I feel like the two of hearts game was very important for Shibuki's character, even if it's a very minor plot point, and I'm mad they cut it. It really helps you empathize with her more, or at least to understand her, and I think that's necessary for the seven of hearts
I wanted to emulate the style of most of these people in this simblr style edit I did a while back but the post would’ve taken years and been a mile long so this challenge is a great way to justify making five more Q.Does!!! I defintely stretched the rules a bit with all the different skin overlays but I had fun shhhh. I did @ridgeport @twikkii @bratsims @whiisker & @foursims
rules:
1. choose 4 of your favorite simblrs and with the same sim try to recreate it in each of their styles without changing the hair, clothes or skin.
2. try not to change the facial features too much: you can drag and edit but stay away from using any presets if you can.
3. you don’t have 2 but it’s highly recommended 2 include a sim in the style of whoever tagged you.
laughingpineapple said: archiveofourown.org/wor… goes without saying!
'ot3 feelings: the fic'
“I worry about him,” Alma says with a shake of her head, wiping at the wet surface of a plate. It’s just turned spring, the kind of exit from winter where the morning comes with flowers budding and the air smelling all of sunshine and rain, and she had cracked open the windows and let it swim around the kitchen. And she had seen fit to spend this beautiful day tidying up, even managing to drag her husband to the sink to help her with the dishes. The breeze tugs at the sleeves and hems of the matching-contrasting jackets hung in the hallway, green and white. I really like this description ok. it makes me feel cozy and at home and . stuff. spring is alma's season, for reals. (late fall is jowd's)
“He has a good head on his shoulders,” Jowd replies. He, of course, gets the dirty work, scraping remnants of chicken and pasta from the plates and silverware. “Even if he is a ridiculous fool.” these kids. they know magically that they're talking about cabanela because when aren't they talking about cabanela
Alma puts a plate in the drying rack, a high full noise ringing when she does. She has a sideways look, one she gets when she really means something. It’s the one with her lips pressed together and her head just tilted and her eyebrows drawn together. moms and wives have special Looks. The wind catches at her hair in its ponytail and tickles at her neck.
It’s just turned spring this weekend and they’re talking about Cabanela.
He’s visiting — he’s always visiting he's frickin furniture is what he is — and he’s slid slyly out the room as he does whenever Alma takes a sweeping look at the state of things and reaches for her husband’s wrist. haha you guys need to clean welp (VANISHES) what a snot Off to the bunker, Jowd likes to say, protecting him from dustpan fallout. And mostly, that’s fine; they’ve seen him stumble over a broom before, he’s more hindrance than help. They didn’t protest when he shed his coat and vanished like a snake slithering out of its skin.
But Alma kept looking after him with the ever-present sparkle in her eye gone crooked. Turned slow like she didn’t want to take her eyes off the place he’d gone.
She picks up another dish from her side of the sink and a breath turns into a thoughtful sound. “I know he has. Why do you think I keep him around?” She tries for a laugh — Jowd sees it ripple in her shoulders, then smooth away like it’s given up. “Still, he…” I can write alma (how can't you, she doeSN'T HAVE A PERSONALITY IN CANON. she has chicken, not a voice) but jowd is a complete and utter mystery. confusing. how you do,e va
Alma looks down at the growing stack of dishes that’s piling up in the sink. Jowd can see in her profile the lines of a frown, and in those the swell of something asking to be said that she’s keeping locked away. He almost reaches up to brush hair off the line of her cheekbone, make that thought come clear, but he’s got dirty water on his hands and he settles for thumbing the rim of a glass instead.
i thought about this one a long time before i actually wrote it out, and mostly i just had the dialogue and general sense of things planned out. i'm pleased it turned out not-crappy. this next bit is basically what i had set out
“He’ll be fine, whatever it is that’s worrying you,” he says finally, pouring the glass empty and setting it on her stack. “Only the gods know how often he’s worried me, and he’s always pulled through—”
“He loves you, you know?”
Alma’s turned to him, suddenly, talking breathless like she’s run all the way here just to tell him this, a smile half-drawn on her face. esp this! like she rushed herself just to be able to say it It’s how her lips turn up but her eyes turn down that has Jowd setting the plate in his hand down before he drops it. Alma’s not a liar, and she’s not a prankster. (that last bit's not true) She wipes her hands on the thighs of her pants, then tucks loose hairs back behind her ears.
“I mean,” she says quickly, even though her voice has this stutter like she’s choking on it. “He’s in love with you. Haven’t you seen it?” aw baby you're scared. she is scared though. not because she thinks that like. jowd'll leave or whatever. as if, he's leashed to her. she's more scared it'll change the way both of them act around cabanela if she voices it, and she doesn't want to lose that happy tight relationship they all have
Jowd says “no.” Jowd can only think to say “no.” He’s blinking into a hurricane. 'sweetie i love you but u ackin cray-cray'
“He looks at you like that sometimes, like, um, like he’s drowning and you’ve thrown him a rope, or — you have to have noticed how relaxed he is when you’re around, even if he does call you rival, he stops trying to be someone he’s not when he’s here. He loves you, sweetheart, he really does.” this fic is totally not a love letter to eva's meta posts about cabanela and jowd. nope (yes it is)
Jowd shakes his head, feels his brow furrow so tight it hurts, blinks at the floor like there’s Alma’s words pooled in a puddle, a muddy echo in his ears. He picks up a spare towel and dries his hands, shakes his head, moves to the table and sits. Shakes his head. “No,” he says, “he can’t —”
“But he does,” Alma says, and it’s beginning to sound like a plea. “I’m so worried about him sometimes, because it’s such a hopeless case — you’re a brilliant man, but you can be so thick about this kind of thing, dear, and he’ll never —” SHE'S WORRIED BECAUSE JOWD'S TOO DUMB TO NOTICE NOT BECAUSE SHE THINKS IT'S A BAD THING TO BE IN LOVE WITH A MARRIED MAN
“I mean he can’t,” Jowd interrupts her, “because he’s in love with you.”
He’s not even looking at her, just staring at the tabletop. Alma goes quiet behind him. Sounds like birds and traffic creep in, and from somewhere in the house a peal of laughter that speaks of Kamila taking Cabanela by the hand and pulling him into a too-small hiding spot. it's always sort of weird to remember that while you're having freakish epiphanies like these the world goes on. oh yeah. it's still a spring day.
“Oh,” Alma says.
He sees her sit next to him from the corner of his eye. She’s pale and bright in the new light of spring, beautiful even with her eyes unfocused and her face a frown. He takes her hand in his, feels how small and narrow it is. They let the silence sink in even if it breaks the rhythm of their breathing, and even if there’s still water in the sink. meanwhile cabanela is playing house with kamila. and i mean house md
Alma meets his eye. “I think you’re right, too.”
“It would explain why he keeps us around.”
She smacks his arm with the back of her hand, but she can’t repress the tiniest smile. “You mean why he keeps you around — you’re the impossible one and you know it.”
“And you’re perfect?” Jowd laughs.
“Something like it.” THEIR BANTER IS JUST REALLY FUN OK they're such doofuses. doofuses in adult suits The sparkle in her eyes starts to flare back up, a rainbow-colored secret. The smile underneath it, though, fades. “I am worried about him,” she says in a whisper, letting her fingers weave and tangle around his. She’s always concerned, he thinks, she’s so selfless, and it spreads through him in a rush. i thought this sounded better than 'and he suffered some serious dokis'
“He’ll live through it.” There’s a promise on the edges of it. Alma stands again and returns to the sink, letting the clinking of dishes mingle with the pattering of footsteps that rises in the house proper. Jowd follows her and rerolls his sleeves to put his hands in the water.
“Well,” she says as she tilts a plate into the light, “we’ll just have to love him back, won’t we?”
He can’t even answer, not when Kamila runs in and dives under the table, Cabanela nearly going under after her. He has a feeling Alma planned it that way. alma's one of those mom/wife combos who you're like how do you do this. how are you so housewifey and also so kickass all at once??? she gets dramatic movie moments without trying and it makes the rest of them mad
