#Mic Mills

[trevlad-sounds]

On this day in 2021.

1 Deft Vapid (Pt. 1) 2 Herbstlaub Näherung 3 Slow Riffs Virgo Dub 4 Sven Kössler C ·ntmplt·n{1} 5 Mic Mills Slow Dance Of The Sea & Sand 6 The Orb Just Because I Really Really Luv Ya 7 Magnétophonique Lush Islands 8 CIALYN Canopy 9 Stellardrone Open Cluster 10 Rising Sun Systems Synthshoppe At A Domestic Airport 11 Stubbleman 4am Conversation 12 Majeure Eternal Intelligence 13 Röyksopp Coup De Grace 14 Nils Frahm Says 15 x.y.r. Into the Wild 16 CIALYN Greenray 17 Lackluster Meanwhile (Rm Xb Yb Rothomstates) 18 Motion Sickness of Time Travel Everything Must Die 19 Stellardrone Penumbra (Remix)

[foolsocracy]

Now having watched Frankenstein (1931) I find this really interesting. I didn't really expect the writers themselves to have watched the film; I assumed they saw it was a horror film released in Pete's time and included it with the bonus that the audience would know the story because its Frankenstein. It really aligns with the themes of spider noir though, so I'm second guessing myself.

I read Frankenstein a while back so I'm not as familiar with it as I once was, but I'd say its generous to say the movie is based off of the original novel. It hits some of the points but it really is different. I mean, in the film its Henry Frankenstein, not even Victor.

In the film, the monster is played almost-infantile. He reaches out towards light as if he could grab it. He plays with a little girl by a lake, throwing in flowers to watch them float like boats. When he kills her, it's an accident. How could he have known that she wouldn't float along with the flowers? Its Frankenstein and his assistant who are portrayed as monstrous. They lock him in the dark for three days. The intimidate him with fire and whips and fists.

Despite this, its Frankenstein who gets the 'good end,' while the monster is left to burn alive, pinned inside a wooden mill set alight by the townspeople.

Pete could have gotten nightmares from a number of scenes. Although I wouldn't personally say this is a scary film, there are definitely unnerving parts. There was also a different standard in 1931 for what was scary in film, plus Pete was already living a hard life at such a young age when he saw it.

Based on the panels themselves it is clear that Pete was scared of the monster itself (which is fair, the make up and costuming wanted him to be frightening). "I expected him to tell me there's no such thing as monsters," because no one in real life is a resurrected, looming... once-man-now-creature. (Just you wait, Peter). It's a more juvenile read of the film but Pete is a kid. Ben though, is a veteran, a socialist, has been around the block. He has the sense to analyze the film and interpret it differently. It is the men who find themselves with a capacity for senseless cruelty that are the monsters. That is exactly what the noir comics are about.

I really like that it's clear that Uncle Ben knows what Peter is about to learn. It also shows how much Pete has changed, just within the 1-2 years since he'd seen Frankenstein.

[justanoutlawfic]

"It may not happen as quickly as you want, but if you stay the course, your happiness will come." "You honestly believe that?" "It doesn't matter what I believe. What matters is that you do."

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[alexenglish]

OMG IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY HI HAPPY BIRTHDAY 💙✨

IT IS HI THANK YOU ILY ( ˘ ³˘ )♡

[sumi-sprite]

SOMEONE PLEASE VOICE OVER THIS AAUUUH

This is canon until stated otherwise!!

This is my headcanon for what happened while Rosie was talking to Charlie

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Ghostwriter was really asking for soup time at this point.

He had apologized for his first Christmas truce before, last year he even convinced Clockwork to help him make a copy of the original work he had ruined.

So why in god’s gracious earth did he wake up to Amity Park being in a hallmark movie.

Danny glared as the people milled about the center of town like they haven’t since the portal opening.

It was unnerving, the only thing really missing from the equation was some out of town love interest or something.

“Hey, excuse me.”

Tall and built with black hair and blue eyes.

Oh you got to be-

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick tried to make himself look more charming as the guy he approached turned around.

When he heard that the justice league were getting concerning calls about a town In Illinois, he saw an out from the Christmas gala.

Sure Dick enjoyed the season, but the fact that he has to spend a large amount of the winter season putting up a front as the perfect firstborn was not something he wanted to do unless he had to.

That being said, the town was a bit unnerving. He hadn’t seen anything supernatural per say but the constant cheer is something he had only ever seen on the silver screen of his home. He had tried to approach several different people only to be met with seasons greetings and promptly ignored when as they ran off to do whatever small towns do for the holidays.

This guy at least wasn’t plastering a smile on his face.

“Hey, excuse me I’m new in town and looking around, my name is-“

“Let me guess, Rupert or Orlando or some shit.”

“What?”

“Well it has to be pompous and annoying. It’s kind of a trend and shit last time I checked.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about man I just wanted to ask-“

The man snorted as he left, throwing over his shoulder with a large amount of snark,

“For a tour around town? A place to stay? A friendly face? Sorry man, man but I’m not interested. The town square is full, ask someone else I have a date with a caffeine addiction.”

Dick watched a bit stupefied as the guy weaves into the ground and out of his eyesight.

“Well he seemed charming.”

Dick raised his phone to the earpiece and sighed,

“Yeah well, he’s the first person who didn’t sound like they weren’t on a script so far. I didn’t even know that midwesterners took Christmas so seriously. How long until you reach town Jay?”

I’m reaching midtown just about now. It looks like Santa took a shit on every-“

There was a sudden squeal of tires as the line cut.

Oh no.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason gasped as he tried to calm his breath glancing at the guy he almost hit on his bike.

Jesus Christ that was close.

“Shit man are you alright?”

“Peachy. Always liked pancakes and all that.”

~~~~~~~

Danny felt a blush hit him as the behemoth of a guy let out a snort. It was embarrassing that he didn’t notice the guy until he almost became a smear, the dude was built like a tank and wearing a red helmet.

“I shouldn’t’ve taken that turn that quickly.. sometimes forget I’m not at home.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s home for you?”

“Gotham if you believe that.”

“Explains why you drive like you’re chased by death.”

“You have no idea..”

He took off his helmet with another snort and shake of the head. A white wisp in a sea of black shook out while mirthful blue eyes met his.

Crap..

“Name’s Jason. You are?”

“Nunya,”

The guy raised a brow mildly confused.

“Pardon?”

“Nunyabusinessbye!”

Danny took off before he was done with the sentence. He could feel eyes on his retreat for the second time today.

‘Jesus, smooth recovery Fenton.’

~~~~~~~~

Tim rubbed his eyes as he listened to his older brothers bicker over the coms.

He couldn’t understand the issue with the surveillance! All the cameras and mics are properly functioning but for some reason everything is corrupted and it’s driving Tim up a wall!

A break, Tim needed a break from this Airbnb and something caffeinated.

~~~~~~~~

‘Just ten minutes, ten minutes and he could get his drink, he could rant to his friends on the group chat afterwards and wait out the story. ‘

And with as much bravo as any tired young adult, he entered the shop.

Danny almost left the cafe as he heard another unfamiliar voice bellow out.

“What do you mean you don’t have coffee, it’s a coffee shop!”

Blue eyes, black hair, surprisingly smaller than the first two and eye bags that could rival Danny some nights.

Danny was done.

Fuck the treaty this was war.

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Public Sex | Han Jisung

Pairing: Han Jisung x GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), established relationship

Summary: Jisung invited his partner to a performance of his group, but he wasn't expecting them to dress up for him. Who could blame him for needing them right then and there?

WC: 1.5k

Warnings: public sex, dry humping, ass grinding, cum marking, reader is wearing a skirt. All things considered, it's pretty tame

A/N: On god we're gonna finish this team. Stick with me. Also, if you enjoyed this, please check out my commissions and donations here, and consider reblogging for me. Thank you for reading!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha / @ferrethyun // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1-blog

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any platform is prohibited

This was all Han Jisung's fault, he knew that himself. He was the one with the prettiest partner known to man. He was the one who invited them backstage at the music show that he and the boys were performing at. And it was his fault for being down so astronomically bad that just the sight of them wearing that cute little skirt had him hard in his pants. On stage and everything.

You, on the other hand, were completely innocent in the matter. Sure, you'd worn Jisung's favorite skirt but that was because it went so well with the top you'd gotten for the concert, an outfit meant to match one of his stage fits. It wasn't anything that any other fan wouldn't have done. Even if the skirt was a little short and flashed your ass if you moved too carelessly. And even if you knew that Jeongin had caught a glimpse of your panties on more than one occasion before they went on. No, you had nothing but the purest intentions.

When Jisung came off stage, he was sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead and face flushed from the exertion. You beamed at him, smile so brought and adoring.

"You guys were amazing." You insisted, leaning to kiss him. He melted against your lips, passing his mic off to a staff member and gripping at your hips to pull you closer. You were hyper aware of his members scoffing and teasing him for being obsessed with you, but it was hard to think about that when his tongue was sliding past your lips and pressing against yours, stealing your breath.

"Sungie," You whined against his lips until he finally put a bit of space between you. His eyes were dark, and you could feel his length pressing against you where he pulled your hips towards his. "There's people,"

Your words were barely a whisper, and he nearly pouted. Damn all of these people for being in his way. His members had gone off to their changing room as usual, so it was just staff milling around. He slid his hand into yours, pulling you away, down a hall and around a corner, weaving through halls until you were far enough away that you could only barely hear the bustling of everyone.

Jisung crowded you against the wall, his lips descending onto your neck and latching onto the soft skin. You whined, gripping at his shirt with one hand, and his hair with the other. He sucked on the spot, teeth grazing and pulling at your skin until he was satisfied with the mark blooming there. His. He needed to make sure that was clear.

"What's gotten into you?" You asked, half giggling at his behavior. Your boyfriend was obsessed with you, and you were obsessed with him, it was a mutual exchange for the both of you, but he could - much to your own surprise - generally keep himself in check better than this.

"You look so pretty, baby." He praised, kissing you again, lips hungry and harsh against yours, fast enough that you could barely keep up. His hands slid up your sides, pushing under your shirt and making it ride up your stomach. "Needed to feel you so bad."

You tipped your head back, letting him kiss down your neck, down the heavy dip of your shirt, and then back up again. He took his time, fingers tracing up to push your shirt over your chest. You gasped softly, hand flying up to cover your mouth.

You nudged him back with your elbow, moving to tug your shirt back down.

"There's people, Ji. We'll get caught."

He shook his head, pushing your clothes out of the way until he could latch his mouth over one of your nipples. You squirmed, biting back a moan.

"No they won't, baby. Just gotta keep quiet. Gonna be so fast and then I can take you home. Just need you first, have to have you now." He leaned down, suckling at your nipple again, his hands pressing you firmly against the wall as you writhed under the attention. Then he switched to the other, giving it the same attention until they were both pebbled so pretty and glistening with his spit.

You felt vulnerable, mostly because you were, but you'd be lying if you said that it wasn't doing anything for you. You were aching for his touch, desire burning in the pit of your stomach as he continued to kiss down your stomach. Then he stood up straight, pulling away and using his grip on your hips to turn you around.

He pushed your front against the wall, listening to the whimper you let out when your nipples dragged against the cold wall. He pulled your ass back towards him, flipping your skirt up to expose your panty clad ass. He reached down, kneading the flesh and tugging your panties up until they slid between your cheeks, exposing even more of you to his prying eyes.

"Fucking look at you. All mine." He slapped your ass hard, your knees nearly buckling as you jerked away from it, and the sound feeling loud enough in the quiet corridor to deafen you. You felt another wave of arousal at the knowledge that someone could walk around the corner at any moment to find one of their star idols defiling you like you were nothing right there in the hall.

"Jisung, please," You whined, looking back over your shoulder at him. He pulled his shirt up, exposing his toned stomach and undid his pants. He pushed them down enough to expose his aching cock to the cool air. He hissed, reaching around you and holding out his palm. You obediently spit into it, and then he did the same, using it to slick up his cock with slow, deliberate tugs. You whined, wiggling back at him, and in return he slapped your ass again.

"Calm down, baby, I'm coming." He promised. He crowded closer to you, guiding his length under the soft material of your panties, the length of his dick sliding against your ass, and you hummed in satisfaction. You weren't greedy, after all, you just wanted to feel him, and this had been one of Jisung's favorite ways to get off for as long as the two of you had been together.

He rutted forward, fucking his cock against your ass, your cheeks hugging his length and making him grunt against your shoulder. He knew he needed to be fast, no matter how much the idea turned him on, he wasn't sure he wanted the two of you to be caught in a position like this.

"Sungie," You whined, dragging his hand down your side, pushing it under your skirt to play with you. He listened without hesitation, skilled fingers working you up in perfect time with his frantic thrusts until the both of you were barely hanging in. You twisted around to sloppily press your lips to his, letting your tongues meet and hush the gasping whines that were slipping out between the two of you.

He pulled you closer with a tight grip around your waist, his hips stuttering against your ass and your legs shaking as he unflinchingly drove you to your orgasm. Your fingertips dragged against the wall, clinging to it like a lifeline to keep you from collapsing under his touch. The broken, choked back moan of his name that you let out was too much for Jisung. Before you knew it, he was spilling his load along your ass, soaking your panties in his seed and hissing as he pulled away from you. It was sticky and wet and almost too warm as you came back to your senses, but the knowledge that he had been driven so crazy by you that he'd had to mark you immediately was enough to make you not care about the way it was probably going to soak through your pretty skirt.

"We should go back," You said, turning around to kiss him again. He hummed against your lips, possessive hands pulling at your waist and pinning you against the wall all over again. You gently pushed on his shoulders.

"I have to go home before everyone sees your cum on my ass." You said. "And we have to go before everyone starts wondering where their super ultra famous idol is at."

He blushed at your overly generous praise, but he nodded anyway.

"I'll meet you in the back and we can go home. Knowing you're covered in my cum is gonna make me hard again." He dropped his head against your shoulder, and you giggled, pushing him off of you one more time.

"Go. Tell the boys I said they did great, by the way. Didn't get a chance before you defiled me in the middle of the venue."

He grinned, all too proud of himself for getting you in such a precarious position, and even more proud that at the end of the day, he got to take take you home and do it all over again in the comfort of your shared apartment. Who could really blame him for being whipped over his absolutely perfect partner?

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

[hussyknee]

[embedded screen recording of a tweet.

Quoted Tweet by Q. Anthony Ali

What rules about this clip is how effectively it demonstrates that less than 30 seconds of interacting with the average Israeli will turn almost anyone into an anti-Zionist

Tweet by Frank (@forget_exit)

"No politics here" 😂

[embedded video. Description: a young white football fan inside a stadium is being offered a mic by an interviewer off-screen as people mill around behind him.

Interviewer: "And what do you think about the game?"

Young guy: "I thought it was a good game. I thought in the beginning Israel was better, but now Mali is destroying them I think."

A squat, middle aged, bespectacled white man advances angrily, shoving the end of the blue-white Israeli scarf around his neck in the young guy's face. Young guy says placatingly, "Israel is not bad, Israel is not bad."

Middle aged guy: *holding up his finger threateningly* "No politics here! No politics here!"

Young guy: *resumes* "I think Mali is going to destroy them."

Middle-aged guy: *continues shouting* "No politics here!"

Young guy: "No, I'm just talking about football—I'm just talking about football."

Middle aged guy: *retying his scarf with his chest puffed out* "Mali's the best—no politics here! Okay??"

Young guy: *stares at camera for half a beat* "...Free–Free Palestine! Free Free Palestine! Free Free Palestine!"

Middle aged guy: *hands on hips, leaning towards him like he's going to spit* "Fu-Fu Fuck you, Fu-Fu Fuck you!"

Young guy: *holds up red trumpet and blows "pra-pra pra-pra" to the rhythm* A short squat middle aged blonde woman who looks like the illustrated definition of a Karen chimes in to chant with the middle aged man: "Fuck-you fuck-you fuck-you!"

A tall Black man appears and tries to calm them down as they both gesticulate and yell angrily after the young man who ignores them and walks off camera./video description]

28 July 24. /ID]

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

[rtfics]

Jeremy, the evil shit.

unmute

Can you imagine the news coverage?

REPORTER: "The police arrived to find a grisly scene. Mr. Frazier was discovered on the couch in the living room. Mrs. Frazier was found on the floor in the kitchen. During a search movement was noticed in the treehouse in the backyard. Police called for the son to come down. Jeremy Frazier attempted to flee, but lost his footing and fell. He was declared dead on the scene."

REPORTER HOLDING MIC OUT TO 4 HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS.

STUDENT 1, guy: "He was an arrogant shi--- sorry."

STUDENT 2, girl: "His Dad worked at the paper mill, and Jeremy thought it was so embarrassing. "

STUDENT 3, guy: "He didn't have any friends, he just stayed in his room and played Pearl Jam all the time."

STUDENT 4, girl: "He was cute." (PAUSE) "I probably shouldn't say that, should I?"

TEACHER 1, wearing a DEAD POETS SOCIETY t-shirt under a tweed jacket: "I refuse to believe Jeremy was to blame. People are jumping to conclusions. Jeremy was likely hiding in the tree house from whoever murdered his parents. Jeremy saw the treehouse as his haven. He wrote poems about it. Truly moving poems. His smile was bright and sincere. It couldn't have been Jeremy."

TEACHER 2: "Oh, he was my favorite student in English 1. He was a big reader, far above his grade. He loved The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier. He said Archie was his favorite character." (pause) "I don't think anything should be read into that."

NEIGHBORHOOD MOM: "Last Halloween he just dressed like himself, and I asked (SNIFFLE) his Mom who he was supposed to be, and she said Jeffrey Dahmer." (SNIFFLE) "We didn't know who that was."

[psiroller]

My Boy (We Don't See Each Other Much)

a third fic request from unkat has reached me for some gamer au shenanigans. cool, i thought, nice low stakes goofin off fun time au. lets put some military industrial complex in there

cw: institutionalized homophobia, vague references to USAmerican military operations in the 2000's, gamer lingo

The raid was a resounding success by their guild's lax standards. Chilchuck managed to pull a rare light armor piece he'd been looking for, finally catching him up to the modern game; he was surprised by how much damage the standard grinding mobs were doing to him now, even if his defense was always going to be lower than the tanks and fighters he partied with. Laios landed the biggest critical hit he'd ever seen; the broadsword Chilchuck nabbed for him off the Auction House was working well for him. He was clearly still riding the high, humming the victory fanfare under his breath as he took inventory and milled about with Senshi, comparing the ingredients they’d collected, trading amongst themselves. It was late, though, close to Senshi’s prep hours. Marcille was fighting against the cozy lethargy that followed a glass of wine and swiftly losing. Falin had already logged out to take a shower and head to bed, stopping by Laios’ door for a hug goodnight.

Laios went right back to the desktop after he shut the door. He pulled his headset back on and heard the familiar sound of Chilchuck’s raspy inhale and then a long, satisfied exhale.

“Chilchuck!” Laios said, too eagerly. “You’re still up?”

“No, I’m fast asleep,” Chilchuck drawled. Laios snorted and threw a rock at Chilchuck’s head. It passed through harmlessly; neither of them wanted the hassle of dedicated PVP. Maybe Laios wasn’t as keen on roleplaying as Marcille and Falin were, but the roleplaying server had been a lot kinder to him than the standard ones he usually played on.

“You were right about the sword,” Laios tittered. “I really have to start doing the math instead of just looking at bigger numbers—uh, focusing on how sharp the blade is, I mean.”

Chilchuck coughed through a laugh, leaning away from the mic so that it didn’t blow Laios’ eardrums out. “I think some of the guides are a little out of date,” Chilchuck said, relaxed enough to drop character. Marcille was still nearby, though the AFK symbol appeared under her name; the elf she played nodded off, ears drooping.  “Critical chance used to be calculated with this really convoluted system that also included timers, so there were only so many crits you could get in the span of a few minutes,” he went on. “They updated it recently so that you roll for a critical every hit.”

“Oh, thank God,” Laios said. “On a timer? How long did raids use to take?”

“Oh, upwards of four hours.” Chilchuck said casually. Laios sputtered. “I know, I know. I guess people had more free time back then… though with how people run multiple raids a night now, I guess it’s down to how committed you are.”

“So critical hit percentage is the thing I should focus on, then.”

“For your build, yeah.”

“Why does everyone recommend focusing on damage per second?”

“It’s a recent change, I think it got pushed out just before you signed up. They’ve tweaked it a lot, so people tend to get confused on how it works now, as it gets buffed and nerfed. Attack and attack speed used to be connected to the same value, so there are other ways you can focus on dealing damage instead of just right clicking the dragon and watching one of twelve timers tick down.” Chilchuck smiled and took another drag. “I think they’re trying to freshen things up a little. I like the changes.”

“Really? Everyone in the forums talks about how much they hate it.”

“If they’re old enough to be using the forums, they’re old enough to hate their favorite thing changing,” Chilchuck laughed.

“But not you,” said Laios. There was a warmth there that Chilchuck didn’t see a reason for.

“Eh.” Chilchuck’s ears burned under his headset. “Maybe a little bit. They don’t make shooters like they used to.” There was a pause. “Oh, right, you don’t like those.”

“Just the super hoo-rah military ones,” Laios breathed. “I can do Team Fortress 2. That one’s pretty fun.”

“Oh! I play that with—a friend, sometimes,” Chilchuck stammered. “Do you… I’m still kind of wired. I got a day off tomorrow. Do you—”

“Yeah!” His mic clipped. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wait, you don’t have a test tomorrow or anything, do you?”

“… No.”

“I don’t like that hesitation.”

Laios huffed and puffed and logged out of Dungeon Divers with little warning, but usernames were exchanged and soon Laios’ avatar (a dragon, what else) popped up in Chilchuck’s scant friend list, nestled between Dan and May.

“I didn’t think you’d be cool enough to play TF2,” Laios teased.

“Cool people play TF2? I thought it was all screaming toddlers.”

“There are a few of those, yeah,” Laios admitted.

“I played the original game. It was a lot different. I don’t really keep up with it these days, but…”

“No worries,” Laios chirped. “I’ll take care of you.”

Chilchuck felt something zip down his spine. “I’m not that bad.”

They played three matches with the usual late night crowd, and it was a miracle if Chilchuck could stay alive for longer than a minute or two, let alone get a kill. Laios, on the other hand, clawed up every scoreboard and sat at the top. He started with Sniper; Chilchuck followed him while waiting for his respawn timer to run out, flicking between first and third person views. He watched as opponents’ heads would pop like grapes the moment they touched Laios’ reticle, faster than Chilchuck’s eyes could tell his brain to move his fingers.

“Okay, maybe I’m pretty bad,” Chilchuck admitted. “Compared to you.”

Laios missed a shot and sputtered. “I’m concentrating…!” A Spy knifed him, and Chilchuck could hear Laios whack his mouse against the table in frustration. Chilchuck laughed.

“Relax, that’s your first one this round,” he teased. “Your reflexes are crazy. Maybe I’m getting too old for twitchy games like this.”

“The mechanics have changed a lot and all the tryhards are on,” Laios conceded, breathing out the annoyance. “I’ll switch to Heavy. Wanna be my Medic? I can keep more of an eye on you.”

Chilchuck sniffed at his demotion to pocket healer, but then at least he’d be getting assist kills. “Alright, fine.”

Many assist kills were had, and all was well. It was fun to watch Laios’ brain work, bobbing and weaving and jumping around. He played like May did, hyperfocused on the movement mechanics; Chuck’s wrists weren’t any good for that anymore, so he usually hung back to support anyway.

“So why TF2 and not Call of Duty?” Chilchuck asked between matches, lighting another cigarette in search of the now-elusive nicotine buzz. “Seems like you’re really good. You could probably go pro if you wanted.”

Chuck heard a rustling against the mic. Sounded like Laios fiddling with the thing, maybe rubbing his face. He heard a scratch of stubble.

“Eh. I just—don’t like the military aesthetic very much, or something,” Laios mumbled. “I, uh. I served, and it’s a little…”

Chilchuck coughed. “You served? As in, served in the army?”

“Yeah.” There was a chuckle from the other line. “What? Is it that surprising?”

“Well, you just never…” Chuck scratched at the nape of his neck. “You never said anything that made me think… I don’t know what I thought. You didn’t seem like the type.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Laios snorted. “I was a good shot, but not a good soldier, if that makes any sense?”

Chuck wet his dry lips and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t lock into the next game, and the queue dumped them out. Laios didn’t reset it.

“So you objected? Conscientious objection? Is that what it’s called?”

“That’s what it’s called, but uh… it takes a while to get that done if you enlisted voluntarily. You have to plead your case for it. I thought about it, but I didn’t get the chance.”

Chilchuck swallowed dryly, then tapped some ash out into the ceramic tray Patty made for him many Father’s Days ago. “So you were kicked out?”

“Discharged, yeah,” Laios sighed. His chair creaked as he leaned back, too. “Other than honorable.”

Chuck winced. “What did you do?”

There was that rustling again. “I, um. If you don’t ask, I don’t have to tell you.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I”—Chilchuck’s eyes went wide—"ohhh.”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously? They booted you over a thing like that?”

Laios laughed weakly. “It’s in the regulations.”

“Still? When there’s, like, five wars going on?”

“Yep. I got a little pamphlet about it and everything. It’s rarer these days, and most people now get let off with an honorable, but…” Laios sighed. ��My case was a whole thing. I didn’t fit in great with the rest of my platoon to begin with, and I maybe… I maybe misread some signals. You get bored out there, you know. Lonely. Got a little too close to my bunky…” Laios cleared his throat. “He let me down easy, but I guess he said something to somebody. I don’t think he’d go straight to the brass, he told me he wouldn’t, but someone must have overheard and that counts as credible evidence, so…”

Laios popped his lips with a click of his tongue. Chilchuck was frozen, ashes falling from the end of his cigarette into the crevices of his already dirty keyboard. The cigarette had almost burned down to the filter; money burning up in unsmoked nicotine. “I was probably going to leave anyway,” Laios said, to fill the silence. “I didn’t like being out there. If anything it kept me from being stupid and going AWOL. But if you talk to the VA—or my dad, heh—I  might as well have.”

Laios wheezed. Chilchuck blinked some smoke out of his eyes and stubbed out his cigarette.

“Hang on, you were on active duty and they’re hassling you at the VA over healthcare?”

“Oh yeah. Anything less than a general discharge is going to get you some hassle. I’m still on general health insurance, lowest tier. I’m not on TRICARE.”

Chilchuck pinched the pressure point between his eyebrows. “There’s gotta be a way to appeal that.”

“There might be. But I’ve spent about 40 hours of my life on the phone with them since I got back, and I’m not keen on spending anymore.” Laios made a blech sort of noise, disgusted, a little childish. “I hate phone calls. Besides, they gave me some money for college, so it wasn’t a complete wash.”

“Small miracles,” Chilchuck mumbled.

“Yup,” Laios breathed. He drummed his fingers on his desk, loud enough to reach the mic. Then there were a couple rhythmic bongo slaps against the table, nervous. “Ready for another game?”

Chuck looked at his watch. It was 4:32 AM.

“Sure. Night’s still young,” he said, for lack of anything comforting to say. “Play Heavy again.”

“Okay,” Laios said, and there was a smile in his voice. So that was something.

[incandescentsims]

Magical Mythical Creatures Legacy Challenge

Play through all the sims 4 occult life states and develop your legacy across seven generations.

Feel free to change anything to fit your own gameplay/storytelling style and above all have fun!

Parts of this challenge were inspired by the Simblr Halloween Challenge created by @spacenez and @daddy-winter 

You can also find the full seven generation legacy challenge HERE (Google Doc).

Generation 1 - VAMPIRE

Aspiration: Master Vampire

Traits: Music Lover, Erratic, Gloomy

Career: Freelance Artist

Skills: reach maximum skill level for each.

Vampiric Lore

Pipe Organ and/or Violin

Cross-Stitch

Painting

Objectives:

Start as a vampire or be turned into a vampire.

Live in Forgotten Hollow.

level up to Rank 5 – Grand Master Vampire.

Grow at least one plasma fruit tree and Sixam mosquito trap.

Earn the Night Owl trait from the reward store.

Marry a vampire. (vampire spouse must be in the Criminal career)

Have an affair with a werewolf from Moonwood Mill.

Have three children, your decision who sired them (vampire or werewolf), but the heir must be sired by the werewolf.

Generations 2-7 are under the cut

Generation 2 - WEREWOLF

Aspiration: Pick one of the following - Emissary of the Collective, or Wildfang Renegade

Traits: Bookworm, Active, Loyal

Career: Vet Clinic

Skills: reach maximum skill level for each.

Wellness

Veterinarian

Fishing

Objectives:

Live in Moonwood Mill (move in with your werewolf parent as a teen).

Have at least one pet dog.

Level up to Rank 5 – Apex.

Join one of the wolf packs - Moonwood Collective or Wildfangs.

Explore the underground tunnels in Moonwood Mill.

Read werewolf literature and unlock the Lunar Epiphany ability.

Catch at least one luna fish and display in an aquarium or mounted on the wall.

Marry your fated mate.

Have as many children as you wish, but the heir must be a dormant werewolf.

Collections: optional - complete them all or pick n’ choose.

Collect all 12 Moonwood relics.

Collect all 12 feathers.

Complete the fish collection.

Generation 3 - GHOST

Aspiration: Soulmate

Traits: Foodie, Cat lover, Clumsy

Career: Freelance Paranormal Investigator

Skills: reach maximum skill level for each.

Medium

Cooking

Gourmet cooking and/or Baking

Objectives:

Move into a haunted house. (your choice of world)

Have at least one pet cat.

Grow at least one death flower plant.

Earn the Brave trait from the reward store. (purchase after they've lived seven days inside the haunted house)

Have a friendship with a ghost that turns to romance.

Make ambrosia and resurrect your ghost partner from the dead.

Have 5 children.

Collections: optional - complete them all or pick n’ choose.

Collect all 10 sugar skulls. The Sims 4: How to Complete the Sugar Skull Collection

Collect Paranormal Rewards.

3 specter buddy jars

6 bizzare totems

7 hello dahlia dolls

3 clay hands

3 specter sips

1 ectocake

4 strange overgrowth

12 soul pieces

10 candy jars

Generation 4 - SPELLCASTER

Aspiration: Pick one of the following - Purveyor of Potions or Spellcraft & Sorcery

Traits: Goofball, Adventurous, Romantic

Career: Social Media

Skills: reach maximum skill level for each.

Mischief

Charisma

Rock Climbing

Skiing and/or Snowboarding

Objectives:

Live in Glimmerbrook.

Become a spellcaster and level up to Rank 6 – Virtuoso.

Regularly duel with other Spellcasters.

Holiday in Mt. Komorebi every winter and reach the mountain peak.

Earn the Iceproof trait from the reward store. (purchase after their first holiday in Mt. Komorebi)

Have a new romantic partner each life stage from teen - elder.

Never marry.

Have 2 Children.

Collections: optional - complete them all or pick n’ choose.

Collect all 25 frogs.

Collect all 26 magical artefacts.

Collect all 12 simmies.

Collect all 5 spirit dolls

Generation 5 - PLANTSIM

Aspiration: Super Parent

Traits: Unflirty, Loner, Loves Outdoors

Career: Gardener

Skills: reach maximum skill level for each.

Gardening

Flower Arranging

Nectar Making and/or Juice Fizzing

Objectives:

Move into a Micro Home with a very large garden. Lot sizes must be 30x30 or bigger (your choice of world)

Collect all 7 Magic beans.

Enter the Mystical Magic Bean Portal Tree and obtain the Forbidden Fruit.

Regularly eat forbidden fruit to turn into a plantsim.

Grow at least one Forbidden Fruit Tree, Cowplant and Money Tree.

Earn the Super Green Thumb trait from the reward store.

Have no romantic or sexual relationships with any sims.

Have no legitimate children. Once they reach adulthood, either adopt or use the Whispering Wishing Well to wish for a child (this child will be the heir).

Collections: optional - complete them all or pick n’ choose.

Complete the gardening collection

Create all 13 nectar varieties

Create all 15 scented flower arrangements

**How do I turn my Sim into a PlantSim?

Have your Sim reach level 10 of the gardening skill. With level 10 unlocked, you can buy rare seed packets using the computer, or in Build Mode.

Each rare seed packet contains one magic bean. To plant this, buy the Magic PlantSim Stump in Build Mode.

When you have six magic beans, your Sim can plant them in the Magic PlantSim Stump.

After watering, the Mystical Magic Bean Portal Tree will grow from the Stump and your Sim can travel through the portal.

When your Sim returns with the Forbidden Fruit of the PlantSim (they don’t always return with this, it may take multiple tries) they can eat it and turn into a PlantSim.

Generation 6 - ALIEN

Aspiration: Nerd Brain (*Optional - StrangerVille Mystery)

Traits: Socially Awkward, Genius, Recycle disciple

Career: Engineer

Skills: reach maximum skill level for each.

Handiness

Robotics

Logic

Knitting

Objectives:

Live in Oasis Springs (*Optional - Live in StrangerVille and complete the StrangerVille Mystery).

Build all Utili-Bots and a Servo.

Build a rocket ship and travel to Sixam.

Be abducted by aliens at least once.

Marry an alien.

Have as many children as you wish.

Collections: optional - complete them all or pick n’ choose.

Collect all 20 metals.

Collect all 20 crystals.

Collect all 4 space rocks.

Generation 7 - MERMAID

Aspiration: Beach Life

Traits: Child of the Ocean, Green Fiend, Outgoing

Career: Conservationist

Skills: reach maximum skill level for each.

Singing

Photography

Fitness

Objectives:

Live in Brindleton Bay as a young adult with a mermaid roommate.

Get into a romantic relationship with your roommate only after you become best friends.

Move to Sulani after visiting for a holiday (*Optional - live off the grid).

Become a Mermaid by obtaining and eating Mermaidic Kelp (either from exploring the cave in Mua Pel'am or befriending a dolphin).

Earn the Heatproof trait from the reward store.

Marry a mermaid (can be their roommate or someone else)

Have as many children as you wish.

Collections: optional - complete them all or pick n’ choose.

Collect all 13 seashells..

Collect all 18 buried treasure.

Collect all 10 underwater photos.

[songwolfwildblogs]

Oh god.

Sans aus expect their all youtubers. Like instead of a multiversal war it's just Twitter beef

Nightmare's gang is an improv group that does weird shit, nightmare's castle is just a place where most of their sets are

Dream is a commentary youtuber similar to Danny Gonzalez, he's just vibin

Ink is one of those art channels where they just talk about whatever over a speedpaint

Error is just an undernovela fan channel

Swap is a gaming youtuber that somehow keeps getting involved in drama despite literally doing nothing

Lust is a makeup channel so he 100% gets involved in petty drama (he has a side channel where he plays the sims)

Fell is just a guy that just gets really drunk then talks into a mic for 3 hours about fucking nothing (he isn't an alpha Podcaster he's a drunk Podcaster)

Classic is that one guy that doesn't have a channel but keeps appearing in other people's videos

Outer runs a channel that delivers daily fun facts about the stars

Fresh just randomly turns on the camera he stole to stare at it for a few moments then says a random word then turns the camera off. People think it might be an arg but no he just wants to share words he likes

Farm just kinda vlogs random shit on the farm. Not like content farm vlogs just genuine vlogs about the farm

And they somehow always get into small fights on Twitter that shouldn't matter but get overblown by those drama content mills

Also, swap and fresh at least 4 times a year goes to the hospital somehow

And nightmare's gang are often seen in party city going through shit there looking for costumes for videos and killer always ends up with either something like this

Or this

Everyone else gets like normal costumes. Then we have killer although for some reason, one of them somehow usually ends up in a nun or priest costume. Usually, they just use real weapons. They're good actors but videos become extremely chaotic in a matter of minutes

[uhdrienne]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

08. rumour mill

🌼warnings: wonwoo is sick, you almost burn down the house!

🌼 word count: ~2k

Wonwoo

The story has changed. Now it's a tale about how he's been in love with you for a while and that you got together after the car accident.

Miss Hwang and all the members of the chat group have spiraled the rumours out of control, and he feels... awkward, to say the least. The villagers don't whisper very conspicuously when you walk past, and sometimes when you see him going about town on his part-time jobs, fixing people's sinks and building them new shelves, you say hi and end it there to stop the rumour mill.

Wonwoo knows it too, because he's now decided to keep his chats slightly shorter before excusing himself. Which is why he's currently standing outside Grandma Lee's house quietly, watching as Park Chanyeol chats you up.

"This house is gorgeous," He hears Chanyeol enthuse. "The traditional feel, you know -- and with that yard! Nostalgic, and it would look insane on the show thumbnail--"

As Chanyeol yaps on about the 180-degree rule and the height of the boom mics he plans to use, Wonwoo stifles a yawn behind his palm. Not understanding any bit of film lingo is so boring, and he doesn't know how you haven't already dozed off. Well, perks of the very person being your longtime crush, he supposes.

Actually he's not sure why he thought of that.

Anyway, he skips over that part, he has work to do. He's promised to get a tarp for Chanyeol, set up accommodation, and ensure the film crew doesn't end up homeless for the next few weeks.

He walks off, but he glances back.

Park Chanyeol really is very noisy.

Wonwoo

Okay, this is getting a little ridiculous.

Delia hasn't seen much of you after work. Seungkwan and Joshua haven't seen you either, except at the weekend cleaning when you're on sweeping duty, and sometimes at village meetings when you ask them if the apples you bought are of good enough quality. He watches as Joshua explains how to tell the difference between good apples and mediocre ones.

He hasn't seen you much either. He hasn't seen you come into the coffee shop for your daily coffee run on the way to the clinic, or walking around with Delia near the lighthouse that he knows you sometimes do around 9pm.

If he wanted to guess (which he doesn't, honestly), you were probably at the team dinners which Chanyeol is apparently very generous with, or with the producer himself, hanging out at a streetside stall or something. Which is ridiculous, because with the amount you could drink, he knew you were probably not one to turn down a party when you weren't being stiff and awkward.

Which was also ridiculous in itself, because--

Wonwoo stops himself. Everything about you is ridiculous. Everything he's feeling and thinking is absolutely bat-shit crazy.

Wonwoo's never been a crazy person. He's always been perfectly rational and cheerful, a nothing-can-get-me-down kind of guy.

He is.

That night, he makes sure to completely fill up his days ahead. Back to back. And no going to the clinic.

You

"Ah, I forgot my umbrella is with Delia," You mutter as the first heavy drops of the storm start to pelt down. "I just ordered this top -- agh---"

You decide to just make a run for it when the redness of the night sky indicates that the rain won't stop anytime soon. At least, you aren't driving this time around.

"Wait! Y/N!"

"Chanyeol?"

"What're you doing out -- you hate the rain. Get under here."

"Uh... thanks! It's late, shouldn't you get ready for filming in a couple days?"

"Last-minute checks on Grandma's house to make sure all's good." He grins. "But it's good that the weather is cooling a bit. Easier for us to film."

He shelters you with the umbrella as he takes you to your door.

"Oh, you're back -- hey, Producer." Wonwoo's leaning against the wall near your door, with no umbrella, and water starting to drip off his backpack.

"Chief Jeon!" You call over the sound of the rain as you near him. "Get under here, you told me you're more prone to colds --"

"It's okay," Wonwoo refuses, his face changing a little bit as he looks at you two. "I just wanted to drop this off." He ducks his head under the umbrella and hands you a brown paper bag which you accept, absolutely bewildered.

"What's this?"

"Fruits!" He has to raise his voice to be heard over the rain now. "Grandma Lee said to pass you some clementines since she said you liked them during the village meeting."

"Oh!" You lean in to take a look, but look up to shoot him a stern gaze. "Why'd you stay in the rain? You'll fall sick."

He snickers. "It's just a little rain. I have to patrol the roads up ahead to make sure all's good anyway. The rain here gets bad, and we can't have any more accidents happening."

"Wait!" Chanyeol calls as Wonwoo makes to leave. "I can go with you, we can share the umbrella. Don't fall sick trying to work so hard, Chief. Y/N, can you go on in--"

"Yeah, of course, don't worry about me -- Wonwoo, go with him, you'll be sheltered at least--"

"Hey," Wonwoo interjects, a half-smile appearing on his face. "Thanks for asking. I'll be fine, really. Producer, get Miss Doctor safely in the house, okay?" He raises his hand in farewell and darts off before you can say anything else.

"Chief Jeon--"

You look up the way he's going, a frown on your face.

"Happy first day of filming," You smile slightly as Chanyeol startles and turns to face you, his signature grin on full display.

"Hey there, thanks!" He says happily. "You'll stick around for the day?"

"Can't," You grimace. "I have work. But let me know how it goes, yeah?"

"Sure!" he waves. "Have a good day. Right I was about to ask, do you, by chance, want to --"

A loud cough and a clear of the throat interrupts and you both turn. It's Wonwoo trudging in your direction. Well, if the man underneath a pale complexion and eye bags is Wonwoo, at least.

"Damn, Chief Jeon," Chanyeol gapes. "Are you...good?"

"Splendid. The weather's good," Wonwoo replies, trying to nod but slowing it down, no doubt because of his throbbing head.

You march to him and press your hand on his forehead. "Hey. You're burning up!"

"Shhh, softer." He mutters. "My head hurts."

"Hey, man, take a day off," Chanyeol says, clearly distressed that his newfound right-hand man is ill. "We can deal with stuff over here. Uh, I can't send you home, but--"

"I can." You sling his arm over your shoulder, clicking your tongue as Wonwoo grumbles no. "No complaints. House call. We'll get going, Chanyeol."

"Yeah-- yeah!" Chanyeol pats Wonwoo on the shoulder. "Rest. Get well soon, okay?"

Wonwoo mutters something intelligible in response as you try to heave him away as gently as possible. The villagers are already staring, but it's the last thing on your mind.

"Hey, Chief Jeon?" You ask cautiously as you move. "Can you tell me roughly how to get to your house?"

His voice is all droopy and quiet, but you make out a few vague directions of "You're insufferable... left, up...ahead, and to the right..."

After the trip to his house takes double the time it usually would, given that he's already shaky on his own two legs and you have to move slowly, you try your best to tuck him entirely onto his sofa and look around for a comforter.

As you take his temperature, you survey his house. It's the first time you've ever been in his home, and it's the stark opposite of yours: the books are neatly shelved, his belongings exactly where they should be. There's a cozy, worn feeling to it like it's been lived in for a long time. Photo frames decorate the shelves, with books and small decorations, seemingly made of wood, arranged neatly.

You hear a groan, and you turn to see Wonwoo wincing as he tries to sit up. You sigh. "Don't get up. You took meds or ate today?"

"No," He grumbles, clearly put out by his current situation.

"Right, okay," You reply. "Can Mrs Woo send porridge over, or should I go buy some from her?"

"No chance," He mumbles, still trying to detangle his feet from the comforter you threw over him. "Jiwoo has a school play, she shut up shop for the day to see it."

You pause for a moment. "Okay...you've got rice in here?"

"Yeah....why..?"

"I'll make you something to eat with your meds. Back to sleep. Give me a while."

He sighs. "Don't bother. It's fine. I'll eat later with my meds. Off you go, shoo."

"Doctor's orders," You retort, and he groans in frustration, which almost makes you chuckle. "Rice is in the second drawer. Please don't burn my house down."

You almost (?) don't make edible porridge.

In your defence, the pot was small and the fire on the stove wasn't supposed to be that big. You're not sure if rice can be burnt, and can only hope that the salt and sauces you put in there at least salvage it a little.

Wonwoo is completely knocked out when you reach the living room, and you decide not to wake him up since he clearly needs the rest. You tuck the comforter under his chin again and get a tray of porridge ready, along with the meds you find.

After you put it on the table, you scribble a note and stick it to the table, and then turn to look at him.

He looks....cute. His hair is ruffled, his face soft in slumber, and he looks peaceful and undisturbed.

You sigh. "So you are a little cute when you have to be, huh?"

You lean over and brush the hair out of his eyes, and he lets out a soft sound and leans into your touch, like a cat.

Quietly, you stroke his hair, and after a few moments, he seems satisfied and stills again, evidently falling back into deep sleep.

A small pang comes to your heart, because he seems so small, curled up on his couch and sleeping off his fever.

Before you know what you're doing, you lean over and kiss his forehead.

And you then proceed to grab your things and run out of the house, in utter shock.

Fuck.

You just kissed Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo

When he stirs, the house is quiet.

Wonwoo gets out of his comforter, yawning and massaging his neck from the awkward position he just came out of.

He spots the tray on the table, and he chuckles before reaching for the bowl. "She really did make food."

He spoons some out and takes a bite. "Oh, wow."

Then swallows it and muses, "How do you mess porridge up so badly?"

He picks up the Post-it note. "Eat it and then have your meds. Get well soon and don't skip meals. Call if you need anything."

Despite his drowsiness and the horrendous porridge, he finds it in him to smile.

Well, he thinks later as he stands to bring his empty bowl to the kitchen, at least you washed the dishes.

BONUS

"The clementines are fresh today," Grandma Lee tells him. "You take some home, got it?"

"Ah, got it, Grandma," Wonwoo says, before grinning at her. "Save more for yourself. I can always get more later."

She smiles back at him. "Don't forget to get more, then. They go stale really quickly. Right. That reminds me, I should ask Y/N to get some. She liked them during the village meeting, right?"

Wonwoo feels a little more alert at the mention of you. "Hm? Did she?"

"Yeah," Grandma Lee says. "Hm, maybe I should bring a bag to her house? She's busy nowadays."

"Ah, I'll do it," Wonwoo says, helping to pick some out and pack them. "It's tiring to make the trip, I've got it covered."

Grandma Lee beams at him in thanks, and Wonwoo applauds himself for seeming normal enough.

It's not like he's there to do anything more than be a friend anyway. It's not like he's going to have a chat with you, make sure you're not too busy with that noisy producer.

Definitely not.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (written, fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.08: rumour mill

prev. masterlist. next.

🌼 taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou @mingycr

writer's note: ok so i was originally planning to make her mad about the rumours BUT 👆 i decided that it wouldn't fit in anymore since number one: she's getting along better with wonwoo and everyone else, and number two: it's high time she had a bit of character development cos there is a fine line between being snappish and being an ass! thank you for readinggg~

btw i love chanyeol and everything exo too and i just felt chanyeol was perfect for the golden retriever film producer role :"

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- One Direction And Scott Mills

2013

Part 37

“I’m now joined with One Direction at a secret location” Scott introduces us all “don’t say where we are by the way”

“We don’t know where we are. We were blindfolded” liam jokes next to me making me chuckle

“We’ve noticed your spending all the money on your music videos now. Most notably you’ve upgraded the camper van in steal my girl. What happened to the last one?”

“I don’t know actually” I respond as Liam points the mic at me but ends up hitting my nose

“We should see if we can get our hands on that actually. Can you direct these mics a bit better Liam. You’ve already hit YN with it”

“Sorry man”

“Hey what about me?” I nudge Liam who’s smiling

“Sorry YN”

“Thank you”

“The new album is released on November 17th. Have you all heard it the whole way through as an album”

“I don’t think so. Each song…. Liam just give me the mic” I take it off Liam as he hits me again with it “as I was saying. We’ve listened to each song individually but not as a album”

“We should do that” Liam says

“I like doing it in the car” Harry speaks into Niall’s mic

“What’s your favourite song on the album?”

“I really like where do broken hearts go” Niall replies

“Harry?”

“I’m a big fan of the next single”

“YN?”

“That’s a tough one. I think it might be ready to run or night changes”

“Louis?”

“I like fireproof”

“Same” Liam responds

“See on the same page”

“Zayn”

“I agree with Niall where do broke hearts go”. Steal my girl is then played on the radio and we get back into answering some more questions

“You mentioned on Twitter that you get cabin fever when your not allowed out of hotel rooms. What happens when you want to go outside but you have to stay in. Like who goes craziest?”

“I just get a headache if I don’t have fresh air” I reply

“Yeah then you get grumpy” Harry says

“We we’re in Charlotte in North Carolina about 4 weeks ago and there were loads of people outside the hotel. YN came into our room with a grumpy face and asked if any of us had painkillers because she ran out non of us did so she literally curled up on the floor and cried for a solid half an hour”

“My head was hurting” I look at Niall and pout

“I know” Niall puts his arm over my shoulder “Harry was ready to go and find her some but out management stopped him”

“Did you get any pain killers in the end?” Scott asks

“I did. One of the hotel staff felt bad for us so she gave me some”

“Knocked her out though” Liam says

“Slept like a baby. Stole Harry’s bed he ended up on the floor”

“Have any of you said something to someone and then you’ve gone away and though they must think your a right diva?”

“Oh 100%. I was having a bad day when we were in Toronto and someone had put sugar in my tea. I wouldn’t say I was horrible but I definitely had a bit of a moan. I went and apologised after” I tell Scott

“The next few questions I want you to answer honestly. They aren’t really yes or no questions so if someone doesn’t feel comfortable answering or elaborating then move on to someone else. Have any of you got in a relationship just for the winter?” Liam immediately points at Harry

“What do you mean?”

“I just wanted to point at you”

“Wasn’t on purpose”

“No I have these boys here to steal their jumpers and jackets to keep me warm” I joke… kinda

“Are any of you worried about what’s on your iCloud now that hackers can get in?”

“Only thing they will see is photos of Cookie”

“Thats true her whole camera roll is just of her dog”

“None of you and Liam?”

“I think there’s like 2 photos of us together it’s literally just tour photos, these idiots and Cookie”

“Hey I’m offended” Niall says looking at me

“Well that’s the end of the interview thank you very much. This has been One Direction live on radio one”