honeyjars-sims

[honeyjars-sims]

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Frankie: I’m pregnant, not infirm. Ivan: [laughs] Shut up n’ gimmie! Sawyer: Ugh, they’re so annoying. Pixie: Would you rather be moving back in with YOUR dad? Sawyer: I think I’d like to live alone… Pixie: Oh, boo.

[honeyjars-sims]

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Transcript below the cut:

[Dog Barking]

Iris: Hello there.

Iris: You’re so sweet. What’s your name, baby? ???: That would be Milo. Iris: Hi Milo.

Iris: Is he yours? ???: He is. We were just making a quick stop on our way to the vet. Iris: The vet? I hope he’s okay. ???: Yeah, it’s just a checkup.

Iris: Well, Milo, don’t let them give you one of the stale biscuits they leave out on the counter. The receptionist keeps the good ones behind her desk, and she’ll give you one if you ask nice.

???: [laughs] Good tip. Do you have a dog? Iris: Did. He passed away last Fall. ???: I’m sorry. Iris: It’s okay. He had a very long and happy life. ???: I’m glad to hear that.

???: Well, we have to run or we’re going to be late, but it was nice to meet you--? Iris: Iris. ???: Iris, I’m Ezra. Iris: Nice to meet you, Ezra. And you too, Milo. Good luck at the vet. Ezra: Thanks. See you around.

Iris: See ya.

[honeyjars-sims]

Astrid, 

Hope you got my postcard from Phuket, and that the Bangkok one shows up, eventually. Maybe it is actually lost, like maybe I’m doing something wrong at the post office. It’s fine if they all go into the abyss. I am writing just to write, because it feels romantic or whatever. You probably hate the idea of this. I could just text you. I texted you forty-five minutes ago. Still miss you. 

We’re in Phi Phi now. Islands, very beautiful. I bet you already know about them, but I’d never heard about this place before I came here. The landscape is kind of mental, like giants made it. Weird to look at. We went out on a little boat yesterday to see the sights. Jonas jumped off and swam, and I did not. My tattoo is still healing. Stupid fucking thing. I waved over a boat of girls and told them Jonas was saying he fancied them, and then he got annoyed with me, because he wasn’t saying that, and he was embarrassed. I think he should learn to talk to women without wanting to die, and he says I think about women too much, that I’m too invested and I should think about something else. History, philosophy, whatever. Why would I when there are women like you on the earth?

At night, instead of going out and drinking, we go to bed early, in our bunks, him on the top, me below like always, and he tells me all this shit about the Suez canal, or what the Falklands war was all about, since I was stupid enough to ask a follow up question once. Then I fall asleep to escape the boredom. We get up at six and do activities, then. Lots of walking. My body hurts. 

Jonas finally tried those scorpions he was banging on about, and now he’s sick, btw. Food poisoning. I don’t really know how to take care of him, except coming back to the hostel every few hours, making sure he has water. Until he’s better, I guess I’m just wandering around on my own. Luckily, it’s nice to look at. Maybe today I’ll swim with my arm out of the water. Running out of space. Love and miss you can't wait to see you.

xxx Jude. 

I snap open the lid of a bottle of water and carry it into the hostel room. It smells bad there, but I’ve stopped saying it, because it makes Jonas look like he’s about to cry. He’s curled up on his bunk, a complexion like curdled yoghurt, as a chink of morning light spills through the blinds and over his shivering body. Mostly naked. Too hot, then too cold, then sipping water, then throwing it up. I hover in the doorway. 

“I’ve water,” I say, and he just stares. Resigned, half-dead, maybe. “Should you go to hospital or something, do you think?”

“No, I feel slightly better.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want the water, or?”

“Yes. Bring it to me.”

I approach him like a leper, not sure why, as I’m fully aware he’s not contagious, but it’s been ten days since I’ve thrown up, and I’d like to maintain my healthy aura. He regards me with bleary eyes as I back away. “It is good you are an artist and not a nurse.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not so good with illness.”

“Even though you are always ill.” A tentative sip from the bottle. “You went out this morning?”

“To the post office.”

“Another postcard to Astrid.”

“Yes.”

I can tell he wants to laugh but lacks strength, managing only a feeble wheeze. “Is she missing you as much as you are missing her?”

“No, I don’t think so. She’s much better at distance.”

“She’s an independent person.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what she is doing today.”

“It’s Wednesday, so probably going to reformer pilates. Then she’s supposed to meet a friend from university for lunch. After that, I don’t know. Something spontaneous and thrilling, probably.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

He manages a watery smile. “You’ll be doing nothing again today? Missing her?”

“I was thinking I might wade into the sea, actually. Keep walking out until I disappear, wailing after Astrid like the pathetic little freak I am.”

“It’s Wednesday?”

“Yes, Wednesday.”

“I signed up for something today.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be going, by the cut of you.”

“No,” giving up on the water for now, he rolls onto his back, watching insects congregate around the plastic light fixture. “You could go in my place. It’s a… meditation thing.”

I pull a face. “Meditation? That thing where you sit cross-legged and go like ‘om’?” I demonstrate, but feel bad for making him laugh. Apparently a bit painful for him. 

“Yes,” he says. “Kind of. You might find value in it.”

“Is that the kind of guy you think I am? With like, dirty feet and harem pants?”

“Since I am the one who signed up, is it the kind of person you think I am?”

“Not far off.”

“Well, meditation has many benefits. It’s not just for the dirty-feet-squad. It’s good for people who suffer with various mental health concerns, and people who have racing thoughts they cannot stop and such things. Maybe it will inspire you to stop thinking about women’s breasts.”

I scoff. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“So you can think of more productive things that will inform you, and grow your mind rather than rotting it away.”

“Like the Falklands war, for instance.”

“Yes, like the Falklands war,” he says, suddenly animated. “Thank you for saying that. Or the targeting of Libyan migrant workers on suspicion of being mercenaries by—”

I take a brisk and decisive step out of the room. “Well! Glad you’re feeling better, Jonas. See you later. Keep drinking that water, et cetera.” I swing the door shut and amble away, down the hostel hallway and back to the beach, rearing for another day of nothing, bored senseless by the edge of a lonely ocean.

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[honeyjars-sims]

SHRIEKS of pleasure coming from Sorella's bedroom. Envy turns up the volume of the stereo...

Those shrieks morph into sobbing.

Sorella: I'm [hiccup] sorry... I've been trying so hard to hold it all together. It's been way too much. My great-grandmother. Him. School. Work. Family. [voice breaks] Everything.

Sorella resumes crying.

Spike: It's alright. One of those things would be a lot for anyone. Let alone everything. Envy told me how stressed you've been.

Sorella: [sniffles] She's so nosy,

Spike: She's worried about you, that's all. I get why. It sounds overwhelming.

Sorella: To put it mildly... But I'm so glad she's been around.

Spike: She's good to have in a crisis. Believe me, I know.

-

Sorella: Envy said you live in Sulani, right?

Spike: Yup, with my dad. We run a dive shop slash art gallery kinda thing. I'm visiting until the album is done or the busy season starts up for the shop. Knowing Envy, the latter is more likely.

Sorella: You going to be staying here?

Spike: [chuckles] Envy said I'm not allowed to unless one of her roommates lets me stay in their room.

Sorella: [laughs] Oh she is SUCH a meddler.

Spike: She is. Axel said I could stay with him, but if you wanted a hot guy in your bed for a couple of months… I totally volunteer.

Sorella laughs quietly

Sorella: I wouldn't mind actually… And I know Envy would pester me about it.

Spike: She really would.

Sorella: You're ok with this being just physical? No feelings.

Spike: I am. No strings attached. Just benefits.

Sorella: Exactly... Although... This might not be fair to ask.

Spike: Ask it.

Sorella: Would you mind not seeing anyone else? While you're with me?

Spike: No problem. No strings, but no one else. It's fair to ask after everything.

Sorella: Thanks.

Spike: Sure. Feel better?

Sorella: Much... But I know what would- oh!

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 1.01 A Big Splash

It's a typical Saturday morning, and as usual, I slept in. As hard as it is to drag myself out of bed, I know I have things to do today, so into the shower I go.

While I'm getting ready, I can't help but reflect on my recent birthday. It's hard to believe how much has happened over my lifetime, or even just in the past 10 years. In a lot of ways, I still feel like that same kid who thought he knew everything but had so much to learn. If I could go back and tell him what was about to happen in his life, I don't think he'd believe me. Sometimes, I still don’t believe it.

As I head downstairs, I hear the familiar sound of Paul stirring something in a bowl and briefly wonder what he's making before chuckling to myself. I already know it's pancakes. It's always pancakes, but I can't complain about the predictability when I know they're going to be delicious. 

I make it downstairs and the girls are so busy helping that they don't even notice I've come down.

Well, Rachel is helping, at least. She has her own bowl and is standing on the footstool at the island stirring away. Chelsea, however, can't be trusted with anything that we plan to eat unless I'm there to supervise. Otherwise we run the risk of having a secret ingredient–toddler slobber or animal hair or whatever else has ended up on her grubby little hands. 

I sneak up behind her and give her a little tickle. She turns around. “Dada!” she squeals, as I scoop her up and give her a squeeze.

“Good morning, my loves,” I say.

“Dada, we’re making pancakes!” Rachel tells me, as though I should be surprised by this revelation. 

“I see that. I can’t wait to try them.” 

“What are you in the mood for this morning?” Paul asks me. “We’re out of bananas, but we have plenty of blueberries and strawberries.”

I come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I'm in the mood for some of this,” I say, and he turns his head to meet my lips.

 “Lucky for you, there’s always plenty of that.”

Rachel and Paul finish the pancakes and we all scarf them down. It’s times like this when I wish we had more space. There’s not enough room for a dining table in our townhouse.

Chelsea insists she doesn’t need a high chair but can’t reach the barstools, so she ends up having most of her meals on the couch. Which is why the pillows smell like maple syrup and feel sticky.

Once we’ve finished breakfast, Rachel has a request. “Can we go to the splash pad? Please?

“Yeah, Dada, pwease?” Chelsea echoes. How can I say no to that?

The splash pad isn’t far but we have to drive, which means packing up everything we need and getting the kids secured in their seats. And of course, they want our dog Tucker to come with us.

Once we arrive, though, it’s worth all the effort. The girls love splashing around in the water...and yeah, so do Paul and I. 

“This was a good idea,” I tell Paul once we take a little break from the water.

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful day. We should do this more often, especially now that Chelsea’s getting older.”

“True, it’s a lot easier going out now that she’s not a baby anymore. Although…”

Paul sighs. “John,” he warns. He knows exactly what I’m hinting at.

“I’m just saying, she’s getting so big. I miss having a baby around.”

“So do I, but it would be much harder to have days like this with a newborn. Besides, we barely have space in the house for the four of us.”

“Exactly. We’re already outgrowing the house, so we might as well upgrade to something bigger and fill it with more babies.”

I gesture over to a lot across from the splash pad. “Look how close the Hopewell Commons expansion is. They have bigger units there. If we lived there we could just walk to the splash pad. Imagine how much the kids would love that.”

“Well, there has to be a unit available first,” Paul points out. “But I suppose we can let Gail and Ellie know we’re interested so they can let us know when something opens up.”

“Cool. So baby time?”

“I’m not saying no, but can we think about it a little more?”

“Yeah sure,” I agree. Sometimes Paul’s need to consider every possible angle before making a decision can be a bit frustrating, but I have to admit it’s helpful to have someone to reel me in sometimes. It’s a nice balance–a little chaotic, a little structured, and a lot of fun. 

Once again my thoughts turn to the past. Paul and I have been together for almost 10 years now. When I turned 20, I had no idea that my roommate would end up being my husband. That was certainly a year of discovery for me. And with a new home and a new baby possibly on the horizon, year 30 is shaping up to be quite an adventure as well. 

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[honeyjars-sims]

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Byrd: I don’t get it, why can’t he just go there n’ join em? Wren: It’s not fucking checkers. Byrd: Psh, whatever.. I’m going to bed. Wren: Niiiight bird brain. Wren: He goes to bed earlier than a grandma, I swear to-.. awh, what’s the matter? Levi: I’m concentratiNG. Wren: Too little too late, numbnuts-.. suck it. Levi: Rematch? Wren: You said the best of three hours ago, it’d be easier to admit defeat at this point. Levi: [sighs] I’m incapable.

[honeyjars-sims]

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Transcript below the cut:

[While waiting for the kettle to boil water, Li is startled by the sound of four tiny fists banging on the door]

Mei: Mommy! Li: Hi sweetie, did you have fun? Mei: Yeah!

Li: Did you miss me? Mei: No. Li: Well, I missed you.

Li: I was just about to have some tea; do you want to stay for a cup? Dawn: Sure.

Li: Thank you again for taking care of her for me. Did she sleep okay? Dawn: They both did, if you can believe it. I think it’s the first time Aspen has slept through the night in months. They must’ve worn each other out running around together. Li: [laughs] I can imagine.

Dawn: How are you feeling? Did everything go okay? Li: Oh yeah, it was great. Atlas and Asher were even able to be in the room, and they had this screen set up so they could see the ultrasound image. So, they got to watch the embryos being transferred, it was really neat. Dawn: That’s amazing.

Dawn: How long before you know if it worked? Li: We go back in a couple of weeks to find out. Dawn: Is that all? Li: Yes, thankfully, the wait is going to be so hard. I’m already anxious. I’ve been trying to distract myself by pre-recording as many videos as I can. If the morning sickness is half as bad as it was with Mei, then I’ll need it.

Dawn: Well, if you need any help, don’t hesitate to call me. Phoenix is working so much these days, Aspen and I can come by anytime to watch Mei. I can help out with laundry and meals. Whatever you need. Li: Thank you, really, you’re such an angel. Dawn: Oh please, you’re having my brother’s babies, you’re basically family now.

[Li’s phone vibrates]

Li: Ugh. Dawn: Who is it? Li: Nathan. Dawn: Oh, I thought you liked him.

Li: I did, he’s really sweet and funny, but he wanted to get serious right away, and I just can’t do that, so I ended things with him a few weeks ago. Dawn: That’s too bad. I’m sorry. Li: It’s okay. I really prefer being single right now, if I’m honest.

[Li’s phone vibrates again]

Li: [sighs] Unfortunately, he thinks he can “fix things” or something. He doesn’t understand there’s nothing to fix. We just want different things. Dawn: Well, if it’s been a few weeks and he’s not hearing you, maybe it’s time to just block him. Li: I think you’re right. I was hoping we could stay friends, but clearly that won’t work.

Li: There. Blocked.

[honeyjars-sims]

Odd sensation, the tattoo gun. On the internet, they said the forearm wasn’t bad. One of the least painful spots, which is why I try to suppress my wince as the needle buzzes over my skin. 

“It’s more painful when you’re tired or dehydrated, by the way,” says Kwan, the artist, her chewing gum smacking in her mouth over the sound of thrash metal. 

“Right, right. I guess I’m always dehydrated a bit.”

“He never drinks water,” Jonas pipes up from the sofa. “I remind him of it all the time, but he won’t.”

“Everything wrong with my life probably comes back to that,” I grin at Kwan, and the corner of her mouth ticks up. 

“You’re cute,” she says. “Pretty little face. How old are you guys?”

“Twenty,” Jonas says. “At least me. Jude is still nineteen.”

“Wow. Little babies,” Kwan wipes pooling black ink with a tissue, revealing a thin curved line along my forearm. Weird, I think, looking at it. That’s there forever now. Every day until I’m dead, I’ll look down and there’ll be something on my arm. 

“And what brings you to Phuket?” 

“Well, to be honest, Kwan, we came here just for you,” I say. Her eyes flick to my face, and she sighs with resignation. “You’re good, you know that? You’re going to go far. Going to break some hearts.” 

“We’re backpacking,” Jonas clarifies. “Bangkok for a week, Phuket for another, then we’re going to the Phi Phi Islands and Koh Samui. Jude is acting on complete impulse with this tattoo. I think he is probably trying to flirt so that you like him.”

“And the mango,” she says, now delicately inking the leaves. “Is it personally significant?”

“No, I just liked it. Your art is nice. Never thought I’d get a tattoo because I thought they were all, you know, big thick lines and shit, but yours…”

“Thank you.”

“And like, I guess the mangoes here taste really good, so I could say it’s a memento of my time in Thailand.”

Kwan exhales a laugh. “And not too much between your ears, I see, which is good. Otherwise I think you would doom womankind.”

I grin. “God, Kwan, I love when women insult me. It’s my bread and butter.”

The tattoo gun hits a nervy patch of skin near my inner elbow and I hiss through my teeth. “Ah!”

“Too much?” 

Then I laugh. “Yes. No. Maybe it depends, doesn’t it? I hope this is worth it.”

Later, strolling the beach, I take a photograph of my arm wrapped in plastic and send it to my mother. 

Look what I did.  Why would you do that to your body???? 

She gets back. 

Is that permanent??? 

I cackle. 

“What are you laughing at? Did you send that to Astrid?”

“No, to my mom. She doesn’t approve.”

“Oh,” Jonas frowns, as though this is of deep concern. “Doesn’t her reaction disappoint you?”

“No, I knew she’d hate it, and now she’s going to show my dad and he’ll hate it even more. It was the same when I pierced my ears on holidays. He doesn’t think men should do things like that, and whatever.”

“And you like that he is outraged?”

“Yeah, it’s funny. He hates everything I do regardless, so like, might as well lean the whole way in, you know?”

“You should send the picture to your dad.”

“Nah, I don’t really… I don’t, like, text him… or anything like that.”

“Never?”

“Nah. He wouldn’t respond, anyway. It’s better to get a reaction from my mom.”

He hesitates, getting ready to attempt some conversation, no doubt, that I haven’t much interest in having. I feel my defences rise before he opens his mouth. A blanket of emotional exhaustion settling over me. “You haven’t spoken too much about your father before,” he says. “I assumed you are not close, but—” 

“Please,” I say. “Let’s not.”

“But I am just thinking about how—”

“Jonas, it really doesn’t have to be like this. It’s really not a fun conversation to have.”

“Right. It’s just that you’ve even had dinner with my stepfather when he came to visit, and you know all about my father and my half brother and–”

“Yeah, I know. Max was a nice man. It was a nice dinner, but just because you’ve shared stuff with me doesn’t mean I have to share back.”

“But don’t you think since we’ve known each other for months now, and we are friends, that you should tell me something about your family?”

“You telling me personal things doesn’t make you entitled to know things about me.”

“Yes, but just some basic facts. What is your father’s name?” 

“Chris.”

“Christian?”

“Topher. Christopher.”

“And he is American.”

“Yes.”

Jonas leaves space for me to elaborate, and I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. How old I do feel when people ask me about my dad? Twelve, every single time. Twelve, and destroying his stupid rare collector’s book purely for attention. He lost his mind and whacked my face with the back of his hand. Wedding ring rapped across a cheekbone. Was exhilarating to see him display an emotion. I remember laughing on the floor with hysterical glee among the shredded pages. A vindictive little winner. 

“He was born in California. He has four brothers. He studied dental medicine at the University of New Mexico, then he got my mom pregnant and married her.”

Another pause. “I see it was difficult for you to say that.”

“It was fine.”

“He was in university when you were born?”

“Yeah. He was twenty-one.”

“And your mother?”

“Nineteen.” 

“Your age.”

“Yes, my age. Terrible for her, I suppose. I don’t know. She’s fine. They’re both fine.”

He nods. “So you are determined to remain a mystery.”

“I’m determined to enjoy my trip, to be honest.”

“Well, thank you for sharing facts about your father.”

My arm is already sweating under the layers of plastic, beaten by the sun. Kwan said I shouldn’t expose the tattoo to sunlight. Then why did I get this thing? On holidays by the beach, about to spend another two weeks island hopping, and how hot is it? Thirty-seven? Forty? Sometimes my own reasonings are mysterious to me. 

“Let’s do something else,” I say, agitated by myself and everything around me. “What’s next?”

“You just got a tattoo, and now you are already looking for more excitement?”

“Yes, come on, I’m bored.”

“Okay, okay, let’s think of something.”

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[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 1.01 A Big Splash

It's a typical Saturday morning, and as usual, I slept in. As hard as it is to drag myself out of bed, I know I have things to do today, so into the shower I go.

While I'm getting ready, I can't help but reflect on my recent birthday. It's hard to believe how much has happened over my lifetime, or even just in the past 10 years. In a lot of ways, I still feel like that same kid who thought he knew everything but had so much to learn. If I could go back and tell him what was about to happen in his life, I don't think he'd believe me. Sometimes, I still don’t believe it.

As I head downstairs, I hear the familiar sound of Paul stirring something in a bowl and briefly wonder what he's making before chuckling to myself. I already know it's pancakes. It's always pancakes, but I can't complain about the predictability when I know they're going to be delicious. 

I make it downstairs and the girls are so busy helping that they don't even notice I've come down.

Well, Rachel is helping, at least. She has her own bowl and is standing on the footstool at the island stirring away. Chelsea, however, can't be trusted with anything that we plan to eat unless I'm there to supervise. Otherwise we run the risk of having a secret ingredient–toddler slobber or animal hair or whatever else has ended up on her grubby little hands. 

I sneak up behind her and give her a little tickle. She turns around. “Dada!” she squeals, as I scoop her up and give her a squeeze.

“Good morning, my loves,” I say.

“Dada, we’re making pancakes!” Rachel tells me, as though I should be surprised by this revelation. 

“I see that. I can’t wait to try them.” 

“What are you in the mood for this morning?” Paul asks me. “We’re out of bananas, but we have plenty of blueberries and strawberries.”

I come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I'm in the mood for some of this,” I say, and he turns his head to meet my lips.

 “Lucky for you, there’s always plenty of that.”

Rachel and Paul finish the pancakes and we all scarf them down. It’s times like this when I wish we had more space. There’s not enough room for a dining table in our townhouse.

Chelsea insists she doesn’t need a high chair but can’t reach the barstools, so she ends up having most of her meals on the couch. Which is why the pillows smell like maple syrup and feel sticky.

Once we’ve finished breakfast, Rachel has a request. “Can we go to the splash pad? Please?

“Yeah, Dada, pwease?” Chelsea echoes. How can I say no to that?

The splash pad isn’t far but we have to drive, which means packing up everything we need and getting the kids secured in their seats. And of course, they want our dog Tucker to come with us.

Once we arrive, though, it’s worth all the effort. The girls love splashing around in the water...and yeah, so do Paul and I. 

“This was a good idea,” I tell Paul once we take a little break from the water.

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful day. We should do this more often, especially now that Chelsea’s getting older.”

“True, it’s a lot easier going out now that she’s not a baby anymore. Although…”

Paul sighs. “John,” he warns. He knows exactly what I’m hinting at.

“I’m just saying, she’s getting so big. I miss having a baby around.”

“So do I, but it would be much harder to have days like this with a newborn. Besides, we barely have space in the house for the four of us.”

“Exactly. We’re already outgrowing the house, so we might as well upgrade to something bigger and fill it with more babies.”

I gesture over to a lot across from the splash pad. “Look how close the Hopewell Commons expansion is. They have bigger units there. If we lived there we could just walk to the splash pad. Imagine how much the kids would love that.”

“Well, there has to be a unit available first,” Paul points out. “But I suppose we can let Gail and Ellie know we’re interested so they can let us know when something opens up.”

“Cool. So baby time?”

“I’m not saying no, but can we think about it a little more?”

“Yeah sure,” I agree. Sometimes Paul’s need to consider every possible angle before making a decision can be a bit frustrating, but I have to admit it’s helpful to have someone to reel me in sometimes. It’s a nice balance–a little chaotic, a little structured, and a lot of fun. 

Once again my thoughts turn to the past. Paul and I have been together for almost 10 years now. When I turned 20, I had no idea that my roommate would end up being my husband. That was certainly a year of discovery for me. And with a new home and a new baby possibly on the horizon, year 30 is shaping up to be quite an adventure as well. 

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[honeyjars-sims]

More on Pillowfort 👀👅💦

Envy: Sorella! This is Spike! Spike, Sorella.

Spike: Nice to finally meet you. She talks about you all the time.

Sorella: Nice to meet you too.

Envy: Oh I think I hear someone calling me!

Envy very subtly shoves Spike towards her.

Sorella: What has Envy told you about me?

Spike: Nothing but good things. I mean, she said that you had been through some rough shit recently. Could use a pick me up.

Sorella: Right.

Spike: What's she told you about me?

Sorella: Usual 'grew up together' stories... Have you two slept together?

Spike: [shrugs] Yeah, couple times. Want her to join in? I'm sure she'd be happy to.

Sorella: Oh uh. No. I was just wondering.... She's ok with this?

Spike: Baby- if she wasn't, she wouldn't have called me.

Sorella: Ugh. Don't call me that.

Spike: [shit] My bad, Sorella. Won't happen again.

-

Sorella: Take me to bed. Now. Don't stop until I forget my own name.

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 Prologue #6: Forever

Part 2 of Safe Harbor begins next week!

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[honeyjars-sims]

Envy: There you are! So I've invited like... most of our year for this weekend. Simon is taking care of booze, Cesar is gonna get mixers and chasers. Can you handle food?

Sorella: I don't have time to cook anything-

Envy: No I know! I meant like... Buy some chips or something.

Sorella: Oh sure, ok. That all you came by to say? We're about to get busy again.

Kai: Heya Envy, been a minute.

Envy: [waves at Kai] I also came by because Spike is definitely going to be there too.

Sorella: Oh cool it'll be nice to meet him! That's the last band member, right? No one else?

Envy: Yup! I think you two will really get along.

Sorella: I've gotten along with the rest of your band.

Envy: Yeaaaah, but I've told Spike that you could use some cheering up. Specifically.

Sorella: Huh? Oh! Envy, that's not necessary.

Envy: It absolutely is! You aren't going to be able to fully move on until you get some new orgasm memories!

Sorella: ... I don't want another pregnancy scare.

Envy: [LAUGHS!] Oh THAT! Sweetie, no matter how hard Spike fucks you he can't get you pregnant. He's trans. Trust me, he'll have you forgetting about whatever the fuck his name is in NO time.

Sorella: I'll decide when and if I hook up with anyone. But thanks for the option.

Envy: Uh-huh. I'll leave you to it then, Kai?

Kai: Yu-huh.

Envy: Party is on Saurday. I better see your fine ass there.

Kai: Hell yeah I'll be there! Y'know Cortes. She's right. New orgasm memories do wonders for heartbreak.

Sorella: [rolls eyes] I'm sure.

[honeyjars-sims]

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Transcript below the cut:

Asher: Atlas!! Ow… fuck.

Asher: Atlas! Atlas: What’s wrong? Asher: Check your email. We have a message from the clinic.

Atlas: Here it is. “See the attached for good news about your embryos :)”. Asher: Ohmygod. Atlas: Are you ready? Asher: Yes! Open it.

 Atlas: Six! We have six healthy embryos. Asher: Six is good. And?

Atlas: Five female. Asher: Uh-huh? Atlas: And one male.

Asher: Holy shit.

Asher: [laugh-crying] He’s there.  

Asher: What? What’s wrong? Did it say something else?

Atlas: Five females. Asher: Yeah? Atlas: At our next appointment, we’ll have to decide which ones we want to use. How do we choose? How are we supposed to know which one is Sadie?

Asher: Sadie? Where did you get that name? Atlas: From you. In the dream I had, after the temple, that’s what you called her. Asher: [smiles] Atlas: What?

Asher: That was grandmother’s name. Well, her name was Sarah, but everyone called her Sadie. I was really close to her when I was little. In fact, before she got sick, this used to be her room. On nights when I had trouble sleeping, rather than going across the hall to my parents’ room, I’d come in here with my pillow and blanket and sleep on the floor. Atlas: That’s cute.

Asher: Y’know, there was a part of me that wondered if we were reading too much into these dreams. I had this doubt lingering in the back of my mind that, even as strongly as I felt, there was a chance they weren’t… real. Atlas: And now? Asher: I don’t have any doubts anymore. If we trust our instincts, we’ll make the right choice.

Atlas: So, you’re okay with naming our daughter Sadie then? Asher: It’s perfect. Atlas: What about the boy?

Asher: I don’t know his name. Atlas: Well, we have time to figure it out. Asher: [sniffles] Yeah. Atlas: You okay? Asher: Just happy.

[honeyjars-sims]

Happy MLK Day!

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 Prologue #5: The Head and the Heart

Author's note: This post is written from Paul's perspective instead of Johnny's!

“I heard something today,” Danica tells me. She’s lying sideways on my bed while I try in vain to do some research. It’s futile, I know, because as soon as I find something useful I’ll be interrupted by Danica’s thinly-veiled attempts at psychoanalyzing our friends–or worse, me– under the guise of gossip. “I’m sure it’ll get around to you eventually, but I wanted you to hear it from me first,” she continues.

I sigh. I never know if what she’s going to say is actually as dramatic as she’s making it out to be. “Come on, Danica. I really need to finish my research. Can’t you wait until I’m done to ruin my life?”

“It’s not that bad,” she insists, but she's looking away. “It’s just…Deshawn is seeing someone.” She looks up at me, watching me closely to try and gauge my reaction. I try my best to play it cool.

“Good for him,” I say. 

Danica raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re not, like, upset about it?”

“Not at all. I’m over that whole thing.” I wave my hand in an attempt to seem nonchalant and hit the corner of my laptop in the process. 

“Yeah, sure,” she snorts.

“I am! It’s been weeks since we last slept together. I barely even think about him anymore.” I can admit to feeling a bit thrown off at hearing that my (sort of) ex is dating someone else, but I’m not lying when I say I’m over him.

He was all I wanted when I was in high school, but reality never quite lived up to the fantasy I’d built up for so long. As much as it hurts to say, Deshawn didn’t feel the same way about me that I did about him, and no amount of waiting around was going to change that.

“Well, if you say so,” Danica replies, unconvinced. “I’m glad you're not hung up on him anymore. You know I love Deshawn, but he’s not the one for you.” She twists a lock of hair around her finger absent-mindedly. “Wait…you’re not moving on from Deshawn because of the roommate thing, right?”

“What? No! I just said I think he’s hot. I’m not trying to date him or anything.”

“Good, because you already know how I feel about that whole thing.” I can tell from her tone of voice that I’m about to get a lecture. “I told you it was a bad idea to move in with a guy you’re interested in,” she continues. 

“I’m not interested. Besides, he’s straight anyhow.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Oh good one.” Danica rolls her eyes. “Look, I just worry about you, okay?” Her tone is a bit softer now. She can be overbearing for sure, but I know she means well. Her advice isn’t always welcome but she’s often right.

“Well, you don’t need to. I graduated with honors in both high school and in undergrad. I’m in med school. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s the thing, though, Paul! Academically speaking you’re very intelligent, but when it comes to more practical matters, you don’t always make the best decisions. Especially with dating.”

I want to protest, but I wonder if maybe she’s right. There’s a part of me that wants to approach my personal life with the same fastidiousness that I have with my education, but there’s another part of me that yearns to be reckless.

It’s the part of me that sleeps with a friend for months, hoping that I can convince him I’m worth committing to. The part that wants to grab my roommate by the shoulders when we’re dancing around the apartment and press my lips to his, even though I know he’s straight. 

Danica would say that I like the thrill of rising above a challenge, that I place more value on things when they’re harder to achieve. I don’t tell her any of this, though. Instead I mutter a vague sound of approval and shift the conversation to someone else.

“So this guy that Deshawn’s dating…what’s he like?” I ask. 

“He seems nice. Oh, get this: his name is also Paul!”

“No way, that’s so weird!” 

“Yeah, we’ll have to figure out a way to differentiate the two of you. You’ll just be Paul and he can be…Other Paul.”

I laugh. “We probably shouldn’t say that in front of him.”

“No, definitely not.” She reaches her hand out and places it on my knee. “Hey, you’ll find someone that’s way better for you than Deshawn.”

“Yeah, I know,” I respond. I hope this is one of the times she’s right.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 Prologue #5: The Head and the Heart

Author's note: This post is written from Paul's perspective instead of Johnny's!

“I heard something today,” Danica tells me. She’s lying sideways on my bed while I try in vain to do some research. It’s futile, I know, because as soon as I find something useful I’ll be interrupted by Danica’s thinly-veiled attempts at psychoanalyzing our friends–or worse, me– under the guise of gossip. “I’m sure it’ll get around to you eventually, but I wanted you to hear it from me first,” she continues.

I sigh. I never know if what she’s going to say is actually as dramatic as she’s making it out to be. “Come on, Danica. I really need to finish my research. Can’t you wait until I’m done to ruin my life?”

“It’s not that bad,” she insists, but she's looking away. “It’s just…Deshawn is seeing someone.” She looks up at me, watching me closely to try and gauge my reaction. I try my best to play it cool.

“Good for him,” I say. 

Danica raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re not, like, upset about it?”

“Not at all. I’m over that whole thing.” I wave my hand in an attempt to seem nonchalant and hit the corner of my laptop in the process. 

“Yeah, sure,” she snorts.

“I am! It’s been weeks since we last slept together. I barely even think about him anymore.” I can admit to feeling a bit thrown off at hearing that my (sort of) ex is dating someone else, but I’m not lying when I say I’m over him.

He was all I wanted when I was in high school, but reality never quite lived up to the fantasy I’d built up for so long. As much as it hurts to say, Deshawn didn’t feel the same way about me that I did about him, and no amount of waiting around was going to change that.

“Well, if you say so,” Danica replies, unconvinced. “I’m glad you're not hung up on him anymore. You know I love Deshawn, but he’s not the one for you.” She twists a lock of hair around her finger absent-mindedly. “Wait…you’re not moving on from Deshawn because of the roommate thing, right?”

“What? No! I just said I think he’s hot. I’m not trying to date him or anything.”

“Good, because you already know how I feel about that whole thing.” I can tell from her tone of voice that I’m about to get a lecture. “I told you it was a bad idea to move in with a guy you’re interested in,” she continues. 

“I’m not interested. Besides, he’s straight anyhow.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Oh good one.” Danica rolls her eyes. “Look, I just worry about you, okay?” Her tone is a bit softer now. She can be overbearing for sure, but I know she means well. Her advice isn’t always welcome but she’s often right.

“Well, you don’t need to. I graduated with honors in both high school and in undergrad. I’m in med school. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s the thing, though, Paul! Academically speaking you’re very intelligent, but when it comes to more practical matters, you don’t always make the best decisions. Especially with dating.”

I want to protest, but I wonder if maybe she’s right. There’s a part of me that wants to approach my personal life with the same fastidiousness that I have with my education, but there’s another part of me that yearns to be reckless.

It’s the part of me that sleeps with a friend for months, hoping that I can convince him I’m worth committing to. The part that wants to grab my roommate by the shoulders when we’re dancing around the apartment and press my lips to his, even though I know he’s straight. 

Danica would say that I like the thrill of rising above a challenge, that I place more value on things when they’re harder to achieve. I don’t tell her any of this, though. Instead I mutter a vague sound of approval and shift the conversation to someone else.

“So this guy that Deshawn’s dating…what’s he like?” I ask. 

“He seems nice. Oh, get this: his name is also Paul!”

“No way, that’s so weird!” 

“Yeah, we’ll have to figure out a way to differentiate the two of you. You’ll just be Paul and he can be…Other Paul.”

I laugh. “We probably shouldn’t say that in front of him.”

“No, definitely not.” She reaches her hand out and places it on my knee. “Hey, you’ll find someone that’s way better for you than Deshawn.”

“Yeah, I know,” I respond. I hope this is one of the times she’s right.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[honeyjars-sims]

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Transcript + Name/Logo Reveal below the cut:

💖 massive shoutout to @honeyjars-sims for helping me with their logo! it's even better than i'd imagined! thank you SO much 💖

*knock*knock*knock*

Atlas: Yeah? Asher: Can I come in? Atlas: Of course.

Asher: We finished the logo. Just need you to sign off before we make it official. Atlas: It’s perfect, I love it. Asher: Really? Atlas: Yes really.

Asher: Good. [lets out a relieved sigh] It’s been a long day, I’m gonna get to bed. Atlas: Okay. My deadline is in the morning, so I’m gonna stay up and finish this.

Asher: ‘Kay. Love you. Atlas: Love you too.

Atlas: G’morning.

Asher: Morning. How’d you sleep? Atlas: Awful. You? Asher: Not great.

Atlas: I could use some fresh air. D’you want to go for a run with me? Asher: I hate running. Atlas: I know, but we can enjoy a long, hot shower afterwards. Asher: [smirks] I’ll go change.

Asher: [sighs]