#mm detail dump

[theblorboscalledtheturtles]

this boy's got resting :) face

[medicinemane]

I don't know, I get tired of a lot of positivity

Like yes yes, the world's wonderful and I'm so strong or whatever generic thing is being said (because it's always so generalized to the point of meaningless), but you know shit is what it is, and the only way forward is with changes I manage to make... which you're not helping with at all

And as for like... my internal mood, I'm deeply isolated, sorry if hollow platitudes don't sooth the gaping maw inside me

It is what it is, and I probably get my shit together enough to do stuff like teach out of my basement like I'd like, it's just I believe that I'll be alone in a crowd like I've always been

But positivity... I just... I kinda get sick of it. There's this guy on youtube I watch who talks about economics stuff, he's recently started doing positivity and... I just fucking know his personality enough where it's like sorry mate but I'm not interested in hearing you spout Secret light kinds off drivel

...I don't know, I suppose it boils down to this

One, I can barely fucking take in positive things said directly to me, about me. Generalizations don't help even a little... I'm a mess, I'd really like someone to toss me a life preserver instead of always tossing confetti at me while I struggle to stay afloat... doesn't help

Two, the world is a terribly imperfect place, and rather than taking a mentality of "everything will work out", I think it's important to acknowledge that sometimes good people live alone, die alone, and they never got the break they needed and slowly bled out

I think it's worth knowing that if you can't step in and help yourself, then maybe no help'll come at all

...I don't know, I suppose in the end the core of what I'm saying is a lot of positivity seems like self help tier stuff and... I get tired of that, and I see so many good people struggling and... eh... either I can at least come in and say something positive custom fit to them, or I can keep my mouth shut

Just fucking let me rot. Help or let me fester on my own, you know?

I got rid of the trailer, I maybe did something like cleaning though I can't tell... at what point will my pace on trying to make things better be good enough for people, and I'll be able to stop having people tell me to fix my life... as if I hadn't thought of that already

...everyone means well, it's just tiring

[burntsaltsblog]

cruelty - billy butcher x reader

༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻

details: butcher is being a real ass, so you decide to run away for a bit <3

༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻

"Well, if ya' tried putting effort into any of these missions, then the rest of us wouldn't have to carry you around like dead weight."

Butcher's words hung in the air before piercing me. I met his gaze, waiting to see if he'd display even a tiny ounce of regret, but his face remained stoic, and his eyes bore into mine unapologetically.

No one said anything, and a tense silence encompassed the group. Everyone was waiting to see if I had a rebuttal to defend myself against Butcher's harsh accusation.

But I had nothing to say. For weeks, Butcher had been unusually nasty towards me, a complete switch from our old dynamic. Instead of his praise that I'd grown used to, he'd hurl nothing but criticism and bitter insults my way. And what made it worse was that he was charming to everyone else. Well, as charming as Butcher was capable of being.

The whole situation was disheartening and confusing because he and I used to be quite close. Yes, we had a significant age gap between us. But those years didn't hinder our ability to connect over our love of bizarre humor and sarcasm.

The rest of the boys assumed that we had had some misunderstanding or disagreement, but nothing of the sort had transpired. I had tried approaching Butcher to coax the reasoning for his cruelty out of him, but he brushed me off, refusing to give me the time of day.

But today was the last straw. I refused to linger any longer in an environment where I wasn't wanted or appreciated. Wordlessly and full of resolve, I turned on my heel and headed for the comfort of my room.

"Kid, wait," MM called, trying to fix the situation, but it was useless. I slammed my bedroom door behind me and slowly sank to the floor.

I didn't bother stopping my tears as they shamefully slid down my face. Through my blurred vision, I pulled out my phone and composed a text to an old friend.  

Me:

Hey, do you still need help this weekend?

I used to be a drug dealer and ran in various questionable circles to support myself before I joined The Boys. But I still had friends from my former life that I kept in touch with, and every once in a while, I'd dip my toe back into the drug scene when they needed help with an extra burdensome deal. And right now, I was desperate for any excuse to get out of here.

Alex:

Have you changed your mind about joining?

Me:

Yeah, I have. It's an out-of-town one, right?

Alex:

Yup. We'll be gone for at least three days, so pack a bag. And you can crash here tonight because we have to head out early in the morning.

Grateful for the impromptu getaway, I packed my small duffle bag with my spare pair of black jeans, sweaters since it was getting cold outside, and other essentials like face wash and my phone charger.

Considering it was just past midnight, I didn't have to wait long before I heard the guys mumble goodnight to each other from the other side of my door before they all retreated to their respective rooms.

I waited five minutes to be safe before opening my door and peering out. The common room in our bunker under the pawn shop was empty, and I took it as an opportunity to sneak out. I tiptoed up the old wooden stairs and breathed a sigh of relief after bolting through the old store and out the door, letting the chilly New York air blow across my face.

The walk to Alex's apartment was short because I was already close to that side of town. And I arrived soon enough with my duffle bag in tow.

"You look like shit," Alex said, opening their apartment door and quickly letting me in.

"Well, hello to you too."

Alex snorted as they pulled me in for a hug before directing me towards the couch I would be sleeping on that night.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite!" They called, heading into their room to rest for the night.

I dumped my bag on the floor and fell onto the couch. It squeaked loudly in protest, and I felt several springs dig into my spine. But I wasn't complaining. Anything was better than sharing a wall with Butcher, knowing the hate he now carried for me. Besides, he snored terribly loud, which the entire group complained about daily.

After some extensive tossing and turning, I fell into a fitful sleep.

༺༻

"Rise and shine, motherfucker!" Alex yelled.

I jerked awake before immediately falling onto the floor. The decades-old carpet did little to cushion the blow, and I groaned loudly as my head throbbed in protest.

I peered up at Alex from my place on the floor and saw them holding two coffee cups. "Want some?"

"Yes, please." I rose gingery before sitting back on the sofa and accepting one of the steaming mugs. I took a small sip and nodded thanks to my friend.

"We need to get on the road in twenty minutes because our first client expects us to arrive at eight tonight. And I don’t want to be late so we can make a good first impression."

"I think the eighteen pounds of coke you're selling them should help win their approval," I said, taking an enormous gulp of the caffeinated beverage.

"Speaking of coke, I need you to help load it into the car. Come on."

༺༻

"You gonna answer that?" Alex asked from the driver's seat on our way to Bardstown, Kentucky.

"No. It's probably just spam."

Alex glanced from the road ahead to give me a knowing look. "I don't think any spam caller would ever waste their time calling the same person two hundred times."

"It's not my fault they're dedicated to their job," I mumbled.

My friend chuckled, shaking their head.

I rolled my eyes and finally peered at my phone after ignoring its constant ringing for six hours. Hughie had texted me a wapping eighty-seven times and called me fifty-one times, which wasn't surprising because he did tend to be a phone stalker. I scrolled through his messages, landing on the most recent one sent three minutes ago.

Hughie:

Look, I get that you're pissed at Butcher, and that's probably why you left. But please let us know that you're safe. We're freaking out over here.

I sighed heavily before I forced my fingers to type out a response.

Me:

I'm fine. I'm out of town helping a friend. Sorry to worry you. I'll be back on Monday.

I pondered over the words before deciding to go ahead and send it. It was a little colder and more direct than how I usually communicated, especially to Hughie. But I knew he'd understand.

Hughie's reply came within seconds. But before I could read it, the notification of an incoming call covered my screen. A lump formed in my throat when I saw Butcher's name flashing in front of my eyes. My thumb hovered over the 'accept' button before I shook my head and hurriedly declined the call. I am sure he only called to yell at me for disappearing, and I wasn't in the mood to be reprimanded by him.

"I can drive the rest of the way," I offered, returning my focus to Alex.

"No thanks, I'm good," They responded like I knew they would. Alex was very particular about driving and refused to get into an operating motor vehicle unless they were the one behind the wheel. I respected that, but it still felt like the right thing to do was offer so it didn't look like I was putting the burden of transportation on them.

My phone vibrated, notifying me that I'd received another text, and I reluctantly viewed the message.

Butcher:

I know you ignored my call.

Ok? And the sky is also blue. I'm so glad he's able to notice the obvious. At least there's nothing wrong with him in that department.

Just as I decided to ignore his text, his name lit up on my phone again, signaling another incoming call. I slumped in my seat, and groaned under my breath. Again, my finger pushed the red icon, sending him straight to voicemail. Not even a second later, Butcher began to call for the third time.

"You know," said Alex, "If you answered the phone, they might stop calling."

"I'd answer if it was anyone else. I refuse to talk to this particular person."

"Alright, have it your way," they muttered, changing lanes.

We fell quiet, and the only sound was my phone as it buzzed with a final text.

Butcher:

Please come back.

༺༻

"I'd say that was pretty successful," I declared as we pulled into our Kentucky motel the next day. We had just finished our final deal, and while it was a little tedious, Alex's client ended up being happy overall with their purchase and promised they'd do business again.

"Yeah, thank God," Alex replied, cutting the engine after pulling into a parking spot. "I'm just grateful you were there. I think your presence was a great influence. You're still a legend in the drug community," they smirked.

I laughed lightly. "I'm happy to help anytime."

"Watch out because I will hold you to that promise."

We piled out of the car, and I waited out front while Alex headed in to get the key to our room. It was just past one in the morning, and I glanced over my shoulder, staying on high alert.

Alex exited the front entrance and dangled a key triumphantly. After entering our room, we each fell onto a twin-sized bed, and I watched as Alex almost instantly fell asleep.

I curled up on the wrinkled comforter for a few minutes before sitting up and rummaging through my bag for my phone; it had died a couple of hours ago, and now was my first opportunity to charge it.

I had received a text from Hughie asking if I was ok, to which I replied that I was, and I hadn't heard from Butcher since I'd blocked him last night when he proceeded to call me every thirty seconds, disrupting my sleep.

With nothing else to do, I slipped my jeans off, stashed my handheld in the bedside drawer, rolled under the covers, and attempted to sleep.

༺༻

"That was fun. We should do it again sometime," Alex said as they pulled up to the pawn shop.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, it felt like old times."

We hugged before I got out of the car and looked up at the one building I wanted to avoid more than anything. Three days wasn't long enough, and I genuinely considered asking Alex if they wanted a roommate. But their jeep was already speeding down the road, so I had no choice but to enter the pawn shop and descend the familiar steps.

"You're back!" yelped Hughie as he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me. I stumbled back before gaining my balance and returning the hug. "Yeah," I replied lamely.

I nodded to Frenchie and MM before they both turned to Hughie. "You ready?" MM asked, and Hughie replied that he was.

"D'accord, let's go," Frenchie said, and the three of them passed me as they headed upstairs and out of the pawn shop, leaving me alone with Butcher, who stood by the couch.

"Y'alright?"

I ignored his question and headed for the solitude of my room.

"Oi, I'm fuckin' talking to you." Butcher barked, and I heard his boots stomp in my direction. He wrapped a large hand around my arm, spinning me around. "Don't ever fuckin' do that again, ya' hear? You 'bout did me fuckin' head in, running off like that."

Butcher's face was inches from mine, and his warm breath fanned out across my cheeks and neck, causing goosebumps to flare. "I guess you forgot that I can take care of myself," I muttered bitterly as I wrenched my arm from his grasp and pushed the door open to my bedroom. Much to my dismay, Butcher followed me in.

"What's with the fuckin' attitude?" he demanded, crossing his arms. "You're acting like a right twat."

I whirled around as I threw my bag onto the floor, my nostrils flaring. "Oh, so you're allowed to have an attitude, but I'm not?" I glared daggers at him. "Get out."

"No. We're gonna talk," Butcher pressed, standing his ground.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Well, too fuckin' bad, sweetheart. I ain’t leaving until you tell me what kind of stick is up your bum, and why the bloody hell you fucked off for three days without telling anyone."

"It's a free country, and I'm allowed to go where I please," I shot back. "Besides, I figured I'd give you all a break from carrying my dead weight around. I hear it can be quite tiring."

Butcher's mouth opened before he closed it, taking a beat before speaking, "S’that’s what this is about, eh? The fact that I called you dead weight the other night? No offense, love. But if a comment like that was enough to drive ya' out of town, you've gotten too sensitive."

"It wasn't just that one comment, William. It's the fact that you've been terrible to me for weeks now, and the shittiest part of it all is that I have no idea what I've done to deserve it!" I exclaimed, panting slightly as my shoulders rose and fell. Butcher raised a brow, and I scoffed, flopping on the bed. "Forget it. Now, would you mind kindly fucking off and leaving me alone?"

I turned away, and Bucther sighed quietly. A couple of seconds passed before the bed dipped behind me.

"M'sorry, alright?" he said quietly.

"Whatever, I don't even care anymore," I muttered, picking at the skin on the side of my nail.

"Yes, ya’ do."

My stomach flipped as Butcher carefully reached up and brushed the hair off my shoulder. "I didn't realize I was hurting ya' so much. I thought I was doing what was best."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, turning back to face him. A calloused finger traced my cheek before his hand fell limply in his lap. Even though Butcher never slept more than a couple of hours a night, this was the first time I'd seen him look truly tired.

"I needed to push you away, and I figured a bit of tough love would do the trick." Butcher's hazel eyes met mine. "I realize I may've gone a bit too far."

"But why would you want to push me away? I thought we worked well together." My voice grew softer. "I thought you liked me."

"Oh, love, my feelings for you go way beyond like."

My thoughts became jumbled as I tried to comprehend what Butcher was saying, and I struggled to form a response, but it all ceased when he cupped my face in his hand. I instinctually leaned into his touch, and my eyes drooped, feeling serenity from the simple contact.

"M'sorry. M'so fucking sorry," Butcher apologized again. But this time, I saw emotion in his eyes. "You're the most precious thing in my life, and the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt ya'."

His lips gently grazed my forehead, placing a soft kiss there before continuing. “I'm no good for ya', doll. God only knows I'd fuck up an angel like you. In me own messed up head, pushing you away was the only way I could protect ya'."

"That's not true," I whispered, shaking my head, but Butcher didn't look convinced. "And even if it were true, I wouldn't care because I'm no saint either."

It was quiet between us, and our breaths were the only thing filling the small space. My gaze roamed Butcher's face before it fell on his lips, and I swallowed audibly.

"I want you, Billy."

Butcher looked torn. There was a deep crease between his brows, and his breathing grew quick as the seconds ticked by.

"I'll ruin you." His voice was rough, full of gravel.

"I'm already ruined."

Butcher's resolve began to fray before it split wide open, and his lips crashed into mine.

༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻

not my best work, but i hope you enjoyed it!

-xoxo

[dreamscarx]

Total Drama Island Girls Sim Dump

Skin Details Face Details(NorthSiberiaWinds) Eyelids MM Edition N1-N9 (NorthSiberaWinds)  MMHighlights (Sims3Melancholic)   Nose Kit (Obsurus) Eye, Lip, Nose Mask(Sammixoxo) CheekOverlay(Sammixoxo)   Sclera (RemusSirion) Face-KitNo.1Miiko   Lip Kit(Miiko) FaceLightPores(Faaeish)   LittleDetailsFace(Nesurii) FaceDefinitionOverlay(Nesurii)   Eye Detail(Pirumxsims)   Uncurled Lashes(Kijiko) MooMooBlush(Squeamishsims)   BooBooBlush(Squeamishsims) Spotlight 2 (SimAndy) Lighting Overlay 2.0(Jo_se_oh) Skintone Set V3 Overlay(VibrantPixels)  Contacts #114(Sims3Melancholic) MMSims Blush 1 NorthSiberiaWindsBlueberrySkintones EyelinerDump(Collectionof10) Maggie Lipgloss FaceDetailsOkruee NesuriiTopazHighlight Sammixoxo: Sunflower Skinblend MMSims Blush 2 EyebagsSkinDetailtwo(Kismetsims) NESURII_ObscurusSimsEyelidsMM AboutFaceSkinDetails PralineBabydolleyes N153 PoyopoyoEyeliner N7 (Lutessasims)NoseMask02Overlay Little Heart Skinblend (NorthSiberiaWinds) DecadesMergedSD

Lashawna:  Eyebrows PralineBabydolleyes N153 Earrings Hair Courtney:  Skin: Littlecakes: BrightBlendsV5 & Sammixoxo: Posie Skinblend Freckles Liptint Hair  Heather:  Skin: Nesurii: Agave Skinblend Eyebrows(Kuta) Hair Earrings Gwen:  Skin: Sammixoxo: Selkie Skinblend [NORTHERNSIBERIAWINDS] FEMALE TORSO MASK N1 B MM OVERLAY Hair & Highlight(Chunky Larsaset) TubeTop CropTank DaintyBoleroAccesoryTop Choker Bridgette:  Skin: Pockywasabi: Angelfish Skinblend Hair & Highlight Eye Reflection Lindsay:  Skin: Obsurus: Skin N27 Overlay Hair & Bandana Universal Hair Overlay Eyes Eyelashes Eyebrows Beth:  Skin: Ridgeport: Almond Face Overlay Hair & HairTie AccessoryTop Acne Eva:  Skin: FrenchieSim: Evie Face Overlay  Eyebrows Hair 🌺🌷Defaults 🌷🌺 Chroma Eyes by Golyhawhaw  Cocos Skinblend by Nesurii  Eyelash Remover by Cien  Teeth Replacement by Magic Bot  Replacement Feet by Jius Eye Shine Remover by Teekalu  CAS Lighting by Luumia 🌺🌷CAS Mods 🌷🌺 Color Slider by Thepancake1 and MizoreYukii  More Columns by Weerbesu  🌺🌷Reshade/Gshade🌷🌺  Dove 2.0 by Kindlespice  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Download [Simfileshare][Patreon] ~Tag me on my socials to show me my sims in your game I would love to see them~

[butchcarmy]

i think carmy has the potential to be a passionate listener. after all, you listen to him when he’s got a million things to say about his incredibly niche interests.

maybe you’ve gone into great detail about the stylistic choices of ur fav movie or tv show. eventually, when you end up watching it together, at one point he says smthn along the lines of “oh i see what you mean with that”. like, lets goooo!!!! ur not talking to a wall!!

i’d personally love to make him to try and play my favorite video game with me after i’ve lore dumped for hours. (i betchya he’d be awful at it). maybe he’s absorbed a bit of that info tho, and he’d point stuff out while we play.

that would make me embarrassingly giddy.

hiii i'm that guy that can go into great length about films if you get me started. or anything i'm obsessed with at the moment really. 

you don't listen to him talk about food (or in general) because you feel obligated. you do it because you love him, and he listens to you because he loves you, too. he genuinely cares about the things you care about. carmy's a sweet boy!

“If you look for it, you'll see that circles are a motif throughout the whole movie.” You're watching your favorite movie, cuddled with him on the couch. He makes an affirmative noise. “I'll tell you more when we're done watching, too.”

“I'd like that.” He looks at you expectantly, and when you give him a confused look, he says, “You can keep talking if you want, y'know.”

“I know, I just…” You shrivel into the cushions behind you. Carmy's arm that's tucked around your shoulders brings you closer to him. “I don't wanna annoy you.”

“You could never annoy me talking about the things you care about.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, and you make a pleased noise. “I think the color stuff you were saying earlier is cool. The red and green, right? I can't stop seeing it now that you pointed it out.”

“Mm, yeah,” you say, like the fact he was actually paying attention to you doesn't make you wanna roll around with giddy. “It really tells you the whole story without saying it.”

“I have some predictions, then,” Carmy mutters, eyes focused on the tv. You could just kiss him (which you do).

[simder-talia-blog]

Info here

The hard part about these type of things is knowing I will forget people. Just know that if I reblog your posts I appreciate you so much and what you do!

For anyone new to the world of CC, I highly recommend these creators, and remember that if you find a creator who has made some things you like, go browse the rest of their catalog! Chances are there is lots more that you're going to love.

@herecirmsims - Makes wonderful, amazing pose packs and has a fun story going as well!

@ellemant - Gorgeous, gorgeous screenshots. Ellemant has also made some of my favorite, and oldest CC that I have in my game!

@eslanes - A longtime favorite account. You have got to check out the amazing Sims version album covers that eslanes has made as renders!

@xsavannahx987 - Awesome CC!

@rebouks - Amazing poses and storytelling! Also builds & sims dumps

@creamlattedream - So much fun MM clothing for your sims, & lots for male sims!

@beansbuilds - Beautiful, detailed builds that I fell in love with from her very first post

@bill-l-s4cc - Very useful CC items!

@xldkx - Incredibly cute & useful deco sims and more!

@the-dew-of-the-sea - makes some of my favorite CC that I have in my game!

@saruin - Superb and creative creations!

@anachrosims - Beautiful, gorgeous historical CC and in game shots that take your breath away!

@elfydrell - Loads of WoW CC!

@yooniesim - A creator of incredible CAS details for your sims, and lots of them!

@hamsterbellbelle - If you're looking for cyberpunk aesthetic, you must browse this creator's catalog!

@serawis - Another lovely CC creator (I especially love the skin overlays!)

@cinamun - Storytelling & gorgeous shots! (I added cinamun after I posted, I have a terrible headache this morning as I was finishing this post, I am sorry for accidentally leaving you out!)

@surely-sims - So much fun & unique CC, if you haven't yet, you must go look!

@simkoos - Again, so much fun & cute CC!

@aira-cc - More MM / kawaii CC that I absolutely love

@lilis-palace - Gorgeous MM historical CC

@twentiethcenturysims - Gorgeous MM historical CC, and even some witch hats for your cats!

@gothoffspring - More lovely CC (and tie dye!)

@simmillercc - More adorable CC

@nolan-sims - another one of my longtime favorites!

@simverses - Tons of wonderful Medieval CC!

@coatisims - All the groceries!

@bodegababysims - MOAR groceries!

@aroundthesims - Another longtime favorite! Sooo many useful and unique items, some of which inspired by her personal life and things she loves, which I love.

@insimniacreations - Tons of functional IRL food!

@moderncrafter - Lots of really nice vehicle CC (check poly for older computers)

@marsosims - More wonderful MM CC, I especially love their hairs

@peacemaker-ic - Can't make a favorites collection without mentioning Peacemaker! Maxis Match CC of all kinds!

I also want to say how much I appreciate anyone on here that has ever made me burst out laughing with something funny that they've posted (screenshots from your game, glitches, a meme you made relating to tumblr website nonsense, commentary on this or that, etc) You're all so funny 💗😆😭

Happy Holidays, everyone! Take care, pls stay healthy & safe, and thank you so much for the past year of simming fun!

EDIT! @crazy-lazy-elder-sims & @helloavocadooo I am so sorry I also forgot to tag you in this. I've had a bad headache for days due to very crazy barometric pressure where I live and I just am not thinking properly. I love that I get to be part of this community with you!

[joshleyson]

THIS IS: SIARGAO ✨

December film dump 🎞️

Growing up in Mindanao for almost 2 decades and never actually being able to traverse the picturesque landscapes in the eastern part of the island is something that I know I have to break before the year ends. So I did.

I flew from Manila to Cebu so early in the morning to catch a connecting flight to Siargao by noon. Traveling to Siargao was a lot of firsts for me. Not having to go to every detail but when the plane was about to take off to Siargao, we were all offloaded due to the bad weather on the island. Fortunately, instead of having to fly back to Manila, the airline was kind enough to take me to a nearby hotel in Cebu, all expenses paid including food, transportation, and next-day ticket. It was an unexpected staycation which surprisingly I enjoyed.

Coming from a very tiring day at work and then going to the airport, I felt like I really needed this quiet time, and I was able to check in to this lavish hotel all by myself while waiting for my flight the next day. Also, I had a great night as well in Cebu catching up with one of my long-time friends and her beaux. I went back to my hotel around 3 in the morning because there’s just so many things to catch up and I really missed my homie so much. Keyword: low-maintenance friendships.

So the day finally came, and I was able to land safely on the island of Siargao. Right off the bat on my first night, I had a lovely dinner with my travel friends slash buddies at work and we went to a bar, and danced the night away which to me serves as a prelude to the great experience this vibrant community had in stored for me as a Mindanaoan that have never set foot beyond the confines of Zamboanga and western Mindanao.

We spent our days being on the road which to me was such a release. Being able to smell the fresh ocean breeze while blasting our favorite Y2K songs in the car and relying on Waze or Google Maps for our next destination, to me, makes the trip so much fun because of the spontaneity and unpredictability that it brings. We went island hopping, danced in the boat, swam on open waters, ate our hearts out, moved from one accommodation to another, and I tried surfing for the first time! I never thought I would enjoy the experience because it was raining lightly at that time and the waves were so big it could easily engulf me, but man, best day ever!!!! I fell on the surfing board and slammed my body on the rushing waves several times but being able to stand on the surfboard for the first time was such a liberating experience. A little bit of a stretch, but it was and I will try it again once I go back to Siargao.

☾

I flew back to Cebu and then to Manila to catch one of my friend’s wedding and luckily I made it with no delay. Looking at the pictures that I got to develop from a Fuji film camera that I brought with me on the island, I am reminded again of the incredible healing power of what it’s like to try new things, be with nature, and just breathe. Knowing that the year is about to end in a couple of weeks, I felt so blessed to have that opportunity to break the complicated rhythm of corporate life and to disconnect for a moment. 

After 3 weeks, I get to fly back to Boracay to celebrate New Year’s Eve. So many epic moments that I am also grateful for which I may save for the future but nevertheless, my last month of 2023 was such a banger and I hope it always feels that way.

By the way, I’m writing all these on my iPhone because I’m too tired to get up and open my MacBook, so I appreciate you for hanging with me this far. So that’s it for 2023!

Simply put, I just want to say Happy Holidays to you and your loved ones, and may 2024 be as effervescent as your hopes and dreams for the future.

J.

(December, 2023)

(Photos were shot using Fujifilm Simpleace 35 mm camera + iPhone 15 Pro Max)

FOLLOW ME: Instagram/TikTok/Twitter: joshleyson

(Music by Grammy nominee, Victoria Monét. All rights belong to her and her publishers. For personal and non-commercial use only. Stream her great catalogue on Spotify and Apple Music.)

[saruin]

Cute Sim Dump .Part 3

More simbs, feel free to edit/name them how you want I don’t mind; make them your own.

If you want them to look exactly like pictured, download + mods + slider links under cut.

Sliders you will need:

Esotropia + Exotropia by Obscurus

Lip Slider N4 by Obscurus

Mouth Scaler by Teanmoon

Upper and Lower Lip Tug by RedHeadSims [simsd*m/simsf*nds]

Other Mods:

EA Eyelash Remover by Kijiko

-> Sim 10: DOWNLOAD

Skin -> Kokoro + (female)

Skintone -> Apricot

Skin Detail 1 -> About Face Skin Detail

Skin Detiail 2 -> Face Kit no. 2

Eye Overlay -> Eye Shape Overlays

Nosemask -> Nosemask N5

Eyebrows -> Eyebrow n22

Eyes -> Lenses 025

Hair -> Maisie

Eyelashes -> Version 2 Uncurled

Contour -> Sculpt * a contour collection

Blush -> Blush N4

Lipstick -> Lipstick n23

-> Sim 11: DOWNLOAD

Skin -> Kokoro + (soft)

Lip Preset -> NSW 30-32

Skin Detail 1 -> About Face Skin Detail

Freckles -> Frecklemania [TSR]

Eye Overlay -> Eye Shape Overlays

Nose mask -> N11

Hair -> Rin

Ahoge -> Ahoge Set #1

Eyebrows -> Eyebrows 48

Eyelashes -> Version 6

Eyes -> N108 [TSR]

Eyeliner -> WM 201802 [TSR]

Blush -> Petals

Lipstick -> Zea Lipstick [TSR]

-> Sim 12: DOWNLOAD

Skin -> Kokoro + (female)

Eye Preset -> Perfect Shaping - N12

Nose Preset -> Berry Genetics - N28

Lip Preset -> 20-29

Nose mask -> Nosetip

Nose mask -> Nostrils

Hair -> Asha [TSR]

Eyes -> Patreon N4 [TSR]

Eyelashes -> Version 1

Lipstick -> Philus [TSR]

-> Sim 13: DOWNLOAD

Skin -> Kokoro + (female)

Head shape -> Head Shape Preset N8

Eyelids -> MM Edition N8

Eyebags -> MM Edition N1

Nose mask -> Nose bridge

Nose mask -> Nostrils

Philtrum -> MM Genetics Set

Hair -> Winter

Eyebrows -> Brows 28v1 [TSR]

Eyelashes -> 3D Lashes L33

Eyes -> N025

Eyeliner -> Lydia

Blush -> N06

Lipstick -> Lips N18

| Sim Downloads Folder | SFS

[thebibutterflyao3]

“Play Date”

@pandalilymicrofics - 868 words

It was past time for her to make new friends. As the only parent in her friend group, Pandora found herself spending more and more time alone since Luna was born. Regulus and her brother made an effort to include her, but she couldn’t bring herself to hire a babysitter. Sweet, gentle Luna was her whole world!

How can I possibly trust a stranger with my impressionable three year-old?

She eyed the flyer on the bulletin board reluctantly. The pretty redhead who posted it had caught her attention first. Pandora was fairly certain she lived on the second floor with her son, an active little boy with round glasses and dark curls. It was a good opportunity to introduce herself if nothing else.

Join us for a Preschool Play Date at Gryffindor Park!

Pandora tore off one of the half-dozen slips with the details and tucked it into her pocket. It couldn’t hurt to check it out.

——————-

After a full hour of preparing herself and Luna to meet new people, Pandora was decidedly unprepared to discover that the “play date” was rather poorly attended. She frowned as they approached the charming little picnic the redheaded woman set up beside the playground in Gryffindor Park. The woman was playing some sort of hand-clapping game with her son, but every time someone walked by, her hopeful gaze was ignored.

No one else showed up? I wonder why.

When Pandora was a few metres away, she heard the little boy sigh heavily. “No friends again, Mum. I don’t think they like me.”

“Oh no, Harry. It’s not you. People are too busy to play, I suppose,” she said, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “We can still enjoy our picnic.”

“Maybe Daddy can come next time? He’s fun!”

“I was hoping we could have fun on our own,” she said with a wistful smile.

The earnest little boy considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “Daddy’s better at fun.”

His mother’s shoulders sagged in defeat, a posture Pandora knew entirely too well. It was the universal response to failure, to feeling inadequate when measured up against the “fun” parent. Particularly when said “fun” parent dumped all of the responsibility on the other.

Pandora shifted Luna’s slight weight on her hip and marched forward with renewed determination. Single mums had to stand together. “Excuse me? Is this the preschool play date that was on the flyer?”

“Yes!” the little boy shouted, waving frantically. “Over here! My mum made sandwiches!”

The redhead turned and when her eyes met Pandora’s, her heart stuttered in her chest. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald green and glistened with unshed tears. Pandora slowed her steps, unsure if she was intruding on a private moment.

“Welcome!” the woman said, quickly swiping at her eyes and lifting to her feet. “I’m Lily, and this is Harry.”

“Oh, yes. This is my daughter, Luna. I’m Pandora.”

Luna gave Lily a long, thoughtful look then held out her arms expectantly. “Up, please.”

Surprised, Pandora huffed a laugh. “Well, that’s new. She doesn’t usually ask for anyone but me.”

“Do you mind?” Lily asked. “I miss holding my Harry, but he insists he’s too big for it.”

“Not at all!” Pandora handed her daughter to Lily, delighted to see Luna immediately hug Lily’s neck. As they settled on the blanket, Pandora accepted a sandwich from Harry. “These look delicious! Did you help make them?”

Harry puffed up his chest and grinned. “Yup! Mum and I did. They’re vegan just in cases. Cucumbers instead of meat!”

Luna giggled and snuggled into Lily’s lap. “Mummy likes cumbers!”

“Mm-hmm, very good,” Pandora assured her, giving Luna a bite of hers.

The next two hours flew by. Pandora was pleased to find Harry was as kind and generous as his mother. He led Luna around the playground, helping her climb up the slide and showing her how to pump her legs on the swing. Luna squealed excitedly every time he suggested something new.

Meanwhile, Pandora and Lily enjoyed a lovely chat about their lives. Lily and Harry were new to the area, having moved out of her soon-to-be-ex’s posh neighbourhood two months prior. Pandora empathised with her struggles in single parenting and offered to host the next play date.

“Thank you for coming,” Lily said, reaching out to squeeze Pandora’s hand. “This was our third attempt to make friends and I’m afraid Harry was ready to give up.”

Pandora smiled and squeezed her hand back. “I’m glad he didn’t. We needed this too.”

“It must be fate!” Lily teased. “We were destined to find each other.”

Maybe we were. She’s still holding my hand and this feels so right.

“Feel free to decline, but if I were to invite you, and Harry of course, out for a coffee date…” Pandora let the invitation linger in the air between them and searched Lily’s face for any signs of discomfort.

“That would be lovely!” Lily said, a soft blush tinging her cheeks as she shimmied her shoulders happily. “We’d love to. Any time you’re available.”

Pandora laced their fingers together and clasped her free hand on top. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow morning is a good start.”

A fresh start, for all of us.

[pinkyjulien]

🟨 Appearance Creator Mod Infos Dump

With the release of ACM (Appearance Creator Mod) I wanted to dump some information that might be useful, especially for non-modders that want to play around with it!

(I had no involvement with the making of this mod at all, nor I have any tie with AMM development, just throwing my two cents as a regular user, player and modder)

You'll find some How To, Tutos and other useful heads-up under read more, if you plan on using this mod as a modding tool (sketching up outfits ideas before modding them as custom appearance for your blorbo for example) or simply want to play blorbo dress up!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

First, You might want to get familiar with these suffix, as you will need to identify what part of a character's outfit you wanna swap

▶ Garments Components Names

h0 - Character's head mesh he - Eyes mesh heb - Eyebrows mesh ht - Teeth mesh hx - Head's details meshes (pimples, makeup...) hh - Hair mesh t0 - Character's Body mesh t1 - Torso Inner Garment (T-shirt, Tank top...) t2 - Torso Outer Garment (Vest, Jacket, Hood...) a0 - Character's Arms mesh (Cyberarms...) l1 - Legs Garment (Pants...) s1 - Feet Garment (Shoes, Socks...) i1 - Accessory / Item Garment (Cyberware, Belt, Necklace...)

▶ Garments Rigs Names

ma - Man Average mb - Man Big mc - Man Child mf - Man Fat mm - Man Massive wa - Woman Average waf - Woman Average Fat

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

⚠ It's important to note that Garments are NOT automatically refited to the character! You can use a WA garment on a Male NPC but it won't magically fit his shape

⚠ Johnny and Kerry, despite using the MA rig, both have a thinner bodies and most of the garment will float and appear larger on them

⚠ A lot of Garments have their own RIGs and physics, and might T-pose / break upon being swapped on your NPC of choice! For this reason, Hair with physics will automatically break as well

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AMC is a standalone window in game, and not included in AMM main window!

After spawning a NPC, the AMC window should fill up with the spawned entity's garment components (and yes it can get crowded really quick, especially on smaller monitors and resolution)

Yes, It also works on NPVs and NPC+! 🔥

Everything on these windows can be overwhelming especially if you're not familiar with modding, so I'll throw a little example here using Scorpion

First I want to get rid of his hood and vest, without using AMM's custom appearance, using only ACM

In the list, I look for his Vest and his Hood component

We can easily turn them invisible by clicking the "Toggle" button Make sure to also disable any decals, stickers, and additional component (his vest also has a decal component, see in the screenshot)

The little icon next to a component's name indicate it has been edited in some way

I'll now switch his tank top for something else

Click on "Select From List" next to the "Mesh Path" of the desired component (in Scorpion's case, t1_060_ma_tank__corset) Open up the "Torso" list, and you'll be able to click on any of the listed t1 and t2 garments!

⚠ As mentioned above, garments doesn't magically refits on characters; Scorpion use the Man Average body and rig, anything that isn't a "ma" garment won't fit him correctly!

⚠ Another thing to be aware of is that a lot of garments's might break around the collar area! However if you plan on using this same mesh in an outfit, don't let that scare you, as it's easily fixable in blender

Export your desired mesh and look for the "NeckCollar_JNT" bone and simply rename it to "Neck" (blender will put some numbers next to it but that's fine, ignore that)

I'm going to switch to Valentin here to showcase how to deal with potential clipping 🤏 Since Valentin's body is customized, bit chubbier, he always needs refiting

Let's say you swapped your character's top for something else but part of his torso clips out

To put my boys titas away, I'll look for his body component (t0)

Click on "Chunk Mask" to open the garment's submeshes list

Garment's meshes are broken down in multiple submeshes that can be easily chunkmasked (disabled) at will to deal with clipping! This is why NPC usually don't even have a full body mesh when taking off their clothes, they are chunkmasked to avoid clipping :D

I will disable the Submesh 1 by unchecking the "1" box

Don't be afraid to click on multiple box and see what gets chunkmasked on different meshes! You won't break anything 👌

aaand for now that's about all I can think of that might be confusing for users- tho if you have question don't hesitate to ask on this post, to reblog or to come into DMs!

[miynt0012]

[SIM DOWNLOAD] YAE MIKO & RAIDEN EI | GENSHIN IMPACT

Miko | maxis match | two outfits | full cc list Raiden Ei | maxis match | three outfits | full cc list

WELL WELL WELL SCHOOL TRIED TO KILL ME AGAIN AND I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO EVEN OPEN THE GAME

I had these two done for a while but I could make the cc list only recently :’’’)

Enjoy!!

please don’t share my sims / pictures of my sims on the gallery or on any other platform

DOWNLOAD: mega (Yae Miko) | mega (Ei)

cc list for both:

genetics

yooniesim - imperfection teeth set | obscurus - maxis match genetics set (nostrils nosemask) | spookysims - lip masks | GPME - eyes g16

makeup

remussirion - adaption lipstick

accessories

urbansims - kate nails | obscurus - 3d eyelashes 

extras

kijiko - ea eyelashes remover | obscurus - eye presets 4-11 (n11) | hellfrozeover - hip dips slider

cc list for Yae Miko:

skintone

NSW - winter berry set (blueberry skintones)

genetics

NSW - cartoon style genetics set pt. II (soft rose skinblend B full body) | NSW - fox soul set (eyeshadow n2) | sammi - skindetail dump (nose masks) | NSW - a thousand nights (philtrum n1 mm overlay) | BOP - cartoony skin | PYXIS - about face (skin details) | GPME - female eyebrows g7   

hair

simandy - miko hair

makeup

NSW - female new year collection (eyeliner n3)  

accessories

eunosims - nail set | simpliciaty - ephemeral choker | s-club - bracelet 201907 | diosasims - ethereal summer (rings)    

clothes

B.O.P X AH00B - collab (date night top) | subtle-stubble - wide leg trousers | gorillax3 - v-neck sweater | gorillax3 - spring set (skirt)  

shoes

jius - obsidian collection 01 (platform sandals 11) | jius - retro collection 03 (platform sandals 04)  

extras

| | obscurus - female nose presets (n8) | sammi-xox - lips presets | simbience - mini preset drop (jaw preset n1) |

cc list for Raiden Ei:

genetics

NSW - bodycare kit (cleavage mask n6 mm overlay) | NSW - baby face kit (little heart skinblend full body, neck shadow n1) | NSW - perfect eyes set (eyelids mm edition n5) | peachyfaerie - cupid's kiss lip kit collection (lust gloss) | oito - skin pores    

hair

clumsyalien - slavic allur set (morana hair) 

makeup

screaming mustard - ruddy blush | breezytrait - petals pack (merged) | crypticsim - nala palette (eyeshadow) 

accessories

christopher067 - stardust earrings | giuliettasims - lotus ear jackets | magic bot - classic tights | oydis - make or break collection (sofiya rings L, nails) | clumsyalien - horizons cc pack (eve necklace) | brsims - emily necklace | simandy - whimsical project (hada tights) | s-club - necklace 201907 | chih - drift twisted earrings | adrienpastel - irma cc collection (rings) | clumsyalien - enchantment cc pack (ursula robe v2)    

clothes

bonehlda - super high waisted skinny jeans | caio - douce set (dainty top) | gorillax3 - basic off-shoulder top | tajsiwel - dani skirt | gorilla x3 - silk blouse | trillyke - attaboy skirt        

shoes

jius - boots collection 04 (suede ankle boots 04) | simandy - incheon set (merged) | sm sims - distrssed days boots   

extras

joshseoh - universal hair overlay | seleng - nose preset n1 | NSW - female chin presets n1-3  

+ cc I couldn’t find online, included in the sim’s folder (1 file for Ei)

a preview of their outfits:

please take a look at my TOU before downloading!! thank you!

[theblorboscalledtheturtles]

shots that are beautiful. to me

This stoplight was the moment I knew I'd love the movie. Look at those smashed circles. the scribble light. delicious

This is like an Edward Hopper painting

yeah they were suffering but the lighting was gorgeous

more scribblesss more colorsss

hghgghhghggghh the SOFT he's PAINTED it's so buttery and rich HOW

mm tight close up

look at the hecking sky. the light. They nailed the emotion with this one

[withlovefromsimtown]

Everyone Loves A Build Dump

Here (Right Here) is a link to the Entire Folder, pick & choose what you want. Details & previews below the cut.

If you liked it, maybe Buy Me A Coffee.

Defaulted all of the GLS wood walls to play nice with ceilings, made addons so that each of the other woods has all of the trim options available - except the Zebra Wood, that one does not have the leather inlay paneling option. Shown in GLS Light. 5 wood colors, 4 trim options, & 4 inlay options, mixed & matched.

I would like to say many thanks to @lordcrumps for extracting the original TS4 textures that I worked from for the following items.

Recolored 2 TS4 stone floors & a TS4 concrete floor in Citrontart Neutrals palette (12 colors), recolored a TS4 brick floor in Neural Network Darks (27 colors).

Recolored 1 BG carpet texture in Neural Network Brights (27 colors), 1 BG carpet texture in Neural Network Lights (27 colors), & 3 TS4 carpets in Neural Network Lights.

Recolored 1 TS4 lino in Neural Network Brights & 2 TS4 Linos in Neural Network Lights.

Recolored 2 TS4 Paneling walls in MM Woods (14 colors) & converted a TS4 floor tile to a wall Tile in Neural Network Brights (27 colors).

Recolored 1 TS4 tile in Neural Network Brights. Created 4 entire other tile patterns by screenshotting the Home Depot; "Classic Black" is Neural Network Lights on black tile (but I typed "darks" in the item description, I'm sorry but I'm not changing it, sucks to suck), "Vintage White" is Neural Network Brights on white tile, "Harmonia" is Neural Network Darks on white tile, & "Stella" is white stars on Neural Network Dark tiles. (27 colors each.)

Recolored 3 TS4 Wood floors in MM Woods (14 colors).

& just in case you've forgotten the color palettes for Neural Network, here they are:

[ladychandraofthemoone]

In my au Stanley (narrow gauge) has a special interest in insects (I hc him as being into animals, they don’t judge you for your “jinx” and he’s got a soft spot for critters that are seen as “bad luck”) and tends to blurt out the most detailed information, he often info-dumps with and to Nia who encourages it cause it makes him happy once he’s freed from his “jinx” and she know every single insect name alphabetically along with their scientific names and nicknames Here we have Duke immediately regretting asking them if they can name every single species and ends up sleeping when they’re engrossed in their conversation before leaving when they were in the mid section of the e category (Nia gave him “the disappointment older sister look” awhile back so the poor guy can trapped there and wondered how did he got ever himself into this situation)

Basically it’s just Stanley to Duke in alphabetical order: Alderflies Angel Insects Anoplura (Sucking lice) Ants Antlions Aphids Archeognatha (Bristletails) Barklice Bees Beetles Bird lice Biting lice Blattodea (Cockroaches) Booklice Bristletails Bugs Butterflies Caddisflies Chewing lice Cicadas Cockroaches Coleoptera (Beetles) Collembola (Springtails) Crickets Damselflies Diplura Diptera (Flies) Dobsonflies Dragonflies-

Nia joining in cause she was mad at Duke: ah yes the alderfly which are megalopteran insects of the family Sialidae. They are closely related to the dobsonflies and fishflies as well as to the prehistoric Euchauliodidae. All living alderflies – about 66 species all together are part of the subfamily Sialinae, which contains nine extant genera. Sialinae have a body length of less than 25 mm (1 inch), long filamentous antennae, and four large dark wings of which the anterior pair is slightly longer than the posterior. They lack ocelli and their fourth tarsal segment is dilated and deeply bilobed. Dead alderfly larvae are used as bait in fishing-

duke:shooketh (Nia’s is basically the train version of a encyclopedia also her design is based off of MrTerrier673 on Twitter)

[cubestrahm]

»{ Mark Hoffman x Peter Strahm }« ✦ { ao3 }

next chapter -»

✦ Summary: This moment in time feels inevitable. It is as though Peter was always meant to wind up in the crushing dark with Mark Hoffman, tangled in a deadly situation that neither man can escape from unscathed. ✦ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content. ✦ Content/tags: Background Angelina Acomb/Lindsey Perez, Alternate Universe - Diners, Slow Burn, Canonical Character Death, Canon Typical Gore, Detailed Descriptions of Wounds, Improper Wound Care, Non-Sexual Nudity, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Mild Feeding Kink, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Divorced Peter Strahm ✦ Word count: 6,488 ✦ Status: Multi-chapter / Ongoing ✦ Author's note: Shout-out to @danime25/@hoffstrap-yuri. I wouldn't be chest deep in Saw hell if it weren't for her. ♥

Rhythmic passes of a damp cloth on a laminate counter, steady whooshes of breath as his body leans into each motion of his arm; this is as calm as Peter Strahm ever feels. Repetitive actions keep his mind occupied enough to not wander in search of some pressing issue to fixate on. Not that there is much to endlessly turn over in his brain at the diner, but he can always find something.

A loud clang of the metal bells bouncing off the front door and the scuff of shoes against the wood floor heralds the arrival of customers. The first ones of the day. Peter doesn’t bother to look up, choosing instead to let Lindsey be the face of the establishment. He is convinced that she’s the only reason this place stays afloat. He’d have run everyone off with his demeanor ages ago if he were the sole owner. As a supervisor had once said to him, Peter would cut off his own nose to spite his face.

Barely listening to his partner’s cheery banter and the responding pleasantries of the customers—two of them, he notes, a man and a woman—he tosses the rag in the sanitation bucket before making his way to the coffee machine. It’s finished brewing the pot he’d started just five minutes ago. He dumps the used grounds and resets the machine with a new filter of freshly ground beans. When they hit a rush, coffee is the first thing to go. Early on, he and Lindsey learned that lesson the hard way. Customers get downright vicious when they can't get their caffeine fix the instant they want it.

“Pete,” Lindsey says, sliding up alongside him behind the counter.

“Mm,” he responds as he takes the offered ticket from her hand. He looks over the order. Simple. Easy. No substitutions or alterations. He can appreciate that. “Need anything before I get this made?”

“No, I’ll try to not burn the place down while you’re in the back though.”

He snorts, amused. If anyone was going to be engaging in pyromania during work hours, it would be him.

Peter retreats to the kitchen. His shoulders relax in the privacy beyond the swinging door. He is used to eyes being on him, every moment analyzed and critiqued, but solace suits him better. He doesn’t have to put on the thin veneer of normalcy that he’s capable of.

Steady hands prepare the ingredients before laying them on the grill top. Cooking is immersive work, a different kind of toil than when he was in the FBI. The constant examination for guilt, the way he would dirty his hands with the worst humanity had to offer… it took a toll on him. He lost himself in his job. Back then, most days, he felt like he should be the one handcuffed to the table while an agent berated him with rapid-fire questions. He had gathered up parts of every criminal he ever investigated. Strahm had ingested those pieces like poison until they had become a part of him, lining his internal organs and threatening to spread like a cancer.

The only thing that had kept him from going into the restroom and closing his lips around the barrel of his own handgun at work had been Lindsey. There had been a day when he was uncharacteristically tidying his papers on his desk and she looked up from where her own desk butted right against his. She had taken in the sight of his drawn, exhausted face, the bags under his bloodshot eyes, and the faint tremor in his hands. She had known. She’d stood up, nearly sending her desk chair halfway across the room on its wobbly wheels. His partner had reached over their computer monitors and grabbed onto his forearm with determined desperation. She’d said, “Fuck this, we’re done.”

They had opened the diner five months later.

Conceptualizing the place had started off as a pipe dream between two friends. Strahm had cooked for Lindsey some nights, when there was a sliver of down time. He’d been the one to teach her how to make more than oven pizzas and the occasional grilled cheese. He had also been the one who taught her how to shoot a man in the chest without flinching.

Five years, they’d worked together as agents for the FBI. Lindsey had been fresh out of the academy, and he’d already begun his downward spiral when they were assigned one another. No one else had wanted the woman rookie or the wild-eyed man they swore must be doing drugs to be acting the way he did, no matter how many piss tests came back clean. Two misfits.

Their coworkers and supervisors thought that he would make her cry, that he would destroy her confidence. Hell, they’d hoped he would go so far as to convince her that a woman didn’t belong at the boys’ table. Instead, Strahm realized that there was someone he could be bothered to live for.

He plates the two meals, reminiscing over and set aside for now. Fingers long since desensitized to the feeling of hot ceramic against them, he carries one plate in each hand to the dining area. The man and the woman are still the only customers. It’s a small town. It’s far enough from the main city that they don’t get much traffic out here this early in the morning. Usually, their clientele starts trickling in a couple hours after they open. It’s a motley assortment of people. They get folks from all walks of life seeking a seat at their secondhand tables. Money had been tight when they opened the place. Now, they keep the mismatched furniture as part of the place’s charm. He leaves the decor up to Lindsey.

As Peter makes his way to the dark haired pair seated at a table by the windows that span the front of the diner, initial thoughts that they might be a couple are blown away by the way the two of them are interacting. She’s engaging in five finger fillet with the straw for her orange juice. The hand that she’s playing the game with belongs to her resigned companion rather than herself. They must be siblings in one way or another.

“Here you go,” he sets the plates in front of them. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Yeah,” the seated man says. He’s wearing a suit. There is a flash of something at his hip. A gun and a badge. Strahm realizes that the man is a cop. Great. “Some decent coffee would be nice.” Peter’s eyebrows shoot up at the brazen rudeness. Across the table, the woman hisses, “Mark! What the fuck!” and swats at the officer.

The man isn’t deterred, just continues to stare Peter down with a dumb look in his blue eyes and a faint curl to his overly large, fish-like lips. Strahm hates him immediately. His dislike is only furthered by the realization that the seated cop’s buttons are straining across his chest. Could he not afford better fitting shirts? Or is he just too stupid to know his own size? Peter isn’t completely sure, but he’s willing to hazard the guess it might be the latter.

He grits his teeth and puts on a smile that’s more similar to a snarl than a genuine stab at pleasantry. “And what’s wrong with it?”

“It tastes like it’s been sitting out for hours,” he says, wincing only a little when the woman manages to land a solid kick against his shin. Peter wishes he could also dig the tip of his shoe into that yielding body.

Snatching the mug off the counter, he barely avoids the impulse to dump it on the cop’s lap and give him something to actually complain about. He doesn’t quite storm off to the narrow space behind the counter but it’s a close thing. He still carries his anger around his throat like a noose. Leaving the FBI hadn’t changed that.

The expression on his face is thunderous enough that Lindsey looks alarmed. Rightfully so. “What’s wrong?”

“Jackass cop. They always think they can come in here and push everyone around. That one probably jerks off onto his badge every night.” He feels a muscle jump in his jaw.

“That was… descriptive.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, ditching the mug on the counter by the machine and picking up the glass coffeepot and a fresh mug.

Peter strides back over to the occupied table. He sets down the mug with a hard thud on the tablecloth-covered wood, enough so that the table rattles with the force of it. It’s a miracle the ceramic doesn’t shatter. Neither of the two men look away from each other as he slowly pours the dark liquid. Only rising steam blocks their view, faltering and diverting as though it were afraid to be in the middle of them.

He fills the mug as high as he can get it, surface tension being the only thing keeping the coffee contained. It will be impossible to pick up without spilling. The cop is going to have to drink from it like a dog if he wants it at all.

“Thank you, Peter.” His voice is low, throaty.

Strahm startles at the use of his first name. His fingers reflexively clench into a fist. He perpetually forgets about the name tags that Lindsey insists they both wear despite her being the only one he has ever grown accustomed to calling him anything but some variation of “Agent” and “Strahm.” Of course this bloated asshole would be presumptuous enough use his name.

Choosing not to respond, he leaves the table and retreats to the sanctuary behind the counter. Any satisfaction he might have felt at watching his customer debase himself is dashed when Mark seeks out his eyes once again with his own as he lowers his face to the table and presses those absurdly full lips against the rim of the coffee mug. Peter can’t look away as he watches Mark’s throat engage in gulping swallows to drain the mug to the point where he can pick it up and drink from it like a slightly more civilized ape. He doesn’t realize he’s trembling, nearly vibrating in place, until his partner taps him on the arm and takes the glass carafe from his hand.

Lindsey attends to the pair from that point on. He lets her. They both know things might escalate, with his fuse being an oil soaked scrap of already burning twine.

The cop is perfectly nice to her, even smiling and thanking her for another coffee refill. Strahm can still feel the other man’s eyes rest on him from time to time. There’s something about the weight of his stare that makes him want to scratch at a phantom itch under his collar until blood burrows its way beneath his nails.

He finds his relief when Lindsey brings out the bill. Mark leaves his sister behind to pay after he hands her his wallet. She approaches the register with the slip of paper, looking meeker, somehow smaller, without her brother around. He barely keeps the frown off his face at her body language. There’s a nervous look in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry about my brother. I don’t know what got into him. He’s never like that.”

She sounds so sincere that he feels his frustration ease off the gas a little. It wouldn’t be right of him to be pissed at her just because she has an asshole for a sibling. “Ah, don’t worry about it.”

“Please, keep the change,” she says, handing him a wad of bills.

He pauses, fingertips already on the smaller denominations in the cash drawer. “This is too much, really.”

“Call it a…” she raises her fingers in scare quotes, “‘Markup’.”

Strahm sighs. Both siblings are intolerable.

“Alright then…?”

“Angelina. Angie.”

“Have a nice day, Angelina.” He very politely does not tell her to inform her brother to go fuck himself. Preferably with his own loaded gun. Safety off.

The young woman gives a little wave to Lindsey on her way out the door. His partner cheerfully returns it, her other arm laden down with the pair’s used plates. Peter loops around the counter to help her with bussing the table. He snatches up a clean rag on the way.

He’s not quite sure why the other man got under his skin so badly. It chafes at him. They have had more than a couple blowhard cops in the diner before, but they’ve never invoked the same visceral reaction from Strahm as Mark had. At least he can find solace in knowing that he will probably never have to see them again. They hadn’t seemed like locals, and it’s unlikely they’ll return, especially given the cop’s behavior towards him.

Hours pass, evening finally settles in after a long day. Diner traffic had ebbed and flowed along the usual patterns after the two siblings had left. Strahm and Perez had had the their typical rush around eight, followed by another burst of customers around noon, and the final crowd at six. There had been nothing else out of the ordinary to get Peter’s hackles up.

“Go on home, Linds,” he says to his partner as he flips the last chair onto one of the tables. He doesn’t want her to be stuck here all night while he meticulously combs over the diner in preparation for opening in the morning.

She stops, looks over at him with raised eyebrows. She’s got one hand on the dustpan and the other wrapped around the broom. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I could use the time to—“

“Get your homicidal urges under control?” she suggests with a grin.

He doesn’t dignify Lindsey with a response, just takes the broom from her before gently pressing his knuckles to her back to nudge her in the direction of the counter. “I’ll see you in the morning. Shoot me a message when you get home.”

“Oh, I’ll shoot you alright,” the woman mutters as she goes and gets her coat and purse.

“I wish you would. It would save me the trouble of doing it myself,” he calls after her.

The look he gets in return, all scrunched eyes and pursed lips, makes him smile. Lindsey’s “agent special”, as they jokingly call the expression they both slip into when agitated, would be enough to sour milk. He and his partner aren’t all that different. Their mannerisms have blurred together over the years. Lindsey is still his better half, though. She always will be.

“’Night, Pete.” She pauses with her hand on the front door’s handle. “You let me know too. When you get back to your place.”

“Goodnight,” he says, grudgingly tacking on “I will.” when she clears her throat in a pointed demand.

He finishes sweeping and is in the middle of mopping when his phone vibrates in the front pocket of his jeans. Without looking, he knows it’s the message from Lindsey. Still, he pulls the device out anyway and flips it open.

The text illuminated on the screen reads Im home :) Dont forget 2 eat

Satisfied that she’s safe, he doesn’t pick at the number pad and work up a reply. Peter merely closes the phone and returns it to his pocket. He’ll be messaging Lindsey about his return to his shitty rental soon enough. He’s almost done here, will be once he’s combed over every final detail down to the level the salt shakers are filled to. Strahm can’t help but treat every night at the diner like a case. All the parts have to be arranged in just the right order to construct the whole picture.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Early riser, is the first thing Strahm thinks the next morning when he hears the bells clatter against the glass of the front door. It is barely five minutes past six. Lindsey is in the back wrangling the day’s special; muffins. Much to his mixture of pride and chagrin, she’s become a substantially better baker than he. She has the patience for it.

“Welcome in,” he says, not looking up from the inventory list he’s in the middle of putting together.

He is going to have to call in an order to their supplier before noon today if they want it by Friday, which they do. Business is going to be elevated above average due to a local softball game on Saturday. One of them will be tasked with catering the event while the other stays behind to run the diner. He and Lindsey are going to have to draw straws for who gets what job. Peter is sure that she’s going to rig the game by changing the rules once the results are in so that she has be the person to go. His customer skills are better left unpracticed.

“Thanks, Peter,” comes a familiar voice.

Nearly snapping his own damn neck when he jerks his head up, he looks at the speaker. It’s Mark. He is holding the door open with a glove-clad hand for his presumed saint of a sister.

Anger sparks along his spine. He had bet wrong on never seeing the cop again, and with an aggressive motion, he snatches up only one menu. It’s only when he’s halfway to their table that he realizes he is rapidly clicking the pen he was using to write down notes for the order. He forces himself to stop.

Strahm can’t help but notice the other man is dressed the same as he was yesterday. He’s wearing the black blazer again, silk shirt is straining over his—what Peter can only call—breasts. He catches the sight of a thick suspender strap pressing into the softness of his chest, and finds that he has to look away and focus carefully on the menu he’s setting on the table in front of Angelina. He can tell that the other man is eyeing him questioningly.

“Where’s mine?” the cop asks, falling right into the trap Peter had impulsively set for him.

Turning to him with a fake as shit, winning smile, he says, “I thought your sister would be reading it to you. On account of you being a brain-damaged neanderthal.”

While Mark looks at him unblinkingly for a long moment and Angelina tries to smother her shocked laugh, Peter doesn’t let go of the smile. He rubs this thumb over the pen as he waits patiently for the cop to speak.

“Hm,” Mark finally says, considering, “Mother always did love dropping me on my head.”

Peter’s grin wavers, thinking the man might not be joking. His tone had been too serious. The amused expression falls off his face completely.

Fuck, he thinks, feeling a tinge of horror. Lindsey is going to kill him if he doesn’t kill himself first. Mark’s sister has her face buried in her hands. He’s royally cocked this up. He’s on the verge of apologizing when—

“I’m joking, Pete. I thought we were all friends here.”

Strahm relaxes, just marginally, but then Mark speaks again “Besides, I didn’t have a mother. In fact, you might be onto som—”

Peter interrupts him, turning to Angie, “What can I get you started with?”

“Orange juice, and some coffee for Oliver Twist over there.”

“Did you take him to the vet to get his taste buds looked at?” He’s still reflexively tapping his thumb against the clicker of the pen, not hard enough to trigger the mechanism.

She snaps her fingers, a smile playing at her mouth. “Damn, I forgot. I’m sure he’ll be nice this time,” she emphasizes with a pointed look at her brother.

Unable to help himself, he hazards a glance at the cop as well. Mark, upon realizing he’s being observed, darts his eyes from Peter’s right hand to his face. There’s something off about his expression, only furthered by a hard swallow. He looks almost… No. The idiot is probably just creaming himself over the thought of breakfast.

“I’ll be right out with that.”

When he pushes through the swinging door into the kitchen, he finds Lindsey pulling out another tray of muffins. She slides them onto the wheeled cooling rack and hums along to the radio blasting dad rock. His partner looks over at him with a smile. “Got a customer already?”

“Yeah,” he grumbles, snagging a glass serving decanter off a shelf, “jerkoff cop and his sister from yesterday.”

Peter can hear the frown in her voice as she speaks. “Want me to handle them?”

“No. I got it,” he calls on his way to the walk-in, decanter in hand. He fills it with orange juice from the dispenser before slipping out of the cooler and back into the main room of the kitchen to find and wrangle the lid onto the glass vessel.

Perez speaks like he hadn’t walked off, used to his comings and goings, “I’ll take the softball game then.”

“Not your call,” he says, thumbs bleaching white as he presses the sloped, metal lid down into the decanter until the rubber seal catches.

“Sure is, buddy. You’ll be using up all your goodwill today. I don’t want you terrorizing entire families this weekend. It’s bad for business.”

The retired agent lets out a ragged sigh on his way through the swinging door, finding himself unable to disagree. He knows his own limits, as much as he resents them, and so does Lindsey. Unlike her, he is willing to ignore them if it means getting the job done. It’s a miracle how she’s managed to stick around all these years. No one else has managed to tolerate his unwavering dedication. His first wife had left him for turning a blind eye to everything other than work, and the second had done the same for his devotion to Lindsey. Strahm is ever the dog with a bone, gnawing until he has reached the marrow and licked away every last trace of it.

He loves Perez like the sister he never got to have. Peter has both put his life on the line for her and taken the lives of other people for her continued survival. He has the unfortunate affliction of being willing to do anything for her, even going so far as to let her take some of the burden of this job off his shoulders. Atlas gets to have a partner.

Fetching a glass from under the counter, he tops it off with orange juice before stashing the serving jug in the mini-fridge where they keep the other cold items they need close at hand throughout the day—beverage pitchers, whipped cream, sliced lemons, the works.

Laughter travels across the diner, quick-footed and noisy. Strahm looks up at the interruption. The cop is holding the menu upside down and attempting to read the inverted text as he trails a thick finger over the print. He clearly cares about his sister. The love is written all over his stupid face, so thick that it’s enough to choke on.

Tamping down any lingering irritation as best as he can, Peter makes his way over to the siblings’ table. He is careful when he sets Angelina’s glass of orange juice down but doesn’t take the same care in the dismissive way he thunks Mark’s empty mug on the surface.

“Decided what you want yet?” he asks, pouring too much coffee into the mug in a repetition of yesterday. It laps the rim, begging to escape over the side.

At Angelina’s affirmative, Strahm sets the coffee carafe on the table and withdraws the notepad from his belt. While he jots down their order, he can’t help but be unsure if Mark is actually stupid or if he is just pretending. Either way, the man grates at him in such a way that he’d like to sink his fist into his face. It might relieve the inexplicable feeling crawling around under his skin like its trying to make a home. If he doesn’t act, it might buy real estate nestled away somewhere under his ribs.

Once he has everything marked down, he trades places with Lindsey after passing her the coffeepot and cooks the meal up in the back while she mans the front. They swap again as soon as he serves the places.

Behind the counter, he works at finishing up the restock order. Peter keeps finding his eyes wandering to the eating man rather than the task at hand. The solitude of the front only serves to allow him all the free rein he could possibly want to watch the man consume the meal Strahm had put in front of him. Each mouthful, each bob of that thick neck as he swallows, the tines of the fork disappearing between those overfilled lips; there’s something about it that he cannot look away from.

For now, he tells himself that the rapt attention is borne of disgust, that he’s watching for a complaint so he has cause to let out the aggression boiling inside of him. Later, once he has closed the diner for the night, he tries to convince himself that the tinge of satisfaction he’s feeling in this moment is because he is looking at proof of a job well done. The cop is clearly enjoying his food, and Strahm takes pride in his work.

Either way, he ignores the stirring that he feels in his jeans. He curses himself under his breath and puts all his focus into finishing the list he should have been locked into all along. He barely marks down the last item on the sheet before Lindsey pops through the swinging door, flushed from having completed her baking.

She ducks right under his arm and pulls the paper out from under his hand. Lindsey ignores his outraged noise. “Is this everything?”

“Yeah. Business has been picking up.”

“Mmm… Go water the plants for me? I’ll take over here.”

His partner makes a shooing gesture at him. She had been the one who insisted they have flowers in front of the diner and around the lot’s tree. Of course, the task of caring for them has fallen to Peter. He’d seen the state of her houseplants time and time again. Each of them inevitably finds a place at his rental home, handed over by a sheepish Lindsey. He all but has a jungle tucked away in his living room. Perez has many qualities. Unfortunately, a green thumb is not among them.

Casting a quick glance over at the table, he sees that the siblings are nearly done. They will be needing the check soon.

“Fine,” he says, giving in. It’s probably better for everyone is he’s not looking at the cop.

The bell chimes as he ducks out the front door. He checks the soil before he bothers to get the hose. In doing so, he finds out that Lindsey was right, the plants do need watered.

Peter is in the middle of watering the bed under the window when a shadow falls over the box. It consumes his, merges with it to create a twisted creature. There is something familiar in that figure, something deep in the core of his body groans in approval. Everything else fades away for a moment as he quietly observes it.

“Angie told me to apologize.”

Peter jerks, surprised by the rolling voice behind him. His finger slips off the sprayer. The water cuts off abruptly. He narrowly avoids clutching at his chest with his free hand like a stereotypical old man having a heart attack. With his heart pounding in his ears, he turns around to face Mark. Strahm doesn’t spay the cop with the hose. He wants to.

“So are you?” he asks with forced nonchalance.

Mark considers him. Those pale eyes survey the damp patches on Strahm’s jeans where the water had blown back. His stare seems to catch on the wet patch of t-shirt clinging to his stomach. “I don’t know. Is there something in it for me if I do?”

Strahm feels his neck go hot. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the other man is flirting.

“Depends on how good the apology is.” The words are out of his mouth before his brain catches up. Damn it, Strahm, damn it, he thinks. His tendency to spout out whatever leapt to his tongue was a barely leashed thing that often broke free of its tether at the most inopportune of moments.

A smile curves the edges of Mark’s over-sized lips and the shorter man leans his bulk in just enough to make him feel cornered. Strahm has to fight not to react in any direction; either to shove him away or to pull him in. Disgust is warring with interest. He frowns. He barely knows this man. The retired agent would like to know what the fuck is wrong with him.

Sudden surprise flairs in those eyes and Mark withdraws, saying, “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

Peter is left standing alone on the pavement, hose in hand, as the other man lumbers away to the navy Crown Victoria parked at the meter. He’s wet and confused. His jeans feel as tight as the scar cutting across his cheek.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Wednesday passes without further incident. Thursday’s only outstanding feature is the arrival of the order they had placed on Tuesday. Friday night sees Strahm helping to prepare everything for Lindsey’s catering on Saturday. There is no sign of Mark during the three day span. Only his sister stops by the diner. She gives no explanation for her brother’s absence and Peter does not ask.

Over the days, Strahm and Perez get to know Angelina. They learn that she loves her brother just as much as he loves her. She reveals that she and Mark were system kids. He has taken care of her like his own family since the moment they met at the home of shared foster parents. The adults had ended up not wanting Mark and despite only intending to send him back, they’d had to send both children away. Hoffman and Acomb had been stamped with a “do-not-separate” notice when Mark had later broken the nose of one of the staff members in response to being told they were going to be split up. Another family had wanted to foster just her.

Hoffman had filed for custody of her as soon as he aged out of the system and the means to show he could provide for her. He had been the youngest cop the precinct had assigned the role of detective to. Angie wishes her brother would hover less and worry about himself more. She thinks that he is burning the candle at both ends.

Over those days, Strahm’s worldview around the man shifts. The flames of disdain that had been raging inside of him peter out and turn into a charred bed of ash. He still wants to punch the man in the face, still wants to rough him up until he’s marked with the proof of Strahm’s fists—of his mouth—but he might soothe the man’s wounds afterwards with careful passes of his tongue.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Lindsey has just barely left for the softball field with her small truck laden down with the necessary food and supplies for the catering ordeal when the bell above the door jangles. Strahm looks up from the coffee filters he’s separating to see that it’s Mark. He is the first customer of the morning.

The detective doesn’t take a seat at the table, instead, he settles himself onto a stool at the counter. Strahm can’t help but notice that the seat Mark chooses is the one beside the stool that his sister has been occupying for the past few days. It’s as though his body instinctively knows where Angie resides and always keeps that space carved out for her. Peter is sure that if something were to ever happen to her, there would be a gaping hole in the detective’s life, a place where his sister should fill.

Something gives way in his chest at the sight of him. He’d never admit it, but he’s irrationally missed him.

“Morning,” he says, putting a mug down in front of him. He leaves enough room for Mark’s sugar this time as he pours the coffee in, unprompted. He’s being uncharacteristically nice. It could be that he’s making up for the lack of his partner. His rough edges can’t be too sharp when she’s not around to patch up the cuts he might make.

Any positive feelings at the other man being back at the diner are dashed when the first words out of his mouth aren’t a good morning in return, or even a thanks, but a “You wife has been getting real close with my sister. You guys a pineapple couple or what?”

Mark’s eyes are flat, deceptively calm. Uncomfortably, Peter feels as though he’s looking into the eyes of an attacking shark. He barely keeps the coffeepot he’s holding from slipping from his grasp. He’s suddenly all too aware of the wedding band weighing down his ring finger. It had been the same one from both his previous marriages. The retired FBI agent should have known the second marriage was doomed to fall apart from the moment he decided to not pick out new wedding rings with his fiancée. It probably hadn’t helped, that unbeknownst to ex-wife number two, he had proposed to her with the engagement ring he’d gotten back after the divorce of his first wife. Both women had been right to end their marriages to him. He’d been a shitty husband. His heart hadn’t been in it. Neither woman had been what he was really looking for.

On the Lindsey’s behalf, he’s offended for Mark even thinking she would stoop so low as to be married to him. She deserves better than his negligence and repression. He knows it and she knows it. In all the years that they’ve been partners, they have never done anything more than share a few awkward hugs.

“Lindsey and I aren’t married,” he says firmly.

“Just you then?”

“I’m not married. Neither of us are married.”

“You wear a ring. Seems awful married to me.”

“It keeps some of the old ladies from trying to mount me in the stock room,” he answers, dry.

They sit on that in silence. Strahm places the carafe back on the hotplate. Something nags at him. He turns to Mark only to find that he’s still staring at him. “What the fuck is a pineapple couple?”

“Swingers, Pete. I asked if you were a swinger.”

“What? No. Mark. No. No.”

The seated man looks strangely smug. “Good. I don’t share,” he says as if it were the most casual thing in the world and flips open a menu.

For a moment, Strahm thinks his brain shuts off. He reaches blindly for a rag out of the sanitizer bucket and starts scrubbing the counter with it. Mark’s voice comes to him like Peter is under water, distorted and faint.

“Eggs and bacon for me today. Some multigrain if you’ve got it.”

Pulling his notepad from his belt, Strahm scribbles down the order. He doesn’t need to but he needs to fight for a finger hold of normality here.

“Small breakfast. Sure you don’t want to stuff your mouth with anything else?” As soon as the words hit the air, Strahm wishes he could somehow suck them back in. Why is he forever incapable of thinking before he speaks?

Hoffman shrugs. “Nah, Angie’s not here to steal half the food off my plate. Besides, what I want isn't on the menu anyway.” His eyes feel like a physical caress as they map over Peter’s body. The meaning is blatant, not remotely subtle.

Peter opens his mouth, closes it.

“I’ll be back with that,” he says. On his way to the kitchen’s swinging door, he tries to keep his pace measured as he escapes Mark’s all too interested eyes. He doesn't want the detective to see how much their interaction has rattled him.

Once in the kitchen, he realizes that he needs to get ingredients out of the walk-in and pops the latch to step inside the small space. Instead of gathering what he had come for, Peter finds himself sitting on a tomato box. He leans back, pressing the sides of his clenched hands to his brow bone. Letting out a loud sigh that’s more of a growl, the diner owner sags into the cold metal of the wall behind it. The change in temperature is enough of a difference to shock his system back into some sense of reality.

What the fuck? he thinks, irritation creeping into his thoughts like an old friend. The detective had acted like he would gladly engage him in a physical fight over coffee and now he’s making overt passes at him. It’s enough to send his head spinning. Going over their interactions, he’s drawing the conclusion that perhaps the other man had been flirting with him since the start, trying different tactics to get his attention like a snot-nosed brat pulling a girl’s hair on the playground before realizing that honey catches more flies.

Being in the cooler finally catches up with him and he wastes no time in getting to his feet. He hates tight spaces, always has. Eventually, they make him feel like the walls are closing in inch by anxiety-inducing inch. A nonsensical section of his hind brain fears he will get crushed between them, rendered into a pool of fat floating atop pulpy innards and shattered bones.

Once free of the walk-in, he fries up the bacon and the eggs. He slips some toast onto the plate before carrying it out to the front. It’s hot against his fingers, the heat soaking through his callouses.

Peter has a moment to observe Mark when he pauses in the doorway. The swinging door is propped open against his elbow. The detective is sitting quietly, sketching something out on a napkin with the pen that Strahm must have unintentionally left behind after he took down the order. Once Mark catches sight of him, he flips the napkin over. As he does, Peter gets a glimpse of the drawing. It’s depicting something mechanical, like a medieval torture device made modern. An alarm bell clangs in the back of his head.

Neither of them bring up the drawing. Mark steadily tucks into his breakfast. Peter pretends not to be watching him. He thinks part of his brain dies when Mark has to lick away a smear of ketchup off his own lip. For a moment, Peter has the thought of his own tongue doing the work for the detective instead.

The retired agent ends up nearly snarling at him when he asks for a coffee refill.

next chapter -»

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[honourablejester]

Just on the topic of things that mildly bug me from D&D 5e, I just wanna talk about white dragons for a bit?

I really love white dragons. They’re in my top three dragon subspecies, along with greens and golds. I especially adore the thing about their memory:

“Though only moderately intelligent, white dragons have extraordinary memories. They recall every slight and defeat, and have been known to conduct malicious vendettas against creatures that have offended them.” […] “A white dragon's flawless memory means that it knows how it came to possess every coin, gem, and magic item in its hoard, and it associates each item with a specific victory.” (Monster Manual)

As you can tell from things like Miirikjilinth, a homebrew white dragon NPC of mine, I love the potential worldbuilding implications of their memories. The arctic dragons, holding the oral history and memories of whole regions safe inside their minds. Now, granted, most whites are far too antisocial for that, but it’s still such a fantastic potential about them.

But. Right there in that quote is the thing that bugs me: though only moderately intelligent.

Why are white dragons written (and statted) as the dumb ones? They’re the ‘smallest, least intelligent, and most animalistic of the chromatic dragons’. Even Fizban’s Treasury of Dragons, despite lightening up on things like morality and alignment for chromatics, continues to hammer this point: “I enjoy an animated debate... just not with a white dragon. Impossible and ignorant, all of them. The air must be different in their arctic latitudes.” (Fizban himself). And the stats bear this out. White dragons have the lowest mental stats of any dragon, the only adult dragons that have an Intelligence of less than 10. They’re literally the only dragons to have a minus modifier to a mental stat. And it kind of kneejerk annoys me?

Now. Some of this could be me attaching too much value to numbers for intelligence. And there is an argument that whites are intended to be essentially the barbarians of the dragon world. Their emphasis is on hunting, combat, living off the land, being remote and antisocial and far from civilisation. Which, I do get that. But.

Barbarians are a player class, and a choice a player makes on what stats they can afford to dump. White dragons are a race of beings. Well. A subspecies of an intelligent species of beings. And with that in mind, having the entire subspecies be glossed as ‘bestial’, ‘animalistic’, and ‘the least intelligent’ of all their kind feels … weird.

The dragons that choose to live away from civilisation, that choose to live off the land, that prefer treasures taken from their natural environment (“However, in their remote arctic climes, the treasure hoards of white dragons more often contain walrus and mammoth tusk ivory, whale-bone sculptures, figureheads from ships, furs, and magic items seized from overly bold adventurers.” MM), that don’t like to have to talk to people that often, those dragons are dumb and animalistic. Despite the fact that their memories are basically the equivalent of the Keen Mind feat (which increases INT) but with recall for centuries rather than months.

Intelligence in D&D measures ‘mental acuity, accuracy of recall, and the ability to reason’. Four of the five INT skills are about memory rather than the ability to think on your feet (which, granted, might be a whole other argument). The basic ability descriptions repeatedly emphasis memory (‘a character with low Intelligence might speak simply or easily forget details’ PHB). Like, this might just be me, but I feel like a ‘flawless memory’ should give them a higher INT score than 8? Is it meant to be supernatural memory and fully divorced from their actual brain? Explain please.

I don’t know why it bugs me that much. It could just be because they’re one of my favourite dragons, and I’m annoyed that they’re widely described as being dumb as bricks just because they’re not one of the civilised sorts of dragons. Their WIS and CHA scores are also the lowest of any adult dragon, at 12 each, and while CHA makes sense considering they’re the most antisocial dragons, given their emphasis on hunting and perception and ambush, you’d think they’d at least get a better WIS score too. IDK, I just feel like you could give the adult white statblock, the ‘representative sample’ of their kind, at least the same mental stat spread as blacks and brasses (INT 14, WIS 13, CHA 17)? Maybe reverse the WIS and CHA scores, because, again, antisocial, plus hunters with good perception.

Anyway. Apologies, very random grumble that may, possibly, be some of my own biases (and favouritism) cropping up. But. The description does make me feel weird, and kneejerk protective of my vicious, feral, incredibly long-memoried white dragon beloveds.