#Folders for folders factory

[monbons]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @thewholelemon, @drowninginships, and @facewithoutheart. I don't really have much to share since I've been having terrible writer's block, but I was inspired by Jenny's life update, so figured I'd jump in anyway and throw some Dark Rise AU words in at the end.

I too have been doing more reading than fandom. I just finished The Sunbearer Trials duology. I loved the premise--Latin American gods and demi-gods?, a winged hero? queer rep galore? It SHOULD have been right up my alley, but I was not a huge fan of the writing. It is, however, a true YA novel that was clearly written for teens and not adults who read YA, so I am adding it to my classroom library at school. On Indie bookstore day, I picked up A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow (which has been on my TBR forever), so that's up next.

In doll-land, I posted Ebb and Fiona for Sapphic Week. I am also working on a super fun fic/art collab with @mooncello. Have a super teeny sneak peek.

Finally, I am in full Dark Rise brainrot. I have listened to the audiobooks an embarrassing number of times now AND @emeryhall gifted me an AMAZING Dark Rise fic that I am going to re-read every night like a bedtime story.

My Dark Rise/Snowbaz mash-up fic is on pause (see aforementioned writer's block), but have a little bit below the cut, Lamb POV.

I get up from my desk and approach slowly. The boy hides behind Nico’s leg, burying his face in a black leather jacket that has seen better days. “Where did you find him?” I ask, tilting my head to get a better look.  “Lost and wandering in an alley.”  “Like this?” I gesture at his disordered appearance.  “Like this,” Nico echoes. I crouch down to the child’s height. He can’t be much more than ten or eleven. His hair is hopelessly tangled, a couple stray twigs and leaves knotted in the strands. In all likelihood, he’s been on the streets for days. “I’m Lamb,” I say, gently. “What’s your name?”

Hellos and high-fives

@alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy, @bachusekart, @best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla, @drowninginships, @emeryhall, @facewithoutheart, @harrie-leithillustration, @hushed-chorus, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli, @larkral, @letraspal, @mooncello, @orange-peony, @prettygoododds, @raenestee, @rbkzz, @roomwithanopenfire, @run-for-chamo-miles, @rimeswithpurple, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee, @stitchyqueer, @supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @the-beard-of-edward-teach, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon, @thewholelemon @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold, @jyae23, @j-trow-95

[flowersforthemachines]

long time no pictures of the baby. if not for her then what is this blog even for

[hermitw]

ok fine one last post about ch.9 so I can move on

the panel w ellipses are enough to convince me that Sukuna was an unwanted, neglected child who probably felt dreadfully, existentially alone and afraid and got sent to that headspace for a second, and the face that follows is the face that develops to cope w that sort of thing.

[saturfied]

Khun Mae talking about how "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" is her favorite movie!!!

(& jeffy now having the golden ticket for his first album-)

source link to the interview

[backrooms-princess]

[galaxdora]

Guys did you know chainverse. I was gonna say exists but it doesn't actually, at least not yet. But the feeling still stands. Chainverse. Ough.

[thesugarhole]

i havent touched sims 2 in ages up until last week but its been lagging so badly. i need to figure out what ccs are doing this and straight up cull them. i cant keep living like this its like im back at 2009 on the familys 500mb ram pc

[moonwoodhollow]

Spice Market №2—a San Myshuno Shell by Moonwoodhollow. Spice Market №1 was definitely in need of a neighbouring lot, which would fit just as well as the first lot into the Spice Market and I hope I did it justice! While I wanted both lots to go well together, each one of them needed to have distinctive characteristics so for this lot you'll also get two 'classic' brownstones + a former harbor factory. Oh and 6 empty shops/businesses that you can fill with whatever you like!

More screenshots, info + download link under the cut!

So what do you get?

Spice Market №2 is a 30x30 lot best placed in San Myshuno in the Spice Market neighbourhood. The lot is currently set as a residential lot, but you could set it as a residential rental, or with the new pack combine a residential lot with a business. The lot consists of 1 apartment, that comprises 2 floors. The factory could potentially be used as a residential space as well, it has 2 rooftop terraces and consists of 2 floors. The 2 brownstones have 3 floors and a rooftop terrace each.

-> a tip: The brownstone townhouses aren't very big, because the size of the lot wouldn't permit it, but if you'd like to play with them and have more than 2 sims, I'd advise you to combine the 2 brownstones into one home. That way it should be more spacious.

There are also 6 businesses/shops/cafés/restaurants/etc. shells. 1 of these is in the basement, while the others are all on the 1st floor and potentially have more floors.

I also added a Chinese food stall next to the factory, that does work, but you'll need to click on it and pay for someone to arrive and work there (100 Simoleons, I believe).

Uses items from the following packs: looks best with almost all packs. But a tip: take a look at the build in the gallery and click on the packs to see the items I used from that pack, it might also look good with fewer packs.

Download: google drive (455mb) | and up on the gallery: aeromantica (but you’ll need the cc from the drive folder)

Is the cc included? yes.

TOU: Please don’t claim as your own or put behind paywalls etc. If you find any issues please let me know + tag me if you’ll use the building, I’d love to see it in your games.

If you like what I do and want to show your appreciation, I have a ko-fi!

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-One

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, domestic Lamelia, autistic meltdown on page, vaguely referenced public sex.

Notes — Timeline fuckery, as in I seem to have written Silverstone twice, in the last chapter and this one too. Clearly the podium fluff is too much for me to keep track of. So... Enjoy the extra fluffiness.

2023 (Silverstone — Hungary)

The sea was warm and quiet, the waves nothing but a soft hush against the sand.

Amelia sat with her legs tucked under her, an oversized white linen shirt hanging loosely over her bikini. Her hair was wet, curled slightly at the ends from the salt water. She was squinting at the horizon, watching the sunlight paint the beach in a million shades of gold.

Behind her, Lando dropped onto the towel with two icy cold drinks, one for each of them. He pressed a kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“This place is fucking amazing,” he said.

She hummed in agreement, leaning her head against his. “Warm, but breezy. The perfect in-between.”

He grinned. “Yeah? You glad I managed to convince you to come then?”

“Yes.” She said. “I’m going to have so much to get done when we get back to the factory, but I needed a break.”

Lando chuckled and stretched out beside her, propping himself on one elbow. “Hm. I know. And now you’re relaxed. That’s nice.”

She gave him a sidelong look. “Don’t say it like that. I can be relaxed. I relax a lot.”

“…No you don’t.”

She huffed. “Shut up.”

He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “C’mon. Don’t get pissed off. It’s true, yeah? You have been stressed, but you’ve also been fucking ace with Oscar. With the team. I know the car isn’t what you want it to be, but it’s a lot bloody better than it was.”

Amelia softened. She leaned down to kiss him. “Thanks, husband.”

Lando’s eyes sparkled. “Say it again.”

“Husband?”

He groaned. “God, that’s hot.”

She laughed. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“You married me.”

“I clearly have poor taste.” She teased.

“Liar.”

He sat up and kissed her properly this time — slow and warm and a little lazy. She all but melted into it, fingers curling in the fabric of his swim shorts.

They ended up tangled together on a beach blanket under the slope of the rocks, just out of sight. The rest of the world fell away. It was just them. Skin on skin, hearts in sync, breathless laughter caught in the salt breeze.

Later, Amelia rested her cheek on Lando’s bare chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I think,” she said softly, “I could stay here forever.”

He smoothed her hair back out of her face. Stared at her, like he was memorising her all over again. “Yeah, baby. Me too.”

—

The design lab was buzzing — a low but constant thrum of voices, keyboard clicks, air vents, printers, someone’s half-muffled phone call. The kind of sensory chaos most people filtered out without effort.

Amelia couldn’t today.

She had her noise-cancelling headphones on, her iPad open to three separate CAD model views, and a mechanical pencil tapping against her knee in a rhythm only she understood.

They were reviewing a mock-up for the 2024 suspension. One of the junior engineers; bright, eager, but careless, had accidentally uploaded an outdated spec into the shared build folder.

It seemed small. A mistake, an easy correction. But it meant the last two days of precision design work she’d done were out of sync with the rest of the development team’s data.

And that meant wasted time. Faulty conclusions. A domino collapse of calculations that had been perfect in her head.

She tried to breathe through it. In. Out. In again. But the wrongness sat in her chest like a ton of bricks.

Someone, Callum, tried to make light of it. “It’s no big deal. We’ve still got time before CFD locks—”

“No,” she said, voice tight. “You don’t understand. It’s wrong now. It’s all wrong.”

Her hands were shaking.

“Hey, it’s okay,” another engineer said carefully. “We’ll fix it. It was just a wrong upload—”

“Stop talking.” Her voice cracked, sharp and sudden. “Please. Just stop. Stop—”

She couldn’t hear them anymore. The hum of the lights had turned into a roar. The feeling of her shirt collar was too much. Her thoughts weren’t lining up right.

She stood up too fast. Knocked over a pen cup. The clatter made her flinch violently.

Then she was breathing hard. Too fast. Too loud. Her eyes stung. Her palms burned.

The room blurred. All noise. Too many people. Too many things out of place.

She left. Walked straight out the door, down the hall, past the glass break room, past a surprised intern holding two coffees. She found an empty office, one of the glass-walled side rooms, and ducked inside.

Lights off. Curtains drawn.

She sat on the floor. Curled into herself, hands pressed to her ears. Shaking.

She didn’t cry, not exactly. But her body trembled with the overload — her nervous system in revolt. All she could do was breathe and wait it out.

—

Ten minutes later, the door opened slowly.

Lando.

He said nothing at first. Just slipped inside and sat down on the floor beside her. Close, but not touching.

She didn't look up.

“Callum came to find me. He’s panicking.” He said.

She let out a half-broken noise. “I hate this. I hate when this happens.”

He shook his head. “Baby—“

Her shoulders curled tighter. "It’s all wrong,” she whispered. “I had it perfect. In my head. And now it’s wrong and I can’t fix it, and they don’t understand why it matters. They think I’m overreacting.”

“You’re not.”

“They think I’m difficult.”

“You’re not.”

She finally looked at him. Her face was pale, eyes glassy. “It felt like… too much. All at once. I couldn't stop it.”

Lando reached out, slow, deliberate, and gently took her hand. “I know, baby.” He said softly. “You don’t have to pretend, though. You know that. And I’m proud of you for walking away when you needed space.”

She gripped his fingers tightly. Grounded. Fiddled with his wedding band.

And little by little, her breathing began to slow.

—

Later, Amelia returned to her desk. The office had quieted. A sticky note sat on her monitor from Oscar, in his neat, blocky handwriting.

YOU’RE ALLOWED TO HAVE BAD DAYS — Ducky

She exhaled a shaky laugh.

Callum brought her tea an hour later and didn’t say a word, just left it on her desk like a peace offering. She nodded her thanks, smile tight but genuine.

She reopened her iPad, fingers steady now. Her brain still hurt, her skin still buzzed with leftover static, but she was here. She was okay.

And she could fix this.

—

The strategy room was windowless, cold, and lit by the slightly too-white fluorescents that made Amelia’s eyes burn.

She sat near the front with her iPad open, stylus twirling between her fingers as various engineers clicked through performance graphs on the large screen. Tyre degradation, pit stop windows, stint lengths, lap delta comparisons. The usual mess of variables before a race.

Oscar was next to her, elbows on the table, listening intently. He never interrupted. Never fidgeted. Just watched. Logged everything.

When the final graph flicked across the screen with the projected optimal strategy, medium-hard-medium, Amelia tilted her head, expression flat.

“No,” she said simply.

A pause.

One of the strategy engineers, Jeremy, looked up. “You don’t agree?”

“No. That doesn’t win us anything. That gives us a decent P6, maybe. P7 if the Mercs behave.”

“And what would you suggest?”

Amelia tapped the stylus against her pad. “Soft-Hard. Big launch, early gain. One stop. Pit window between 14 and 18, if the tyres last. Risky, but Oscar’s tyre management is good enough. He’s not heavy on the fronts.”

Oscar, quiet until now, nodded. “That’s what I felt in FP2. Softs felt clean even on the heavier fuel run. Just needs the rear temps managed early.”

Amelia gave him a slight smile, not warm exactly, but approving. “Driver agrees.”

Jeremy frowned. “If we pit early, we get undercut risk. Traffic.”

“We’re already in traffic,” Amelia replied. “You think anyone’s just going to make room for us? The only way through is to make it past them before the midfield concertina sets in. That means launch tyre, low fuel window, commit to Plan A. We stay reactive. Flexible. But we commit.”

Oscar added, “And if it doesn’t work?”

She looked at him. Direct. “Then it doesn’t. But we’ve learned more than we would’ve finishing behind both Alpines.”

Silence. Then, slowly, Andrea leaned back in his seat and said, “It’s bold.”

“That’s how we race,” Amelia said.

Another pause. Then a nod from Andrea. “Alright. Amelia, prep two versions of the radio calls. One if we need to abort early. One if we push deep into the stint.”

“Already halfway done,” she said, flipping to a new tab.

Oscar leaned toward her, voice low. “You really think we can pull it off?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

“I like it,” he said, almost to himself.

She looked at him sideways. “You trust me?”

He blinked. “Yeah. I do.”

She smiled, barely. “Then we’re good. Don’t be late to the grid walk. Make sure Lando’s had some water.”

“Yeah. I will,” Oscar muttered.

As the team filed out, Jeremy passed Amelia with a nod. “You’re not as scary as everyone said you’d be.”

“No,” she shrugged. “Not scary. Just… specific.”

Oscar held the door open, glancing at her. “Will you make me cookies if I finish top five?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “With raspberries. Just don’t tell Kim. He keeps telling me off for giving you treats that aren’t on your meal plan.”

“Mean.” Oscar complained.

“Very mean.” Amelia agreed.

—

The moment Lando stepped off the scale in parc fermé, Amelia launched herself at him.

He barely got his arms up in time to catch her — she collided with his chest like a missile, legs wrapping around his waist, arms tight around his neck.

“You crazy, crazy man,” she whispered fiercely into his ear, smiling so wide it hurt. “You data-defying freak.”

Lando laughed, breathless, still winded from the final laps but suddenly full of adrenaline again. “Hello, my beautiful wife.”

She kissed him hard, not the polished PR kind, but the messy, gleeful, post-race kind that tasted like sweat and relief. Cameras were around them, but neither of them cared. Hadn’t for a long time.

“P2,” he said, dazed.

“Yes,” she said, still clinging to him. “I’m so proud of you.”

He set her down, barely. She kept one hand fisted in his fireproofs, grounding herself.

“That was such an amazing drive,” she said, quieter now. “Every lap. You didn’t put a single foot wrong. And I’m so proud of you, Lando.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes glinting under the brim of his cap. “Thank you, baby. For this. You. The car.”

“Anything for you,” she whispered, leaning up on her tiptoes and brushing their noses together. “I was getting tired of you moping around the apartment and yelling at Gran Turismo.”

He snorted. “You love when I yell at Gran Turismo.”

“I love you,” she said simply.

Someone called his name, an FIA official, maybe, or one of the social team, but he ignored it for a second longer. His thumb brushed her jaw. “Meet me at the podium?”

“I’ll be there.” Watching, always watching, always in awe of the man she loved.

“I want to spray you with champagne.” He told her.

“You’re not allowed to,” she warned. “I’ll be sticky.”

“Don’t care.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes, kissed him again, and let him go.

Later, after the podium ceremony, after she did get sprayed, and did yell “Lando Norris, don’t you dare!” on live television, they curled up together in the back of the hospitality unit, him shirtless, her in one of his McLaren hoodies, and split a tiny bottle of celebratory wine Oscar had swiped from the hospitality fridge.

“I missed this,” Lando murmured, head on her shoulder.

She brushed his curls back from his forehead. “Podiums?”

“No,” he said, looking up at her. “You. You being happy. You being here, at McLaren, with me.” He paused, and she leaned closer curiously as he gazed at her, all soft and sweet and so dearly tender. “I kept it, you know? The note you left me before you joined RedBull. The one where you called me an asshole. The booklet too, with the race notes. You were the reason for every podium I got the year after that, you know?”

She swallowed thickly. Stared at him. Reached her hand up to cup his face. “You’re not an asshole.” She whispered. Needed to say it. Needed him to know that she didn’t believe that anymore.

“I am sometimes,” he grinned lopsidedly. “But you love me anyway.”

“I love you anyway.” She whispered.

—

It started with the toaster.

Specifically, with Lando kicking the cupboard under the sink in frustration because where the hell was the toaster? and why is there no bloody counter space anymore?

“I moved it because your smoothie machine was leaking again,” Amelia said from the floor of the living room, surrounded by three open boxes of car telemetry printouts and what looked like half of a sock drawer.

“I fixed the leak.” Lando told her.

She frowned at her pencil. “You fixed it with duct tape.”

“That’s how men do it,” Lando said, crouching to help pick up a stack of papers that had slipped under the coffee table. “Are these important?”

“Yes. They’re the data sheets from Oscar’s last long run simulation—don’t fold them!”

“I wasn’t going to—” He paused. “Okay, I was.”

She snatched them out of his hand, stuffing them back into a manila folder that was already bursting. Over the last few months, their beautiful apartment had started to look less like a home and more like an office. Helmets on shelves, engineering notebooks piled on chairs, printer cables tangled with furniture.

Lando stood up and did a slow 360° in the living room. “Have we… always had this much stuff?” He asked, his eyebrows pulling together.

“No,” Amelia said. “You moved in with a single suitcase of clothes and a sim rig. I had four crates of notebooks, over two hundred pairs of shoes, and a bookshelf. Now you have a room full of gaming stuff, we have two Dyson fans, my office is overflowing, and Max’s cats all-but live here part-time.” She pointed at the cat-tree they had stuffed into a tight corner by the window.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck. “You want to move?”

“I don’t want to,” she said bluntly, “but we’ve started tripping over each other. Literally. I had to do my work in the bathroom yesterday because you needed to use the extension cord in my office to use your NutriBullet.”

“There was no space in the kitchen.” He argued.

“Yes, I know. It was still a ridiculous solution.” She told him flatly.

He tried not to laugh. “Baby, you’re still mad?” He cooed.

“Lando,” she said, looking up at him, serious now. “We’ve outgrown this place. I love it, and it will always be our first home, but I don’t want to have to think about if I have space in my wardrobe to buy a new pair of shoes when I see ones that I like.” She said, biting her lip. “And I need a bigger office. You need a streaming room that doesn’t double as a spare room. It’s not fair to shove Oscar onto a pull-out bed every time he’s here.”

He flopped down next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. “Suppose we could have a bigger kitchen.” He mumbled against her neck. “A nicer balcony. Maybe a dining room.”

“And plenty of space for guests,” she said.

Lando leaned his head against hers. “Okay. Let’s look. After the triple header.”

“Yeah,” Amelia said, letting herself relax into his side. “I want to stay in this neighbourhood. Or close.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” He hummed.

She cracked a smile. “And I want us to start looking for a house in England, too. Not for now… but for later. Somewhere to disappear during off-seasons. With a big garden, and trees, and a big garage for me to play around with some cars again.” She rambled.

He stared at her, hearts in his eyes. “God, I love you.”

“I know,” she said softly, and kissed his cheek. “Come on. Carry me into the kitchen. My legs are numb, but I’ll help you find the toaster.”

—

From the pit wall, the view was beautiful.

The sun beat down on the Hungaroring like it was trying to melt the asphalt. The air was thick with it though, and Amelia’s headset slightly with heat distortion.

Oscar was starting from the second row. P4.

Lando P3. 

Both of her boys making up the second row.

Her fingers tapped restlessly against her keyboard, eyes flicking between sector deltas and real-time tyre temp data. She barely noticed the world around her, only the voices in her ear and the heartbeat under her skin.

“Oscar, radio check?”

“Radio good.” Calm, sharp. His tone was always a little flat, that’s what everyone said; that he was emotionless. It made them a perfect duo — she never needed to try to unravel his tone. If he was thinking something, feeling something, he said it.

“Copy. Full systems looking good. Expect higher degradation on rear left — we’ll manage it through lift points. Brake temps will spike early. Keep it smooth, ducky.”

“Understood.” He said.

She leaned back in her stool and glance to her left, giving her dad a confident smile. He leaned across to give her a heavy shoulder pat, squeezing hard.

—

The launch was perfect.

Oscar didn’t just hold his position off the line; he gained. He swept into Turn 1 ahead of Lewis, ahead of even his teammate. For one brief, glorious moment, he was P2 behind Max Verstappen, in only his 11th Formula 1 race.

Amelia didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just… hyper focused.

“Amazing job, Oscar. Straight into it. Eyes forward — target delta plus point-three, we’ll manage tyres early.” She said.

“Copy.”

Her hands hovered over the live strategy tools. They were starting on Plan A, soft-to-medium, but she had contingencies mapped like a chess board. She refused to ever resort to a late reaction.

—

By Lap 16, Lando had undercut Oscar and slotted into net P2.

Amelia knew it would happen. Still, she hated how early they’d had to box Oscar, forced into it by track position pressure and the undercut threat from Lewis behind. The window had been tight. And the McLaren pit stop wasn’t their best; 3.8 seconds. Enough to cost.

Oscar rejoined in traffic. Slower cars. Dirty air.

The moment Oscar keyed his mic, she knew he felt it too.

“Tyres feel edgy. Car’s moving around.”

“Yeah. I know. Let’s build up our temps gradually. Try not to fight the dirty air. We’re still advantage three, ducky. Cleaner air will come to us once we’re through this pack.”

He didn’t reply right away. But when he did, it was with full faith in her plan. “Copy. Staying patient.”

She made a note on her pad, already tracking tyre drop-off curves from the medium runners around him. There was still a shot at a P4 finish. Maybe more, if Ferrari made the wrong call. Again.

—

The race stabilised. Max was untouchable up front, but Lando and Oscar were both holding on. Lando ran solidly in P2. Oscar, behind him in P5 with Charles closing. Too slowly to be dangerous yet, but Amelia knew better than to relax.

“Leclerc at 2.2 behind. He’s on slightly newer mediums, but they’ll plateau. You’re doing exactly what I need you to do.”

“Rear left’s starting to slip.” He reported.

Amelia adjusted her headset mic. She didn’t raise her voice, but the sharpness of her tone cut through the heat and static. “We’re monitoring. Keep it tight in 11 and off the kerbs in Sector 2. We’ll be okay.”

Will leaned toward her, murmuring, “You sure we’re not going to lose it to Leclerc?”

She didn’t look away from the screen. “Not if he does exactly what I tell him. And he will.”

—

Leclerc wasn’t fast enough. And Oscar, even with graining tyres, rising temps, and thirty-five laps of non-stop pressure, didn’t put a wheel wrong.

“Last lap. Keep it clean. You’ve broken DRS.”

“Copy.” Calm. Professional. Perfectly Oscar.

When he crossed the line in P5, just behind Lewis, Amelia didn’t outwardly react. But her hand curled into a fist beneath the desk, opening and closing five times in even succession.

It wasn’t a podium. But it was a statement.

—

In the garage, the heat clung to them like a second skin. Amelia handed Oscar a water bottle before he even had to ask.

“You made them work for it,” she said.

Oscar looked at her, face half-smeared with visor marks, and raised a brow. “I was pushing hard.”

“I know,” she said, voice level. “Even after the weak strategy call. You salvaged your position, and it was impressive.”

He tilted his head. “Even that moment in Turn 2 where I had to back off?”

“Especially then,” she said. “That’s when I knew you were supposed to be my driver. You fight hard, but you race clean.”

Oscar snorted, leaning against the garage wall. “You’re very dramatic. And demanding on the radio.”

“You stayed ahead of a Ferrari on thirty-lap-old tyres. So…” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He smirked, then looked at her sideways. “Think we could’ve held that podium if we boxed one lap later?”

Amelia refused to lie. “Maybe. But we don’t deal in maybes. We deal in execution. And yours was great.”

He bumped her arm. “Thanks. I got a bit stressed there, after the first stop. You helped me keep my head.”

She smiled, faint but proud. “I’ll always do that.”

—

It wasn’t victory.

But it was control. It was consistency. It was yet another way of telling the world that Oscar Piastri, under her watch, was going to become something extraordinary.

—

Amelia found her husband sitting on one of the stackable pit wall chairs, half out of his fireproofs, head tipped back, hair damp with sweat. His eyes were closed, not asleep, but close to it. That bone-deep exhaustion that only comes after a truly hard-fought podium.

She nudged his knee with hers.

He cracked an eye open. Smiled when he saw that it was her. “Hey, Mrs. P5.”

She smiled right back at him. “Hi, Mr. P2.”

He let out a slow breath, opened his arms. She fell into them, onto his lap, and let him hold her. Tight. “Felt good today.” He started. “Felt like we were… properly in it. Like we’re not just pretending anymore.”

“You weren’t pretending in Silverstone, either,” she reminded him, sliding into the seat beside him. “But you really earned it today with that middle stint.”

He gazed down at her. “You always manage to do this.”

“What?” She asked, blinking at him.

“Say the exact right thing. Make me feel even better about a result I’m already proper buzzing about.” He explained, with a tilted smile. “Makes me feel like a bit of a muppet, honestly.”

She didn’t respond, just leaned over slightly, drawing something out from the inside of the pocket of her McLaren windbreaker. A thin silver chain, a small pendant strung on it. Lando in cursive letters, cut from a sheet of polished silver.

She held it up between them.

“A fan gave this to me outside the paddock,” she said, tone matter-of-fact. “Asked me to give it to you. I told her I was going to keep it.”

Lando blinked. “Wait—what?”

“Because,” she went on, “it has your name on it. And that’s comforting. Like when I labelled everything in the kitchen drawers so you stopped putting the spoons in the wrong place.”

He started laughing. “You think I’m a drawer?”

“I think you’re mine,” she said plainly. “And this necklace is a tactile reminder. So I’m keeping it. And I’m going to wear it all the time. Until it goes rusty, and then I’m going to have another one made. More permanent. And I’ll wear that one all the time too.”

Lando looked at her for a long moment, the corners of his mouth twitching with affection. “You’re so romantic.”

“Maybe.” She sighed, like it was the worst thing she’d ever been told.

That earned a full grin from him. Tired, slightly loopy from the adrenaline crash, but full and wide. He reached over and ran his fingers along the chain. “I love you, baby.” He said quietly.

She looked at him, blinked once. “I know.” A beat passed. She gave him the smallest smile, then added, “And I love you too.”

Lando pressed his forehead against hers. “God, I missed you during the cool-down room. Lewis and Max were being so serious. I just wanted to say something dumb and have you roll your eyes at me. Make everything feel fun again.”

“You did great,” she told him earnestly. “You kept Max behind you for more laps than most people have managed all year.”

He pulled her in then, quick and fierce, arms around her back, his mouth warm against hers. “You’re the only podium celebration I actually look forward to.” A pause. A long, lingering kiss. And then, “did you bring the chequered flag underwear?”

She glanced around before tugging at her top. 

He peeked down and smirked.

“Fucking class.” 

NEXT CHAPTER

[sevsevteen]

Can I request please 🙏 reader just listened to circles or cheers of youth (or literally any of the sad depressing im gonna sob song genre that woozi loooves) and they show up at woozi’s studio an emotional mess and woozi just comforts them

i can't resist this request with MY CURRENT OBSESSION WITH WOOZI 🥹 ...sad music is literally my whole life. with happy burstday just out, woozi's solo destiny is the perfect song for this round !!

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

You weren’t supposed to be here yet - technically. The agreed time to meet and listen to the new Happy Burstday album was still a good hour away. But your schedule ended early, and with the kind of week you had, you found yourself quietly slipping into Woozi's Universe Factory studio. It wasn't the first time you came unannounced anyway, Woozi always kept it open when he knew you’d be coming.

The studio was dimly lit, quiet save for the low hum of the monitors still glowing blue. The monitor was open, screen stacked with demo files and folders - and among them, you noticed one single project labelled:

“DESTINY\_FINAL\_MSTR.wav”

You knew the tracklist by now. You also knew this was Woozi’s solo.

It was the one you were most excited for. Woozi hadn’t let anyone hear it yet. Not even Seungcheol, which said a lot.

He’d just smiled, eyes crinkling in his usual secretive way, and said: “It’s personal.”

Curiosity bubbled up. Not nosy - just... admiring. You respected your precious producer immensely - not just as a leader or fellow member, but as an artist. A quiet genius, one who always listened more than he spoke, always gave before asking for anything in return.

With one final glance toward the hallway to make sure no one was coming, you reached for the headphones, slid them on, and pressed play.

Woozi wasn't here yet anyways.

And that was when the room fell away.

The track started slow. Just his voice and a few chords - raw, like a breath into dawn.

“I didn't believe in fate, because I thought it would only hurt...”

His voice wasn’t polished here. It was personal - laced with hesitation and something aching. The lyrics painted something deeper than love - it felt like fate, like loss and hope threaded into one. A letter never sent. A wish made at the end of a long day.

It wasn’t like the other tracks. It didn’t soar; it floated. Like a whispered memory, or a quiet realization - the kind you have when the world is still and your thoughts are loud.

As the chorus hit, layered vocals and strings building into a vulnerable tune, your eyes stung. A hand flew to your mouth. You didn’t know when you started crying - only that now, you couldn’t stop.

“A lot of sadness and pain must also be destiny, right? I want to believe that it is a shower that will pass quickly.”

By the last chorus, you were full-on bawling - knees pulled up to your chest on woozi's chair, sleeves damp as you tried to wipe away the overwhelming tide of tears.

That’s how Woozi found you.

.

The door clicked open softly.

He froze.

You, curled on his chair with headphones still around your neck, looked up with red-rimmed eyes and a tear-streaked face.

His heart immediately dropped.

His voice was gentler than usual, alarmed but not panicked. “Hey- what happened? Are you hurt?”

He blinked, completely caught off guard.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccuped, swiping a sleeve across your cheeks. “I listened to your song. I wasn’t supposed to, but I did and-”

Woozi didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he stepped in quietly and walked over.

“Come here,” he murmured, making a stop beside you. Without hesitation, he gently pulled you into his chest, a hand cradling the back of your head as you melted into the warmth of him.

You fell into him like second nature.

And the both of you sat there like that for a while - your trembling subsiding slowly, the quiet hum of the studio equipment grounding you.

“I didn’t mean to cry.” You whispered, voice muffled in his sweater.

“I think it means more that you did,” Woozi replied. “That’s the biggest compliment I could ever get.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered into his chest, voice shaking. “You’re beautiful. How does someone even sing like that?”

You looked up at him, eyes still glistening. “You really sang that from your heart, didn’t you?”

He gave a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I don’t know,” he replied softly. “But I think…I wanted someone to hear it like this. Just like this.”

And she did.

The moment held.

Because in that moment, the only thing that mattered was the quiet comfort of being seen, of being heard - and of standing beside the person who made “destiny” feel like something possible, even in a world that rarely slowed down long enough to believe in it.

--

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ along with destiny, i listened to svt's playlist of sad songs (Pinwheel, Habit, & Hug are my babies, go and fight a wall) and had to take a pause while writing this to bawl my eyes out

[magalhaessims]

PROWLER'S PATCH APARTMENTS - MAXIS-MATCH CC BUILD

Welcome to the Prowler’s Patch Apartments! Originally built as accommodation for factory workers, this repurposed building now boasts six charming units—perfect for your Sims who’ve just arrived in Moonwood Mill. While the apartments may need a little TLC, helpful neighbors are just next door to lend a hand. Some of them, however, seem to be a bit more nocturnal than others...

NOT CC FREE 

Lot Type: Residential | Rental

Size: 30x30

World: Moonwood Mill

Enable bb.moveobjects before placing in your game!

EA Account: MagalhaesSims (remember to enable custom content on!) DOWNLOAD

CC USED IN THIS BUILD:

NOTE: For convenience, some of the CC is included in the Download Folder. Please put it in your Mods Folder along with the CC linked below.

Felixandre: Colonial (2022) | Estate Collection | Soho || Harrie: Klean || House Of Harlix : Baysic Collection + Bathroom || Pierisim: Auntie Vera Bathroom | Maison Meuliere | Pantry Party | Tilable Kitchen | Winter Garden (Exterior) || Syboulette: Cheap & Chipped || Vyxated: Sewer Set

The CC Sets above are the main ones I used to decorate this specific building and you can find all the links to the creators’ sites on my Resource Page. However, if you can’t find something specific, you can send me a WCIF and I’ll try to help you find it!

HOW TO MAKE THIS LOT FUNCTIONAL:

For the General Store, I’m incorporating both the Cake A Break and Shop Chef Consumables Mod by @ravasheencc and the Grocery Bags and Vegetables Display mods by @aroundthesims, enabling your Sims to purchase food items within the store.

Make sure to read all the information available on the mods’ pages in order to ensure they work properly in your game!

My content will always be free and right away available to everyone, but if you want to, you can show your support through my Ko-Fi Page. Your donation will always be much appreciated!

Thank you for reblogging: @mmfinds @s4realtor @coffee-houses-finds @farfallafinds @simblreenofficial and anyone else for helping me boost this post!

[yvesssssssss]

hi hi!! love your fanfics a lot!

i have a request, how would the nagumo, shishiba, gaku and shin react when they have to kill their s/o? would they actually do it or defend them? maybe even run away together? 🤭 likee, they find out she’s actually an enemy but didnt know she betrayed the organization for them? i would love how this goes, please take your time writing it and take a lot of rest you need! 🤍

The ones worth dying for

(nagumo, shishiba, gaku, shin)

Feel like i could've done better with this😭 but i hope you like it!!

Nagumo yoichi

They give him the mission with a smile.

“She’s betrayed the Order,” the handler says casually. “We need her gone, Nagumo.”

He flips through the file. Target details. Last known location.

Your name. Your face. The smile you gave him just three nights ago when you crawled into his lap with sleepy eyes and whispered “Don’t die tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” he says brightly, shutting the folder. “Easy.”

He walks out of the room whistling.

And vanishes off the grid.

He finds you in an abandoned metro station. You’ve already been hurt.

He crouches next to you, a grin painted on like always.

“You know, sweetheart,” he says, brushing blood from your face, “if you were gonna start betraying people, you could’ve given me a heads-up. I’d have worn my good shoes.”

“I didn’t betray you,” you whisper, choked. “I gave them classified intel to protect you. I didn’t think they’d find out—”

“I knew,” he says. “I knew the second you started deleting reports and lying about your whereabouts. I just didn’t care.”

You blink. “You… didn’t?”

“Of course not. I don’t fall in love just to lose you to paperwork.”

The Order sends more agents. They never return.

Nagumo disappears with you that night—laughing, bleeding, free.

He’s still smiling when he turns to you in the getaway car.

“You’re mine now,” he says. “Hope you weren’t planning on dying on me anytime soon.”

Shishiba

He’s silent as they assign the mission.

“Target: Y/N. Confirmed traitor. Eliminate on sight.”

His jaw tightens, but he nods once. No one dares say more.

The hammer feels heavy when he carries it toward your last known location. The same hammer you once traced with your fingers, teasing him: “You ever gonna name this thing?”

Now he has to choose between it and you.

When he finds you, you don’t run. You’re crouched beside a ruined outpost, wounds raw, gaze tired.

“I figured it’d be you,” you say quietly. “I told myself… if it was anyone, I’d want it to be you.”

He stands still.

You continue, softer, “I didn’t betray you. I just couldn’t keep killing for people who wanted you dead.”

Shishiba exhales slowly. “Dumbass.”

You look up, startled.

“You should’ve just told me. We could’ve left together.”

He slams the hammer down—not at you, but through the ground beside you, cracking the stone. His other hand reaches out to pull you to your feet.

“Come on,” he mutters. “I’m not gonna lose someone else to this sh*t.”

When the clean-up squad arrives, there’s no trace of you—or him.

Only a smashed comm and a hammer mark through the wall.

Gaku

Gaku laughs.

Then he stops laughing when he sees the evidence. Intel leaks. Tracker pings. Your voice distorted in comms.

But when he finds you—cornered in the old factory, blood at your lips—you don’t deny it.

“I gave them fake info,” you say, breath shaking. “To buy you time. I didn’t think it’d trace back—”

He grabs you by the collar and slams you into the wall.

“You lied to me,” he hisses.

You don’t cry. You don’t beg.

“I lied to everyone except you,” you murmur. “I did it so they wouldn’t go after you. So you wouldn’t end up another dead body in their files.”

Gaku’s expression twists. His hand is still at your collar… but his grip softens.

“…You’re really stupid,” he mumbles.

Then he pulls you close and hides his face in your neck.

“I’m gonna kill them,” he says. “All of them.”

They never find you. Never find him.

But they find the words “TRY AGAIN.” carved into the wall, scrawled in blood.

Shin asakura

He doesn’t need to be told. He hears it.

“She’s a traitor. Get rid of her.”

“I wonder if he’ll actually do it.”

“Poor kid. Must be hard being psychic.”

He’s already moving before they finish speaking.

When he finds you, you're sitting in the rain. No umbrella. Just waiting.

“I knew you’d come,” you say.

“You knew they wanted me to kill you?”

“I knew you’d hear it before anyone else said it.”

He walks toward you, fists clenched.

“I don’t believe it,” he says.

“I leaked intel, Shin.”

“For me,” he growls. “You did it for me. I read your mind before I even got here.”

You flinch.

“I read the part where you thought, ‘If I die, maybe he’ll live.’” His voice cracks.

He drops to his knees and wraps his arms around you like a shield.

“They think I’m weak because I care about people,” he whispers into your neck. “But I’ll show them what weakness really looks like. When you take away the one thing keeping me sane.”

They never hear from Shin again.

But someone keeps anonymously dropping dead around HQ—every person who signed your kill order.

Taglist: @shenwi @astronomyloveraster @yokaistirfry @shineinouzen15 @cjafjatkstke @starizzm @imightgoinsane @ilovewhattatops @takenbyacircle @istillremembermissamericana @elorajelaaa

Hey lovelies! Just a heads up—if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist, now's the time to let me know! I don't want to flood anyone's inbox unnecessarily. 🫶

Drop a comment or send me an ask if you'd like to be added/removed!

Thank you all so much for being here! You all are the best!🫶🫶

[simplyanjuta]

Enhancing Sims Thumbnails 🖼️🔍👀

So I have received some questions regarding this post and had another look at the ThumbnailConfig.ini file to see if there is anything else worth tweaking to enhance sims thumbnails.

I also decided to share my settings (though not sure if this is a good idea, I'll see how it goes). Disclaimer, that what works well for me/on my screen, might not be the best solution for you and you might be better off with the default settings. Also remember that generating higher resolution thumbnails can slow down your game. I think that visually the settings (only) make a big difference if you play on a larger screen and/or with an upscaled UI (game accessibility settings).

You can try my settings or use the info shared below (I might update it in the future) to experiment with the settings yourself. You can find examples on how to edit the file in my previous posts here and here and you can use any text editor like Notepad or Notepad++ to do so.

Download and details below the cut ⤵️

Below you can see what I changed (marked in green) and for what purpose as well as what resolution settings there are in general. I only looked at sims thumbnails and ignored everything else. I also think some settings should not be messed with, like the ones affecting pictures that are uploaded to the Gallery (exception is if you wanna extract these pictures for editing purposes) and there are a few settings that are not relevant for gameplay. Some settings I'm not sure about (feel free to share any info).

📥Download:

Sim File Share Last updated: February 27th, 2025

📒How to install:

This override does NOT go into your mods folder. Instead, you need to replace the original game file with it which you should find somewhere along a path like this:

C:\Program Files (x86)\Origin Games\The Sims 4\Game\Bin\res

The path might be slightly different for you and depends on where the game is installed on your computer. You can check the location in the EA app. To do so, select The Sims 4 ->  “Manage” -> “View properties” (there should be a similar option on Steam):

Locate the file ThumbnailConfig.ini as described above.

Save a copy of the original file somewhere on your computer in case you need to go back. (However, you can also run a game repair to restore the settings if needed.)

Replace the original file with the override (either with my file or with your own version).

Delete the file localthumbcache.package (see info here), so that the game can generate new thumbnails, then restart the game.

Note that you will need to repeat the steps/redo the changes whenever this file is overriden or updated or by the game.

Current game bug (not a mod/config issue):

It seems that the game currently is regenerating thumbnails each time you restart the game, even when the thumbnails already exist in the file localthumbcache, thus unneccessarily slowing down the game and bloating up this file. I tested this with no mods, with basegame only, in a fresh save, with the thumbnail config file reset to factory settings and it’s still happening. Also added my findings to this bug report. If you noticed the same issue, please hit “me too”.

[thebleedingwoodland]

TS3 World Adventures - Mooncakes & Mooncake Machine Maker Remastered: Mooncake Mesh & Texture with Enhanced Graphics & Enabled to Buy Mode & Renamed Mod (All Languages) & Icons Replacement Mod

D E F A U L T   R E P L A C E M E N T

New custom Mooncake mesh & texture, to replace EA's "Fortune Cookies" machine maker and edible cake taken from machine maker with working Geostates & animation

EA's graphics from 512x512 with noise was enhanced to 1024x1024 with less noise and adding Simlish Hanzi to replace EA's "bad handwriting" texture on the machine maker. Click this picture below to enlarge.

Enabled to Buy Mode (Appliances > Miscellaneous Appliances), for easy access no need to type cheat "Buydebug" mode ever again.

STBL Renamed mod, from "Fortune Cookies" to "Mooncakes" translated to all languages.

月餅 （Yuèbǐng）= Moon Cake

ⓘ For language translations except Chinese, I use online translator to change word "Fortune Cookies" ---> "Mooncakes" & "Mooncake" depending on singular and plural context. Feel free to correct in comment section if you feel the translation and the grammar is wrong or I accidentally deleted other word.

Icons changed from EA's Fortune Cookies to Mooncake

Reason why I made the change:

Because Shang Simla is taking place in China, not American Chinatown, thus the portrayal of the cookies should be authentic of actual China in real life, not American cookies that are foreign to actual Chinese people. Fortune Cookies are U.S.A.- made cookies: American invention originating in California. History of Fortune Cookies (source: fancyfortunecookies.com) Mooncakes are cakes originated from China, dates back over 3,000 years to ancient China. Mooncakes are a traditional treat during the Mid-Autumn Festival, which is celebrated on the 15th day of the eighth month of the lunar calendar.

Mooncakes are the must-eat Mid-Autumn food in China. They are a traditional Chinese pastry. Their round shape and sweet flavor symbolize completeness and sweetness. At the Mid-Autumn Festival, people eat mooncakes together with family, or present mooncakes to relatives or friends, to express their love and best wishes. Mooncakes are usually eaten after dinner while admiring the moon. History of Mooncakes in China... (source: chinahighlights.com) Fortune Cookies are made in USA and only exist in USA, but mistaken by USA people themselves as "Chinese" cookies just because the cookies are sold in American Chinese restaurant in USA. We actual Chinese live on our country have never seen Fortune Cookies, as we only know the presence of those cookies in Hollywood (U.S.A.) movies. Not just culture inaccuracy, I enabled this machine maker in Buy Mode section for easy access because this item must have been forgotten in the corner and only been played once when the player visit Shang Simla.

Colour & Presets: Same as original EA's: 3 Presets & original EA's Fortune Cookies Machine Maker colour channels.

How to Change Default EA's Fortune Cookies to Mooncake in Shang Simla world.

Fortune Cookies maker in Shang Simla doesn't automatically change to Mooncake due to different coding in-game.

❗You must buy Mooncake Machine Maker from Buy Mode (Appliances > Miscellaneous Appliances) to load the texture first, then travel to Shang Simla world, do "Reset Textures" using Nraas' Debug Enabler.

You need to install Nraas' Debug Enabler (Core mod by Twallan) in order to work correctly ❗

Follow these steps to reset textures: 

Click on the Fortune Cookies Maker > Nraas > Debug Enabler > Options: Lucky Factory Mooncake Maker > Object… > Reset Textures > (Choose one) All Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.Appliances.FortuneCookieMaker or This Object

Requirement: World Adventures Expansion Pack

Thank you credits: - Simlish Hanzi: Komorebigo font by Deastrumquodvicis - Mooncake Vector: by Shutterstock - Mid-Autumn Festival Vector & Images by Freepik

Instance code compatibility: 0x010F16B00BA8342B

As usual, install one of these packages on Package folder. You can safely delete the package if you no longer want to use the default replacement.

[ Download Mooncake Machine Default Replacement ]

Language Translations: Click this picture below to enlarge.

[littlewebtreasures]

Folders by Animation Factory

[heathensimmer]

UPDATE: Cooking is Fun! - Candy Factory

One day, as I was playing the Sims 2 Ultimate Collection, I took my Natural Cook Sim to the Cuisine Hobby Lot.

She won the Cooking contest 💅💅

Then, her fun was super, super low, so I took her to the Chocolate Factory career reward that is present on the Cuisine Hobby Lot and....

Alas... Maxis barely coded any FUN into a CHOCOLATE FACTORY.

WHAT

Anyways, I made an update because of this to Cooking is Fun.

This mod is an edit of Fway's Food/Prep Skill for Traits!

Now, Natural Cooks (if they have the 3t2 trait for Natural Cook) will gain more fun from the Candy Factory. Childish Sims also gain some fun bc why not? It's a chocolate factory!!!

ys2g_cookingisfun_fway_FoodPrepSkillGainforTraits_CandyFactory

I also made a non-traits version. For this version, (it has cuisine hobby in the file name) Sims with the One True Hobby of Cuisine will gain more Fun from using the machine!

ys2g_cookingisfun_cuisinehobby_candyfactory

I added bonus features as well to the traits version.

Absent-Minded and Clumsy Sims now have a high chance of failure from making chocolates. Natural Cooks never fail. If Sims have none of those traits, the BHAV checks for skill. For Absent-Minded it's 35% and for Clumsy, it's 25%. If the random chance primitive operation works in the Sim's favor, then it checks for the Cooking skill!

Resources:

CT - Cook - Start 0x2039, CT -Prep- Start 0x2038, Interaction-Make Candies 0x2001, Make-Start 0x2004

Traits version only:

Tuning-Traits (BCON) 0x2050, Make - Flavor 0x2005

Easy Inventory check is required for Traits version. And the traits.... obviously...check out HB's 3t2 traits project for more info about how to get started with traits modding.

Conflicts with Fway's original "Food Prep Skill Modifiers for Traits"

Does not conflict with any hacked chocolate machines, and if you DO have a hacked chocolate factory, send it to me and I can add trait support to it, but it may use CandyFactoryGlobals ... Idk how that works currently lol

In fact, I am open to requests for adding traits stuff to hacked objects! I remember someone maybe asking about pottery... I don't remember just hop in my DMs! Traits modding is pretty fun!

Link: https://simfileshare.net/folder/242466/

HAPPY SIMMING