#i'd sell my first born for a code

[viktorhargreeves07]

DOES ANYONE HAVE A SHUFFLES CODE PLEASE IM BEGGING

#shuffles code #please #i'd sell my first born for a code #shuffles invite code

[olomaya]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

I was tagged by @sim-songs @nectar-cellar @simsdeogloria @tragicpixel and I've had fun reading other people's so here it goes!

Are you named after anyone? I think my mom because it's her middle name but my name is super common in my region so I could have been named after the lady selling oranges on the street when my mom was having a craving, who knows?

 When was the last time you cried? Maybe this morning. Too often to track. Show me a video of a child finally getting adopted or a family member surprising someone they haven't seen in ages and I'm a mess.

Do you have kids?  No, I like being the fun aunt.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yeeesss! And it's a problem. Trust issues/emotional deflection, etc.

What sports do you play/have you played? Boxing is a sport, right? It's in the Olympics so yes. I love boxing! I feel so strong and powerful when I do it. Mind you, if were ever in a real fight, I'd probably throw a suckerpunch and run for my life.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people? I think their teeth or their hair? I'll have to check next time

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings? I don't have the stomach for horror.

 Any special talents? Sadly, no

 Where were you born? New York, baby! I was an anchor baby and we peaced out the second after I was born so I don't claim New Yorker status.

What are your hobbies? Reading, writing fiction, gaming, swimming, hiking, coding, playing around with AI generated images as of late. I had to update because I can't believe I forgot to mention cooking! I spend A LOT of time just looking up recipes and planning out meals.

 Do you have any pets? atm, no but there has been talk of a kitty...

 How tall are you?  174 cm (5'7")

 Fave subject in school? I was a nerd so basically all of them but especially history, english literature, and biology

Dream job? To not have one. Capitalism sucks.

 Eye color? Dark brown

Tagging @echoweaver @zoeoe-sims @twinsimming @desiree-uk @lucky-palms @tragicpixel @tsims (sorry in advance if you did/got this already)

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

1. Withdrawal

I was born an angel of lust, raised in the heat of passion. I cannot adapt to the whims of mortals anymore than you can adapt to me.

That's what I tell the plain and bitter bitches who hatefully judge my personal expression. I am an artíste. Would a swan so readily change herself to belong amongst toads? Certainly not.

The name given to me at birth was Phoebe Avery Flynn Miller, but you can call me Gemini.

xoxo

I study Biochemistry at Stanford, yes, the Ivy League.

Despite the 5% rate of acceptance, little ol' me has wiggled herself in with the big wigs and is now on path to a promising career in forensics.

Relaxed dress code, they said.

It's true, the culture of campus aesthetics is rooted in khaki shorts and ratty flipflops. Still, despite the sea of tie-dye, I can't help but notice that the way I present myself on campus is heavily judged.

But why hate on little me?

Well. It's my clear and supple toffee brown skin. It must be.

Or it's my dipped strawberry ombre wig curled to bounce like jello.

How offensive.

Or no, it's my deep and winding curves. Yes, the jealousy is unreal.

It's not my fault these hips navigate this yellow romper like a country backroad.

It's not my fault half the girls here are built like skinny little boys and the others are built like Frosty the Snowman.

Passing Becky in category one as I walk through the hall, she turns to glare. Who are these sad hoes truly mad at, me or their genetics?

The bold who find their words try their hardest to tear me down.

Slut.

Whore.

Stripper.

Bitch.

And let's not forget the ethnic slurs, I hear it all. But can you guess my response?

"At least I'll graduate with a job and no debt, ya pasty bitch. Ask your man for my business card."

Yep.

It's true, I strip at Mickey's to pay my tuition, okay fine. I've seen several students there peppered in the crowd, a few possibly the boyfriends of some of these Becca faced bitches who come for me on the regular. Again, who are they really mad at?

Yes, I sell fetish content and I work as a domme when I'm not interning because I'm organized and damn good at everything I do. So good and organized in fact that I can drink, smoke, fuck all day and night if I please and still look like a slice of heavenly pie in the morning bright and early in my seat for class.

I'm wonderful. I'm free in who I am, I'm not ashamed.

That's what I preach to my clients. You can't be ashamed. Revel in sensuality of it's who you are. Intelligence, success, and kink are not mutually exclusive.

Unfortunately for my clients, exams are nigh and I've had to pause all sessions including my stripping for the sake of my study schedule. Two weeks is what I've gifted myself and four days through.. it does not feel like a gift.

In four days, I've perfected the art of celibacy. Not a drop of alcohol has touched these luscious, full lips.

No dollop of cum has passed over this skin.

No ocean spray has squirted from this peach.

I've taken no finger, no dick, no strap, no toy.

I've smoked no joint, no bowl.

For 96 hours, I've done nothing but study and prepare as if going to war. I'm hungry for a release, but my A means more.

xoxo

I sit in the first row in class, front and center with my laptop open on the syllabus because I fear nothing.

Call on me, I dare, staring down the professor as he poses his question to the class. Nothing he asks can throw me off.

I fold my arms leaning back and he finally looks to me.

I know I've said this a million times this semester, but I'd fuck the shit out of him for free. Mm, focus.

I cross my leg at the knee for some control.

"tRNA."

"Correct, Ms. Miller."

Of course it is.

"Someone tell me what is the linkage between the amino acid and the tRNA in an aminoacyl tRNA? This will be on the exam which is not multiple choice."

The class upsets, voicing their dissent with complaints that it's too hard. They need multiple choice.

"Aminoacyl ester," I smile cutting off a voice behind me.

"Correct Ms. Miller," Mr. Stevens points, aiming his pen at me as he backs toward the table at the center of the floor to sit on its corner.

"Too easy, what else you got?"

I can feel the pissed off vibes behind me and I show teeth, smiling more. Fuck these assorted crackers. I flip my strawberry curls and stare at Mr. Stevens in wait.

His eyes narrow, but I'm not dumb he's loving this. I am black excellence.

"The genetic code is not read in the...?"

"3' to 5'," you blurt. His brows raise briefly.

"The genetic code is degenerate meaning that..?"

"Most amino acids are coded for by more than one codon."

The corner of his lips turns up and he begins to fire off questions like lightning, but I fire back instantly. You can hear a pin drop the way the room gets quiet.

"Codons representing the same amino acid or chemically similar amino acids tend to be similar in sequence often differing-"

"In the third base? Third base degeneracy."

"Class I synthetases first attach the amino acid to the what on ribose whereas class II attach them to the what?"

"2'-hydroxyl and 3'-hydroxyl."

"The Salmonella test strain used in the Ames test contains a mutation in the histidine biosynthetic pathway, which is used to...?"

"Identify compounds that induce back mutations to permit bacterial growth on histidine free plates."

"What's needed to repair chemical damage in DNA effecting more than one nucleotide, such as cyclobutane pyrimidine dimers?"

"Base-excision repair."

"Wrong."

"Wait!"

"Nucleotide-excision repair," a voice says from the back."

Fuck.

Someone snickers.

"Correct," Mr. Stevens points to the back making no further eye contact with me as he goes into review.

The whole time I'm sitting there, I'm wondering how the hell I messed that up. That was a dumb mistake and I don't make dumb mistakes. I can't get by it, I'm lowkey embarrassed.

At the end of class, students file out of the door.

I stand behind a blonde preppy girl who's asking about a quiz grade. She's trying to debate point loss and based on what I gather, she's wrong. Her answers were wrong. What can he do outside of give her a grade she didn't earn?

"I can't change your grade, Ms. Bertelli," he deadpans from his seat on the edge of the table. His hands are rested comfortably on his thigh.

"I'm not saying change my grade! I'm saying the way you worded these questions made me come to a wrong answer and I would have gotten 100 otherwise, so I should at least get a half point for each," she explains angrily jamming her finger at the paper as she holds it in his face. "It's only right."

Mr. Stevens is unmoved and you can see it in his eyes, the melanated 'bitch please.'

"It does not get anymore clear and if you don't get a handle on this information, Ms. Bertelli, you won't pass this class."

"This is fucking stupid! I'm going to the dean," she threatens.

"Girl, gone somewhere," I laugh. The entitlement!

"Do that. Your responses were incorrect and I suggest you learn this material before this exam. Use this time to take advantage of our reviews," Mr. Stevens says cooly.

"Anyways," I step forward for my turn. "I need an A in this class. A strong A. You and I both know I'm earning it," I dig watching the girl leave the room so it's just the professor and I. "But I'm nervous about this exam."

"A or no A I'm sure you'll get the strongest grade in my class," he mumbles seeming uninterested in anything I say.

"But see, that's not good enough."

"It will be," he stares. "I've seen students as cocky as you. Some make perfect scores, but that's rare, Ms. Miller. I see it happen more often that they... choke," he pantomimes with his hands at his neck like it's a joke.

"Mr. Stevens.. There are two things I don't play bout, my money and my grades. Please be serious with me."

"Serious... Okay. You want me to be serious."

"I do."

For seconds, we stare at each other, him looking at me and me trying to drive into him by eye contact alone how damn serious I am.

"Hm... Let's talk about it.. seriously," he says quietly. "We'll go over a few things related to the.. format.. of this exam."

He doesn't need to say more, I get it. He's giving me the test.

"Meet me in my office today at 7."

With that, he hops up and in a lithe motion, towers over me before walking by to grab his things. I clutch my imaginary pearls watching his back as he moves. My peach is acting up and I don't blame her after four days of denial. She's hungry. I need to get her away from this temptation.

xoxo

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik killmonger x oc