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b-afterhours · 5 months ago

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Avenue of Sins: Neon

A Sequel to Avenue of Sins

SUMMARY: ‘90s. It’s the aftermath. Jaded, Bill and Alma navigate their new lives as they try to drag themselves out of the dark debacherous trenches they had once ensnared themselves in. It’s easy to forget their evils when a silver lining introduces itself into their lives but can they create a less hedonistic life that would be just as satisfying?

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

The completed first series can be read and found here.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Alma

She was born in Houston, Texas, in the spring of 1962. Her father, Antonio, was a multigenerational Tejano. Her mother, Maria, from Jalisco, Mexico, lived in Texas. They met through her brother. He and her father worked as young men together doing commercial landscaping. One day, he was invited for a cold beer after a hot, sticky, humid day on the job. On her brother’s orders, she met the men sitting under the shade of the back porch with two bottles of beer for them. Politely, he took off his hat and thanked her, and from then on, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Alma was nine months old when they left Texas. She had no recollection of her life there. Her parents left with others, mostly friends, who told them about good-paying work in Missouri. So they took the chance. Starting over fresh as a family unit now. They lived short-term in several other places until they ultimately settled in Strathburg when she was four. So it was the only place she’d ever known.

Growing up in the town, however, came with some strife. They didn’t look like everyone else. They had tan skin, and their names were difficult for the hicks to pronounce. She didn’t know it then, as she was too young, but when she got older, she could recall the racist remarks being made about them. Her parents didn’t fight it, instead they took it. Eventually, everyone realized that they couldn’t run them out of town, and so they tolerated them.

Her parents were as good as you’d want any parents to be. They wanted her so badly. They loved her so fiercely. Her dad would toss a ball around with her, and her mom would let her play in her makeup. They did their best to keep up with her, even in their older age. However, she could see a look flash across their faces, distant and mournful at times. Her mother thought of her sister Liliana, wondering if she had lived, would she and Alma look alike. Her dad taught her to be independent because he didn’t know how long he and his wife would be around for her. Around him, she was a bit of a tomboy, learning to do oil changes and fixing flat tires. Activities he would have taught his son Leo if he had lived.

She learned she was under the shadow of her deceased siblings rather quickly. Ever since she could remember, they had an altar in their home under a framed photo of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Her hands clasped and her gaze low, keeping watch of the little white ceramic urn that stored their porcelain ashes. It may have been macabre to some, but Alma never thought it any different.

Being an only child, some nights she wished for them too. Wished to not be so lonely, wished that her parents wouldn’t look at her sadly in times they thought she didn’t notice. They loved her, but she was a reminder of what was lost and what they could have had too.

She longed to be seen. She was given freedom in exchange for good grades. Even if it was the late ‘70s and most kids were left to their own devices, she was the only focus of her parents. There was not much you could do when there was no one else to blame.

When she was thirteen, she went shopping with her mother for clothes that were more in style. Her mother freaked when she put on a more form-hugging cap-sleeve blouse. They left with knits and formless tunics, much to her dismay and protests. Alma’s body was changing, and that upset her mother. It worried her. That evening, Alma pulled a tee-shirt taut behind herself and looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She had boobs. She knew that, but she didn’t think about it any other way other than she was growing up. This was what was supposed to happen. That night, she saw just another thing that made her different. They were big for her age. She looked down at her hips, and they seemed even wider now, too. Her body was now just another barrier that kept her from being seen.

At the town record store, she perused the bins for something new. She’d venture into many genres that summer after her freshman year of high school. Rock being one. All mainstream bands, but she liked what she heard. One day she came across a punk album, and she quickly let go of it, shocked by the band's vulgar name. She took a gamble, sheepishly bought it, and held it close to her chest when she got home and went straight to her room with it.

It was like her brain was rewired and mashed at the same time, hearing the scratchy guitars, heavily thrumming bass, clashing drums, and lyrics rapidly being screamed. All somehow in rhythm and yet offbeat together. She just wanted to listen to more and more and found anything she could get her hands on that summer. It gave space for this silent rage she had inside herself from years of staying in line. The angst of wanting to break out of where she was and grow elsewhere. The very in-your-face feeling of being unapologetically yourself and abandoning the notion of conforming. Just wanting to scream at people to fuck off and dig deeper instead of taking what was expected of them.

…

1981

It was a hot day in late spring. It was the weekend, and she made plans to be at the latest field party, one way or another. Her fringe backpack was packed with extra clothes, her shoes, and cuter underwear. Her mom entered the kitchen, seeing her pack the burritos she had made to go in the same bag.

“Entonces vas a Carla's?” She asked. She was dressed comfortably, feeling and looking better than she usually did.

“Si, amá. Ya me voy.” She said securing her bag before putting it on.

“Mm. Y cómo llegas?”

“Con mis roller skates.” She smiled.

Maria pursed her lips a little. “Pues. Be careful.”

“Si, amá. I’m spending the night so-”

“Preguntaste a tu papá?”

“He said yes.”

“Ah, ok. Pues cuídate, mi amor.” She said, kissing her daughter on the cheek.

Alma pushed off her roller skates on the smooth road at a leisurely pace. Enjoying the sun and the breeze running through her thick hair, which had grown out since she impulsively cut it short during late fall. Her parents weren’t very happy about that. Especially her mother, but in the end, her dad defended it and said he thought it was pretty despite not preferring it.

A male neighbor with his children was washing his truck outside his home and waved at her as she passed by before she made a sharp left turn. The opposite way from Carla’s home. It was just a short detour to Bill’s house. That week had been a bit awkward between them. They hung out fairly often outside school, but that was usually mostly on weekends. They only had one class together in school, and their lunch schedules switched every other day because they were on different block schedules. It was never an issue. But after last weekend, Bill remained fairly distant from the beginning of the week until that past Wednesday, when they ate lunch together.

As she strolled closer to Bill’s home, she could see him outside on the pathway leading to the porch, crushing aluminum beer cans with his heavy second-hand combat boots and tossing the crumpled metal into an old wheelbarrow.

“Hey!” Alma yelled, coming to a stop as she rolled up his driveway.

“Hey,” he smiled, scratching his bare arm a bit sheepishly. He was wearing a ratty black sleeveless shirt and jeans, which he reserved to do work in. They were stained with random paint splatters and tattered. Ready for daily wear now that they are well-worn in. “What are you doing here?” He asked, tossing the rest of the cans into the wheelbarrow.

“I’m on my way to Carla’s. Her parents are away.” She said, skating up the cleared pathway to stand closer to him.

“Like for real? Or do you want to hang?”

“For real.” She giggled because sometimes Carla was used as a cover. “But I wanted to drop this off.” She shrugged a backpack strap off and swung it around to her front. Bill looked down at her as she dug inside it. She looked pretty today, he thought, but he thought that every time he saw her. “I ended up with extra so,” she said, handing him two burritos wrapped in wax paper. “It’s potato and like serrano, onions, and tomatoes. Uh, you’ll see.” She said quickly, feeling a bit embarrassed because she had been made fun of for the ethnic food she ate by classmates in the past.

“Rad. Thanks. Thank you.” He could kiss her if he allowed himself to. He was starving. Really fucking starving. He only had white bread and a tin of unnaturally pink, salty potted meat to eat that day.

The rumble in his stomach pained him now that he knew he had proper food in his hands. He would have been ashamed if anyone else had given him food, but Alma never made him feel like some charity case. It was always genuine and caring. Yet he held off on monstrously devouring the burritos in the presence of a lady and placed them on a chair by the front door for later like a civilized person.

“Um, are you going to take off already or?”

“I guess I could hang out a little?” She lightly shrugged.

Bill grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow, and then he looked down at her skates. “Get in.” He nodded towards it.

“No way,” she laughed. “I’ll get cut.”

“You’ll be fine. Surface area, you know.”

“Oh, so you do pay attention in class.”

“Get in.” He impatiently said with a boyish smirk on his face.

As gently as she could, Alma sat on top of the crushed tins, clinking together and digging into her lower back when he began to push her to his backyard. They laughed together as mischievous children would.

“What’s with the TVs?” She asked when Bill helped her out of the wheelbarrow. His hand discretely grazed her hip as he did so.

“Uh, they have copper in ‘em. Scotty found them on the side of the road and dropped them off to me yesterday.”

Bill had been scrapping metal for months now. Aluminum, brass, and copper from wherever he could get them. Saving up money for his move to New York City. He helped her sit on top of an old, rusty washer and watched as he stuck long pieces of gray duct tape to the glass screen of a TV.

“What are you and Carla getting into?” He asked, crouched down and ripping a piece of tape with his teeth.

“The field party.” She tilted her head at him. “You never said if you were going or not?”

“Eh…” he said with apprehension as he smoothed down the strip of tape. His fingernails were speckled with flecks of chipped black nail polish.

Just then the worn-out screen door opened and out emerged his brother Gustaf in the midst of pulling a shirt on.

“Hey!” He yelled to his younger brother, and then he softened a bit once he noticed he had company. “Oh. I’m leaving.” He informed. “Hi, Alma.”

“Hi.” She nodded.

She didn’t really have an opinion of him. Usually, he kept to himself a lot when she was around, respecting their privacy. In both instances, his oldest brother, whom she’d only met twice, was barreling back into the house drunk. Kicked out of a paramour's house for the night smelling of cigarettes and some sickly sweet scent underlined it. The other times she saw him, he was passed out, unaware of anything going on around him. In the times when his father was home, Bill never allowed her to stay over and instead opted to go to hers. It was a bit of a haven for him in those times.

“Yeah. Okay,” Bill said dismissively as his brother saw himself out. “But, uh,” he sighed as he turned his attention back to Alma. “I don’t know. It’s the same shit every time.”

Alma rolled her eyes. “What else is there to do around here?”

“Everyone’s gone now.” He gestured toward the house. “We could watch a movie or something? We could watch The Warriors.”

Alma bit her lip in thought. She could stay, and maybe what happened last weekend could progress. However, she had promised Carla, who hadn’t been to the field parties yet, that she’d take her.

“I can’t,” she said apologetically. “Just go. It’s the last one of the school year.”

“How are you getting there?” He questioned.

“Tara has a car now. Early grad’ present.”

Bill scoffed. “Shit.”

He didn’t really like half the group of girls she often hung around with. They weren’t very nice to him if they was forced into some interaction in class. Otherwise, they left him alone. They didn’t understand Alma’s relationship with him either, but they chalked it up to her, feeling sorry for him as if he were a clingy, stray dog. In many ways, they found her strange, too.

“I doubt she’d be thrilled, giving me a ride.” He said, grabbing an old wooden baseball bat, leaning against the washer she sat on before helping her back on her skates.

Alma frowned, looking up at him. “There wouldn’t be room either way. Nadine is coming too.”

“My brother just left with the car.” He scoffed in frustration, scratching the nape of his neck in thought. “I guess I could call Scotty.”

“So you’re going?” She smiled.

“We'll see.” He winked as he handed the bat over to her. “Here. Smash the screen in.”

Alma skated up to the TV, and with a downward swing, she connected with it. A slight crack could be heard, but it wasn’t so impressive, which made Bill laugh.

“Oh c’mon. Harder.”

Alma steadied on her skates and pulled the bat back further and put more strength into the second swing. The screen satisfyingly caved in. They both laughed with glee at the destruction. It felt even a little cathartic. The duct tape contained the glass, and when Bill carefully peeled it away, it revealed the spiderweb pattern skittering away from the bat’s blow.

“Are you actually going to call Scotty?” Alma asked him just before leaving, shuffling on her skates backward on the road.

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.” He said absent-mindedly, grabbing a lock of hair that was resting on her shoulder. It made her hold her breath involuntarily.

Once she left, he scarfed down the burritos she had given him, and he could physically feel his body absorbing the nutrients from it. He moaned with satisfaction, even. They were gone in what felt like an instant, and he frowned. He mostly relied on school lunches to keep him fed, but of course, it just wasn’t as good as a homemade meal. It was better by miles.

He walked to his neighbor's house, sniffling a bit from the spiciness of the peppers, and was greeted by the redhead preteen girl who lived there, asking to use their house phone. She was completely unimpressed by him. Once, Bill warned her that she shouldn’t answer the door for just anyone, as it wasn’t so safe to do so.

“I know that,” she snarkily retorted. “But it’s just you.”

His phone line had been cut off for weeks now as his father left the bill unpaid. How he hated living the way he did. Every issue he was met with was just so very inconvenient. All he had motivating himself now was that, soon, he would be gone. In a new city where he could have some control over his life for once. While he knew it wouldn’t be a cakewalk, at least there was no one else to blame but himself.

The only thing he wished was that he could take Alma with him. Their plans for their future were swiftly diverging further away as the school year was coming to an end. No longer would they hang out in town or sleep over each other’s places. No more taking his brother’s car to do donuts in a vacant parking lot when they should be asleep. It would just be phone calls or letters. Maybe he could convince her to eventually meet him in New York, but knowing her, he had to be delicate with how to propose that idea. She would jump on the moment to leave with him rather than go to college. He recognized that she was impulsive in a way. He didn’t want that. His future wasn’t as secure as hers, and he didn’t want to hold her back. He’d feel shitty about himself if he did.

~~~

Alma was with Carla now, in her room, hot-gluing a paper clip she bent in half to a beer bottle cap. Carla was a bit pious and a lot more sheltered than Alma was. She was also an only child, and they came from the same cultural background. Their mothers would arrange playdates for them as children, and they have remained friends since.

Alma plucked cooled, hairlike strands of hot glue off the bottle cap before passing it off to make another. The bottle caps she found were collected inside a plastic margarine container, and when Bill asked what she wanted them for, she lied and said she was thinking of making a bottle cap belt. In reality, she was making Barbie furniture—an end table, in this instance—for Carla’s doll house. She would rather die than have Bill find out she still played with dolls sometimes. A few years ago, she had gotten rid of all her childish toys and came to regret it in the end, but luckily Carla still held on to hers and didn’t mind sharing. Who knew that in the future, Bill would be playing with his own real-life dolls one day? Especially with her.

“Did you bring the books?” Carla timidly asked. She had paused, painting the end table with pink metallic nail varnish.

“Oh!” Alma said, pushing off the floor and crawling over to her backpack just to drag it back. “Yeah. I haven’t read the fantasy one yet. You’ll have to tell me if it’s good, but this other one has a firefighter. A cute one, too.” She smirked, handing the romance novels over to her.

She had to smuggle them to her friend because her parents were a bit strict. Alma hid hers only because she would be mortified if her parents knew the subject matter inside them. She wouldn’t know how to explain herself. It would just open her up to a whole other can of worms. Her parents knew of her friendship with Bill, but they believed it to be innocent, or as innocent as they believed their daughter to be, at least. They thought she knew better and was taught better than to entertain the advances of men. However, she was a teenage girl, and while doing more than heavy petting was daunting, she was just too curious. Her body, she knew, gave her power most don’t often get. The problem, though, is that she didn’t trust so easily. She only trusted one person, who seemed not to be too interested in her. At least not as interested as most teen boys would be, especially with the access she granted.

“You know, there are some cute FFA boys that go to the field. I met one who was a volunteer firefighter once.”

Carla bashfully clasped her mouth as she giggled. “But I can’t… I don’t know how to talk to boys.”

“You don’t have to. Just let them look, you know?” She playfully widened her eyes.

“Hmm.” She bit her lip in thought. “I don’t have anything to wear. Help me? What are you wearing?”

Alma smiled excitedly when she asked. “It’s new. I went to the mall with Tara a few weeks ago, and,” she paused, digging in her back and pulling out a black halter top with a flowy midriff. “And then, these jeans.” She stood up then, holding the tight black jeans against her body.

“Your mom let you get that?”

“Obviously not,” Alma laughed. “But I’m eighteen now. I should be able to wear what I want.”

“I mean, yeah…” Carla said nervously. Even if she admired the garments, she just didn’t have the courage within herself to wear them if she had the option. Besides that, she had never seen Alma in anything but mostly formless tunics. “I know you’ll look pretty in it!”

“Are you two really playing with that for real?” Carla’s cousin asked with her mouthful as she was eating a moon pie when she walked back into the room. Mayra was in town from Houston and was a year older than them.

Alma noticed her friend frown and didn’t like that. “What’s the issue?” She asked, but Mayra’s only response was to roll her kohl-lined eyes at her.

~~~

At his home, Bill was enjoying the space alone for once. He was in his bedroom in only white briefs, looking through his dresser with a skinny joint between his lips, and listening to radio music at a light volume. From his dresser, he pulled out an army green button-down he had gotten from an army surplus store. With a red magic marker, he had decorated it with an anarchist symbol on the breast pocket. He laid down in bed undressed, and taking the last puff of his joint, he closed his eyes, contemplating.

While he did find the field parties to be repetitious, Alma was right. It was something to do. However, that wasn’t the reason he was so indecisive about going. It was because lately, he couldn’t stand to see Alma talking to boys or vice versa. He knew he didn’t have any right to feel that way, as they were only just friends. Even reminding her as much. Yet, in the last few months, they have been rather flirtatious. In the way, they spoke to each other. Their hands touching and caressing in loving ways. Holding hands while walking home from school or their sleepovers, where they would innocently sleep, but still their bodies met and cuddled.

It was such an instance in which he went too far. In Alma’s bedroom, like any old night, he had gone before. When he arrived, he briefly watched her outside the open window. She was sitting on a violet shag rug in the middle of her floor, painting her toenails blood-red, unaware that there were eyes on her. She was in a white, knee-length baby doll nightgown, her damp hair was French braided, and her face was fresh and bare. He could hear her humming to herself as she dipped the brush back into the polish bottle, twisting it closed.

“Hey,” Bill said as his lanky frame climbed through her window.

She gasped loudly and clutched her chest, startled by him. “Bill?!” She harshly whispered. She pulled her nightgown down to cover her lap, as she wasn’t particularly sitting modestly, thinking she was alone.

“Shh.” He lightly laughed, sitting on the floor next to her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me.”

“Mhmm.”

They hung out for a little. She even painted his fingernails with black polish, asking what he did that day. It was late when he arrived, so once their polish dried, they were in bed. He brought his copy of a dystopian sci-fi graphic novel to read alongside her under the dim light of a bedside lamp she draped a red chiffon scarf over. Alma listened to him softly read it out loud to her, making different voices for the characters and all. They started the novel the weekend prior, and he picked up where they had left off. She yawned just before he could get to the climax of the story, and he laid the book on his chest to look at her.

“Sorry, I had work this morning.” She said with heavy eyes and nuzzled her head on his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah,” Bill said understandingly. He had come to know that she would work at the local Dairy Queen during the summers, but she started a month early for extra money for college.

They slept under the covers, inches apart, as if they were leaving any substantial room for Jesus. Their mornings together, they’d be pressed against each other in some way. That early morning was a bit different, though. He had woken slightly and moved his hips away from her bottom. He wore soft shorts, which he wore under his jeans that he had taken off before getting into bed. He felt his cheeks get hot with embarrassment over the erection he had woken up with.

It wasn’t the first time his body betrayed him in this way, but usually, he’d back away from her and tuck it into his waistband, ignoring it. He wasn’t a virgin, but he wasn’t particularly proud of how he lost it. He wasn’t even seeking out sex when it presented itself to him, in the form of an early 20s-something hippy straggler living in his home. Charlene had been making passes at him, which he just couldn't pick up at fourteen, almost fifteen years old. He thought she was interested in the weird, nerdy things he spoke about. Maybe she was in a way, but it wasn’t so sincere in hindsight.

In their first encounter, she placed a hand on his hairy thigh, and he froze a bit. The next thing he knew, she was blowing him on the couch, and he was scared out of his mind as they were in the living room and anyone could have walked in at any time. He came into her mouth, and she swallowed it, much to his shock. She laughed when she saw his large green eyes looking at her in disbelief with a hint of disgust. He spent a few weeks confused and conflicted about it, as she was technically with his brother, Gustaf. Then they were alone one night. He walked into his bedroom, and she was lying there in his bed with dirty feet and giggling at the nude magazine she found under his pillow.

“Do you want to see mine?” She asked, pointing at a photo of a nude woman seductively spread eagle on the hood of a muscle car.

He gave her a strange look because he had seen hers a handful of times now after her showers, but he wasn’t that naive. He knew exactly what she meant. He hadn’t been with anyone else since, at least not that closely. There were other girls from his old school he’d fool around with, but Charlene had laughed and teased at how fast he came his first time. Even so much as taunting at the mess he made on his belly and chest. It messed with his head for a long while.

With Alma, it was different. He knew if they did anything, he would never get the fuck out of Missouri. That type of intimacy wouldn’t do either of them any favors in the grand scheme of things. He caught himself wanting to kiss her multiple times now, and as their friendship grew, the urge to be closer was getting more and more apparent between them. They were friends, but they didn’t behave as friends would lately. Especially when they knew they were on borrowed time.

Bill took a deep breath and tried to find sleep again until Alma scooted back and pressed her bottom against him again. He stilled for a moment. It felt as if she had awakened too, but he couldn’t be certain because he didn’t want to peer over to confirm it. She rutted her bottom against him again, and her nightgown slipped up, revealing her basic white, floral underwear to him. He bit his lip and gulped.

Alma lay there with her heart racing, pretending to be asleep. An uncomfortable dampness was between her legs. It wasn’t the first time she had felt him at attention against her. More often he’d sleep through it, but it seemed as if he were more aware of it lately and would shift his hips away from her. She felt his hand on her hip, trying to smooth her nightgown back down. Instead, she grabbed it and slowly dragged it over to the front of her sex. Her eyes remained closed, and his hand froze in place.

She could feel his chest rise nervously. They remained silent, but suddenly some mutual agreement was made between them in the quiet. They would do this, but fall back on the claim that they were asleep and had no recollection of it. Neither would ever mention this moment, too embarrassed about their teenage urges even as adults.

Bill cupped her sex as she ground her bottom onto him. In turn, it stimulated the bundle of sensitive nerves ever so beneath her underwear. She could feel him hard-pressed against her bottom and the small of her back. Shallow breaths escaped them, enjoying the feeling. Alma’s breath hitched when he applied more pressure with his hand. He could feel her wetness soak through her panties, but he didn’t dare touch her so directly. The sense of her arousal and the thought of doing so undid him. He held her tightly as he humped and huffed until completion into his boxers.

They both stilled themselves, too scared to even speak or confront what had just transpired. Instead, they both pretended to sleep until he gained the courage to rise out of bed. He lightly shook her shoulder, waking her, and whispered that he needed to help his brother with something that day.

“Hm, okay…” Alma said, meeting his eyes, but they were avoidant. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Um, yeah…” He said, pulling up his pants, but not before Alma had noticed the wet spot on his shorts.

He then avoided her for a few days at school until he got over himself. When he spoke to her again, she acted as if it never happened. Ignoring both the incident and the silent treatment. For which he was grateful, but there was an obvious shift.

Bill finally got out of bed and got dressed after jerking off about it like he had been all week. This time it was out of necessity because there was a high chance he’d be alone with her at some point. He didn’t want to pop a boner he knew he wasn’t going to do anything with. Regardless, he tugged on the chain to his wallet and opened it, double-checking if he still had a condom inside, just in case.

Scotty was obnoxiously honking the car horn outside Bill’s house while he stole sprays of his oldest brother’s cologne before leaving. He checked himself in the broken mirror by the front door and unbuttoned his shirt to his chest, showing the white tank underneath. He wanted to look nicer than he usually did, but this would have to do.

“Taking forever, man!” Scotty laughed. He was a friend from his old school, but he had already graduated a year before.

“Yeah, whatever.” He fist-bumped him and tossed his leather jacket in the back seat. “Thanks for picking me up. I can give you some gas money.”

“Not a problem, dude. Just roll up a few while we head up there. The stuff is in the glove box.” He said tapping it. “Oh. And we're pickin’ up Jones.”

Once Jones joined them, they were on their way. Bill sat with his knees together to hold the Mad Magazine in his lap, using it as a tray to break up the weed to roll up. Scotty was vivaciously speaking about random things and laughing at his own jokes. He was a good-natured guy, but sometimes he could be too high-energy. Jones, however, was more even-mannered, just along for the ride. He wasn’t even so much like them either in regard to sharing similar interests. But being one of the few black kids in town and befriending two white punk kids who didn’t mind scraping with others of their kind provided some buffer of protection.

“Are any of her friends cute?” Scotty asked Bill, passing a lit joint to him.

“Eh,” Bill shrugged as he took a hit.

“He only thinks his girl is cute,” Jones laughed in the back seat.

“They’re okay,” Bill said, exchanging the joint for the flask of Jim Beam with Jones. “For you two, losers.” He laughed as they scoffed with offense.

“You gonna ask Alma out, dude? Or is it still NEW YORK, NEW YORK!” His outburst was sung to the tune of Frank Sinatra’s ode to the city.

“Impressive.” Jones quickly quipped as he passed the joint back to him.

“Oh. Yeah, you like that, Jones,” He winked at him through the reflection of his rearview mirror to which his friend just chuckled. “Anyway, as I was saying.” He said, turning his attention back to Bill.

Bill gave him a strange look. “Yeah…”

“Ah, well. I guess you can’t have it all.” Scotty lamented. “There are tons of other babes out there, though. But before we get off subject, I have a song for you, Billy.” He chuckled deviously, searching around the center console for an 8-track.

He ejected the 8-track that was in the player before and popped the new one in. After he skipped a few tracks, a familiar bass riff began playing, and he turned the volume dial up. Bill shook his head, annoyed yet amused. It was Why Can’t I Touch It by the Buzzcocks.

“You dickhead! I told you that shit in confidence.” He said, but he laughed along with the boys in the car.

~~~

It was dark around the edges of the bonfire at the field party. Carla was feeling a bit wary and uncomfortable. Alma helped her choose a nice skirt, which she helped hem with discrete stitches to meet her knees. There wasn’t much Alma could help her with because her closet didn’t have much to work with. The most she was able to accomplish was curl her hair and let her borrow her red lipstick to wear.

Alma and her cousin, Mayra, were talking to country boys from a neighboring town as she stood by awkwardly. People who lived in the circumference of the field would all meet and mingle, coming together to drink, smoke, and maybe get lucky. Alma was taking a swig of an unknown brown liquor being passed around, and when it came to Carla, she hesitated until she saw her cousin smirking, knowing she’d decline it. Proving her wrong, she took a large gulp, but her face was full of immediate regret.

“Oh my god. You okay?” Alma asked her when she heard her choke.

“Mhmm,” she said with puckered lips. “Nasty!”

“Yeah.” Alma nodded understandingly. “I wasn’t thinking when I passed it over. Sorry.”

“No. No, it’s cool.”

“I have some brews. Would you two like that instead?” A young man wearing a cowboy hat and a lip full of chewing tobacco politely asked them.

“Sure.” Alma smiled.

“Could I get one too?” Mayra butted in.

Eventually, Alma ventured to where Tara and Nadine were, which was closer to where cars would pull into the field to park. Bill was still nowhere to be seen, and now she wondered if he was coming at all. They were talking to Bruce and Casey from school, the two most annoying jocks in school. While she stood around them, pretending to be interested in the conversation, she decided to venture back to Carla to check on her.

She was doing fine. More than fine, she found some cute FFA boy to talk to, and they were both bashfully laughing with one another, leaning on the tailgate of a truck. Alma was stuck on where to go then, until the cowboy beckoned her over, holding out the bottle of whiskey toward her.

~~~

“Fuckin’ finally!” Scotty said, cutting the headlights off and creeping the car into a spot under a large tree. “We’re already missing out,” he said, pointing at a car with foggy windows.

“I’m going to go find us some beer,” Jones said, exiting the car before them to get the night going.

“Wait, but I–” Scotty began to say, but Jones had woven into the crowd and disappeared. “I have beer in the trunk.”

Bill walked to the back of the car with Scotty, and together they chugged a beer and tossed the cans before grabbing another. After Scotty put on his jean vest that was adorned with studs and band patches, they began walking around. Their presence didn’t look so inviting, as they were both pretty tall and lanky, but they also had pierced ears and unusual haircuts. Scotty’s dark hair was spiked up with gel and hairspray, and the sides of Bill’s hair were shorn very short but long on top and laid to the side. Scotty would always try to convince him to get a mohawk because it was nearly there if he buzzed the sides narrower.

“Oh, look, Skarsgård brought his girlfriend.” Bruce Fetterman teased them when they crossed paths.

Their eyes darted towards him with objection. Then Scotty blew him a kiss, taunting him, and Bill joined in making kissy noises.

“Fuckin’ freaks.” Bruce spat on the ground with disgust.

The boys laughed as they sauntered away, unbothered. It amused Bill that his tooth was still chipped, which made him look stupid.

“Where the hell did Jones go?” Scotty wondered out loud as he scanned the field. “And where is your girlfriend?”

“She’s not–”

“Yeah, whatever dude,” Scotty interjected. He knew their story, and he knew his friend had been dragging ass. “Hey!” Scotty harshly tapped Bill’s shoulder and pointed. “That’s… that’s Alma?!”

“Huh?” He quickly looked in the direction he was pointing at.

A few girls were dancing in a truck bed to The Stroke by Billy Squire. Then there was Alma standing on the edge of the dropped tailgate and dancing as well. He’d seen her dance in his room on occasion, so that wasn’t so shocking. It was the fact that now she was on display for everyone to enjoy. However, his heart stopped when faced with her bareback. He could see her soft tan skin in the light of the bonfire’s blaze. Was she topless? He thought in a panic until she turned and saw she was covered. Well, as covered as you could be in the top that she was wearing.

“Holy shit…” he said, metaphorically picking his jaw back up off the ground.

“Yeah. Holy shit.” Scotty repeated. “C’mon,” he said, tapping Bill’s shoulder and leading the way over.

“Who are those guys?” Mayra asked Carla across the way after she essentially blocked her from the boy she was speaking to.

“Who?” She asked, following her gaze. “Oh. I don’t know about the other guy, but the one in the green shirt is Alma’s friend.”

“That’s Alma’s friend?” She said with disbelief. “She plays with your Barbies, but that guy is her friend?”

“Like kinda more than friends, really.”

“There’s no way.” She laughed incredulously before taking a sip of her nearly empty beer.

Mayra saw Bill put two fingers in his mouth and whistle loudly over the music. Alma turned her head in the direction of it, flipping her hair back, and squinted. She didn’t have her glasses on, but she recognized his figure and smiled brightly. She crouched down and hopped off the truck, hearing some disappointed groans from the boys who were watching. Mayra’s eyes followed her as she practically skipped over to him in her wedge heels, and he wrapped his arms around her, picking her up off her feet with a big, dimpled grin on his face.

“I told you.” Carla laughed at her cousin's jealousy and decided to seek out the boy she had been speaking to earlier.

“You look,” Bill trailed off, scanning her from head to toe as his heart raced, noticing her cleavage.

“It’s too much.” She questioned, feeling a little self-conscious now.

“No! No.” He shook his head.

“Not at all.” Scotty parroted as he scanned the crowd, looking for either Jones or a girl to talk to before he was delegated to third wheel.

“Good to see you again, Scotty.” She greeted.

“Likewise. Always a pleasure,” he put an appreciative hand on his chest and bowed his head politely.

Alma smiled appreciatively. “Uhm. What took you so long?”

“Well.”

“That was my fault,” Scotty interjected. “Caught a flat tire on the way.” He waved at someone with acknowledgment then. “Ay, I’ll catch you two later.”

“Yeah, the tire blew. Guess who had to change it?” He said, slightly miffed, showing the dirty marks on his hands before rubbing them on his jeans. “Uh, do you want to grab a beer?”

She nodded, and he took her hand in his and led her back to Scotty’s Buick. Bill reached through the open driver's side window to pop open the trunk, and when he rounded the car, Alma was bent, grabbing beers from the foam ice chest in the back. He gazed at her back again, and when she stood upright, the fabric on her top shifted, and he could see the side of her breast. She passed a beer to him, and then she lifted the bottom of her top, revealing more supple flesh, to pull a flask she had tucked into the front of her tight jeans.

“I stole it from one of the country boys,” she smirked.

“They’re going to come looking for it,” he chuckled, watching her take a swig.

“Fuck them,” she said, passing it off.

They settled, sitting on the front fender of the car, watching the bonfire. They were parked a bit away, but they could still feel the heat emanating from it.

“There’s a lot of people here tonight,” Bill said, scanning the thick crowd.

“Last party of the school year. You know what I was wondering earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“Whose field is this? Someone has to own it, right?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” He said, turning his body towards her more. “No one? People have been coming here forever, even my brothers when they were in school.”

“Is it weird that this is your last field party in Missouri?” Alma asked, peering up at him.

“Mm.” He lightly shrugged. “No… I’m over it at this point.”

“Right,” Alma sighed. And over me too, she thought. “I’m sure New York’s parties will be a lot more fun. I’m a bit jealous. I’ll miss you.”

Bill bit his lip and looked away. He could feel his nerves creeping up on him. “Y-you should, should visit when you can. We can party together?”

Alma smiled. “Yeah!”

“But like when I’m able to get my own place, you know? It might take a while.”

“Mhmm. Are you still on track moneywise?” She asked carefully.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said, sounding more sure than he felt. “Just trying to add some cushion in case, right?” He paused to take a drink of his beer. “I’ll miss you too, by the way. But I’m not gone yet, don’t start giving a eulogy.”

Alma playfully rolled her eyes. “But can I say, it’s going to be so boring without you?”

“I mean,” he gestured smugly, agreeing, and she lightly pushed his shoulder.

“Hey, Alma!” Their little bubble burst then. It was Mayra calling out to her. “Where’d you get that beer?”

“Shh!” Alma harshly shushed her, putting a finger to her lips. “Don’t announce it.”

“I’ll get her one,” Bill dismissively said as he stood upright. “Who is she?” He whispered before he walked off.

“Carla’s cousin.” She informed him, to which he just raised his brows.

“Sorry,” Mayra said, blinking her eyes to focus them. “Hi,” she smiled at Bill until she noticed he was handing her a beer. “Oh, right. Thanks.” She looked between him and Alma for a moment and suddenly felt intimidated. “Um…” she nervously cleared her throat. “I’m going to look for Carla,” she said, backing away like prey keeping their eye on a predator.

“Just don’t tell anyone where you got that,” Bill said, holding two other beers and giving her a strange look.

Alma slid off the fender and passed Bill then. “What’s her deal?” He was confused about her behavior.

“I don’t know.” She said dismissively, opening the door to the back seat and getting in.

He did a double take, and then his stomach sank. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest as he followed her in. The only strategy he quickly thought of was to immediately start rolling the back window down to keep them from feeling as if they had any real privacy. He exhaled with a bit of reprieve when he turned to see Alma doing the same.

When she turned to look at him, her chestnut eyes reflected the distant flames of the bonfire. Her red lipstick had faded in the middle, only softly lining her pouty lips now. They spoke a bit in a friendly, joking manner, trying to break the obvious tension in the backseat as they sipped on their beer.

“Take it easy!” Bill laughed when she took two swigs from the stolen flask. “Uh, there’s a joint in the center console.” He began to reach forward, but Alma pressed the flask against his chest, stopping him.

His chest tightened, seeing her bent forward again as she rummaged in the console. Her bare back faced him again, so close in the confined space that he could see where the leather upholstery indented her skin. The urge to trace the lines and the freckles he newly discovered almost overtook him, but he retreated his hand to his lap. She sat back with the joint between her lips, now seated closer to him.

“Got a light?”

“Uh, yeah.” He procured a white bic lighter from his breast pocket and flicked the flame on.

She leaned into the flame, puffing on the joint until the ember glowed evenly. She peered up at him through her long lashes and smiled when he pushed a lock of her hair back to keep from getting caught in the glowing cherry.

They passed it back and forth, their eyes getting low when the discussion of college came up.

“Eh.” Alma grimaced. “I got accepted to the university, sure. But I don’t know; I might just go to community college. Save some money getting the bullshit out of the way, you know.”

Bill frowned a bit because he knew she could make it at university, but he understood money was an issue with her mom's stacking medical bills. How he wished money would just never be a factor in decision-making for himself or Alma.

“That’s half the reason I started my summer job early. But,” she reached for the joint he was passing. “Whatever. I’ll figure it out…” She took a puff, and it was obvious to him that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Mhmm. Before graduation… uh, I was wondering earlier if you’d want to go to the springs again sometime? Sometime, you’re not working.”

“I could call in,” she smirked. “But yeah. That sounds nice. The last time was fun.” She recalled when they went floating on spring break.

He smiled because there was a place past the spring that he liked to visit when he needed to be alone and away from the chaos of his home. He wanted to take her there to see the serenity of it.

They got cozier and more relaxed after finishing the joint. He had his arm around her now, and her knees hooked over one of his legs. In the distance, they could both hear the synth-piano tones of Telephone Line by Electric Light Orchestra. The chittering of crickets and cicadas blended into the melody.

Their inhibitions slipped. Bill turned his body closer to hers, his fingers moving to thread through her hair as he cradled her head. It all just felt so delightful, their bodies buzzing. Their senses heightened with more dimension being stoned. Alma’s eyes fluttered closed as she felt his pixie nose trailing the side of her neck and his breath fanning across her skin. He could smell the scent of amber and warm vanilla on her goose-bumped skin. It was the sensation of his hair, which had fallen forward and grazed along her jaw, that gave her chills even in the lingering spring heat. Her heart swelled so much that she thought it would burst out of her chest.

Her eyes opened when she felt his low-lidded stare on her. He looked into her eyes so intensely that she lost her breath, and the space closed in around them. He was going to kiss her. It was all over his face. Just as he leaned to clear the millimeters between them, he squeezed his eyes shut and quickly turned away. His face was marred with deep pain.

“I can’t.” His voice cracked with regret.

Alma bit her quivering lip when she felt his rejection and began rapidly blinking, feeling her eyes water. “Okay,” she croaked.

He glanced at her and had to quickly look away again after seeing that he had hurt her feelings. Exactly what he was trying to avoid. He straightened up some and swallowed. Alma noticed the hand on his lap was balled tightly, his knuckles blanched, his nostrils flared, and she felt him tremble.

“I’m sorry. I-I like you too much.” He admitted. “It’s not fair for me to… I’m leaving, I can’t.”

Alma sniffled, trying to hold her breath to keep a sob from sneaking past her lips. She harshly wiped the tears that slipped down her cheeks, feeling so silly for them. It wasn’t very punk rock of her. His gaze remained on the floorboard because he couldn’t bring himself to see her so upset, knowing he was the cause.

“Fine,” she said, taking a deep, shaky breath to settle herself.

“It’s not.” He said with remorse. “I can’t even begin to explain how much I want to be close to you. But I can’t stay here, Alma.” His voice cracked again.

“I know.” She sniffled. “You can’t,” she knew for his sake, he had to get out of his situation, regardless of how badly she wanted to be with him. “I like you too. Too much to make you stay.”

Bill bit his lip and bowed his head. While it was so amazing to hear that she felt the same about him, it broke his heart. Because why him, she could find so much better than him. It felt undeserving. He quickly cleared the lump in his throat.

“I'll let you know whenever I finally get a place. I promise I’ll wait for you.”

Alma sniffled. “Okay. Fuck,” she sighed, wiping away a rogue tear. Her biggest fear was that the distance would just prove to be too much for their friendship to persevere through. She still held onto the little hope she had and hoped that wouldn’t be true.

“These last few weeks will be brutal if it feels this bad right now.”

“Fuck.” He inhaled deeply. “I-it doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to be, right?” He repeated. “I told you not to start giving my eulogy.” He finally looked at her, and he was glad he could amuse her a bit.

Suddenly, Jones was reaching into the driver's side to pop the trunk, and all three were startled by each other. Bill had a protective hold on her until they straightened up, and Jones felt a bit awkward, knowing he interrupted something.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jones said with his hands raised apologetically. “Uhm… your friends are looking for you, Alma. One of them isn’t doing so well.”

“Carla?”

“I think?”

“Hmm. I should help get her home.” She said, wishing she didn’t have to leave the party.

“Mhmm.” He nodded, following her out of the backseat.

When they joined the party again, her friends were already around Tara’s car. The FFA boy helped a drunk Mayra inside with Carla’s help. At least the hard part was done. Bill pulled Alma into an embrace before she left him, and they melted into each other. He took the opportunity to rub her bare back unabashedly. It tickled and it made her giggle.

“I’ll see you later?” She worried he would ignore her again after this, but she feared for even longer this time.

“Yeah,” Bill assured. “No silent treatment.”

“Don’t do that shit again.” She lightly chastised, pointing a finger at him. “Goodnight, Bill.”

“Hey,” he said, pulling her back by her hand. She looked up at him, and he was peering down at her with soft eyes. “I didn’t get to say. You look really pretty tonight. Beautiful.” He corrected.

“You look good tonight, too.”

“Eh, sure.” He said with a light shrug and scratching his chin, unable to take the compliment. “Goodnight.” He said, allowing himself to kiss the back of her hand.

She took that as a cue to regroup with her friends, but as she stepped off she was still tethered to him as he hadn’t let go of her hand.

“Alma,” he said, looking a bit more serious. “I’d kill for this to be different.”

Alma sadly smiled, but she understood. “Me too.”

#my bill writings #avenue of sins #bill skarsgard #aos neon #aos

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nickfoo · 1 year ago

Note

O fellow fire tank enthusiast, I have an extremely unique question for you that’s kinda important to me 😅

How do you think Bege would think of Sugar , from Dressrosa?

I’ve got this whole series of events that live in my head rent free where Sugar used her powers to evade capture by the marines (after the whole fiasco with the straw hats) and she ends up meeting Bege when the Fire tanks go to Dressrosa. They kinda know who each other are and have a small temporary alliance to get rid of the kissy-germ people and get away from the marines, and she just ends up leaving with them because she doesn’t have anywhere else to go

What if the Doflamingo family never felt like a real family to her, and on top of that she recently learned that her actual sister (Monet) got killed?? Bege’s papa gut kicks in and he treats her like his own?🥺

Aand she joins the family ?? maybe?? Bege and Sugar are like my top fave one piece characters and this whole mess started from the most random oprp convo on Twitter.. A Bege acc said something about hating absent fathers and a Sugar acc asked, “I don’t have a dad, will you be mine,” and he says YES. It’s so ridiculous but it just stuck in my head and it’s forever canon for me now because they’re my blorbos

IM SORRYY I kinda rambled a bunch but I’ve not really told anyone about this and I just wanna know what you think about it bcuz you’re like the coolest guy ever to me with all the fire tank stuff you do ��🥺

Hey there! This is a long reply from me, so its all under the read more.

I can’t speak for what another person rping as a character would do, as my take on the character might be different than theirs. But I can give you what I’d think the character would do! I've always felt that Sugar seemed quite happy with her life in the Donquixote family. She was doted upon by Doflamingo, not only as a member of his 'family', but with her power, she was a vital to him as a piece in his hold on Dressrosa. Despite its dysfunctions, the Donquixote family is a tight knit group - even if one of the only things holding them together in unison was their mutual devotion to their captain. A form of comradery was definitely there. They were a group of misfits who had found something to be united and accepted in. But now, I'll give my opinion on how I’d think Bege would go with your scenario of if Sugar evaded military capture in Dressrosa and was present when the Fire Tank Pirates were around looking for Lola. I actually think Bege would be wary of Sugar. She was a member of the Donquixote pirates - a ruthless group. And she was also hugely responsible for the subjugation of Dressrosa. Her devil fruit is very dangerous. Due to her fruit power, she looks like a 10 yr old child, but she's actually 22. It's a deceptive appearance that could be used ( and which she has used ) quite maliciously, and I think Bege would pick it up as such. ( and respect that lol. ) As for adopting her, I'm...again not sure. Bege's not like Doflamingo, who had a knack for finding abandoned kids with nowhere to go and taking them into his crew. I think not only do those kids remind Doflamingo of himself as a child, but kids have a sort of pure, honest admiration that he craves and that kind of unfiltered affection can't be found anywhere else. Its also very easy to win that admiration over to devotion. Doflamingo adopted both Sugar and Monet into his family when they were very young. Sugar was 9 and Monet was 17. They are both surely devoted to him. Anyway, I think Bege has instinctive dad tendencies to look out for the kids and young adults who he's allied with (now that he's a father and he’s learned some basic human empathy ), but I'm not sure he'd be adopting kids into his crew/mafia family out of the blue. He's not very into doing good deeds without it having any benefit for him. (Unless Chiffon helps him change his mind.) Also to keep in mind that Sugar is mentally a young adult. He wouldn't talk to her like a little kid. He might slip up now and then, but quickly remind himself she’s a full fledged dangerous pirate with a history. Bege’s a very practical thinker. I think he'd be more interested in her skills and power. But I think he'd not be so sure he could trust her. That power of hers is pretty scary, after all.

#ask foo #anon #one piece #Capone bege #donquixote doflamingo #sugar

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mmmakeovers · 2 years ago

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Don't want to watch yesterday's live stream? Here's everything they confirmed is coming in the next base game update...

Objects

a lamp

a few decor items

a couple of rugs

new bassinets (the first base game ones since release!)

a table

a bookshelf

a new fence & gate (designed to look like a playpen)

cribs (for infants)

travel crib (can be dragged in and out of inventory)

toys (for infants and toddlers)

fairy lights

CAS

birthmarks (for all ages)

stretch marks

c-section scar

new gender customisation 'can this sim produce milk'

max number of likes/dislikes increased to 50

Gameplay Features

convert cribs into toddler beds (and I think back again too)

science babies (cost $1,500 - you can have a baby by yourself or with another sim, and you don't need a romantic relationship)

more autonomous photos (?? an adult sim took a photo of a newborn aging into an infant and the simguru said "they now recognise it as an important moment")

improvements to how highchairs work

can upgrade cribs (eg. to have mobiles)

changes to how easy it is for different age groups to build relationships with eachother (eg. child sims find it easier to make friends with other children and harder to make friends with teens)

new interaction for children and toddlers to entertain newborns and infants (and also between children and toddlers)

reduced age span for newborns and increased age span for everyone else

new infant life stage

all doors/gates can be 'baby proofed' (lock for infants)

Newborn Updates

genetics! full range of skintones and eye colours

changed look and movement to feel younger

don't have to put them back in the bassinet each time if you queue interactions

automatic responses from caregiver when crying

weather compatibility if you have seasons (will react to being outside in bad weather)

easier 'show off to' interaction and can show newborns to toddlers

Infant Features

6 traits

fully customisable in CAS

clothes, shoes, hair, hats, glasses, and helmets

stork bites (disappear when they become a toddler)

teeth

same needs as all other sims but don't learn skills (focus is on milestones which will come with the new pack)

attachment styles

3 reward traits based on attachment style when ages up

help try baby food in the highchair (records whether the food is tried/not tried and infants react to food like/dislike/unsure)

choose preference for bottle or breast

soothe them to sleep or use a mobile to play a lullaby

confirmed base-game/cross-pack compatibility: infants can interact with cats and dogs, with parenthood will have new ways to care for infants as parenting skill improves, can knit clothes for infants

Happy gaming! I can't wait for this update 🥰

#textpost #sims 4 #ts4 #simblr #the sims #the sims 4 #base game #update #growing together #news #mmmakeovers

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365knitsocks · 6 months ago

Text

Musselburgh Hat #18

Greetings! I found a lot of inspiration for this hat from the Norwegian History of the Red Beanie. It’s an interesting read if you have the time to check it out. I dyed the yarn for my hat with Kool Aid. I enjoy the vibrant red dye that you get from Kool Aid and the mess is pretty easy to clean up unless you spill.

Project Notes:

Project Started – April 8th, 2024

Project Completed – April 17, 20224

Pattern – Musselburgh

Designer – Ysolda Teague

Needles – US 2/2.75 mm

Method – magic loop

Yarn – Bare Knit Picks Stroll Fingering Weight

Dyed with – Kool - Aid

Amount of Yarn Used – 91 grams

Recipient – me

Size – adult large

Notes/Modifications – none

Ravelry Link

#knitting #hat knitting #knitblr #knitters of tumblr #knit picks #knit picks yarn #yarn dyeing #dyeing yarn #kool aid #Musselburgh hat

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simplepotatofarmer · 2 years ago

Note

in the terrible two au, what would the gang & kids wear?

techno knits and he knows how to do basic sewing, mending hems and what not.

so at first, it's whatever they can get their hands on.

but once they settle in, techno knits the twins sweaters. they're not identical, but he still knits them those letter sweaters, in their favorite colors. he patches up pants and shirts, taking them in and then making belts out of rope or ribbon.

juniper really wants a dress so he's determined to learn how make one from scratch but for right now, she's gonna have to make do with a pillow case dress (which are actually super cute). scout loves wearing scarves and bows which is a pretty easy fix.

as for the adults, techno gave up his old outfit in exchange for simple pants and shirts. he knitted himself some sweaters so sometimes he wears those as well! he finds a straw hat at a village and won't take it off whenever he's outside. (also like to think that in trying to learn how to sew for the kids, he makes himself a skirt or two and likes it 'cause it's very freein' dream, don't laugh at me.)

he knitted sweaters for dream, too, but in the beginning he's very paranoid and rarely takes off his armor. dream also keeps himself covered as best as he can, even when it's hot, because he doesn't want techno to catch onto the fact he's been doing experiments on himself. once he relaxes, however, he will wear the sweater techno made him and it's when he starts hanging out in a tank top and shorts on the hottest days that techno thinks he's gonna be alright.

#loyal answers things #terrible two au #i don't know how to explain this aesthetic #very much thrift store farmcore or whatever.#i should add outfit ideas to my pinterest board

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simschallengesfor3and4 · 7 months ago

Text

Castaway Challenge for sims 4

You were on a plane which crashed and now you are stranded alone. What will you do?

Intro: Hello for this challenge you will need island living (for now) as I have made the island you need for the challenge there and with that pack. My gallery id is: NichoDB

Here you can find the island I have made for Sulani for the challenge, I will be making another one base game friendly in case you don’t have island living. This is somewhat a legacy challenge as you will need to survive on the island for 10 gen (generations)

starting out with cas:

1 sim any age from teen to adult

Any traits really, may randomize if you want to.

The rules for the island and first gen:

get sim onto island, made it easy there is a ladder leading in so no need for cheats.

Pick 2 garden beds, and one tree bed from the basement.

Pick 1, either chickens, bee’s or goats and sheeps may only pick up to 3 in all of goats and sheeps (2 hens and 1 roster, 3 goats and 3 sheeps are in the household inventory) You can trade them for meat, indgredents and simoliens they will leave the bag at the egde of the lot wich you can drag in.

Pick 1 bed of choice, from the basement may change the color of the bed.

Pick one storage chest with 1 suitcase, may change color also from the basement.

Pick 2 hobbies: there is a small gathering of hobbies, knitting, painting, handiwork and such. You may only pick 2. These will be important choices, as they will have consequences.

Pick 6 book's from the lilttle bookcase thing. You may buy book’s, but you may only pick 6 in all.

Pick 1 grill or the cooler.

Pick the toilet if you don’t have, jungle adventure for the pee bushes on the island.

Pick 1 trashcan.

Pick laundry if you want.

Lot traits Off grind must be on, if you have cottage living so must Simple Living, and great soil must be on too, may pick any other traits and challenges for the lot.

___________________________________________________________________________

Now put all plant’s, and the 2 ladders in the family inventory and delete everything in the basement. Now the 1 gen starts, rules:

Skills will determine what you can and cannot do. So if you want a hut/house you’ll need handiness skill, the higher the more you can make/buy. Gardening will determine how many plant’s you may have and how much from the harvest you may keep. If you have nifty kitting,the knitting skill will allow you new clothes and outfits. Painting will allow you to change color on objects you make/buy, so the higher skill the more color you get else it’s the wood/brown colors neutral colors, on the objects.

Handiness unlocks 1-3(Small decorations, and big objects that look broken or not put together right) 4-6 (Walls max 10x10, windows, doors,stairs no more than 4 steps and railings/fences) 7-8 (All hobbies and other objects, toilets, beds, kitchen stuff all objects are now unlocked but not the best quality so must look like it could be handmade) 9-10 (May build as big as you want and as much as you want no limit, and can buy any object, if you have eco lifestyle you may buy solar panels and water catcher, get some power going) Of course anything the woodworking table allows you to build as you level up you can build but the levels allow you to buy stuff from build and buy mode.

Gardening unlocks 1-3(May only have the plants you chose so 9 plants, may only keep 3 off each plant harvest so does a plant give you 5 or 10 then you have to sell until you only have 3) 4-6(May plant 3 extra crops, may keep everything) 7-8(May make a small farm no more than 6 garden plots from cottage living or you can use the garden beds) 9-10 (May have as many plants or farms as you want and can evolve plants now)

Knitting unlocks 1-3(May have any small piece of clothing hat’s, socks, gloves, underwear, bra’s) 4-6(Rug’s can now be bought too, any shirt any length, skirt’s and shorts) 7-8(All kids clothes and down, so toddler and infants, may buy sleeping bags) 9-10(shoes are now unlocked) Of course as before anything you can knit as you level up are you allowed to make.

Painting unlocks 1-3(beige, brown, white are unlocked) 4-6(Yellow, red and blue colors are unlocked and so are simple patterns) 7-8(Purple, orange and green are now unlocked) 9-10(All colors any pattern you like)

___________________________________________________________________________

The last rules for gen one

Gen one may first get a partner when they have a small hut/house. You may make this sim or take one that is already generated from mange households, they must be single.

May have as many kids as you like, just remember only one is going to be the heir.

You may not have any pets in gen one sorry

NO LEAVING LOT ONCE ON IT

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

Gen 2:

Whatever gen 1 left is what you have, to survive with

You may get a pet, but no leaving lot for it

NO LEAVING THE LOT

May get a partner/get married when they are young adults. You may make a younger sim, the partner is basically someone new who stranded on the island (use the basement to get them onto island by placing the ladders back in, and removing them after they are on the island)

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

___________________________________________________________________________

Skill rules:

The rules are the same somewhat

Handiness unlocks 1-3(Small decorations, and big objects that look broken or not put together right, can NOT fix any objects that break, leave it broken or delete said item) 4-6 (Walls max 10x10, windows, doors,stairs no more than 4 steps and railings/fences) 7-8 (All hobbies and other objects, toilets, beds, kitchen stuff all objects are now unlocked but not the best quality so must look like it could be handmade, can now fix all broken objects) 9-10 (May build as big as you want and as much as you want no limit, and can buy any object, if you have eco lifestyle you may buy solar panels and water catcher, get some power going) Of course anything the woodworking table allows you to build as you level up you can build but the levels allow you to buy stuff from build and buy mode.

Gardening unlocks 1-3(May only have the plants you on the island so what gen 1 left, may only keep 3 off each plant harvest so does a plant give you 5 or 10 then you have to sell until you only have 3) 4-6(May plant 3 extra crops, may keep everything) 7-8(May make a small farm no more than 6 garden plots from cottage living or you can use the garden beds) 9-10 (May have as many plants or farms as you want and can evolve plants now)

Knitting unlocks 1-3(May have any small piece of clothing hat’s, socks, gloves, underwear, bra’s, may not make new outfits) 4-6(Rug’s can now be bought too, any shirt any length, skirt’s and shorts) 7-8(All kids clothes and down, so toddler and infants, may buy sleeping bags, new outfits can be made no shoes) 9-10(shoes are now unlocked,outfits with shoes are now unlocked) Of course as before anything you can knit as you level up are you allowed to make.

Painting unlocks 1-3(beige, brown, white are unlocked, may not change color on items, unless it’s to beige, brown or white) 4-6(Yellow, red and blue colors are unlocked and so are simple patterns) 7-8(Purple, orange and green are now unlocked) 9-10(All colors any pattern you like)

Gen 3:

Whatever gen 1 and 2 left is what you have, to survive with

You may get a pet, but no leaving lot for it

NO LEAVING LOT

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

___________________________________________________________________________

Skill rules:

The rules are the same as gen 2

Gen 4:

Whatever the last gen’s left is what you have, to survive with

You may get a pet, but no leaving lot for it

NO LEAVING THE LOT

May pick 4 plants from the family inventory or 1 tree, so a tree box or plant box

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

___________________________________________________________________________

Skill rules:

The rules are the same as gen 2

Gen 5:

Whatever the last gen’s left is what you have, to survive with

You may get a pet, but no leaving lot for it

NO LEAVING THE LOT

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

___________________________________________________________________________

Skill rules:

The rules are the same as gen 2

Gen 6:

Whatever the last gen’s left is what you have, to survive with

You may get a pet, but no leaving lot for it

NO LEAVING THE LOT

May pick 4 plants and a tree or 2 trees

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

___________________________________________________________________________

Skill rules:

The rules are the same as gen 2

Gen 7:

Whatever the last gen’s left is what you have, to survive with

You may get a pet, but no leaving lot for it

NO LEAVING THE LOT

May pick 4 plants or a tree

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

___________________________________________________________________________

Skill rules:

The rules are the same as gen 2

Gen 8:

Whatever the last gen’s left is what you have, to survive with

You may get a pet, but no leaving lot for it

NO LEAVING THE LOT

May pick 8 plants and 1 tree or 2 tree and 4 plants (if possible)

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

___________________________________________________________________________

Skill rules:

The rules are the same as gen 2

Gen 9:

Whatever the last gen’s left is what you have, to survive with

You may get a pet, but no leaving lot for it

NO LEAVING THE LOT

All plants left are now yours

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

___________________________________________________________________________

Skill rules:

The rules are the same as gen 2

Gen 10:

Whatever the last gen’s left is what you have, to survive with

You may get a pet, but no leaving lot for it

NO LEAVING THE LOT

Money cheats are allowed

CC is allowed and so are mods

The rules are guidelines the point is to have fun, is a rule making it less fun remove it

___________________________________________________________________________

Skill rules:

The rules are the same as gen 2

#sims 4 challenge

3 notes · View notes

kradogsrats · 2 years ago

Text

The mage wasn’t like others Viren had seen before.

Mages didn't come to their town often, tucked away as it was in the foothils south of Mount Kalik. Any that did moved on quickly, collecting a few coins from the townspeople for spells to harden their vegetable gardens against frost, or keep worms out of the apples ripening on their trees. A few claimed, in hushed tones and with sly smiles, to traffic in other kinds of magic, as well—love potions, fortune-telling, or curses. Viren's neighbors didn't often have money to spare for such things, and the mages, real or not, preferred towns where they could reliably find customers. Most never returned.

The woman who scryed the mines was an exception, visiting twice a year to check the shafts and tunnels for hidden weaknesses, and to tell the foreminers where new ones ought to be dug to find the richest iron. That was real magic, paid for in gold—she stayed in the chief forewoman's fine house when she visited, sleeping on a feather mattress and being served the best food available. She hardly spoke a word to the townsfolk, and no one was allowed to watch her cast her spells, but there hadn't been a collapse since Viren was a baby and the new tunnels always produced generously. She may have been a snob, but she wasn't a charlatan.

A healer also passed through every few months, to trade with the town herbalist and confer with her on any illnesses or injuries afflicting the townsfolk. He was a kind man, worn thin and exhausted by care, and while Viren had never seen him do any magic, there were rumors carried from other towns of him straightening babies' club feet or knitting together their cleft lips with a touch. The herbalist was in charge of a small stock of potions purchased from him to handle severe injuries, paid for with a tax collected from the workers—salve to clean and heal deep burns from molten metal, tonics that restored bones crushed beyond setting with splints, poultices to halt the bleeding of even a severed limb. Each one cost at least a month's wages from an entire family, far more than what most of the wanderers asked for their thin, colorful vials. Viren suspected that might be because the healer's actually worked, but he wasn't likely to find out for sure. If he ever broke a bone, he'd be healing the normal way.

The mage currently idling in the town square was different from all of them.

He was young, for one—only barely a man. The traveling mages Viren had seen before were his mother's age or older, and weathered by a hard life on the road. Sometimes they had an older child or gangly teenager shadowing their steps, but Viren had never seen one so young traveling alone. He had sharp eyes set in a golden-brown face thick with freckles, and a faint stubble was just beginning to line his jaw. Sandy hair curled around his ears below the wide-brimmed traveling hat he wore. His clothes were plain and patched, and the worn pack he carried looked probably older than he was, but sturdy.

And he had a book.

It was a thick, leather-bound volume, the gilt trim on its ornate cover mostly worn away. He carried it at his hip, strapped to his belt with tongues of leather held in place by buttoned clasps—secured within easy reach, and never out of his sight. None of the other mages Viren had seen before had anything like it. Spellbooks were for mages in stories, not real. Everyone knew that.

But here was a mage, with what definitely looked like a spellbook. A real one.

If he wanted to know more—which he definitely did—he'd have to approach the stranger-mage. Adults didn't like being pestered needlessly by children, and the mage may have been young, but he wasn't a child. Viren would be more welcome if he had something to offer. He'd also have to hurry. If the mage's attention was claimed by others who had paying work for him, there was no way he'd ever speak to Viren.

He sprinted home, banging the door open in a way that would have drawn his mother's ire, had she been there. She would be tending the furnaces in the smeltery until nightfall, when she'd return exhausted and soot-stained to eat the supper Viren prepared and then collapse in her cot. It wasn't always like that—there were times when they cooked together, or he read aloud to her, or they joined the neighbors in one of their homes for music and singing—but the demand for the town's steel had climbed suddenly, and so she'd been working double shifts for nearly a month.

He grabbed a string of dried apple slices from where they hung in the cellar—it wouldn't be missed. The trees would be fruiting again soon, anyway. Vanished bread would be harder to explain if it was noticed, but he took the bun set aside for his own lunch, and risked swiping a second from the basket. He'd skip bread at supper, to make up for it. A wedge of cheese sliced off the big wheel, hopefully slim enough to not visibly change its shape, completed his offering. He wrapped everything quickly in a napkin, then took off running again, back toward the square.

The mage was still there, filling his canteen from the fountain. Viren waited for him to finish, trying not to betray his nerves by fidgeting. When the mage turned around, he thrust out the bundle of food. "Here," he said. "It's after midday. Have you eaten?"

His skin prickled under the mage's surprised scrutiny. Close up like this, Viren could see that his freckles extended even onto his eyelids and lips, denser and darker high on his cheeks. His eyes were warm and brown, darker than Viren's even though his blond hair was fairer. He looked Viren up and down for a long moment, head cocked to one side.

"I haven't," he finally replied, accepting the bundle from Viren's hands. "That's very kind of you."

Viren trailed after him toward a section of the low stone wall that surrounded the square, where it was shaded by a pair of trees. The mage shrugged off his pack, then sat down on the wall with an appreciative sigh. Viren remained standing, watching him open the napkin and survey its contents.

"You're a mage, right?" he said, unable to contain himself any longer. "Is that a real spellbook?"

"Sure am, and sure is." The mage tore a chunk off the first bun and chewed it slowly. It was ordinary, day-old bread, but he closed his eyes if savoring it.

Viren couldn't help himself. He thought he might burst, desire to know things previously beyond his experience bubbling out of him. "Where did it come from? Can you do any of the spells? Can you do all of them? What kind of spells are they?"

The mage didn't answer for a moment, dried apple crunching in his mouth. "We playing twelve questions, or are you always this nosy?"

Viren stiffened, blushing. "No! I don't—"

"Relax, kid—I'm just pulling your tail. How's this: someone gave it to me a while back, yes, not yet, and all kinds." The mage grinned, tilting his head to indicate a spot on the wall next to him. "Take a seat. What’s your name?”

Viren scrambled to sit in the place he'd been offered. “Viren.”

"I'm Luca. Came from Duren, originally." He pinched up the few crumbs shed into the napkin by the first bun, eating them off his fingers as he watched Viren expectantly.

“Duren's a long ways away," Viren said, trying to sound indifferent. He still bristled at being called nosy, joking though it had been. "What are you doing here?”

"I'm headed toward Evenere, eventually," Luca replied easily. He gestured toward the east. "I came south across Weeping Bay by boat, and thought I'd take a look at Mount Kalik before starting the walk to the capital."

"You added at least two days to your route just for Mount Kalik?" Viren looked incredulously in the direction of the looming mountain. He didn't even notice it was there, most days. "There's nothing special about it. It's just tall."

"There aren't a lot of mountains in Duren, so excuse me if I think 'just tall' is still pretty impressive." Luca paused to drink from his canteen. "But really, I'm hoping I might find some interesting plants or creepy-crawlies up there, something that fuels magic. I figure it's worth a day or two to take a look. Assuming I don't get eaten by a banther, that is."

That reasoning brought Viren up short. "Wait—you're saying magic comes from plants?"

Viren had only ever seen one or two spells actually being cast. A family living a short distance from his home had a persistent problem with mites in their garden, and their neighbors had pooled money together for a mage to get rid of them before they spread. That mage had welcomed spectators, as if putting on a performance, and Viren had assumed the bird's foot tied with strange herbs that crumbled to ash in their hand was solely to enhance the drama.

"Plants, bugs, bits of bigger creatures—humans don't have magic in us already, so we get it from something that does. Usually that something has to come from Xadia, where everything's full of magic, but there are also a few places hidden away here in the kingdoms where there's still a bit to be found." Luca smiled wryly. "Fortunately for mages with more skill than they have coin, like me. Otherwise every spell comes out of my own pockets, which are light enough, already."

"Why become a mage, then?" Viren knew most mages weren't rich—not even the mine scryer took collecting her gold for granted—but there was no sense in work that cost more than it brought in. Not unless it somehow paid out the difference in the future, but even that was like digging past good iron hoping to hit silver.

“Never was cut out to be a farmer.” Luca’s tone was light, but his mouth twisted slightly. “My parents wouldn’t hear of me doing anything else, so I got desperate. I didn't set out thinking I'd learn magic, but I convinced a mage who came through my village to take me with her—just to get away. Haven’t seen home or them since.

"Funny how things turn out—I'd planned to ditch her a few towns over and make for Berylgarten, but then she started teaching me, and I loved it. I can't imagine doing anything else, now." He smiled again, glancing sidelong at Viren. “Looking back, I suppose I always wanted something more. Something special. Know what I mean?”

Viren thought he might. He was clever—everyone said so. He'd read everything he'd ever gotten his hands on, most of it more than once. Some of it he even understood. Had he been born to a family with a bit of money, or even just a little closer to the capital, he might have been sent there to apprentice with a cleric or scholar.

Here, there were no such options. The herbalist had a daughter she was already teaching her trade, and no need for a second student. The schoolteacher, who'd provided Viren with books out of his own wages for years, was nonetheless assigned by the crown and would eventually be replaced the same way—with someone educated far away, who’d gotten chances Viren never would.

Here, he’d never be anything more than a miner or a smelter. Maybe a foreman, one day, at best.

The other choice was to enlist. Some of the older town youths counted the days until the recruiters arrived, training their bodies in hopes of being allowed on the wagon headed for one of the far-away training camps, but Viren had never found it appealing. To be honed into an obedient weapon and spill blood for crown and kingdom, hoping he survived long enough to collect a pension at the end of it—spend his life going where he was bid, doing what he was told, fighting who he was ordered. As humble as a miner's life might be, at least he could choose which rocks to break.

There was no shame in mining. His home was an honest town of honest people, doing honest work—important work, for the good of Katolis. They coaxed iron from the ground and wrung it into the raw steel that would become swords and helmets and breastplates to defend their sons and daughters, whether at the border or sleeping peacefully in their beds. They gave their labor until their backs were stooped and twisted, their hands scarred into gnarled lumps, and their last breaths wheezed from lungs choked with soot and dust.

Some part of him, kept smothered into unnoticed silence for years, now screamed in rebellion at the thought. He wanted more. He wanted to be more than a nameless son of the town he'd never been further than half a day's walk from, digging the same rocks as his father and grandfather, for a new king fighting the same war.

He'd never thought about being a mage. He'd never met a mage that made it seem like something worth being. Something he could be. But now—

Viren realized suddenly that Luca was watching him. "Looks like you're thinking some deep thoughts, kid," he said, snapping an apple ring in two and sandwiching the last bit of cheese between the halves before popping it in his mouth.

"Maybe," Viren hedged. He looked down at his hands resting on his knees. "Was magic very hard to learn?"

"Not hard at all." Luca grinned. "You don't need to be special—anyone can do it. Takes a certain kind of mind to get good at it, though. You have to be sharp, curious and creative. Confident. Stubborn.

"Some quit when it gets hard, or frightening. They're who you see most often in these parts—the ones who never learn more than a handful of simple spells, then parade around towns like this one lording over people and taking their money." His face twisted again, in contempt or anger. "They limit themselves, usually because they're scared. If you want real power, you have to be willing to do whatever it takes."

It made sense to Viren. More effort and bigger risk nearly always meant a better reward. Iron could be easily dug from open pits, under the sun—but it was poor stuff, good for nails and little else, even after refining. The purest veins were underground, down in the darkness where the earth closed in around you like a fist. People had died, seeking iron good enough to make Katolian steel.

"Are there a lot of mages out there? Not many come this far south."

Luca scratched his jaw, thinking. “I know of a couple dozen here in Katolis, give or take. Most of them are small-time and keep closer to the border, where it's easier to get Xadian materials. Weeping Bay has you a bit cut off here, unfortunately." He shrugged. "I hear there are a lot more in Neolandia, or Evenere. That’s why I'm pointed that way. I want to find a better teacher—my old one was okay, but I learned all I could from her pretty quickly."

“Who’s the best?" Viren sounded a little too interested, even to himself. He looked away. "I mean, if you could learn from anyone at all.”

It wasn't as if he'd be running off to learn magic any time soon. Or ever. Probably. But if he were—there was no point in learning from a teacher who wasn't any good.

“Well, both Neolandia and Evenere have what they call high mages—advisors to the crown itself on everything related to magic. They’d know more about it than anyone. Probably cast spells I’ve never even heard of just to warm their tea.”

Viren’s face fell. Evenere was already far away, and Neolandia might as well have been the moon. It would probably be easier to go to Xadia and learn magic from an elf.

“Katolis hasn't had a high mage in years,” Luca continued, seeing his disappointment, “but here, the best is probably old Kpp’Ar.”

“Kpp’Ar,” Viren repeated, fumbling the odd name in his mouth. He tried again, then gave up before he could embarrass himself further. “Why not ask him to teach you?”

Luca barked a laugh. “Oh, he doesn’t take students. Never has, according to rumor. I suppose I could track him down on my way through the capital and ask, but I'd be wasting my time."

"I thought you said mages had to be stubborn?"

"Maybe so, but from what I hear, even a mountain would have trouble being more stubborn than Kpp'Ar." Luca shook his head. "He's an odd one, by all accounts. Even among mages."

Viren frowned. "You'll go all the way to Evenere, then? Just like that?"

"Sure. It's only a couple days to the capital on foot. Maybe three, if you take your time about it. Plenty of trade goes to Evenere, so it shouldn't be much problem to find someone willing to take me on as a passenger in exchange for loading and unloading crates or other labor." Luca leaned back on his hands, tilting his head up to catch the sun trickling through the cover of the tree stretched overhead. "Might even ask around to see if anyone has work for a mage. The crown doesn't like too many mages idling around in the city for too long, but plenty of people still need magic—maybe I'll find someone who will pay for it while I'm there. Several someones, with any luck."

He shrugged, looking back toward Viren. "Either way, it'll be just a wagon ride with some merchant to the port, and then a boat through the isles to Evenere."

Viren tried to imagine it. He'd never seen the capital, much less the sea. He suddenly wanted to. He wanted to learn, to know real magic—the kind that could do something more than just lift blight from a field or proof wooden walls against fire. The kind that really made a difference, doing things that were otherwise impossible, the way it did in old stories of the early kingdoms. He hadn't known there was magic like that still in the world, and now he wanted it like a man entombed in the earth wanted light and air.

"Take me with you!" he blurted out. "I'm almost done with my schooling—I read and write better than most of the grown-ups, already. You could teach me, easy. I wouldn't be any trouble. I don't even eat much."

His face heated at his own impulsivity. It was a foolish request, and he knew it. He was a child, with nothing of value to offer, asking a total stranger to take him on as a burden—as much as he wanted to believe he could carry his own weight, he was well aware that he was just another mouth to feed, who would move slower and tire faster than a grown man.

He also already knew from Luca's face what the answer would be.

"I believe you. It's obvious you're both smart and dedicated, Viren," Luca said, not unkindly, "and I wish I could take you with me. But you deserve someone who can teach you properly. I don't know enough for that, yet." He looked down at his feet. "And while it may be fine for me to miss a few meals, or sneak into someone's barn to sleep out of the rain and then get chased out in the morning—that's not a life I feel right about bringing a kid into, but I wouldn't be able to provide any better. To tell the truth, I'd be trying to sleep on near two days' empty stomach tonight, if it weren't for your kindness."

"It was no trouble," Viren said automatically, ducking his head a bit in embarrassment.

"Yeah," Luca replied, in a tone that said he knew what it meant to feed a stranger in a town like Viren's, but also that any further display of gratitude would be an affront to his pride. "Hey, I tell you what—"

He unbuckled the book from his side. This close, Viren could see how smooth the leather was in places, polished like glass from the hands of dozens of owners over what must have been decades, at least. Luca flipped deftly through its pages, the edges yellowed with age but still butter-soft, until he reached a point a bit more than a third of the way through its thickness. Then, bracing it on the low stone wall, he pulled a slim knife from his boot and set it to the book's spine between the pages marked by his fingers.

Viren's eyes widened. "W-wait—!"

He winced as the knife slid smoothly through the binding, snagging only briefly on the heavy stitching that held the pages together. The book fell into two pieces in Luca's hands, and he held out the thinner, front section to Viren. "Here. This will get you started—I know that part well enough, already."

Viren stared at him, his eyes darting between the mutilated book and Luca's face. The book was old, and well-made, and magic—there could be no doubt it was also valuable beyond comprehension. "I don't have—I couldn't possibly take something like that!" he protested.

"Not even in exchange for the meal?" Seeing Viren's expression harden stubbornly, Luca rolled his eyes. "Then call it a loan, if you like. Catch up to me in Evenere, and you can give it back."

He waggled the chunk of book insistently, until Viren slowly reached out and took it. He held it carefully, afraid to wrinkle the exposed pages. "I'll take good care of it," he said seriously. "I promise!"

"Good. I'll see you there, then." Luca bumped his fist gently against Viren's shoulder. "There's probably a spell in one of these halves that'll serve to stitch it back up again. We can learn it together."

Viren nodded, suddenly unable to speak.

Luca craned his neck, looking at the sky to assess the position of the sun. "I'd better be moving on, if I want to get up Mount Kalik before nightfall." He shook out the napkin and folded it neatly, handing it back to Viren. He bent to rummage in his pack, pulling out a rolled-up oilcloth blanket and cutting a rectangle out from one corner with his knife. Wrapping his half of the split book in the protective cover, he returned it to its buckles at his hip and tightened them firmly around its reduced thickness. The knife disappeared back into his boot.

Viren stood when he did, watching as he stretched before swinging his pack onto his back and settling it on his shoulders. He headed across the square, then turned and pointed at Viren. "Evenere, yeah? Don't keep me waiting!"

A grin broke across Viren's face, and he waved. "I won't!" he called back.

Luca raised a hand in farewell, then turned again and started down the street that led west, out of the town and into the stretch of farmland claimed from the forests that spilled down the mountainside. Viren watched until he was out of sight, holding the book carefully to his chest.

He went home more slowly this time, but not by much—mostly to avoid jostling the book too much. He leaned against the door after closing it behind him, staring at nothing as his mind raced. There was some time before he had to start preparations for supper. He looked down at the book, running a hand over the smooth cover before thumbing gently through the pages. The margins were littered with notes inked in a variety of hands, some so faded as to be barely legible, others recent and clear. He brushed his fingertips across them, smiling.

Grabbing a stylus and the pot of ink from his mother's small desk, he dragged a stool to the larger table where they ate. Perched there with the book set in front of him, he inked the stylus and held it in his mouth as he carefully pressed open the cover. In an open space in one corner, he wrote Kypar, Katolis City as neatly as he could. He drew a small star next to the note, to mark it as important, then frowned and squeezed in a question mark beside the name. He'd never heard one like it, and had no idea how it ought to be spelled.

Waiting for the ink to dry, he considered his next steps. His best bet would be to start working the bins where those too young, too old, or with bodies not suited for the mines separated rocks with iron ore from those without it—the pay was low but steady, and if he quit school, he'd be able to work enough to contribute some of his wages to the household and save a bit for himself. He wouldn't need all that much. Just enough to get to the capital and stay for a few days. Just long enough to convince this Kpp'Ar he would be a worthy student.

And if he couldn't—he chewed the end of the stylus absently, thinking. There was no sense in getting worked up over the possibility of failure. He'd just have to cross that bridge if it appeared in front of him.

He turned the spellbook to the first page, and began to read.

#the dragon prince #viren #kradogsfic #holy FUCK that was a shit week but this is FINALLY written #not me spending hours researching iron mining and steel production and then fudging like 90% of it but fuck it i do what i want #neither god nor wonderstorm can stop me

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secretaryunpaid · 2 years ago

Text

The Long Goodbye...

Rating: Mature

Warning: Intimacy, the feeling of loss

Word Count: 3500 approximately

The Long Goodbye…

It was time…

He wasn’t ready, although he thought he would be…

Boys, get your scarves, Dahlia and I are going to take you on a stroll through Central Park, and then we are taking a trip together to visit someone special to you that you haven’t met yet. Saying “special” cut like a heated knife through his heart, but it would not take away from the fact that he is someone special to them, as he was to their mother… another bitter fact that Sam had come to accept. It had taken him time, but he knew that brooding over the fact wouldn’t change a single ounce of the truth that had burned in his mind and heart for some time now.

He had given him time to adjust to his request for his sons, but would that time ever be enough? No way that it could ever be. Although they were not his biological sons, they had made him the man he was today. For if they had not been born, he would never have found it within himself to care more about his own life… It had been their births that grounded him. Watching the pain ripping through Alina as she so bravely pushed each one into the waiting hands of a very proud father, eventually cutting their cords after the desired time she’d ask them to wait… the last moments they would be totally dependent on her alone for their survival finally showed Sam exactly what he had been taking for granted.

Looking back on it made things bittersweet. How could the best memories of his life be stained with untruth? But he wouldn’t allow any deception to taint his relationship with his boys, until they could no longer reside with him he would give them his all. So, today would start their long goodbye… Mini trips to fun locations and a walk down memory lane, ending in the very place he’d discovered his wife in the arms of none other than their true father.

Sighing, Dahlia takes his hand and pulls him into a tight hug. “We will get through this, Sam. It won’t be easy, but we will. This doesn’t truly have to be goodbye. I don’t see that you could be kept out of their lives after raising them to be such fine young boys. Their brilliance and love of life is all because of you. Yes, Alina had her share in giving them love early on, but after… Well, love, that was all you!” He bends and rests his chin atop her head, steadying his anxiety in her firm hold of him. She always did have a way of calming the worst storms brewing within him. “Let’s go, we have a lot of activities ahead of us, and our boys are anxious… “

Once at the park, the boys inquired about every scientific thing that they could think of, from the color change in the leaves, to the contrasting landscape, to why they seemed to react differently to the cool weather… Dahlia had on a wool trench, while Sam just had a knit sweater and scarf thrown over his neck and shoulders, but a thin turtleneck was the only protection against the chilling breeze. The boys both had on their fleece lined jackets with hats, scarves and gloves.

It was fascinating to listen to Dahlia explain the body’s mechanisms for regulating body temperature, the boys eagerly giving their own examples, missing the heated looks between the two adults whose bodies were joined at the sides, arms wrapped around each other like anchors to keep them both from losing themselves in these moments… How would their days be without the energy and life the boys brought throughout their days?

Thoughts were broken as they came across a cart vendor selling the most alluring scented hot drinks and pastries. Answering before the boys’ excitement could settle enough to ask, they followed the boys at a much slower pace to the smiling older gentleman who was reciprocating the smiles plastered on the boys’ faces. As they animatedly discussed which sweets would be best and to see if they could get away with more than one, Dahlia held a quick conversation with Sam which ended in a sweet kiss caught by the boys just as it was ending. “Eewwww, more kissing!”

“That’s what love looks like, young men, now… what can I get for you?” This man reminded them of Carter once they gave a closer look, but maybe it was just his gentle nature that made them think of him. “Well boys, since we grossed you out just now, I’m sure you won’t want anything but a hot drink, right?” Sam teased them, knowing that they’d plead for more and it would divert them from witnessing their mature actions. As they protested, Dahlia nudged Sam to give in just this once and let them have their pick of things to their delight. After drinks and goodies were purchased, their walk continued until they reached the pond and park benches.

“Your dad and I will sit here while you two explore this area in front of us, but stay in sight, okay.” The boys head straight for the carousel, and once on, chase each other around it until they find just the right spot. As the carousel turns, intermittently waving and calling out to the boys, Dahlia turns to Sam with puzzlement over his distant expression. “Do we get to discuss more about this? I still don’t know who this mysterious father could even be.”

He finally turns to look at her with tearful eyes. “I know it’s asking a lot, but I don’t think it’s something that I can discuss right now. I just want to fully enjoy the remainder of our days together as a complete family. I will explain more on the last leg of our vacation. I am, however, anxious to meet your sister! Is she anything like you?”

“Way to deflect from unwanted conversation, mister… but, not so much. Riley and I are two very different people. Although, she did marry my brother-in-law not truly knowing anything about him… That is similar to us, but I knew a lot about you… You just didn’t see that knowing everything about me would change things. But to add more, Riley carried a lot of the responsibility for me. Our parents traveled for work and were hardly ever present in my life. My Grandma Addie was my lifeline… but after she passed on, it was pretty much Riley. I went off to college at an early age, and Riley eventually went off to medical school but left to pursue “anything different” to quote her directly. She was pretty much a professional student, but our grandmother always told us that you can’t ever have too many degrees behind your name. Life played out a lot differently for me, but I do have my Master’s in Chemistry, Bachelors in Biochemistry and Psychology.”

Sam barely heard much of what Dahlia was saying, eyes flicking between her and the carousel, taking in how excited and carefree the twins were. This had never been his childhood, groomed from an early age to be in the public eye, from his grandfather’s prominent status to his father’s need to surpass the image of his father. He couldn’t help reliving the day of their birth, changing their diapers for the first time when handling them both on his own… a bet he’d made with confidence to his wife that he could handle the task alone and with precision, but two blowouts proved otherwise. He didn’t think something so small could hold so much, but they did, and it was like a competition brewing between them already, or their first ever prank. His memory of dropping them off for their first day of school brings a smile to his face, but is quickly interrupted by the boys’ screaming as they played tag after having gotten off the carousel and playfully raced back towards the two of them.

Standing, he reaches for her hand with a sad smile which causes her to pause, but she offers him her hand. Pulling her into him for a tight hug, he kisses just behind her ear as he whispers, “I love you, you know that?” As she leans to try to guess his mood, he kisses her on the lips quickly before taking her hands and kissing them before interlacing their fingers together so that they could continue their evening of fun. Each feels Mickey and Mason slide up against their exposed sides, simultaneously ruffling their hair as the boys protest, “Where to next, Dahlia?” She looks at Sam and says, “You boys up to pillaging and plundering a castle?”

“There’s a real castle?”

“Yes, in the center of Central Park. We have to fight off other pirates as we climb to the top. We’ll need to get to the lookout to search for the potential locations the treasure has been buried. Race you there!”

“Ugh, dad! Dahlia’s too fast! Catch her!” He can’t help falling into the feeling of family and gives chase, hearing the boys yell, “faster, faster, she is getting away!” Gaining on her quickly with his long strides, he catches her at the waist and spins her around. As he begins to lower her to the ground, the boys join in hugging her waist and laughing, “You’re fast, but not faster than dad!”

“Yeah, duh!!! Do you see those long legs! That’s why I needed the headstart! But… since you don’t know the way, my little admirals, you’ll just have to stay close and follow me!” His heart pangs with knowing these are the final moments with his family in this way. He is so thankful that Dahlia is taking charge of this adventure in his stead because he is slowly crumbling inside and fighting hard not to fall weak in front of the boys.

How had he taken them for granted all of this time … allowing their grandparents the better part of their time? Arm draped around her shoulder, he quietly thanks her for all that she is doing today and he shows his gratitude later when they are alone, kissing the top of her head. She isn’t used to seeing Sam in such a vulnerable state and begins to worry about him. She won’t probe him further about it now, just keep the boys occupied to give him this bit of instant relief.

Finally making it to the top spiral of the castle’s tower, they make a dramatic scene of spotting creatures and pirate ships sailing towards them in the icy lake below. “We can’t let them get our treasure, Admiral Mason!” “No chance of that, Admiral Mickey! We have Dahlia and dad to fight them off for us!” Sam makes a display of suiting up in armor and weaponry as Dahlia fires shots from the imaginary cannons and yells back for Sam to man the bow chaser. Brandishing his cutlass, he screams out pirate jargon and then throws grenades as he runs to the cannon to finally sink the closest ships. Celebrating in triumph, they all perform a signature dance move and fall down in a fit of laughter.

Once hydrated, they move on throughout Central Park, making their way back towards Hyland Planetarium, the place where Dahlia had taken them on her first attempt at babysitting them for Sam. This would be another painful moment, unable to be hidden. “Dad, why are you so sad?”

Both boys rush to take a hand, somberly gazing up into his eyes awaiting some response.

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Every Breath You Take… Aaron Krause link2

Sam pulls them into a tight side hug, reassuring them that he isn’t sad (a blatant understatement, but a little white lie told to not dampen their moods), but just remembering their happiest moments together (not a lie, but a mask for what he truly feels). As they make their way to their preferred row of seating, the lights begin to lower. After calling out as many of the ones they recognized in competition, the boys noticed a new set they had never seen before, a mirror image representing identical twins. Sam had arranged for the boys to have their own constellations named after them, so that no matter where they were in the world, as long as they were looking up at the starry night sky, there would always be a constant reminder of how much he loved them even though they may be apart.

“Wow, dad! You really had them named after us?”

“I sure did! I even bought you an advanced telescope so that you can help to discover more… even if they can’t be documented, you boys can have the pleasure of writing your own worlds in the stars above.” Dahlia leaned in close as Sam lifted his arm for her to cuddle into him.The tears in her eyes were apparent, but the boys didn’t catch on due to their excitement of air tracing their very own constellations. Dahlia remembers the exact evening Sam discussed the idea with his mother when they visited her for dinner, and slowly the pieces begin to stitch together. This is what had motivated all of these unexpected yet sentimental acts from Sam.

Vivian had discussed having their ceiling mimic this exact view with Liam, and he’d agreed to have the renovations completed by the time of their arrival. She made sure that he knew the things the boys were accustomed to and had already begun shipping things unable to be found in Cordonia out of her need to have some control in this unfortunate situation. Liam was beyond grateful for every bit of information he had been privy to because this was already going to be a major change… one, not even he could be sure that Riley or Cordonia would be openly receptive to.

One last car ride with Carter… this time, both sit up front, after a dare made by Mickey that Mason wouldn’t be able to convince Sam to allow this to ever happen, and if by some rare chance he did, he would stop teasing him about the bedwetting prank he’d pulled on him, never mentioning it again to anyone. He’d teased Mason long and hard over this, making sure to tell anyone that would listen to his comedic rantings, so there was no way that Mason wouldn’t give this a try. To Mickey’s disbelief, all Mason had to do was ask and Sam gave in with a gentle smile, rustling his curls saying, “Just this once!”

His strength had completely faltered, and there was no way that he would be able to thwart the onslaught of questions the boys would have given on the journey home. They wouldn’t continue to believe that he was the nostalgic father he’d previously explained their prior concerns away with. The moment the town car began its designated route to the airport, Sam sank down into Dahlia’s lap, his head heavy and eyes brimming with the unshed tears he had been willing away the entire day.

As she gently stroked his beard, she softly pleaded for him to talk to her. Knowing the details may allow her to comfort him better, but he delays the conversation by planting kisses on her inner thigh through her clothing, moving to place a kiss on her mound before easing his way up to kiss her with such a needy force that she abandons any and all conversation. Unfastening the button with a mere hook of his finger and quickly dragging the zipper down, he buries his face in her crotch, teasing her clit as his hands squeeze her thighs… slowly dragging her forward to allow him better access.

“Sam, I love the way you feel right now, but what about the partition?” Only stopping to lean backward to lock the window access to the back of the town car, he turns and eyes her with such adoration in his eyes that she feels her wetness increasing.

It will take at least an hour to reach the private hanger, where Sam’s plane has been prepped for him to take his family up for the first leg of their air travel. He’s never taken the boys up but feels that this would be the perfect way to ease them into the much longer flight ahead of them. What better way to show his boys how cool their dad is? Their dad…

Desperately needing to get out of his head, he gave her only one instruction, “Don’t make a sound!” The roughness in his kiss suffocated any spurning her mind insisted upon knowing that the boys could potentially hear or see her intimate behavior, soft whispers and cries escaping her. When Sam desired comfort in this way, she knew that whatever was grating on his mind would unravel through the most intense touch he could offer her, and she could barely contain her anxiety to absorb every ounce of feeling that he would pour into her.

He thought that this was finally smothering the feeling of abandonment that haunted him, but her repetitive whisper, “Oh, baby!”, would remind him of the words that escaped Alina’s mouth as he held her, nestled in his lap with each new baby boy held secure in her arms as he firmly surrounded hers… “Oh baby, look how peaceful and beautiful they are!” The push and pull between reality and memory almost proved to be overwhelming, but he would soon remedy this.

Taking her faster would cause her words to falter, only allowing room for her to attempt catching her breath while moaning her elation, but this would only set him back to square one, answering questions he wanted to avoid. Lapping the remnants remaining of her first orgasm, he unbuttons his shirt, hurriedly ripping it from his torso just before leaning back on his knees to unbuckle his belt.

Dahlia is already upright on her knees in front of him, unzipping his pants and freeing his pulsing erection, straddling it before he’s even removed the belt completely. A pointless idea now abandoned, he steadies her thighs in his grip as she grinds on him, kissing him with as much passionate energy as she felt coursing through her just moments ago. She feels so damned good taking him as he sits idle, enjoying the feel of her using him to bring a climax and hard release that has her trembling around him, embracing him as she pants so heavily that syncope is near.

Sam is still so conflicted in his heart that his release is stunted each time he is on the brink. Only taking complete control will allow him to escape everything consuming him. Dahlia has no recovery time. Sam lifts her and crawls forward pinning her sideways on the seat as he drives into her hard and fast at first, but slows to give him more time. Both watch as he slowly sheaths himself fully within her, withdrawing at the same pace but lifting upward to intensify the feel of him against her clenching walls.

Stretching her each time as his excitement floods into a near-painful hardness, he finally knows that the time has come to empty all thoughts as he forces himself into her not pulling away any longer but pushing with a deep grind that has her clawing and gripping his arms as he hovers close to her. The buildup to their release becomes so powerful there’s a tightness in his chest and he is almost unable to breathe. One arm holds her tightly against him just below her shoulder blades as his other hand cups her ass, lifting her into his deep strokes, whispering for her to get ready, he’s about to flood her.

She holds tightly around his neck as his grind forces her upward, burying her head until she feels she may scream. “Kiss me, Sam!” He can’t have her talking loudly or screaming. She audibly pouts at his withdrawal, her body now torturously aching to be filled. Unable to protest because Sam repositions and fills her mouth instead, “Take it!” He stretches over her and begins to kiss and suck her orgasm from her as she does him, both grinding wildly against each other’s faces.

Release !!! Finally, a delicious release drowned in barely audible hissing and shivering moans… “Mmmmhm, Sam!!” It takes everything within him to remain silent, but he has to maintain this restraint… The boys can’t know why he so freely agreed to Mason’s request, although this wasn’t necessarily the primary reason. Lazily readjusting themselves and their clothing, “Talk later?” Yawning, her only reply, “Mmmm…” Reaching into the console to retrieve a light fragranced cologne bottle, he squirts a few sprays onto their clothing to mask their adult activities before relaxing back into the seat and holding Dahlia against him as they await arrival at the hanger.

Was this long goodbye truly the best idea? Sure, it gives him more time, but it would still come to an end with the same result… letting go… How the hell was he supposed to do this?

{To be continued...}

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