Sims: Maxis_taste Dare #33 PROMPTS!
Hey hey, look who's participating in a maxis_taste dare.
The latest dare (#33) is prompts and you don't have to use the game at all (if you don't want) which is spot on PERFECT for me. Hey, I still love writing (in general) and writing for sims (in particular) so this is just fabulous!
So, the deal is you leave a comment (saying what neighborhoods you want to write for) and ale gives you three sims (from said neighborhood/s) and three random word prompts. Then you use the prompts as inspiration for a short written piece (with or without pics) or a makeover (either of the sim or just anything that that sim inspired you to do) or just about anything you want as long as you can directly tie it back to the prompts your were given.
Blah blah blah, time to show off what I wrote.
Word Prompts: secrets, white
Sim prompts: Cyd Roseland, PT9 Smith
Neighborhood: Strangetown
Word Count: 885
Warnings: NONE
The barking could be heard two streets over. It stopped the minute they saw him.
He’d always had a special effect on animals. The most aloof of cats would emerge from hiding, twisting their bodies around his ankles, purring. Aggressive dogs would relax their hackles and lower their lips back over their fangs.
This dog pack was no different. He couldn’t remember who was who and it hardly mattered. They knew him and greeted him with wagging tails and eager whines. And a stinking mess.
It was his fault. He meant to check on them the day before but what was billed as a quick trip to the store had turned into an all day shopping adventure capped off with a fast food dinner and, with a bit of cajoling from the children, a rare family trip to the movie theater. He’d so thoroughly enjoyed their time together (perhaps their last before his eldest headed off to college) that Cyd Roseland’s unruly dog pack had quickly slipped his mind with little regret. Until now.
One (or more) of them had defecated in the house and then one (or more) of them had trod through it leaving smeared paw prints through multiple rooms. Sighing, he picked his way through the mess to the kitchen, thankful Cyd hadn’t had wall to wall carpeting installed. Behind him, claws clicked over the bare floors as the pack trailed him, panting and whining.
With a pang of guilt he noticed the empty and overturned food and water dishes. Cyd had made a point of noting the dogs ate only a set ration at a specific time of day. “Don’t let them sucker you into giving them more,” he’d joked as he turned over the key to the locked pantry.
Hot dog breath against his legs, he produced the same key and fumbled with the lock. Whining gave way to a few high pitched barks followed closely by a menacing growl as the pack jockeyed for position behind him. The pack parted around him as he gathered the dishes and set to washing them and alotting rations. Dishes cleaned and filled, he stacked them one inside the other then picked his way across the filthy floor and out the back door, the pack at his heels.
Rations distributed, he paused to watch as the dogs eagerly ate. The large white female, finishing her rations in a few quick bites, quickly turned her attention to her foster caregiver. Locked in the deep brown gaze, PT 9 Smith was once again overcome with guilt. Guilt for disrupting the lives of these simple creatures, foisting his will upon them at the cost of the comfort of their routines.
The big female continued to hold PT’s gaze as the rest of the pack congregated around him, taking turns sniffing at his shoes and legs, nudging their muzzles into his hands and whining for reassuring strokes. Surrounded by such need, he was met by a feeling that hadn’t visited in quite some time.
Dread.
What if Cyd never returned?
While rare, it was always a slight posibility with any abduction. Sometimes there were complications. Sometimes they didn’t survive. And sometimes they caught the attention of someone higher up in the ranks, someone who chose to keep them.
PT 9 had prided himself on a perfect track record, no losses. Until she woke unexpectedly on the harvesting table. The waking wasn’t unusual in itself, every abductee reacted differently to the chemical concoction they were given. They would startle awake, sometimes crying and screaming and almost always trying to flee. But she had not. As she gazed up at him, Pollination Technician #9 felt, for the first time in his long career, dread. They would see in her what he saw, would hear what she whispered to him as she lay exposed and defenseless. They would keep her. And her loss would become his reward. A family.
As quickly as they had assembled around him, the pack dispersed. PT watched for a moment as they chased one another over the brittle lawn. Returning inside, he set to work tidying the mess and his thoughts.
They would not keep Cyd. Had he not done everything he could to ensure it? At great risk to his secrecy, had he not provided samples and instructions on what to look for? The markers had been clean. Cyd was an excellent candidate for pollination but not exceptional in any way. And unlike his brothers-in-law (who were equally eager for the experience), Cyd had no desire to raise the product of his abduction. He was, in PT 9’s assessment, perfect for his needs.
Cyd Roseland would provide PT 9 Smith with a strong, healthy child with no strings attached. A child his aging wife could no longer produce. He longed to see the joy on her face when she met her new son or daughter. It would be the biggest surprise she had ever received, of that he had no doubts.
Checking his watch, he sighed deeply. Done with time to spare, his secret was still safe. With Cyd slated for return that very evening, PT 9 shooed the last of his doubt away as he allowed the pack back into the house.
The latest dare (#33) is prompts and you don't have to use the game at all (if you don't want) which is spot on PERFECT for me. Hey, I still love writing (in general) and writing for sims (in particular) so this is just fabulous!
So, the deal is you leave a comment (saying what neighborhoods you want to write for) and ale gives you three sims (from said neighborhood/s) and three random word prompts. Then you use the prompts as inspiration for a short written piece (with or without pics) or a makeover (either of the sim or just anything that that sim inspired you to do) or just about anything you want as long as you can directly tie it back to the prompts your were given.
Blah blah blah, time to show off what I wrote.
Word Prompts: secrets, white
Sim prompts: Cyd Roseland, PT9 Smith
Neighborhood: Strangetown
Word Count: 885
Warnings: NONE
The barking could be heard two streets over. It stopped the minute they saw him.
He’d always had a special effect on animals. The most aloof of cats would emerge from hiding, twisting their bodies around his ankles, purring. Aggressive dogs would relax their hackles and lower their lips back over their fangs.
This dog pack was no different. He couldn’t remember who was who and it hardly mattered. They knew him and greeted him with wagging tails and eager whines. And a stinking mess.
It was his fault. He meant to check on them the day before but what was billed as a quick trip to the store had turned into an all day shopping adventure capped off with a fast food dinner and, with a bit of cajoling from the children, a rare family trip to the movie theater. He’d so thoroughly enjoyed their time together (perhaps their last before his eldest headed off to college) that Cyd Roseland’s unruly dog pack had quickly slipped his mind with little regret. Until now.
One (or more) of them had defecated in the house and then one (or more) of them had trod through it leaving smeared paw prints through multiple rooms. Sighing, he picked his way through the mess to the kitchen, thankful Cyd hadn’t had wall to wall carpeting installed. Behind him, claws clicked over the bare floors as the pack trailed him, panting and whining.
With a pang of guilt he noticed the empty and overturned food and water dishes. Cyd had made a point of noting the dogs ate only a set ration at a specific time of day. “Don’t let them sucker you into giving them more,” he’d joked as he turned over the key to the locked pantry.
Hot dog breath against his legs, he produced the same key and fumbled with the lock. Whining gave way to a few high pitched barks followed closely by a menacing growl as the pack jockeyed for position behind him. The pack parted around him as he gathered the dishes and set to washing them and alotting rations. Dishes cleaned and filled, he stacked them one inside the other then picked his way across the filthy floor and out the back door, the pack at his heels.
Rations distributed, he paused to watch as the dogs eagerly ate. The large white female, finishing her rations in a few quick bites, quickly turned her attention to her foster caregiver. Locked in the deep brown gaze, PT 9 Smith was once again overcome with guilt. Guilt for disrupting the lives of these simple creatures, foisting his will upon them at the cost of the comfort of their routines.
The big female continued to hold PT’s gaze as the rest of the pack congregated around him, taking turns sniffing at his shoes and legs, nudging their muzzles into his hands and whining for reassuring strokes. Surrounded by such need, he was met by a feeling that hadn’t visited in quite some time.
Dread.
What if Cyd never returned?
While rare, it was always a slight posibility with any abduction. Sometimes there were complications. Sometimes they didn’t survive. And sometimes they caught the attention of someone higher up in the ranks, someone who chose to keep them.
PT 9 had prided himself on a perfect track record, no losses. Until she woke unexpectedly on the harvesting table. The waking wasn’t unusual in itself, every abductee reacted differently to the chemical concoction they were given. They would startle awake, sometimes crying and screaming and almost always trying to flee. But she had not. As she gazed up at him, Pollination Technician #9 felt, for the first time in his long career, dread. They would see in her what he saw, would hear what she whispered to him as she lay exposed and defenseless. They would keep her. And her loss would become his reward. A family.
As quickly as they had assembled around him, the pack dispersed. PT watched for a moment as they chased one another over the brittle lawn. Returning inside, he set to work tidying the mess and his thoughts.
They would not keep Cyd. Had he not done everything he could to ensure it? At great risk to his secrecy, had he not provided samples and instructions on what to look for? The markers had been clean. Cyd was an excellent candidate for pollination but not exceptional in any way. And unlike his brothers-in-law (who were equally eager for the experience), Cyd had no desire to raise the product of his abduction. He was, in PT 9’s assessment, perfect for his needs.
Cyd Roseland would provide PT 9 Smith with a strong, healthy child with no strings attached. A child his aging wife could no longer produce. He longed to see the joy on her face when she met her new son or daughter. It would be the biggest surprise she had ever received, of that he had no doubts.
Checking his watch, he sighed deeply. Done with time to spare, his secret was still safe. With Cyd slated for return that very evening, PT 9 shooed the last of his doubt away as he allowed the pack back into the house.