#sometimes i wish i could hand my sims away

[sanitysims]

A Party to Die For, Day 23: Athlete

Welcome to the party: Mark Nishimura! He's active, family-oriented, and good, even if his resting bitch face makes people think otherwise. He's trying his best :( The only opinions that matter to him are the ones of his siblings, but how could they not love him after all the work he's put into practically raising them?

made for the halloween cas challenge by @la-llama-sims using @changingplumbob’s wonderful templates!!

something about men with long hair will do it for me everytime. wow. also i'm literally unable to get markiplier out of my head when i look at him for some reason so he's named after him lol (ˆ𐃷ˆ)

at this point i'm starting to forget which fonts i've used oops. maybe i've used this one before but i can't remember so i don't care! (ˆ𐃷ˆ)

pose - @ninawhims // hair & pants - @aharris00britney // earrings - @its-adrienpastel // headphones - @pralinesims // necklace - @wistfulpoltergeist

[verstappentime]

max revealed this week that he was definitely driving with brain damage after his silverstone crash and struggled to see during his win at the U.S. grand prix that year (3 months later). obviously this yields hurt/comfort maxiel. daniel isn't too happy about all of this. max's poor head hurts.

→ →→ it’s gp who finds daniel, intercepting him as he comes out of his driver’s room. “max needs you, mate,” he says, calm but serious. maybe a little exasperated.

of course daniel goes.

gp presses a water bottle, mixed with some kind of blue powder, into his hand. “he needs to drink this. and tell him we’re having a look at his visor, okay?”

daniel nods, even though that means nothing to him.

he finds max on the floor with all the lights off, almost tripping over him. “baby,” he says, heart already in his throat. “whatcha doing down there?”

max doesn’t say anything. daniel goes for the light switch; max whines straight away, breathing harshly through his nose. “leave them off.” it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth.

fuck. daniel crouches down beside him. “maxy? is it a migraine?” max is all balled up, his forehead against his knees, navy kit making it hard to see him in the dark. daniel sets a hand on the back of his neck – he’s overwarm and still sticky with champagne. he looked okay, after the race. he looked fine. he hasn’t had a migraine in months, after a string of them following silverstone.

max still isn’t talking. daniel’s heart is thumping in his chest. he tries, “gp says they’re looking at your visor?”

max reaches around blindly, finding his phone and holding it out to daniel. “text him and tell him not to do that. say i’m fine.”

“what?”

max waves the phone at him. “tell him good win, thank you, whatever, and there’s no need, and i’m fine. daniel, please text him.”

“max. you’re not–”

“daniel.” max presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “fuck. just say it. i don’t want anyone staying late.”

“then you’ll tell me what’s wrong?” daniel’s worried enough to resort to bartering.

“yes. sure. whatever.”

it’s enough for daniel to tap out the text, trying to mimic the punctuation max would use. “okay. talk.” max reaches out, and daniel doesn’t realize what he wants until he starts patting the back of daniel’s hand. he links their fingers, squeezing. when max doesn’t start right away, he prompts, “can you tell me why gp is worried about your helmet?”

“on the track. i couldn’t. like. see.” max squeezes his hand harder. “fuck, that hurts.”

“you– what? you couldn’t see what?”

“anything?” max makes a miserable noise. “like, everything was– blurry? is that what you say? and i was trying to focus, it was hurting my head. but i’ll sit here for a while and it’ll be fine. just. probably gp didn’t want to leave me on the floor alone.”

“you– max, what?” daniel worried about this for weeks, after silverstone. he read every pamphlet on what he was supposed to watch for, which symptoms meant max needed to go back to the hospital. watched every meal to make sure max wasn’t nauseous, made him rate every headache out of 10. “you were driving, and you couldn’t see?”

“i was thinking maybe i would stop, but i needed to win this one, and i could, so i did.”

“you were thinking maybe you would stop.” max verstappen was going to pull out of a race. fuckfuckfuck. “max, that really isn’t good. it’s– it didn’t hurt at first? not like a migraine?” they’d explained that in the pamphlet. tunnel vision was a migraine; blurred vision was not.

max gives a little shake of his head.

“that’s. they told us to watch for that, do you remember?” daniel lets go of max’s hand, gripping him at both arms. he wants to fucking shake him, but he’s too afraid of hurting him. “it’s. like. a sign of post concussion syndrome. fuck, max, has this happened before?"

“sometimes in the sim,” max says. “whenever i’m looking at a screen for a long time. i don’t know. it goes away. it’s not– i’m not sick or something.”

daniel wishes he had the fucking pamphlet. “max, it’s been three months since your crash. you shouldn’t be driving, you shouldn’t have been driving, i knew it was worse than you were letting on—”

“daniel, you’re hurting me.” max’s voice shrinking. daniel hadn’t noticed how tight his grip had become.

“fuck. sorry. sorry.” daniel lets go, soothing his hands up max’s arms. “can we go to medical? please?”

“no,” max says emphatically.

“max, i think something’s really wrong.” he thinks of max, woozy on the track, not knowing someone’s coming up on his side. bang. smoke.

“i hit my fucking head at 51G. that is what’s wrong. it will get better.”

max is alive and right in front of him, but he’s thinking of jules, in a coma all those months. “you should have told me. you can’t fuck around with this.” god, he sounds mean, but it’s just that he can feel his pulse up to his ears and he needs max to be alright.

“i just want to go home. it hurts so much, daniel.” max sounds so tired. it’s enough to snap him back. because max actually needs him right now, not in some imaginary future disaster world.

“okay. yeah. i’m sorry, baby. we’ll go home.” he’s giving up too easily, but. max never says anything hurts, unless it’s a papercut or something stupid he can pester daniel about for days. he tries to do some of michael’s stupid box breathing technique. four in. four out. okay. take care of max, idiot.

max lets himself be helped up and settled into a chair. he covers his eyes as daniel turns the lights on. they’ve both long missed their debriefs; daniel doesn’t bother looking at his phone. he assumes someone explained for him somehow.

“there’s medicine in my bag, the headache stuff,” max mumbles.

daniel’s hands feel clumsy as he fishes it the bottle out and opens it, taking out two tablets and pressing them into max’s clammy palm. he hands him the blue concoction gp gave him. “drink that, too, hey?” they’d done this so many times back in july. he’d really thought it was over.

daniel fishes through the bag some more, coming up with max’s sunglasses. max puts them on, looking ridiculous as daniel goes around collecting his stuff. he nurses the blue thing quietly, hugging his backpack to his chest when daniel hands it to him. the only other time daniel’s seen max this quiet was after silverstone, stony-faced and wrung out when they’d finally arrived back to the hotel and max had been cleared to go to sleep.

“okay, baby, i think we have everything,” he says quietly, anxiety starting to fade into guilt. he’s not going to convince max to stay out of the car, and they both know that. if max can survive the next month and a half, he’ll win the world championship and then they can fucking. breathe. daniel will make him rest if he has to.

max lets himself be guided to the car with a gentle hand on the small of his back. daniel does his seatbelt for him like he’s a child. he doesn’t even know why. “are we fighting?” max asks, still hugging his backpack.

“no. no? i don't think so. we can talk later. let’s just. you need a shower and sleep.”

“you think gp got my trophy?”

“i’m sure he did, max.” daniel can’t help the tiniest smile. god, this fucking kid.

[pixeldistractions]

A tidy hiking trail wound up and around the boulders, with well-maintained stairs leading to the top. He led her past the rock spa, past the clearing where yoga classes gathered, to a small rocky outcrop under a sprawling shade tree.

“Open your eyes! The view is incredible up here.”

She opened her eyes, just a peek, keeping her gaze on the far horizon and not the steep hundred foot drop below them. Her safe and protected suburban life had never given her the chance to explore whether she was afraid of heights. Now, she learned, she was!

“Don’t let go.”

“Not a chance,” he said. “But you know, we’re still ten feet away from the edge.”

“Ha! Ten feet is not far enough! What if you got dizzy? What if you slipped? What if the wind blew really hard?”

“Hmm,” he mused. “You know what’s funny? Now that I’ve met her, I see a lot of your mother in you.”

Down below, JoJo had made fast friends with Jack and Nessa’s boys. They worried about her sometimes—she could be feisty and aggressive, and her little friendships had been hit or miss. But out here, on the road, in the wild, with these feral children of other feral families, she had found a natural fit.

“That was a good climb,” Jordan said. “Really good. I don’t know, I think you’re my good luck charm.”

“Aww, don’t say that. You should take credit for your hard work,” she said. “But… I only wish I liked watching you do that more.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to watch. But it’s safe, we’re on ropes. You can’t see them from down there, but it’s safe.”

“It’s just a lot higher than I thought it would be. And it’s not even the biggest one? The one in Japan is higher?”

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We’re not in Japan yet.”

“One thing more.” Maria pulled something from her pocket. “I bought this in the gift shop. You’re not allowed to say no.” She didn’t hand it to him, she just took his keyring from his pocket and slipped the tiny flashlight onto the ring.

He laughed. “If I had a bad fall and nobody found me, the dark is the least of my worries. All the scavenger animals out here, coyotes, mountain lions, vultures…”

“Are you trying to make me feel worse about this?”

“Sorry.”

“Well, then maybe the dark won’t be another worry.”

“Right, I’ll be able to see which animal is about to eat me.”

“Stop it,” Maria laughed. “And maybe we’ll put a GPS tracker on you, too.”

“You can if you want.”

“But don’t climb alone.”

“I never would. But thank you. I’ll cherish it.”

As the sun passed behind the rocks, night fell swiftly over the park, and it was time to call the group to dinner.

— “boxes and squares #5.2: come down from the clouds” (8/10)

Photographic evidence that Jordan’s dinner was eaten and appreciated by all. I just didn’t take the best pictures of it, and it wasn’t much to add to the story, anyway.

No photographic evidence of a tiny flashlight on a keychain because that part snuck in from the book version of this story (and it needs to stay…), so we’ll have to use our imaginations for that!

If you will please ignore that Jordan’s clothes changed in the last two shots, because sims, lol!

Next -> // 5.2 start // index

[doiefics]

don't fall for the homeboy!

pairing: jihoon x afab!reader

prologue: jihoon was sure he wasn’t the type to catch feelings for his friend, but what happens when he is suddenly struck by the reality?

genre: fluff + friends to lovers

wordcount: 750

warnings: none

"Ding Dong!” your doorbell greeted you.

You went to answer, thinking who could it be at this hour? Certainly not your parents, who just left ten minutes ago.

“Hey, Y/N! Your mom sent me to look after you, now step aside and let me in.” It was Jihoon, your childhood friend.

Together, him and you went through everything. Including from being conceived and born around the same time to going to school. He became an inseparable part of your life.

It was not like you did not want Jihoon around.

You had been seeing him since you were born. You bitched about the people you hated together and were each other’s emotional support.

Many assumed the two of you were dating, but that was not the case.

By now, Jihoon had already seated himself in your living room. Of course, your mother did not assign him the babysitting, but he was her favourite anyway, naturally, he was like a family member.

“Stop standing like a sims character over there, and yes, don’t end up creating any more trouble,” Jihoon tried you boss you around.

“Park Jihoon, I am old enough. And you are just thirty-seven days older than me, for your weekly reminder.” You were quick to defend yourself.

“The last time you were allowed to be home alone, you let a stray cat enter the house and scrape away your mom’s favourite curtains.” Of course, he could not let you win this.

“Alright, Mr. Babysitter,” you surrendered.

“That’s my good girl. I need you to behave well for me now.” Jihoon blurted out without realizing what he had just said.

This habit had caused him trouble in the past. Luckily, this time, it was just you. Taking advantage of the situation, you decided to tease him further.

“Woah! Is this the beginning of a porn movie? What should we name it? Babysitter takes care of his little girl home alone?” followed by your roar of laughter.

To you there was no greater joy than seeing his agitated and irritated face.

"You’ve got such a filthy brain, where do you learn these things from?” Jihoon admonished you playfully as a shade of pink now adorned his cheeks.

A movie watching date was soon planned.

The lead couple was just slowly falling in love, offering cheesy compliments to each other and making unrealistic promises.

Best friends falling in love was a crummy genre for sure.

“Ahh, why do they always romanticize it?" The boy spoke.

"Who on earth falls for their friend like this?" He spoke again.

"Aghh, this is just ridiculous. Y/N how about we better watch-” Jihoon had started his timely rants again.

You were so used to it by know. He ranted about everything from overcooked meat to missed buses. Sometimes you really pondered what he was made up of.

“Men named Park Jihoon do. They do fall”. You answered his unasked question.

His mouth hung open, as if you had stolen his lunch money.

The jaw dropped. You wished you could capture this face to tease him about it later.

Despite his refusal to acknowledge it, Jihoon had some feelings for you. Well, you certainly did. He was decently attractive nd coming to think of it, who else could you even date?

"Stop reading those romance novels of yours." He did not even finish his sentence, but you had another response ready, yet again.

“Hoon, admit it.”

Jihoon shook his head at that statement. “No way, I could kiss you right now to prove I don’t feel anything about you.”

His eyes met with yours next and you nodded, granting him the permission.

Jihoon leaped closer.

Tucking your hair to the back of your ear, lifting your chin to meet his face. His hands were shaking. His nervousness was unprecedented.

Pitying your poor friend, you took matters in your hands and smashed your lips onto his.

He immediately responded back. Holding you by the waist now. His and your lips moved in a perfect sync, as though they were meant to be.

This felt like euphoria to you. You held his muscular arms for a better grip. It seemed as if you had been hungry for this since forever.

After what seemed like a good few minutes, you pulled out.

Jihoon’s gaze changed.

He wanted more, and so did you. Quickly after catching your breath, your lips retuned to where they were need the most.

Men named Park Jihoon did, after all, fall for their best friend.

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

have a request? prompt fic game is OPEN!

[episims]

Do you ever see lucid dreams?

Well... @themeasureofasim and @persimmonsimmer lured me to post something about Foxfire. Yes I'm cowardly blaming them.

I wrote this short story recently, mostly because I miss my sims, some to practice writing in English, and a bit because I just sometimes need to write.

No pictures, only prose. Warnings: poor grammar and lacking vocabulary.

Felix knew it was a dream. He had seen it many times before.

But as he stood here on the shore, the moist night breeze wiping his face as he watched the pale shine of the moon disorienting on the lake’s uneven surface, it was too easy to forget that it wasn’t real.

At another time, he had licked the salt off his lips after diving into that chill water and shrieked at how the hot, coarse sand tingled his back as he threw himself on it. He had scratched his hands trying to prove to Sara he could climb a palm tree and helped Hugo build sand fortresses with moats at the waterfront.

Felix sighed – did he sigh in his sleep? – but the dream wasn’t going to end by doing so. Surrendering to the part he was playing in it, Felix turned his back to the lake.

As he had expected, Dari stood on the shore, just out of Felix’s reach. They had played here as children and hung out by the lake as teenagers, but this version of Dari was a grown-up man, with a stronger jaw and wider shoulders than Felix remembered him to have. His posture was relaxed, with his arms resting on his sides, and the moonlight painted his figure with a silver tint, dimming the redness of his hair and the warm tone of his sepia skin.

He should be transformed at this hour, Felix reminded himself, battling the dream logic. But Dari remained in his daytime form, only his yellow eyes that glowed in the dusk hinting about the duality of his existence. 

Dari smiled at him. It was a rare expression for the grumpy werewolf and Felix would have blamed it on the dream too if he hadn’t seen that smile before. It was a soft, shy smile accompanied by unusual tenderness in Dari’s eyes; Felix was fairly sure it only occurred when Dari didn’t realize he was smiling.

It was probably only in a dream Felix could ever see that smile again.

He didn’t dare to move and neither did Dari. But what meaning did place and distance have in a dream, anyway? The sand stretched under their feet and the night air pushed them closer, gently but surely, until their noses nearly touched and the warmth radiating from Dari’s body tensed Felix’s senses.

“I missed you,” Felix mumbled, studying the details of Dari’s face. It was all too familiar, his strong eyebrows above deep-set eyes, prominent nose with a perfectly round tip, and full lower lip with a little bite mark at the other side.

“You just say.” Dari’s yellow eyes glinted as he rolled them but his tone was amicable, and he placed his hands on Felix’s shoulders as he spoke.

Felix pressed his forehead against Dari’s and felt the soft touch of Dari’s fingers on his neck. He inhaled slowly, he wasn’t sure if he really needed to breathe in a dream but he wasn’t trying to fill his lungs. The scent was just how he remembered it: a mix of antiperspirant and musk and morning dew and little nuances he didn’t have words for but all of which he had memorized.

He wished he could have frozen the dream at that moment, wished it so badly that it hurt. But, as it was doomed to go, Dari abruptly slipped away from his arms.

A twisted, hollow feeling spread within him as Felix raised his gaze. Dari was standing further away again, now fully transformed, the smooth red fur covering his arms and framing his face. It was only natural to see him appear as he should during nights, but the tenderness in Dari’s eyes was long gone.

“What are you doing?!” Dari snarled. As he spoke, his upper lip raised, revealing his canine tooth.

“You were the one who started it!” Felix insisted on the urge, even though he doubted his own words. It was all the dream’s fault, forcing them to go through this stupid misunderstanding, but somehow, Felix wasn’t able to say that. He never was.

The snarl evolved into a low growl deep down Dari’s throat. He pulled his shoulders back and lowered his stance, bending his fingers. The sharp, black nails he had in his night form gleamed in the moonlight; a perfect weapon to slash Felix’s throat open.

“You fucking imagined it.”

He’s going to attack, Felix knew intuitively and the terror of the thought covered him in a cold sweat that reeked fear. He squeezed his hands into fists, he had recently broken his pull-up record but was muscle power enough to fight a werewolf? He didn’t want to hurt Dari, either.

With his limbs feeling heavy, Felix closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable. Was this how the dream was supposed to end? He couldn’t remember.

“Felix?”

The silky voice calling him wasn’t Dari’s. Felix opened his eyes and instead of the furious werewolf, he saw Shay standing where Dari had been just seconds ago. Felix didn’t know why but the witch had a golden aura around him, making Shay’s curly hair and dark skin race the moon like a mirage of the sun. 

“Are you alright?” Shay asked with a hint of worry, his blue eyes locked on Felix. 

“Yeah… I think so.” Irrationally, now that Dari wasn’t here, Felix wished that he was. Nevertheless, Shay’s presence was comforting. His arrival had changed how the shore smelled; it had fresh herbs and incense and something that reminded Felix of thunderstorms. 

It was a pleasant scent. Shay looked stunning too, he always did. “It’s good to see you.”

Shay must have heard him but his expression was impermeable, and he didn’t answer or move. The lack of response made Felix uneasy; he wanted to touch Shay, grab the man’s hand, or caress his cheek, whatever to make him react.

But as Felix was about to do that, he realized he couldn’t move forward. By some quirk of the dream, there was an invisible barrier between them, and the harder Felix tried to push against it, the further away Shay appeared to stand.

Shay quietly followed Felix’s vain efforts to reach him but there was sadness in his eyes. His golden aura was diminishing, and along with it, Shay seemed to be fading away too.

“Can’t you cast a spell or something?” Felix groaned to Shay out of frustration. The details of the dream were becoming harder and harder to focus on.

Seeming discouraged, Shay shrugged and averted Felix’s gaze. “You should wake up.”

---------

Felix snapped awake, gasping for air. The soft surface he was lying on was disgustingly cold and wet and smelled stingy.

Sweat.

It was almost pitch dark. Felix turned his head and squinted his eyes; unanimated figures with wide bodies and sharp corners towered around him, as they had been watching his restless dreaming. He didn’t recognize them, or the room he was in.

The cold sweat was pushing to Felix’s skin again and his heart raced inside his chest. He tried to stop the panic from taking over, counting to four as he breathed in. He had been on the shore – no, that was a dream. This is my new room. We moved in with Sara just yesterday. 

Of course. The weird figures were cardboard boxes still waiting to be unpacked.

Felix sighed and shook away the remnants of sleep. The blanket tangled with his legs was just as sweaty as the rest of the bed, so he kicked it away and pushed himself to sit. He leaned his forehead to his knees and pressed his temples with his thumbs, rubbing the damp skin.

If I don’t think about it, I’ll forget faster. 

He hoped he hadn’t made noise in his sleep; Sara’s room was right next to his, and they didn’t have experience yet on how good the sound insulation was. Hugo had never mentioned Felix talking in his sleep when they shared the room but then, Hugo wouldn’t probably wake up to a car crash under his window. 

Felix needed a shower no matter what but reached for his phone on the night table anyway. The screen illuminated with a faint light as he raised it and the text on the screen announced it was 4:17 AM. He stared at it painfully aware that the shower was only going to wake him up more. 

He wasn’t even sure if he had another set of sheets packed somewhere. The plan had been to buy new ones eventually. 

With his muscle memory working faster than his hazy brain could keep up with, Felix opened the phone’s lock screen and tapped the messaging app open. At the topmost were chats with Sara and Hugo, right after them was the team’s group chat, then the private one with the team’s manager, then Paige… he swiped up to see older chats.

The one with Dari had a blank icon. Felix knew by now it meant Dari still hadn’t unblocked him.

Felix dropped the phone back on the night table and swung himself up from bed. Since he was awake and stinking, instead of hitting the shower right away he could go on a morning run just the same.

[changingplumbob]

CW: Moderate sim spice - Guide to content warnings

Glenn tried to be in the moment but it was hard. His mind was racing. Silver was an excellent kisser. The werewolf had said it had been a while but it was obviously like riding a bike. Glenn was quietly proud of being the first one to get close to Silver for so long but he wasn't going to tell him that. Silver might think it meant Glenn liked that he had been alone when the opposite was true. The man he was wrapped around had a good heart, and Glenn wished he hadn't shut himself off from society, from love. But guilt was a tricky thing. He didn't blame Silver for wanting to run away from it all.

*waves* Let me explain for anyone new. My sims have woohoo drives and like to get it on but I know reading that isn't enjoyable for everyone. The test below contains that so if you are only here for the plot, or it makes you feel uncomfortable, please feel free to skip the rest of this post. You will not miss anything essential to the plot by not reading it.

Silver: *between kisses* Watcher you do taste good

Glenn: *giggling* Thank you *kisses* I have a whole dental hygiene routine

Silver: I love that you take care of yourself

Glenn: I can take care of you to if you let me

Glenn could feel Silver start to smile. He ran his hand through Silver's hair and attempted to pull him closer. A foolish mission as they were already chest to chest, but he needed him.

Silver: You ready for me to take your pants off now

Glenn: More than, but let me see you to

Silver placed Glenn gently on the bed and bent down to take his shoes off before removing his own.

Glenn: You know, we kind of have matching shoes

Silver: What do you mean

Glenn: Mine are brown and yours are grey- or silver! Get it, because you're Silver

Silver: *chuckling* It's not to late for me to cancel this woohoo you know

Glenn: I was just trying to say I like it. It's like we were in different places but we still got matching shoes. It's cute

Silver: You're cute Babycakes

Silver pulled off Glenn's jeans and boxers slowly. Glenn felt nervous lying back as Silver examined him, and again he got the feeling Silver wanted to eat him up.

Glenn: Can I do you first

Silver: You sure

Glenn: Yeah

Glenn watched intently as Silver removed his remaining clothes far quicker than he'd done for Glenn. Silver then pushed Glenn back on the bed and straddled him.

Silver: Just use your hands

Glenn: But I want to taste-

Silver: If you do a good job I'll feed you some

Glenn blushed and focused on the task in front of him. He was nervous but Silver stroking his chest and face helped him keep calm. In the end, well, he did get a taste.

Silver: Come here

Silver pulled Glenn up and around so the pair were sitting on the edge of the bed. Silver pulled Glenn's face to his and peppered it with kisses making Glenn chuckle.

Glenn: Beefcake, what are you doing

Silver: You'll see but you need to understand... Werewolves are naturally stronger

Glenn: Promises promises

Silver: I'm serious Glenn. If I do anything that is too strong... anything that hurts you, you need to tell me

Glenn: But then you'll stop

Silver: I'll stop what I'm doing because I don't want to hurt you but I'll finish what I start okay? Don't deal with pain just because you think I won't bring you to a finish

Glenn: I promise Silver, I'll tell you if it's too much

Silver: Good, because I can get a little over enthusiastic sometimes

Glenn: Please, I am the most over enthusiastic

Chuckling, Silver leaned over Glenn's lap and got to work caressing him. Glenn had imagined what it would be like but it was better.

Glenn: Oh, um-

Silver: Too rough?

Glenn: No your hands are perfect I just... So for a potion of plentiful needs you need some pleasure and that's harvested when someone orgasms. Henri gave me some empty vials for it. Would you mind if when I do finish I channel some of that pleasure to be used?

Silver: Do you need like the physical-

Glenn: No, no no. No body fluids required. I just didn't want to do it without asking

Silver smirked and got off the bed to kneel in front of Glenn.

Silver: I don't mind that. Do you mind this?

Glenn: Mind what? You're not doing-

Silver kissed the inside of his thigh and Glenn twitched.

Glenn: I don't mind that

Silver: Uh huh, and this

And so Silver continued to tease Glenn, a kiss here, a soft bite there, until Glenn couldn't stand anymore and begged Silver to finish him off. As Silver enveloped him and his tongue joined in with his hands Glenn struggled to recall the spell for channeling the pleasure, unable to focus on much more than the sensations he was feeling.

When he finished and curled around Silver's head some brain function came back to him. He kissed Silver's back and looked up to watch one of the vials on his shelf fill up with the telltale pink contents. Rather than dissipate in to nothing the pleasure was being stored.

Silver: I was right, you do taste good

Glenn: And you give amazing head

Silver: What can I say, it's my centuries of experience Babycakes

Previous ... Next

[huntersoath]

"You can lose a chart, you can lose a compass, but you can't lose the stars."

"In a literal sense... hunters and travelers of old certainly utilized the North Star for directional sense. My time in the wilds has enabled me to become quite proficient in that regard." "But I suppose it could be a metaphor as well. Those who shine brightest in our hearts will continue to direct us onward. May we strive to protect that light- as I'm sure you already do, Monsieur Kaveh."

There's several comrades that she has in mind for her statement, and the mere thought of them promotes a warmth that blooms from her chest. If it were not for those that took the time to support her and get to learn her, it's likely that Clorinde would have never made it this far. Petronilla, who first extended her hand to a dirty, ratty child with no name or purpose. Born to struggle in the dirt, and abandoned as if she never mattered in the first place- only for her worth to be seen in another who she owed her life to. If she were to see the Duelist now, would she be proud? Would she find it to be a blessing that she made her decision to take Clorinde into her life so many years ago?

Navia, the closest friend she's ever had. The fateful picnic decades ago that saw her tugged along by the hand, peals of childish laughter causing her heart to hammer in her chest for a reason other than fear. While Petronilla taught her the blade and the art of war, the Caspars taught her love; while her parents never stopped to acknowledge her, Callas Caspar always treated her as his own daughter. Clorinde remembers the first moment that he hugged her, and the way her eyes burned with tears unshed-- the first time in her life that she ever felt as if she had a father.

Furina, who initially began as her liege, and quickly developed into something far more treasured. Though she no longer serves as her Archon, the woman is embedded deeply into her heart as a friend who has done everything in her power to save Fontaine... and as a result, Clorinde's own life. She'd go to war for Furina, as she has before, and this time- it wouldn't be out of duty, but out of familial love.

Wriothesley, the man whose cold facade had been chipped away at over the years they had collaborated together. While the two of them only functioned as colleagues and a strange sort of 'coworkers' for a long period of time, the hours spent with him over a cup of tea quickly made her come to realize that the two of them shared more in common than she initially believed. Nowadays, her trips to the Fortress are just as much for work as they are for companionship-- though he's never said as much, it's a hunch that the Duke wishes for her to try every tea in his collection at least once. And Clorinde will, committing every flavor to memory as it changes from one visit to the next.

Neuvillette, who still functions as her boss and always will. Underneath her duty and calling lies a trust that could never be tarnished, as the Iudex's service is unchanging and unwavering in his impartiality. Though Clorinde is his blade, she is also a comrade who would go to any lengths to ensure both his safety... and his comfort. If she can help, she will-- and the Duelist sincerely hopes that he understands the sentiment from her. Neither of them speak many words to each other, but they understand one another. And sometimes, that's all that matters. Chiori, whose sharp tongue and scathing remarks constantly keep Clorinde in line. The seamstress knows the Duelist well enough to provide her with excellent quality uniforms that fit her so perfectly; in design and functionality. Not only are Chiori's skills unrivaled, but so is her unbridled honesty-- if Clorinde ever chooses to divulge her struggles, she knows wholeheartedly that she'll receive an answer that many others may be afraid to say out loud. Where many fear her simply for her title of Champion Duelist... Chiori is one who would seek to challenge it, treating her as if she was simply another customer of her boutique.

Sedene, the Melusines... Accepting of others in an unconditional love that brings a smile to her face during every interaction. It's no wonder that the Iudex is quite taken with them, though Clorinde suspects that the story runs much deeper than that. Their loyalty to the Court of Fontaine is something she can appreciate, and the jovial spirit they exude any time a greeting is extended to her-- frankly, it's one of the favorite parts of her days. Lyney, Lynette, Freminet. It doesn't seem right to address them all individually considering their attachment to each other, but each of them holds their own soul and heart in a stark contrast to their differing personalities. Where Lyney is a star that shines brightest, Lynette is the shadow cast by his light-- and it's fitting for someone such as her, striving to support and promote her brother in a way that no one else ever could. Clorinde can relate, to a degree, when her sun that she orbits takes the spotlight in a way that she deserves. Freminet, though quiet and reserved far more than the other two, has a kind soul that deserves to be cherished and celebrated. Perhaps one day, once the boy has become more receptive to social interaction, others will come to realize the treasure that he is to the world.

"I'll make sure the stars of my life guide me ever onwards. Thank you, for your words."

[nixytea]

sober | p.sh (drabble)

in which you bump into your dreaded ex at a new year’s party. mentions of drinking, alcohol and parties etc, characters are of legal age. i feel like i need to add this but ive never drunk a drop of alcohol in my life, bear with me.

it’s times like this you wish you’d listened to your gut instinct.

here you are, standing outside the front door of jay park’s family mansion. even from inside your friend’s car, you could already hear the pounding music two streets away. and now that you’re here, the noise is starting to give you a headache. but hey, it wasn’t every day you’d celebrate the coming of a new year, right? “c’mon, y/n, just this once. please?” your friends had practically begged you to tag along, and against your better judgement you’d agreed.

as you step through the doorway, the supposed host of the party approaches your group. only slightly inebriated, jake sim has a barely noticeable off-kilter walk. “hey guys. hey y/n, surprised you’d show your face around here. not that you’re not allowed to be here, of course, but isn’t it kinda awkward to show up to a party co-hosted by your ex?” his words are pretty coherent, albeit a little too curious, but you can attribute that to the alcohol in his system.

by now, the pulsing red lights have left you dazed, and it’s all you can do to keep your focus on jake and not the sweaty mass of bodies dancing around you. “just because i came here doesn’t mean i have to see him.”

jake chuckles, slapping you on the back as he hands you a plastic cup. “right, i forget sometimes. you’re the one who tolerated park sunghoon for more than a year. a force to be reckoned with, huh? go grab some punch and loosen up a little. you could use it.” he retreats into the crowd, his steps steadier than before.

when you turn around, your friends are already gone. “well, here’s to a great night,” you mumble, tipping the plastic cup into your mouth. the drink has the slight zing of alcohol mixed in, and it gives you the much-needed fuzziness you need to get through the night. today marks the start of a new year, one where you don’t have to give park sunghoon the time of day.

a quick glance around the room is all you need to confirm that your friends have indeed disappeared into mangled knot of arms and legs that are partygoers, and you probably won’t find them until the night’s over. no matter, you know the layout of the place like the back of your hand.

the party is in full swing as you move towards the tables where two huge punch bowls are set up. it’s where most of the partygoers are congregated, milling around like they just can’t get enough of the drinks. there’s a platter of snacks too, stuff like cupcakes (who eats cupcakes with cheap beer?) and finger food. you have to admit, the food looks highly unlikely to give you food poisoning on top of a massive hangover the following day.

the attendance is good, you decide as you glance around our of sheer boredom. to the left, you see choi yeonjun and his ride-or-die soobin. one looks more dressed for the occasion than the other, no surprise there. across the room, your lab partner yunjin’s giggling at a joke someone made. everyone looks thrilled to be here tonight, and for some reason that just makes your mood even worse.

by now, the air’s starting to get a little too stuffy for you, what with all the dancing going on. you peek at your wristwatch, the minute hand barely past 10. ten minutes to midnight. ten minutes to a new year. ten minutes to a fresh start.

normally, at parties like this the second floor is off limits. you can’t imagine the boys wanting to clean the bedrooms aside from the expansive first floor, and it’s just a terrible idea in general to let a bunch of drunk college-age weirdos run around their potentially messy rooms full of papers and other important stuff. still, you suppose jay won’t mind. his best buddy might’ve broken things off with you, but you and your ex’s friends were still on pretty good terms. it’s not like he’d have to worry about you messing up the place, right?

tossing your cup into the nearest bin, you quickly weave through the crowd, until you finally reach the small staircase leading up to the next floor. your hand drags across the railing as you make your way up, a slight burn on your fingertips due to the rough surface of the wood.

you hated to admit it, but this place still felt like a second home to you. up until recently, you’d been frequenting this place. and though the unfamiliar atmosphere you’d attributed to the party ticked you off a little, the closer you got to the top of the stairs the better you were feeling. memories of the little moments spent here drifted into your mind with every step, all containing a certain boy with the pretty-

no. not today.

swallowing the thick lump in your throat from trying to shove the desire to reminisce away, you quicken your steps towards the last door at the end of the hallway. sunghoon’s room. well, it was technically one of many guest rooms in this excessively large house, but jay had given his best buddies a room since it was way closer to campus than any place sunghoon and jake could rent. besides, it was free, and to broke college students barely getting by it was a good deal.

pushing the door open, an explicable feeling washes over you. hints of his cologne lingered in the air. a large black hoodie is draped over the backrest of a chair, the matching desk strewn with what would seem normal to anyone else: worksheets, notes, an overflowing pencil case. but to you? every single object is a precious memory to you. textbooks, the ones he’d carried by hand to class along with yours, proudly showing off your name scribbled across the cover. “it’s my girlfriend’s,” he would say gleefully to anyone who would listen. a set of highlighters, one of them with significantly less ink from him lending it to you every time you studied together. how he found out it was your favourite colour, you never knew.

and now here it is, everything from the past two years laid out for you to see. you suppose the room was a little like you: full of traces, signs that he’d been there before, but he himself was nowhere to be seen. a painful reminder that no, none of this is yours anymore.

well, he’d left you one thing. one good thing about his room, other than the ideal location deep inside the mansion, was that it came with a small balcony. you used to go up there every time you visited. sunghoon had once told you it was his safe space, when everything got too much, when he needed a little bubble away from the rest of the world. the first time he brought you there was the first time you’d told him you loved him, and the first time you’d seen him get all flustered. now, it’s a sort of happy place to you as well.

forget getting over park sunghoon. how could anyone erase a whole existence of someone being in their life? those three words had left you with a raw, gaping hole in your heart, along with all the memories he’d made with you. so how could he have walked away, when there could have been so much more?

“stupid little me, all obsessed over a stupid little boy,” you mumble to yourself, shoving open the door to the balcony. you sigh, stepping towards the railing, letting the breeze cool you off.

“what are you doing here?”

you jump, the all-too familiar voice catching you off guard as you turn to face the very cause of your problems. there he is, in his full glory. the one and only park sunghoon.

his cheeks are slightly redder than you remember, a contrast to his typical ghostly pallor. you notice his gaze is turned away from you, as though he’s refusing to spare you a glance at all, but you still manage to see the glassy eyes from one too many drinks. he’s always been responsible, you think to yourself, always excusing himself somewhere to sober up whenever he needs.

“oh, i thought you were downstairs entertaining your party guests. i'll leave now." yet as you turn to leave, you don’t miss the opportunity to steal a quick glance at sunghoon's face for what might very well be the last time, nor do you miss the hesitant grimace that crosses his features.

just as you are about to step back into the warm room, a warm hand wraps itself around your wrist gently, the pressure soft but insistent all at once. "wait. you...i suppose you can stay here for a while longer. you wanted to get away from the party, didn't you?" the slight tremble in sunghoon's voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you, despite it being foreign to you. awkwardness wasn’t something that had existed between you two up until now, and now that it does you’re just...lost.

you tug your arm out of his grasp. "you know, i've been hoping for you to speak to you for so long. but now that you did, i don't even know what to say to you.” everything you'd imagined yourself yelling at him, every curse you'd wanted to hurl at him, every plea you'd crafted in your head to beg him to stay just a little longer, all that didn't even matter anymore. "jay, jake, my friends, they've all told me multiple times since that day that you were the jerk. that i hadn't done anything wrong, and that you were just being selfish. that maybe, you'd found someone else and decided i wasn't enough for you.

but for the past two weeks your schedule hasn't changed. you still go to the same classes, see the same people, do the same things, just without me. was i a hindrance to you? did i mess things up?” by now, the words that fly out of your mouth are things you don’t even know you wanted to say. is this what people mean when they talk about bottled-up stuff spilling out all at once?

judging by the guilt that flashes in sunghoon’s eyes, you’re not the only one who’s been contemplating everything. still, he managed to disguise it well, his once pleading tone hardening. “for someone who claims to have nothing to say, you sure just gave me a whole lecture. things just weren’t working out, okay? simple as that.”

“weren’t working out? sunghoon, whenever things weren’t working out we worked them out ourselves, we’d…i dunno, talk it over or something. did i-what’d i do that was so bad you thought it couldn’t be fixed?” you’ve imagined this moment, even dreamt about it in your sleep. but nothing could have prepared you for the way sunghoon refuses to even look at you, let alone say the words you wish he would.

sunghoon purses his lips, as if carefully picking what to say. after a bout of silence, he sighs, elbows rocking him back and forth on the railing. “clearly there’s something you want to hear. you want to know why, right?”

“as if that weren’t obvious enough.”

wiping his hands against the icy metal, sunghoon shakes his head. without warning, his fingers snatch your waist towards him, the coolness of his fingertips bleeding through the fabric of your shirt. before you know it, he leads you out of the room, back into the corridor you came from. the pulsing lights are m back again, your whole body vibrating along with them. the music only grows louder, but you barely hear a thing as sunghoon presses you up on the wall. near enough to feel the atmosphere, but not near enough to be seen.

sunghoon’s slender hand trails your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek. the look on his face is odd as he steps closer, every inch of his face drawing nearer to yours, and you curse your racing heart because just for a moment there you swear you see a hint of longing crack through his cold stare.

in the back of your clouded mind, you realise the countdown has started, the crimson lights pulsing more rhythmically in sync with the chorus of overhyped, sleep deprived youngsters.

“five, four, three, two-”

and he swoops in.

you haven’t had much to drink, but it’s as though you’ve plunged underwater, your head and hearing fuzzy as your brain tries to register the fact that the same guy who broke things off just two weeks prior was standing before you, kissing you as if you were about to disappear. your knees start to give out, but it’s okay because he has his hand on the outline of your waist, which fits as if it’s the missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle. it’s really stupid for you to be trying to say everything you couldn’t in a single moment you know is going to end eventually, and yet…

park sunghoon tastes of cheap booze and strawberries, like the lip balm you left behind when he handed you your things and told you to leave. and no matter how bitter the memory, your mind is preoccupied by the way he holds you so carefully as if you might fall to pieces in his grasp. it goes against everything you believe it to be.

when he finally pulls away, his eyes are glazed over, uncertainty beginning to peek through as he straightens himself, straightening the fabric of his shirt. the warmth on your waist disappears all too soon, and immediately you know what is to come.

“this is enough of an answer, isn’t it? you’re a smart girl, you’ll get it. see you around at school, y/n.” and with that, he swivels away from you, and as you stare into blank space you can hear his footsteps thumping down the stairs mingling with the cheers and well-wishes of the guests.

you slump to the ground, fingers reaching for your lips as you trace the outline of the places he’d touched. away from the now-faint chatter of the crowd, you have to wonder if it was all a vivid dream, where you’d only seen what you wanted to see. yet as you turn around to look in a small mirror along the hallway, all it takes is your dishevelled reflection peering back at you with a hollow stare to know it was real.

what have i done?

willing away the tears threatening to well in your eyes, you gather your things and make a run for the door. today was meant to be the mark of a fresh start without him. the day you learned to let him go.

but the black hoodie tucked into your bag says otherwise.

by the time sunghoon reaches the ground floor, his friends are already beginning to usher people out, jay mostly doing the work as jake rushes upstairs to check on the rooms. sunghoon ignores the weird stare jay gives him when you sprint past him towards the door without a second glance. it’s exhausting, having to play this game of cat-and-mouse with both you and his friends every day.

jake comes walking down the stairs, a trash bag in hand as he sweeps the floor for any leftover rubbish. as if sunghoon can’t see, jake gestures towards your fading silhouette, while jay shrugs back.

the cleanup proceeds in silence, all three too tired to even talk. that is, until jake grabs sunghoon by the shoulder. “dude, you’re not sneaky. i saw you with her by the staircase while we were downstairs.”

sunghoon huffs, shaking jake’s hand off and bending over to pick up a fallen plastic cup to avoid the disapproving glares of his best friends. “picked the wrong angle, huh? won’t make the same mistake again.” but he knows he’s said the wrong thing the moment it comes out of his mouth.

in a flash, his collar is scrunched up in jay’s fist, and sunghoon’s mind begins to swirl as he is shaken back and forth. “is that all you have to say?! you hurt your girlfriend of two years for what you insist was ‘no reason at all’, and now jake catches you sneaking around with her again? in what world is that acceptable?”

sunghoon’s vision glazes over, the words driving a stake in his chest. he’d love to argue back, but he knows they’re right. what he’s done to you is completely undeserved on your part, and he’ll hate himself for that for the rest of his life knowing you got away. and yet…

“sunghoon, why won’t you tell her already?” the pleading tone in jake’s voice is clear, and the guilt brewing in sunghoon’s heart only intensifies. “if you’d talked it out with her, she wouldn’t ask you to break things off-”

“it’s precisely because she wouldn’t break things off that i have to do it myself.” the grip on sunghoon’s collar loosens, as jay eyes him in confusion. “did i miss something? no, i definitely did. why would breaking up with y/n even do anything good?”

no. this is the exact conversation sunghoon didn’t want to have. he didn’t know how jake found out earlier, but now that even jay has asked it seems inescapable. “it’s…i just don’t want to hold her back, okay? can we not talk about this?” he knows the words will sting, not just on his tongue, but the people by his side. he’s hurt both the love of his life and the people he considers his brothers, and he’s torn open wounds into your heart that will take more than an apology to heal.

but he’s park sunghoon, and if he needs to do something, he will at all costs. because he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to live life having to watch you slowly drift from him, knowing he can’t give you anything that would be of value to you, no matter how desperately you cling to each other. and yes, he may be leaving his friends behind to pick up the pieces for him. he’s park sunghoon, and he’ll never let himself do anything irresponsible in the long run, even when he’s tipsy. that kiss wasn’t a mistake, it was a parting gift to the girl he was willing to let go of at the cost of…everything, to him at least.

jay seems to see the exact things sunghoon doesn’t want him to, but it works as the iron grip on his collar is released. “i still don’t think it’s right, but you’ve had a long night. we’ll continue this tomorrow, so clear the tables and take a shower. you didn’t even drink much but i can smell it on you.”

sunghoon wants to argue back, but as the world sways, the image of your glassy, broken eyes entering his mind, he falls silent. because he knows no matter how tipsy he was during the party, from the very moment he saw you in that balcony he’d been completely sober. and maybe…

maybe you’d been too.

aaaa what was this??? it was supposed to be a <1k fic lol. i didn’t even bother checking the wc (i don’t dare to). mm i think it’s quite obvious im basing my knowledge of drinking on the many fics and manhwas i’ve read…so i’m extremely open to any comments lol. originally i was gonna have hoon and y/n get back tgt at the end but i guess not?? edit: yall i’m so sorry to whoever is confused here’s the context: hoon n yn were in a r/s for two years and he suddenly dumped yn, yn tried to get over him at a new year’s party but bumps into him anyway, yn is still confused and that unnecessary prose at the end is hoon’s reason for dumping yn (he doesnt want their r/s to hold yn back which is kinda stupid the longer i think abt it but the whole point was to make hoon do smth stupid ig AHAHAA) im really really sorry i really need to start giving more context😭😭😭 really needa remind myself i dont have telepathy, it made sense in my head but that’s precisely why it won’t to anyone reading this…

[that-gay-jedi]

Tbh it seems like I can get super autistic about anything I'm forced to think about often enough for long enough even if it's something I'm not personally or naturally interested in. It's like every job I've had since getting off disability has left a little mini fucking encyclopedia in my brain that just pops out like a springy snake from a Pringles can if you take the lid off.

Back when I worked for a cellphone company I used to answer anyone's technical questions in such rigorous detail that after moving on to the next customer I'd suddenly think "shit I probably overwhelmed/bored that last guy beyond all comprehension and now he knows less than before I gave him information" and I was capable of talking for upwards of 15 minutes uninterrupted just about a single topic like how not to ruin your battery or why you can't just shove any old SIM card from your provider into your new phone anymore etc. One night on my last call of the shift I spent about an hour talking to some guy about the specs of various secondhand phones.

Not only am I not particularly passionate about cellphones, but I'd straight up uninvent certain aspects if I had a time machine. I'm not exactly the guy you would expect to infodump half the user manual into your ear.

I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not, ultimately, care about the world of finance so long as I'm not asked to deal dishonestly with clients, my boss likes my work, and my paycheques keep coming. I loathe capitalism and I keep the ghost of Robespierre hovering above my left shoulder to periodically whisper affirmations in my ear. And yet now that I've had to learn a bunch about it I will ANIMATEDLY give a client a crash course in what the fuck their electronic balance does vs their available balance vs their current balance etc etc, how the release of unverified funds work and why their paycheque doesn't have their employer's name next to it, the difference between holding a Canadian based account that uses U.S. dollars and holding a US-based U.S. dollar account with a Canadian bank, rattle off the top of my head the handful of self-service transactions that can only be done on a computer/laptop and the ones that can only be done on a mobile device, etc etc.

Weirdest of all is now that a large part of my job is to do things like teach nervous elders how to use a visa debit card or book them the first videoconference appointment of their life, sometimes the cellphone shit from my old job becomes relevant and suddenly I'm reassuring a hospitalized client who needs a distance appointment but has technical issues with their phone that if they call the help line of their cellphone provider from another phone while holding the glitching one in their hand, they may get a rep who is trained to patiently guide them through basic troubleshooting steps to get their phone in working order for their banking appointment.

I realize this represents some kind of ADHD-autist survival mode, though luckily it's a world away from the survival mode that got me through 10 years of the way disability/unemployment/etc treat a person- in the long run it does seem to take less out of me overall, which is a scathing indictment of social services. I just wish I could be doing the same thing but with something I actually personally care about, like books or Star Wars or the human brain. Times like this are when I most regret how I got transphobia'd out of massage school because I could happily have spent my life locating minor anatomical landmarks on a bone or showing patients diagrams of their muscles.

[purplesimmer455]

Meanwhile, Hamuera’s new friend/romantic interest Mateo came over. He hugged Hamuera and Hamuera blushed as Mateo pushed a lock of stray hair off his forehead and leaned in. Chrissy came downstairs just then, and Mateo and Hamuera jumped back from each other. Hamuera grumbled good naturedly, he loved his mama but he wished she hadn't interrupted because maybe Mateo might've kissed him and he was ready. “Hey nooboo.” Chrissy said, and Hamuera blushed as Mateo grinned. “Who’s this?” She asked raising her brow. “My um, my friend Mateo Iqbal.” Hamuera added. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.” Mateo said in his southern Chestnut Ridge accent that made Hamuera feel all swoony, sticking his hand out for Chrissy to shake. She did so, looking impressed and Hamuera grinned. “Well, come on in.” Chrissy said, and she led him and Hamuera into the living room.

In the backyard, Cam had come over and when Chrissy told her Piper was asleep, she hung out with Piper’s mom Luna. Luna talked to her about fabricating stuff using the robot arm tool at the community center, and Cam grinned as Luna jokingly mimicked it's movements as it would build things. "So, how are you and my daughter doing?" Luna asked casually. Cam smiled softly. "We're good, Mrs. F. I really really like her." Luna smiled. "Good, but as her mom I'm obligated to let you know that if you hurt her, I might have to hex you." Cam laughed and Luna grinned. "Don't worry, I'd never do anything to hurt Pipes." She added seriously, her brown eyes looking into Luna’s amber ones. Luna nodded, and she smiled again. "You're so good for her, Cam, and I'm happy you make her happy and that she's so glowy and confident partly because of you." She said, and Cam looked slightly bashful but grinned. "Plus, she's always mooning around being like Cam this and Cam that, and Cam’s hair and arms and jawline and such." Luna laughed and then covered her mouth. "Oh shoot. She's going to be so mad at me for telling you." Cam’s eyes sparkled mischievously. "No, it's fine Mrs. F." She said, storing away the information so she could lovingly tease Piper with it later.

Meanwhile in Piper’s room (while she was napping), Emily talked to her mom and kept sighing. "What's the matter, nooboo?" Megan asked quietly in Mandarin (she wants all her kids to keep in touch with their culture and language so she tries to speak Mandarin and Simlish both). "It's just-how can a sim be so cute?" Emily said. Megan sat up straight. "Oh, okay. So who is this sim?" Emily blushed. "Cam. Well Cam, and Vikram, and Kiran but Cam currently because I saw her in the backyard with auntie Luna and my heart felt like it was beating weirdly. Ugh, why does my brain have to like her face?" Megan’s eyes widened. "Okay, nooboo." She said. She suspected Emily might be crushing on Cam, and thought it was kind of cute, but didn't know about the other two sims. "Vikram as in Piper’s best friend Darren's boyfriend?" Emily nodded, looking sheepish. "I don't want to crush on him either but he's cute and my brain is in that dumb crush mode." She said. "And Kiran?" Emily blushed. "They're my classmate, and they're funny and cute and have blue hair." She sighed again. "Mom, how do you even deal with crushes? I mean I keep getting these annoying fluttery feelings and I don't want to be distracted from soccer or horseback riding lessons or hanging out with my friends." Megan smiled. “Honestly Emmy, sometimes they just happen and that’s okay too.” Emily groaned playfully. “So I’ll have to keep having these feelings?” She asked. “Yup.” Megan tried not to smile at the horrified expression on her daughter’s face. “So, do you think you’re pansexual, or queer?” She asked gently. “Pan.” Emily said, twisting the friendship bracelet on her right wrist and blushing. “Just like mama.” She added. Megan smiled. “That’s great, nooboo. But still, no dating until you’re 14 and your mama and I meet the person.” She added sternly. “Mom, honestly.” Emily said, but she smiled.

[companionwolf]

Fill #1 for Flufftober

Prompt: 25. Nook + 29. "Hey, wake up!"

Fandom: XCOM 2

Verse: uh based on my canon? (I'm kin); NOT shipfic

TWs/CWs: None

The Commander drifts.

They know vaguely they lie in the space under the bar where it turns, curled up with their tail over their nose in the little nook.

Central tends the soldiers, thinks his CO can't see him go to nip a drink straight from the vodka bottle, flinches when they growl softly and sets it back down.

They're here on the Avenger in 2035, a few months post freedom. At least, here enough. With their eyes shut and neurons slow, the Commander could be anywhere else. Could convince themselves of it.

They could be back at HQ, taking shelter under the Hologlobe, listening to the idle chatter and noise of the personnel around the room.

They could be on the run, the fire behind their eyes and smoke in their lungs still, pressed close to Central under a rotting blanket as the cold bites at them both through walls of a decaying house.

They could be in the simulation, any iteration of that, tucked away somewhere in the false halls of a false Anthill, taking a moment of respite.

But they're here.

Here in the future, still not quite accustomed to quadrupled form and lack of humanity. Here, where they have lost. Here, where they are still running. Here, where dream and unreality mix with stark cold truth. They wish they knew some much for sure-- what was sim, what wasn't.

All they can do, they suppose, is keep asking.

Did Pettachi ever feed me a spicy thing-- sime kind of prank, a joke? I don't know, Commander. I don't remember those details well anymore. (Mark that one down as a maybe, then.)

Did Rivera save us when base fell? Yes. (Mark that as real.)

I traveled with you, right? Yeah, I got this scar from those days. (Another check mark.)

We had MELD, in 2015? What the hell is MELD, Commander? (A no.)

Central leans against the bar; the Commander, eyes closed, inhales-- his scent mixes with the alcohol and the ship itself, and their heart slows.

Somewhere, they are still human. Somewhere, they are lying on a operating table? Or maybe a strecher. It doesn't matter. What does matter is he is there too, younger but still him, holding their hand.

God, they wish they could smile the way humans do. All they can manage now is a facsimile of it.

Did they want this? They were dying. Did they ask for this? Why was it this, and not...? Their head hurts, sense of phantom pain and ache.

Footsteps, distantly.

The Commander's ears swivel toward them. A rag tag mix of OG A Team and Alpha Squad-- Fisher, Guzman, and Johnson, to be more precise. They come into the bar loud, Johnson and Guzman laughing at something Fisher has said. Central greets them gruffly.

Oh, Central, thinks the Commander. Their heart swells with love for their XO, for their crew. Oh, humanity.

In their chest the thud of a false thing, made to function the same but never falter. Whatever they had first, it's long gone-- the aliens upgraded much of their internals when they were captured. Whatever it took to keep them alive.

The Commander feels a grimace across their face, knows it's not real, knows it's their human mind covering the reality of their pseudo canine face up because otherwise they'd be barely functional, they'd be lost to themselves entirely.

They mentioned this to Tygan once. "It's covering everything up," they'd said. "Pretending nothing's different." They guess it's too much to ask their mind to adjust so quickly. They spent less than a year in this form before they got caught, before the tank, the simulation.

And in there? They aren't sure what they were, human or this, whatever this is they are now.  They remember being on all fours in some of the hazy bits and pieces, but is that real, or just through the filter of their current self perception?

The Commander thinks.

They don't see themselves as bodily human. There is no overlay of a human self-- their mind is not that desperate. Sometimes it is, like with facial expressions and the sense of missing hands, but usually their self maps properly. 

To be honest, they weren't ever really that comfortable in a human body at all. It was fine, they mean. It was a okay body. A good body. Just not quite right. Just not really theirs, them.

The bark of Guzman's laughter brings them back. The Commander imagines they hang on her mirth like a lifeline. She centers them here, with the sound of her living and breathing and--

Central's voice calls down to them: "Hey, wake up."

The Commander opens a eye, looks up at him. He's studying them, a expression they can't read on his face.

They unfurl slowly, stretching as best they can in the small space, brushing against his legs. "What do you need, Central?"

"Fisher wants you," he says.

The Commander snorts, stands and shakes themselves as if they're drying off from being wet. The collar Guzman gave them jangles.

"What does he need, then?" they ask.

Central shrugs. "Something about a bet."

They roll their eyes. Or at least it feels like they do. Isn't that the same thing, in the end?

"Oh goodie, I love when my soldiers have scores to settle," the Commander says through a yawn.

They see Central shift uncomfortably, don't understand why--

"Sometimes I forget," he says, mostly to himself.

But they hear it. Of course they can hear it. Their head hurts; they feel like they can feel the inner mechanics of their throat, the voicebox, the connections. Obviously they can't. But they feel it anyway. A glitch in their mind's erratic defenses.

The Commander takes a breath-  false air into false lungs; everything a facade of a biological system, all tailor made to keep the brain running.

"Okay, let's go see what the Wonder Ranger wants," they say, half to Central and half themselves.

When they glance back at him as they come out from behind the bar and apporaches Fisher, the Commander sees Central lean forward, his eyes flicking from them to the younger troops, back and forth, taking in the situation.

Something about knowing he's got their back, just like after base fall, just like during the transplant, makes them breathe a little easier.

He's here. The soldiers are here.

They're here.

That must mean something.

[neutronstcr]

do you ever wish you could run away ? + nilo & sohee

questioning minds

Ficava cada vez mais difícil não olhar para Nilo de maneira diferente, ainda mais quando ele parecia um verdadeiro príncipe para ela. Sohee não era inocente e estava muito ciente das intenções do mais velho, mas naquele momento... Nilo estava sendo seu amigo acima de tudo, na maneira mais pura da palavra. Alguém em quem podia confiar de olhos fechados, alguém que ajudaria suas preocupações desaparecerem. Sem perceber, um sorriso surgiu em seu rosto, um pouco triste. — Yeah, you have no idea how. — Confessou, deixando seus ombros caírem. Não era mais a presidente confiante da Kappa, e sim uma menina que só queria liberdade. — Sometimes I wish I could run away from everything to... just see things, see the world with my two own eyes. But it's scary and I don't know if it's worth it, basically. Kinda silly, isn't it? — A garota riu, voltando seus olhos para o mais alto. Não conseguiu ignorar seu coração batendo mais rápido, mas tentou disfarçar o rubor nas bochechas ao descansar seu rosto na própria mão. É, ela também sabia que não conseguiria fugir de seus sentimentos por muito tempo, mas preferiu ignorar aquilo por agora.

— There's a reason why I love so much your adventures. I feel like I'm there and living it all with you. — Adorava mesmo ouvir as histórias, ainda mais quando estava tendo um dia cheio e complicado como aquele. Soso estava cansada de ser a garota perfeita, lidar com tantas responsabilidades era desgastante e lhe fazia menos brilhante a cada experiência ruim. — And sometimes I feel like I'm being too much of an adult! I miss being excited about stuff and discovering new things. Yes, sometimes I just want to run away to find that burning passion again. — A garota mexeu em seus cabelos longos, suspirando em frustração. Foi aí que olhou para o seu oppa, e sentiu uma faísca acender. É claro, Nilo era capaz de despertar essa energia que Soso tanto queria sentir em sua pele. — Can you show me something new tonight? I don't want to be a president, or a student, anything like that. I want to be Sofia. I want to be joyful like you. — Não era um pedido simples, mas o fez mesmo assim. Duarte gostava quando a menina era decidida e Sofia confiava nele para pedir aquilo, mais até do que poderia admitir. — Please, take me away. I'm on your hands. — E estava mesmo. Soso respirou fundo, engolindo algumas palavras que não deveria dizer agora. Talvez seus olhos lhe entregassem, contudo, preferiu esconder mais um pouco o que sentia.

[alphabetsoup-blogposts]

I've tried to explain before...

...that I live in a world of tampered devices and platforms, that my online experience is not like other peoples and that it's impossible entirely to prevent it. It's the unlovely product of a world of anagrams and I guess it beats the death threats (just).

Things that would shock other people are commonplace for me—a cursor that moves independently to circle objects and underline words was a thing for a while, a mobile phone store once instructed me, very insistently and with added sarcasm, to upload the registration number etched on the sim card tray and I have played at least two online games in which the names of NPCs were altered to track those of my IRL acquaintances.

Ho hum.

Recently, these difficult experiences have focused on the Amazon platform and they have proven to be hugely disruptive as well as disorienting. All the pages are a patchwork mix-and-match ("consumers found this bar of soap to be difficult to assemble and noted that several screws were missing"), the website decides for hours at a time that I am not resident in the UK and nothing can be shipped (no, not a VPN problem), I cannot check out groceries because the buffering is eternal and when I do get an order through, the delivery driver decides to drop off approximately only half my groceries and then several hundred yards away. Finally, when I phone customer service, the telephonist does not recognise any of the dialogue boxes that my son and I are plainly viewing on the screen and therefore cannot help. If I try to use the chatbot, it simply cycles through a frustrating and pointless mobius loop of self-referential questions.

You will have your own view of what these things mean and I know you will not suspend critical judgment just because I say it is so, but I am an old, old hand and do not ask myself anymore whether I could be "imagining" things. The long and the short of it is that platforms do this when someone wants me to address, or revisit, a particular task or code and the message has to be passed on anonymously. Last night, for example, I infer that someone wanted a more detailed re-examination of codes on Lao Radio and so I got the run around for approximately 6 hours with respect to kindle dictionaries that my son—who is interested in Asian languages—would like to use for his studies.

I don't normally set all these problems out like this. Sometimes I explode and sometimes I vent a little but I rarely explain. Today, I'm writing all this down because I am going to do something unpleasant that will impact people who are entirely innocent. I'm going to postpone my efforts to read the "books" for another day. I will not log back in to my usual arrangements tonight, as I previously said I would, or tomorrow morning. That means that work will not get done, which is a great shame, but I must take a stand to protect myself and my family—nor will I try to catch up with this work later on. It will be lost. As things stand right now, I intend to pick arrangements back up at 900pm Monday evening (which takes me to Brisbane for the Tuesday morning breakfast show).

Next time something like this happens, I will postpone work for two days, then three...and so on until, perhaps, we are not working at all. As I say, I can see where this is headed and it makes me sad because there is so much in the collaboration that is good and so many wonderful people giving it their best, but one should not surrender to bullying—it only ever gets worse.

Footnote—It goes without saying that in this murky world nothing is what it seems and so I wish to emphasise that I do not think Lao National Radio (or any coders they may or may not have) are likely to be responsible for this. (I bear in mind all the possibilities, including that these episodes involve a kind of competitive double bluff intended to derail the whole exercise.) Nor do I think Amazon qua company is engaged in some kind of malevolent control. I'm unable to say whether the company could have prevented this with more robust security measures or whether it is simply a case of local hacking. I'm leaving that question to those who understand the tech issues and capabilities much better than I.

[33max]

angsty prompt: daniel is acting differently (because he's depressed) but max assumes he's unhappy in the relationship

703 words

“Max, just… leave it alone,” Daniel says, shrugging Max’s hand off of his shoulder and walking away from him.

Alright. Message received, Max thinks. It’s hard not to be hurt by Daniel turning away again, it happens every time Max tries to have this conversation with him. The conversation is long overdue now, they need to talk about their relationship before it burns out into a stagnant friendship.

Max sometimes wonders if he’s holding onto something that is already gone, has already slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

The thing is, how is Max supposed to know they are okay if Daniel doesn’t reassure him? It’s not like Max is getting the reassurance from Daniel in other ways. He doesn’t shower him in affection anymore, doesn’t really even talk to Max unless it’s sharp words and irritated sighs.

It’s just Max though. Daniel seems absolutely fine around their friends, around everyone in the paddock, happy even. Chats like he hasn’t spent the whole morning in bed pretending Max doesn’t even exist.

It hurts. It hurts a lot. Sometimes he tells Daniel he’s going on the sim and then he sits there for hours, head in his hands wondering what the fuck he could have done differently. How he could have changed the course of their relationship and been everything that Daniel wanted.

It’s late when Max crawls into bed, Daniel is already asleep, probably has been for hours. Max curls up behind him, wraps an arm around his middle and holds him. It’s everything, Daniel is everything, he can’t believe he’s losing this. Daniel has been everything he’s wanted since he was eighteen years old.

It feels like he can’t catch his breath. Overwhelmed. Daniel still smells just like Daniel, it’s comforting but it also breaks Max’s heart that he hasn’t been this close to Daniel in a while. Hasn’t been able to bury his face in Daniel’s neck and breathe him in.

He holds back tears as he presses a kiss to the back of Daniel’s neck, Daniel’s curls tickling his forehead.

“I still love you so much,” Max whispers, so gently. “I love you so much that I’ll leave if it’ll make you happier.”

He feels Daniel tense in his arms and Max cringes. Daniel won’t want to talk to him about this. Daniel won’t want to be this close.

“Sorry,” He says, wiping his eyes and shuffling back over to his side of the bed. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were awake.”

Slowly, Daniel rolls over to face him and Max can only make out his silhouette against the bedsheets. He wishes he could see Daniel’s face, but he’s also glad that Daniel can’t see his.

“Max…” Daniel starts, taking a long pause and a deep breath before continuing. “I… it’s not you.”

“Danny it’s okay, you don’t need to do the whole it’s not you, it’s me thing. Just give it to me straight, yeah?” He can’t disguise the sob that escapes him while he says it.

“No, baby…” Daniel says, and then he’s shuffling over onto Max’s side, taking Max into his arms. It’s… god, it’s so good to feel Daniel’s arms around him again, even if Dan is about to break his heart.

“It’s not you. I promise it’s not you, god, Max.” Daniel continues, pressing soft kisses all over Max’s wet face. “It’s everything else, yeah?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have to put on an act around you. I’m so exhausted pasting a smile on my face all the time, I just… I’m tired. I know I’ve been a cunt and I’m sorry it’s come across like I don’t want to be with you. I do.” Daniel promises.

It feels like there is still something he’s not saying, like he’s still keeping things from Max.

“Why are you putting on an act at all?” Max asks, it’s hard to understand, he would never be any one other than himself.

“Nobody wants to see the ugly parts right?” Daniel laughs, but it’s hollow, not funny.

They’ll talk about it more, they need to fix what has broken between them, but Max thinks I love the ugly parts of you, I love all of you.

[koishua]

𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘

sim jake x reader. 0.707k words. light angst/mild fluff. happiness!au. implications of apocalypse-esque themes. a/n: this is a small testing product of a fic i am planning to write on a full scale, also inspired by happiness the kdrama! apocalypse aus my beloved ugh actually no wait this is legit in the drama lmao nvm it's an au not an inspo dnhd

synopsis: a little glimpse into life trapped in the same apartment as sim jake when the government puts the surrounding complexes in a lockdown to control a viral outbreak of an unknown disease.

it had been ten days since you had been locked up inside the apartment complex with only sim jake for company. ten days had passed since the afternoon you’d come over to his apartment to complete a damn project for school and had gotten an emergency government order to not step out of the area, a viral infection spreading everywhere faster than you could count from one to two.

no internet to connect with the outside world and no idea when help would finally arrive, forced to witness the horrors of violent outbreaks, the savage infected and merciless neighbors— locking yourselves into his small unit was the only way to survive.

“open the door! we all decided to share whatever we have left with each other fairly, so just come out and cooperate, please!” the apartment representative bangs harshly on the door, a series of pounds at jake’s front door makes you jump out of your skin. you try to drown out the voices, though not even the blanket jake had thrown over your heads and the palm over your ears helped dampen the noise much.

he sighs, mentally exhausted by the constant violence his neighbors seemed to enjoy displaying. sometimes you wonder if it’s really the virus you should be wary of, the unsettling behavior of most of the renters making your skin crawl. jake frowns, noticing your uncomfortable shift on the couch, “it’s okay, they’ll go away soon. saebom said we could stay in, right? yihyun told us to not come out to anyone but them too.”

he puts a hand over yours after seeing you unconsciously picking the side of your thumb again, a nervous habit that you’d failed many times to put a stop to ever since being a child. “seriously, don’t worry. our parents are safe, i’m sure of that. weren’t they quick to develop a vaccine for covid? we’ll be out of here in no time, just ignore the others. we don’t have to share anything with people like them.”

he laces his fingers through yours, resting the back of his head on the wall behind the couch. “they must be very thirsty.” you absentmindedly draw small circles on his hand with your thumb, feeling guilty about closing yourself off.

he turns his head to look at you, half of his vision covered by the blanket, “they got their share of necessities last time too. it’s their problem if they don’t have any left, wasting it left and right like that when we’re already short of food and water. they’re heartless, just let them be.”

“that’s true,” you add thoughtfully, “how much more do we have left?”

pulling the fabric down to peek at the counter across the room, he mumbles a few numbers under his breath, assessing your current situation. “well,” he slides his head under the blanket again, “we have ten bottles of water, a good deal of food that we could ration into a whole nother week, i guess. hopefully they’ll turn the generator on to bring the running water and electricity back.”

“until then, we’ll wait.” you purse your lips, wishing that everything would return to normal soon. normal?

when things had been normal, you and jake were sworn enemies. back when things weren’t as messed up as these days, you and jake were constantly at each other's throats— when everything had been normal, you hated sim jake.

when things had been normal, you didn’t hold his hands and you didn’t cry on his shoulders and when things were normal, he’d never held you tightly in relief for not having to spend his time alone and scared. he’d never told you how things would be okay and that you were safe in here with him.

he’d never laughed with you and broken down in tears with you. back when things had been normal, sim jake despised you. you weren’t his enemy anymore, you were his lifeline now. with you, he felt alive and with you, he felt sane and safe— who knows what his days would look like if he had never started the project with you.

“we’ll be okay.”

maybe this could be your new normal; just you and him against the world, safe and sound in each other’s embrace.

[theficblog]

FEELINGS

PARK JIHOON

Prologue: Jihoon was sure he wasn’t the type to catch feelings for his friend, but what happens when he is suddenly struck by the reality?

Genre: Fluff + Friends to lovers

Wordcount: 767

Warnings: None

"Ding Dong!" your doorbell greeted you. You went to answer, thinking who could it be at this hour? Certainly not your parents, who just left ten minutes ago.

"Hey, Y/N! Your mom sent me to look after you, now step aside and let me get in" It was Jihoon, your childhood friend. Together, you and he went through everything. Including being conceived and born around the same time, going to school, and reaching puberty. He became an inseparable part of your life.

It was not like you did not want Jihoon around. You had been seeing him since you were born. You bitched about the people you hated together and were each other’s emotional support. Many assumed the two of you were dating, but that was not the case.

Jihoon had already seated himself in your living room. Of course, he was not invited by your mother to look after you, but he was her favourite anyway. He was your family member.

"Stop standing like a sims character over there, and yes, don’t end up creating any more trouble," Jihoon ordered.

"Park Jihoon I am nineteen years old. And you are just thirty-seven days older than me, for your weekly reminder." You were quick to defend yourself.

"The last time you were allowed to be home alone, you let a stray cat enter the house and scrape away your mom’s favourite curtains." Of course, he could not let you win this.

With those words, "Alright, Mr. Babysitter," you surrendered.

"That’s my good girl. I need you to behave well for me now." Jihoon blurted out without realizing what he had just said. This habit had caused him trouble in the past. Luckily, this time, it was just you. Taking advantage of the situation, you decided to tease him further.

"Woah! Is this the beginning of a porn movie? What should we name it? Babysitter takes care of his little girl home alone?” followed by your roar of laughter. There was no greater joy than seeing his agitated and irritated face.

"Y/L/N you’ve got such a filthy brain, huh? Where do you learn these things from?" Jihoon admonished you playfully as a shade of pink now adorned his cheeks.

A movie watching date was soon planned. The lead couple were just slowly falling in love, offering cheesy compliments to each other and making unrealistic promises. Best friends falling in love was a crummy genre for sure.

"Ahh, why? Why must they always romanticize it? Who on earth falls for their friend like this? Aghh, this is just ridiculous. Y/N how about we better watch-" Jihoon had started his timely rants again. You were so used to it by know. He ranted about everything from overcooked meat to missed buses. Sometimes you really pondered what he was made up of.

"Men named Park Jihoon do. They do fall”. You answered his unasked question.

His mouth hung open, as if you had stolen his lunch money. The jaw dropped. You wished you could capture this face to tease him about it later. It was clear by now that he was in a state of denial. Despite his refusal to acknowledge it, Jihoon had some feelings for you. Well, you certainly did. He was the hottest guy out there, and coming to think of it, who else could you even date?

"Stop reading those romantic novels. There is a real life outside-" he did not even finish his sentence, but you had another response ready, yet again.

"Hoon, admit it."

Jihoon shook his head at that statement. "No way, I could kiss you right now to prove I don’t feel anything about you."

His eyes met yours next and you nodded, granting him the permission.

Jihoon leaped closer. Tucking your hair flicks to the back of your ear, lifting your chin to meet his face. His hands were shaking. His nervousness was unprecedented. Pitying your poor friend, you took matters in your hands and smashed your lips onto his. He immediately responded back. Holding you by the waist now. Yours and his lips moved in a perfect sync, as though they were meant to be. This felt like euphoria to you. You held his muscular built arms for a better grip. It seemed as if you had been hungry for this since forever.

After what seemed like a good six minutes, you pulled out. Jihoon’s gaze changed. He wanted more, and so did you. Quickly after catching your breath, your lips retuned to where they were need the most.

Men named Park Jihoon did, after all, fall for their best friend.

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