the internet for thrills and chills. (I actually love creepypasta. There's some excellent horror in the genre. Ted the Caver and Candle Cove are both super cool, those aren't hard to find.)

The Elevator Game supposedly originates in Japan or South Korea, and involves getting into an elevator and pressing the buttons in a certain sequence in order to reach a surreal otherworld, with dire consequences should they fail to follow all the rules. It doesn't have a goal or reward, just the appeal of accessing a creepy alternate reality. It's a fairly popular bit of modern folklore and I enjoy it for its modern yet classic feel and its specificity. This is a game that it is actually feasible to play, unlike a lot of other modern creepypasta ritual games, which can be very complicated.

The Three Kings Ritual is another creepypasta ritual game, and it's a fucking banger. I HIGHLY recommend you read it in full.

It has a great name, great symbolism, a creepy as shit setup, and a genuine chance, I think, at getting something fucked up to happen (in the sense that you could very easily experience some trippy visual distortion and possibly some auditory stuff as well from the white noise of the fan).

It genuinely put my hairs up the first time with these bits (the bolded and italicized bits are of particular note):

Place one chair in the center of the room. ....Place the other two chairs exactly to the left and right, facing your throne. The distance between your throne and that of your queen and fool should be about the length of your arm to each side, more or less. Place the two large mirrors on the queen and fool chairs left and right of you, facing you (and each other). Try your best to have them stand at a 90 degree angle (or else you may get more or less than three kings). If you sit on your throne facing straight ahead (north), you should be able to perceive your own reflection in each of the two mirrors without actually having to turn your head nor your eyes to do so. If you see your own reflection in the corner of your eye, just barely there, then you've done it right.

So you can see how this would lend itself to seeing things. Mirrors are already creepy. With a small light in a dark room, it gets worse. This isn't about a demon or vengeful spirit, just...presences, which is much creepier to me because on some level it feels more plausible.

Look straight ahead, at the darkness. Not at the candle, not at the mirrors, just straight ahead. Eagle-eyed readers surely noticed I didn't say during setup which chair was queen and which chair was fool. That's because it's your job to find out. And from their point of view, you are either their queen or their fool, too. Hence three kings.

Fucking hell.

Again the goal is nebulous. The original text leaves so many things unanswered. Are we to converse with these entities, to ask questions? What the actual fuck happens if you get the angle wrong and get more than two spirits?

All I know is that I am curious. This is absolutely my favorite ritual game.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 86 (Family Drama)

The next evening, before Heather and Conrad left for their date, her youngest sister, Hazel, arrived in Brindleton Bay to watch her niece and nephew.

Ash excitedly called to her from the computer as soon as she walked in the door. "Aunt Hazel, Aunt Hazel, come check out my new game!"

"Thanks for driving out here so Conrad and I can have a night out," Heather said. "The security cameras are working and Conrad's getting the kids fed before we go, so just get them to bed at a decent hour and no horror movies."

"It's just food colouring," she protested, but with Heather's stern glance she nodded obediently. "Sorry, Ashy. No Moonlight Massacre tonight, after all."

Heather changed the subject before Ash could complain. "I'm sad you won't be in town when we're in Henford this weekend to meet River and Cass' new baby boy. Dad says you don't call home enough."

Hazel laughed. "Dad tells me you don't call enough! None of us could ever call home enough. River still lives there and Dad probably thinks he doesn't get to see enough of him, either."

"Missing out on Dad guilt tripping us to visit for a political conference in San Myshuno's pretty cool, though. Ash, that's enough game time. Conrad's almost finished making your dinner."

Ash moaned, but he turned off the computer and headed for the kitchen as Hazel picked up her niece for a cuddle in her unicorn onesie. "I'm kind of glad to be out of Henford for the night to get in time with Ashy and Lava. Has that weird old dude been a problem lately?"

Heather made sure Ash was out of earshot. "Not since the restraining order," she said, the relief on her face more than evident. "And you're stuck on those nicknames, huh? I thought nicknames were too corny for you."

"It's not my fault your kids are just as cool as volcanoes, big sis."

Heather grinned. Hazel, the baby of their family, could get away with anything and dripped charm to spare, but Heather could tell something was weighing on her mind. "Are you doing okay?"

Hazel took a deep breath, setting Lavender down before she moved to the sofa. "What made you realize you wanted to be single when we were in high school?"

Heather laughed. "It was just easier than having feelings. It's still easier than having feelings, but finding the right person is better. What's wrong?"

She frowned. "What if Nicola and I got married too young? We're different people than we were as teens. When her dad died of a heart attack a few months ago, it felt like I wasn't married to the same person anymore. I know she's grieving, but what if we didn't wait long enough into young adulthood to figure it all out?"

Heather could empathize with her sister's confusion over love and relationships. Not too long ago, Heather would have found it unthinkable to offer her siblings, of all people, relationship advice, but Conrad had shown her what great love could be.

"You know I've never been very flirty or romantic, and I held on to my relationship with Malcolm too long because I didn't think I deserved any better. I'd never recommend it, but I also know Nicola's not Malcolm Landgraab. If you trust her, you can tell her the truth."

Hazel nodded. "No, she's definitely not like Malcolm."

"If you're truly unhappy, don't force it because you think you're supposed to. But if you're asking me, I think it means there's still some fight in you to keep it together."

(Lovestruck's new relationship and chemistry features went after Hazel and her new wife, and I'm rolling with it to see what happens. I cheated their relationship back up a bit - as if what Heather said encouraged her to fight a little more - and we'll see how it goes with them.

The way I said that probably gave away what might happen but pfft you don't know!)

Grateful for her eldest sister's advice, Hazel turned her attention back to Lavender, while Heather joined Ash and Conrad in the kitchen.

"Tomorrow night we'll pack some things into your backpack for your weekend at your dad's," Heather said to her son. "He'll pick you up after school on Friday and take you to his place for the weekend."

"He'll probably send their driver like usual," he shrugged. "But Ray's cool."

"What do you mean, 'like usual?'"

Ash looked at her with confusion etched on his face. "Daddy's reporting til seven on the news every weeknight, Mommy!"

Heather stared at Conrad, wide-eyed. "He told me he does those hits pre-recorded."

"He always sends Ray, and Ray always takes me to get ice cream before we get to Daddy's penthouse. Why do you look pretend happy, Mommy? I love ice cream!"

"Your mom just hasn't met Ray, buddy."

"But Mommy, he's not a stranger. He's Ray!"

Heather plastered a smile, and Conrad reached under the table to caress her clenched fist. "I'll be at school on Friday afternoon when Ray's there to pick you up at three," she said. "If he's as nice as you say, I don't want him to be a stranger to me."

Ash smiled. "Okay, Mommy, that's a good a idea."

Heather felt constantly undermined by the Landgraabs. But there was little she could say without disappointing her son, and she didn't want bitterness to affect her night with Conrad. ->

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

NOTE: Their date continues Monday but tomorrow there will be a bonus post inspired by @purplesimmer455! 👀

NOTE 2: Also noting, since this is an episode where nothing much seems to be happening, there are a few subtle hints in here, too, about how Conrad is on a pedestal, especially when Heather compares him to Malcolm, even though we all know he's keeping this massive secret from her, too.

[fox-bright]

tw: suicidal ideation, depression

So for me, suicidality goes like this.

Sometimes I'm walking through the house, and it's a bit of a mess, and I don't like that, and a gremlin jumps in front of me with his jazz hands out and screeches "LOOK AT THIS! THOSE DISHES ARE TWO DAYS OLD! YOU SHOULD KILL YOURSELF ABOUT IT." and I quirk an eyebrow at it, and sigh "What the hell, you jackass, get out of my house." And it says "DANG," and it goes. Like having a fruitfly hovering in my face. I can't swat it to death, but it is only annoying, and it is driven off by the flick of my fingers.

But some days it's more like, I am tired, and I am in physical pain, and I am falling into despair, and I do not see what my next step is to handle any of *this* and 'this' is 'everything,' and a sweetly-scented presence comes up gracefully past my peripheral and loops her arms about me, and rests her silky head on my shoulder, and tilts her rosy lips to my ear, and in a quiet voice, she murmurs

"knife."

And she's holding me so carefully that there's no struggle. And she's soft and smells like lilac, and her voice is so gentle. "it wouldn't be more than five minutes. it would hurt, of course, but everything hurts, and then it would *stop.* all of it would stop."

And the thing is, absolutely nothing that she tells me is a lie. She learned a long time ago that lying to me puts me on defense, so now she only says things that are true. I am in pain. It would hurt for a little bit, it would hurt a lot, but then nothing would hurt ever again.

But she also doesn't tell a single comprehensive truth.

Because it *would* stop hurting--me. It would magnify my pain and cast it out in all directions, though. It would make my existence into a pipe bomb in the arms of every person who has ever so much as liked me. It would render me, worse than useless, actively dangerous to those close to me. It would make me into a sucking open wound in the chest of everyone I love.

Too high a cost.

I've been suicidal on and off since I was nine. I know by now that it's a chemical thing that my body is doing to itself. I have tools, occasionally weapons, to use to get it out past arm's length, sometimes an acre or two distant from me. Never gone. Always loping back and forth, muzzle low and snuffling, pacing the fence.

So when she comes to me, floral and kind, I can unwind her arms from my waist and push her away three feet or so. And then I can go bake something, or garden, or do pushups, or go for a walk, or listen to loud or quiet music, or play a game, or read a book, or take a shower (cold or hot) or start a craft, or clean up a mess, or make a mess. And, now in in other shapes, she grows more gauzy and distant. And then I can go fix the hole in the fence, maybe.

There are a lot of holes in the fence today. I expect there will be for some time. It's hard. My pulse has been up thirty or forty bpm since Tuesday night at ten, and I tire easily. The effort needed is much greater than usual. But I know it needs to be done.

I don't know what to do from here but wash the dishes. But at least I can wash the dishes. The other things will make themselves known to me in time.

[waxrabbits]

somethin silly for a request

transcript under the cut! <3

don't repost!

(walking)

julian: say ... julian: you don't really believe in all that "ghost" nonsense, ... do you? asra: (mild surprise & mischief) asra: i don't know. anything's possible really. julian: !

asra: plus i mean, even so, what's the worst he could do?- asra: -possess you or something? julian: (julian stops walking, visibly nervous) julian: i-i mean .. that's not possible, right-? surely you're just joking. julian: ... you are kidding, aren't you? julian: ... asra? asra: (gone) julian: ah.

[heroineimages]

One more scene for this particular spicy parody! This scene is even a bit spicier, with actual intercourse going on while Ada once again carries on a perfectly nonchalant conversation with the participants. I have some vague ideas for other scenes, but I've also been thinking about writing a full-blown harem erotica about Mistress Angelica's adventures, mentioned in the previous scene. (Not that I know when I'll have time.)

It was well-known throughout the mansion that when the twins—Mistresses Lucy and Lacy—tag-teamed one of the maids, that maid would need at least a full-night’s rest before she could return to her duties. Despite their size, both twins were high-endurance lesbians, and their favorite game was to tie up a maid and take turns making her climax. It was quite unusual for their partners to be able to walk under their own power afterward—and not at all unheard of for their partners to lose consciousness from the intense and unending pleasure.

Miss Helena, meanwhile, was an athletic and somewhat brawny, olive-skinned young woman who was chief assistant to Mister Smith, the head gardener. A certified horticulturist who had apparently taught even Mister Smith some interesting techniques for harvesting cherries and pollenating chrysanthemums, Miss Helena was also known for rather aggressively seducing maids and manservants alike out in the greenhouse or hedge-maze. On at least four occasions, I’d discovered Helena mounting and grinding petals with a maid or kitchen girl amid the tulips. Twice I’d found her riding a manservant, their clothes scattered across the grass.

But despite her sexual prowess, even Miss Helena was subject to Mistress Lucy and Mistress Lacy’s combined cuteness and dominant attitudes.

Thus I wasn’t at all surprised to find Miss Helena naked, gagged, and tied backward over a large wine barrel. Both twins wearing only corsets and heels, Mistress Lacy stood on a stool beside the barrel, alternating between squeezing Helena’s breasts and suckling them. Perky breasts and golden-brown curls bouncing with each thrust, Mistress Lucy stood on a pair of old books and expertly rocked her hips as she pistoned a j-shaped phallus in and out of Miss Helena’s cunny. The toy’s length and girth looked like it might almost rival the size of my forearm, but it slid in and out smoothly and erotically.

“Miss Helena!” I called, trotting down the steps into the storage cellar. Mistress Lucy kept gripping Helena’s hips and rocking in and out of her as all three of them turned to look at me. “Miss Helena, just letting you know that I left some mail for you in your quarters, since the mistress told me you were indisposed. I hope that’s alright!”

Miss Helena made sort of a “grmn” noise through her gag as she half-nodded to me. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back against the top of the barrel as Mistress Lucy’s toy continued to ravish her insides.

“I think that means ‘thank you’!” Mistress Lacy chirped, kissing Miss Helena’s neck and stretching a little to squeeze two breasts at the same time.

“I’m about to gather up the kitchen maids and get dinner started, but is there anything I can get you ladies first?” I offered. Apparently sensing Miss Helena was getting close, Miss Lucy bent her knees to thrust faster.

“No, but thank you, Miss Ada!” the twins chimed in together, flashing those adorable, freckled grins of theirs.

“Everyone’s staying well-hydrated, right?” I asked next. “Mistress Anastasia always says the fun never lasts as long if your partner gets thirsty.”

“Yes, just a few minutes ago,” Mistress Lucy assured me, gesturing to a pitcher and ewer on a stool nearby.

Miss Helena gave a primal groan into her gag and shuddered in what I’d long ago come to recognize as an intense climax.

“With Miss Helena, we have to make absolutely sure she’s too tired to move, because last time she still had a lot of energy when we untied her, and she immediately pulled the toy from her cunny, pinned Lucy to the bed, and started grinding her like a lunatic,” Mistress Lacy added as Mistress Lucy slowed her thrusts through Miss Helena’s orgasm. “And she held onto my ankle to keep me from getting away the whole time she was fucking my sister!” she giggled.

“Oh, my god, and she made me come like five times,” Mistress Lucy nodded her agreement. “Once she was done with me, Miss Helena pulled Lacy in and started tribbing her next. We were the ones too exhausted to move, that time!”

I giggled at the naughty mental image. “Well, have fun and stay hydrated!” I wished them.

I started to turn toward the door but stopped as I remembered Mistress Angelica’s letter. “Oh, right, I should also tell you, a letter came from your big sister," I informed them, turning back. "She’s been having an exciting time on her trip, but I won’t say anything more, since I think you’ll have more fun reading about it yourselves!”

“Okay, thanks, Miss Ada,” Mistress Lacy waved as I turned to the door.

I waved back and stepped out, closing the door behind me.

Weird parody idea

I haven't been able to find it again, but a while back on Tumblr there was a post going around about being the one maid in a hentai mansion who actually does her work while everyone else in the place is busy fornicating. While the maid in the post seemed grumpy about her work, I had the idea of making a cheery little ace maid who's completely nonchalant about the weird deviance she's surrounded by. I wrote this brief sfw scene that's all about making weird dialogue seem like an everyday exchange, and I have ideas for a few other scenes that are less sfw.

“Thank you for waiting, Mister Jacobs!” I called, holding my apron and skirts up as I trotted down the lane to the manor’s front gate. Without breaking stride, I scooped up a used rubber from the nearby grass with a trash-spear and deposited it in the little disposable bag I carried for that purpose. The master’s family could be so messy about that kind of thing.

“Miss Ada again, is it?” Mister Jacobs, the postman, greeted in return. “No Mister Harris again this morning?” he asked, referring to the usual doorman.

“No, I’m afraid Mister Harris the gateman is still chained up in the mistress’s sex-basement,” I informed him as he handed me the master and mistress’s letters. “I regret to tell you that he won’t be able to say ‘hello’ and give you head this morning.”

“Ach, that makes three days in a row,” Mister Jacobs lamented humorously. He squinted a bit at me with a queer tilt to his head. “How’d you do it, lass? You told me yourself that you don’t enjoy sex much, so how do you handle working for a family as notoriously deviant as the Williamsons?”

“Oh, I really don’t mind for the most part!” I answered, blushing a bit at the bevy of spicy memories about their aforementioned notorious deviance. “The master and mistress are both kind and very respectful of my boundaries—but I understand how unlikely that seems, given how few boundaries everyone else around here seems to have!” I laughed.

“Well, do remember me to Mister Harris when you see him,” Mister Jacobs nodded, tipping his hat.

“Of course!” I beamed, curtsying. “I’ll tell him you said hello when I put fresh water in his dog-bowl later,” I promised. Letters in hand, I waved farewell and trotted back up the lane to the front door.

[dnlbrl]

he's concentrating

[demiesop]

little rabbit

[swan2swan]

Next quesion, Young Ones:

Are Scene Packs Highly Recommended?

On old Windows Movie Maker, the program would (automatically, somehow, in a true sign that technology has been deliberately regressed) split downloaded videos into about twenty to fifty different parts of varying lengths. Some clips would be six seconds long, others would be three minutes, it was fairly random and, I assume, based on just large numbers of pixel changes. That made it hyper-convenient.

Are Scene Packs going to provide a similar experience? Just grab a bunch of shots of who you're looking for?

Is there a particular movie-making program that does the same thing as I mentioned above? Breaking things up?

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

[morningmask27]

I feel like November will be a difficult month for me again and I'm not looking for it

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Karlach is very very nice tree and I am a squirrel heh

If you need help with the game just ask because before BG3 I had no idea about the playstyle either-

god yeah me too, i want to climb onto Karlach's back and hang from her shoulders she is my favorite and i love her

thank you!!! i'm very slowly getting the hang of it (not that i'm good by any stretch), but i'm having fun!!

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 87 (Ghost Night at the Salty Paws Saloon)

Though rare for bars to welcome ghosts with discounted prices, the Salty Paws Saloon in Fisherman's Wharf wanted to embrace any form of sim who dared spend simoleons at their middling establishment.

Their new Ghost Night was an experiment promoted in the Ambrosia Society's final newsletter, and Heather and Conrad had come on a mission of their own.

"You really think it's possible the man you met outside the historical museum could be here?" wondered Heather. "At Ghost Night?"

Conrad shrugged. "I haven't seen or heard trace of him since that night, and without his name I don't know how to find him. Besides, you're the one who suggested he might be a ghost."

"Yeah, but I was kidding."

Brindleton Bay had little in the way of nightlife. The Calico Lounge and Yacht Club down the road was where higher society danced and socialized, but spending the night surrounded by ghosts in a dive bar was just fine for Heather and Conrad.

In the early days of their relationship, when Ash was still a baby, they'd come here after watching seals at the pier. They'd share a basket of fries and maybe watch a sportsball game or two on the big screen. It was even where Ash learned to pull himself up to stand, and would always be a sentimental place for them.

Now with busy careers, two kids, and the added stress Conrad tried to keep to himself, it had been too long since they'd been out together. Considering their laid-back dating style, it was unsurprising they'd chosen such an untraditional night out.

Conrad pulled out his phone so they could mug for a selfie. "After everything we've seen with the Ambrosia Society newsletters, are you not just a little curious?"

"Of course I am. I want you to find an answer to at least one mystery taking up space in your mind. You're so stressed lately with work, the kids, and now with George Brindleton, closing the book on something would be good. And I want to help you, like always. It's just...What are you going to do if you find out the old man is a ghost?"

"Find out what he wants, I guess? His unfinished business."

They were both a little hungry, but the food at the Salty Paw was usually terrible, so they settled for sharing a bowl of chips from seats at the bar. The place filled first with human patrons, but as the night wore on, several ethereal beings floated into the pub.

One took a seat at the empty barstool to Heather's right. He gave them both respectful nods, and they returned the polite greeting, unsure what to say next. What sort of small talk were you supposed to make with a ghost?

But this man took an immediate interest in Heather, taking care of the small talk on his own. "Good evening, miss. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My friends call me Felix Psyded, Esquire. Lawyer, entrepreneur, and founder of the University of Britechester."

Conrad smirked. "They call you all that? I think I remember reading urban legends about you when I was in college."

"I've read them. None are true. I haven't stayed haunting the halls of my own university. I've been trying to visit as many places as I could."

"As a ghost?"

Felix turned up his nose at Conrad's surprise. "And what do your friends call you?"

"My friends call me Conrad. Pretty much everyone else calls me Sargent Gordon."

"Well, Sargent, what brings you out to pay full price for drinks on a night for sims in my predicament? Are you here to remember lost souls in the spirit of the day? Maybe a war hero?"

"My fiancee, Heather, and I are on a date tonight."

"And we're looking for someone. He might be a ghost. If he is...maybe you know him?"

The ethereal lawyer nodded warmly. "Miss Heather, I've been a ghost for many years and I've met many like me. What's his name?"

"That's the thing, we don't know it. He said he's lived in Brindleton Bay all his life, came out of the museum and offered to show Conrad around the lighthouse after hours."

"It's hard to get far without a name, and I haven't spent that much time here over the years. What does he look like?"

"Well, he's not...translucent," said Conrad. "He's elderly, tanned skin, wavy hair, mustache...I met him once outside the historical museum but I haven't seen him since. I haven't been able to get out to Deadgrass Isle much lately, either, but no one at the museum knows him, and I'm starting to think if he's not a ghost, I imagined him completely."

Felix sniffed. "Sounds very generic. Maybe it is all in your head."

"Forget it. I don't see him here, anyway."

"I'm not saying I couldn't help you. I've become a bit of a ghost historian in the many, many years since I expired."

"Why haven't you crossed over?" asked Heather. "Do you have unfinished business?"

"I most certainly do! Today is the anniversary of my death - I died all the way back in 1915, before this day was even known as Remembrance Day. And I came here to drink myself into a stupor so I can forget how I died far too soon."

"Your unfinished business is to just drink your pain away every year?"

"No, Sargent. I pine for the life I could have lived! I had just opened the University of Britechester with a ribbon-cutting ceremony and the linguistics professor told a very good joke. I laughed harder than I intended. You might say I became hysterical - very unbecoming in my day - and the next thing I knew, the Grim Reaper himself was offering to help me cross over. I told him thank you, but no thank you. Even if I couldn't live as a human, I wasn't going anywhere."

"That's a terrible reason to die, because something was funny," said Heather, as she and Conrad both took a drink of their cream colas in perfect sync. But Conrad finished his in a single gulp, and Heather noticed.

Felix sighed. "That's not even the saddest part. When I died, I lost my love. She remarried another man and had a family and all but forgot me, while I spent her years on earth unable to move on. She's spending her afterlife with her husband, and I can't say I blame her..."

"That's rough," acknowledged Conrad. "I'm sorry."

"I would be willing to keep helping you, if you can point me in the direction of someone who's here for the Ambrosia Society. I've heard the Watcher's put an end to emotional deaths, and I can laugh as hard as I like without keeling over a second time! I was hoping to finally meet someone who can make ambrosia."

Heather smiled. "I could do that. I've learned how! I haven't made it yet, but we have the ingredients. We took the society up on their challenge for our own reasons, but we could always get more ingredients later. Will you help us figure out the identity of the old man at the museum if I make you some ambrosia?"

"I would be honoured to help you, Miss Heather. Though I do have one more imposition to place on you. Would you allow me to stay in your home tonight? Brindleton Bay has little in the way of empty rooms, and I would only ask for a humble sofa to rest."

Conrad wavered. His phone beeped and he checked the call display, cringing when he recognized the San Myshuno area code in the unlisted number.

"Is that work?" asked Heather. "Do you need to answer that?"

Ximena had finally returned the call he'd placed yesterday in frustration, but she'd waited until the evening, when he was more likely to be with his family. He put the phone back in his pocket. Ximena would have to wait, and Rafa, too. Wherever he was.

"It's not work. It's an unlisted number, probably just spam." He turned to their new ghostly acquaintance with a frown. "Listen, we've got kids at home, Mr. Psyded."

"Esquire. Felix Psyded, Esquire," complained the apparition. "And I'm very good with children. I'd like to have one or two of my own someday, should I get to live again."

Heather and Conrad stood to speak quietly. "Ash and Lavender will both be in bed by the time we get home," she reasoned.

"And when the kids wake up in the morning?"

"Maybe...maybe meeting a real ghost is how I can start talking to Ash about life and death. He's so smart - too smart for his own good sometimes, I think. But if he learns about ambrosia and death flowers now, maybe one day if he ever hears about the curse, it'll all be easier to talk about."

Felix poked his head in with interest. "Who's curse?"

Conrad snapped his head back. "Just a minute, Felix Psyded, Esquire."

"You're not having a very good night. Are you, Sargent?"

"I did keep noticing you giving moon eyes to my fiancee..."

"Both of you, stop! We'd be happy to have you over tonight, Mr. Psyded. Esquire. But please don't get off on the wrong foot with Conrad or come home and scare our kids."

"You have my word, I won't possess a single piece of furniture!"

They spent a few more hours meeting several ghosts who made their way to the bar for cheap drinks, hoping against hope that the man from the museum might eventually turn up. But after midnight, they gave up waiting and settled their tab, bringing a giggling Felix with them.

"I'm so excited, I'm vibrating. Can you hear me?"

But Heather and Conrad were quieter. She knew something was bothering him, and she wanted to know what it was. ->

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

NOTE: I didn't initially set out to schedule this post on Remembrance Day. This is just where the last week of Reaper Rewards stuff fit in my existing storyline, but how fitting, in a way. 🌺

NOTE 2: On one hand, Conrad should be romancing her extra hard considering he's lying, but if he tries over-romancing unflirty Heather she'll know something's up even more strongly. So they get a dive bar date night to fulfill the last tasks of the Reaper Rewards challenge.

[journey-to-the-attic]

hi !! i was curious abt whether u have any om! reading recs? :0

ahh very sorry, but i don't do much fic-reading these days, especially for obey me ^^; maybe someone else can chime in?