#while making this i realized that this is the only people in oasis springs like only 3 filled households 👀???

[kazuaru]

"Big" Oasis Springs Townie Makeovers.

[heartsofminds]

i'm calling just to hear you scream - part ii.

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar and you don’t even fucking care!” or it's your first day at The Bear (or is it The Beef still?), Richie is convinced you're a fed, and Carmen may or may not hate your guts.

A/N: well surprise, surprise! here's part two of i'm calling just to hear you scream. definitely more of a filler chapter before everything starts to implode and get more serious and downright grimey, but i hope you enjoy!

The shadows created by the awnings of the sandwiched businesses chill your bones while the Sun makes your backside sticky beneath your sweater and light spring jacket. Chicago is beautiful in March, but always full of surprises.

One day comes an icy snowstorm that adds to the gray slush collecting on the side of the street and the next a blissful sixty-one degrees that gaslights everyone into walking around with shorts on because it’s just “so warm.” 

You can’t revel in the tranquility for much longer. Not when you’re pretty sure you’re coming up on the address Natalie emailed you two nights ago. 628 West Wager Street sits prettily in between an old antique shop and a Chicago Cubs merchandise store that has definitely seen better days. Despite no sign hanging on the window and the glass completely shielded from outside eyes by brown butcher paper, it somehow looks like it belongs; the younger sibling of a once booming and vibrant street scene. 

Being outside of the door is a feeling that fills you with both anxiety and uncertainty. You know you’re in the right spot but you don’t feel like you are; not when you can’t hear any noise coming from any of the three storefronts that stand in front of you. You’re made even more uneasy when you see the five by eleven sheet of insulated foil wrap with capital letters written in Sharpie taped to the front window. 

The Beef is closed. Thank you for your patronage. The Bear is coming. 

The nerves start to hit you even harder. All Natalie had mentioned over the phone and through your frequent emails have been about needing help with a restaurant. The name of the aforementioned restaurant had never been disclosed and its location remained a mystery until this morning when you got an email with the unspoken directions that Apple Maps would omit. There’s nothing more embarrassing than doing a consult and not knowing any of the details. It’s even more humiliating when the feeling of being made a fool seems inevitable. 

Your arm refuses to move forward and yank the door open in case this is some sick prank. You half expect Becca to be hiding behind it with the “good ole boys” crew that is full of Senior and Junior partners at your law firm; their only purpose is to further humiliate and belittle you more than they already do on a day-to-day basis at the office. 

It’s a ridiculous thing to think that someone would care enough about you and your shame to do that, you know, but it’s the only way you can rationalize your brain warning you not to touch that door. Your eyes catch your reflection and suddenly you want the concrete sidewalk to swallow you whole. You take in how your navy blue pantsuit engulfs you and how your work bag seems to get heavier and heavier as it hangs solemnly at your side. 

You don’t belong here. 

The itch to turn around and run back to the train as fast as you could possibly manage crosses your mind, but the shattering of the quiet oasis around you interrupts that thought before it can materialize. 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up!” you hear a voice scream.

“Do you ever realize you don’t know fuckin’ everything!” another one screams back. 

The sound of a wall being hit accompanies the shouts as well as numerous other voices joining in on the cacophony the verbal altercation created. 

Call it a hunch (or just having enough common sense), but you definitely are in the right place and there are certainly people inside. The scary part of not knowing is over. The absolutely horrifying part of having to see where you fit in is pending. 

Your fingers grip the solid metal door handle and you rip it open. The resounding squeal it emits makes you want the floor to swallow you up whole. The chaos of screaming shouting and yelling start to pause before the sound of the sledgehammer hitting the wall a second time interrupts it and sends it into a full frenzy once again. 

The world seems to be moving in slow motion and your words are caught in your throat. You’ve never seen chaos like this before, but you’ve definitely felt the way you’re currently feeling every day for the past five years. Faces you don’t know, a nagging feeling of responsibility, a dire need to do the best job you possibly can and not fucking up and not pissing anyone off, and yet no idea where to even start. 

“If I already fuckin’ told you you were tearing the wrong wall down why the actual fuck would you do it again!” a strained scream bounces off the walls. 

You jolt at the echo. The current lack of infrastructure and an igloo of scaffolding tarp amplifies the sound by three thousand decibels. 

He can’t see your face because his back is turned toward you, but the temperament and the mop of curls tell you the obvious. Carmen. Natalie’s brother and shareholder that she had subtly warned you about in a half-joking, half-not tone when you had spoken on the phone the other day. 

“To prove a fucking point,” a lankier taller man scoffs back. Richie. Their cousin, not cousin (which you don’t really understand, but you chalk it up to a deduction that not everything is meant to make sense), and the absolute bane of Natalie and Carmen’s existence at times. She had also warned you about him on the phone. “Even if I’m wrong you never fail to always think you’re fucking right like a – like a fucking baby! You walk around here pissed the fuck off and fucking changing everything and makin’ it everyone else’s fucking problem –” 

Carmen lunges at him and two other men from the crowd almost pick him up from the floor to prevent him from tackling Richie. 

“Everyone else’s prob – You’re my fucking problem! You’re my fuckin’ problem and all you know how to do is fuck up and make everything fuckin’ worse!” 

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuckin’ pissy ass pamper cry baby.” 

Carmen tries his hardest to wrangle himself out of the hold he’s currently in. Sydney, a genius and the Lord’s prayer (according to Natalie, also), clumps herself near him as he remains twisting and turning like a toddler fighting a parent’s protective hold through a temper tantrum. 

“Chill, chill, chill. Stop. Just stop,” she gently coos. Her hand claps the shoulder of one of the men holding him up. You can see the gentle squeeze it gives to provide silent comfort, but you wonder if the softness in her tone is to deescalate the situation or to help regulate herself. 

He’s dragged out to what you can assume is the backdoor and it slams with a cadence that demands attention. A sharp thud can be heard five seconds later accompanied by various, “Yo, what the fuck, dude?”’s. 

He must have kicked the door. He definitely kicked the door. 

Your body continues to stay frozen in the bare entryway. The survival skills you’ve adapted kick into full effect. Don’t make a move. Don’t make a sound. Do not piss anyone else off. 

The aftermath of commotion and chatter fills the room and leaves no space for you. You have half the mind to put your hand back on the handle and dip out before anyone notices. You’ve been here all of three minutes and you feel as if it’s been a year. The shouting and the hurtful insults and the frequent use of the word “fuck” send a blush down your chest. You’re embarrassed because you’re starting to think that you can’t handle it. You’re not good enough. You’re not strong enough. 

What the fuck were you thinking even coming here? 

The push of your thigh against the door causes the rusted metal hinge to groan again. The sound is indiscernible from relief or protest; staying or leaving. Either option makes your skin crawl. The sudden redirection of eyes casts a dome of silence and everyone zones in on the thing that wasn’t there before: you. 

No one moves and for a second, you don’t think anyone blinks. The realization of someone infiltrating a rather robust and rage-filled argument occurring at nine in the morning sinks in before the vein of awkwardness begins to bleed. You know the logical thing to do is to introduce yourself; to force a plaster-like smile on your face and extend your hand and ask how everyone is doing. 

But you don’t. 

You can’t. 

Natalie can feel the alarm bells going off in her head when her eyes float to your figure. You look worried; a flash of pensiveness and subtle fear floods your facial expression and she starts to panic. Opening a restaurant is beyond humbling and asking Becca Cantor for her help was a last-ditch effort to contain the smallest bit of confidence she had left. Besides, she would rather roll over and die than you to walk out that door, tell Becca about how they’re sledgehammering walls with a gang of lunatics at the restaurant, and somehow get a call from Uncle Jimmy that turns into a stern talking to about how they’re just dicking around with his money and how it’s a waste of time. 

You absolutely, positively can not walk out that door. 

She’ll make sure of it. Even if it’s the last thing she ever fucking does. 

Her feet carry her faster than what her brain is aware of. Her eyes have to catch up with the scenery passing her in a blur as she walks up to you. Seeing her face calms you down in a way that is small but not unnoticed. She has kind eyes and a calm demeanor. This is the kind of client that gives you confidence. This is the kind of client that brings you joy. This is the kind of work you were made to do. 

“Oh, hey! You found it!” she cheers. Her hand brushes against your bicep in a welcome. 

The pool of spit inside your mouth gets swallowed as you curtly nod. “Yeah! Yeah, I thought Apple Maps led me astray but I was definitely in the right spot.” 

Pretending not to notice the curious gazes behind your interaction proves difficult, but it’s not something you’re not used to. Working in an office means there’s always someone in your business and you always feel like you’re under constant surveillance. 

At least this time, the threat of humiliation seems considerably low. The obvious danger of being chased out of here with a sledgehammer is considerably high though. 

“How are you doing?” you ask quietly. A conversation of niceties always makes things less awkward and gives you some leeway for at least learning who the owners are of the staring eyes. 

“Yo, who the fuck is this, Suge?” Richie asks, wiping his plaster-covered hands on his shirt. His face still harbors a flush that had yet to dissipate. He also has kind eyes but you know from the moments you witnessed prior that he can turn his kindness off and on instantaneously. 

Natalie rolls her eyes and huffs. The damage control that she’s doing is not going to plan. She had grown up around cursing and incredibly forward questioning and knows that not everyone else had, and from the disastrous commotion you stumbled into five minutes prior and the way your eyes show more of the whites than the irises, the crudeness needs to take a backseat. 

At least enough of one to ensure that you’re not about to turn around and bolt out of that shitty ass door that she had been bitching at Richie to oil for the past two months. 

She moves to stand next to you and puts her arm around your shoulder. Natalie knows that the second they find out that you’re an attorney all hell will break loose. Something about accusing you of being “fed” and coming to rip the “fundamentals of democracy” out from under them brews in her mind and she gags a little at the thought of having to diffuse yet another shit show before ten in the morning. 

The unwelcome taste of acid tinging the back of her tongue makes her take a mental note to ask her OB about being so nauseous. 

“This is our attorney,” she starts and begins to ignore the groans coming from the crowd in front of her, “She’s gonna help us with some...things.” 

Richie scoffs and throws his hands up. He wipes at his nose with his forearm and some of the plaster residue makes a home on the tip of it. 

“You brought a fuckin’ fed in here, Sugar?” His eyebrows rise to his hairline and it doesn’t take a genius to know how he doesn’t want you here at all. “I told you I had this under wraps. The fuck do we need a fed up our ass for if we’re just tearin’ down walls and shit.” 

You sigh and Natalie can feel the anxiety radiating off of you. She’s starting to absorb it, but the fight in her to make this right persists. 

“Well, first of all, the fed has a fucking name, you dick,” she snaps, “And you’ve been slinging beef sandwiches your entire adult life so the fuck do we need you for?”  

Richie exhales as the rest of the people around him start to snicker. 

“Damn, Papa. You need to pipe down,” whom you guess is Tina from some of the people who had been mentioned to you through the phone calls (and there’s so many goddamn people in here for it to be out of business and you’re sure you’ll need to start doing flashcards every night to remember who they are). 

“Thanks, T,” Natalie and Richie chirp in unison; their voices capturing the different emotions of annoyance and triumph differently. 

Some more harsh words and excited chatter served with a side of frustration occurs and you’re so checked out that you don’t even realize that no one has asked you directly what your name is. The animated voices and exaggerated body movement swell the room even more; pushing you outside and three blocks away so vividly through emotion that you have to check to make sure your feet haven’t moved. 

No one has asked who you are and which firm you came from. No one has asked how you are. And still, no one has asked you what your name is. 

They continue to talk and joke and yell and you start to feel yourself shrinking in. 

Smaller, smaller, smaller. 

Gone. 

You know that it’s not personal. It’s almost never personal, but the mind tends to conjure up ideas when it can’t make sense of the feelings it detects from the body. 

Maybe it had just gotten thrown to the wayside. Maybe they were making room for direct conversation with you to occur later when things weren’t so awkward. Maybe they don’t hate you and think you’re the worst and may actually like you.

But then maybe they don’t. 

Maybe they just don’t give a fuck. 

In your catatonic daze, you hear an offhanded remark about how you look like a high schooler who just waltzed in after a Model UN convention and that Natalie has no idea what the fuck she was doing. The laughter that follows highlights those who actively agree and the agitated huffs of frustration show those who silently concur. 

In any other circumstance, you probably would have joined them in laughter or returned a smart-alecky response or accompanied them in making fun of you, but this isn’t a different circumstance. You’re in a construction zone on a Saturday morning, overdressed with a pantsuit on, and have not a clue on how hospitality law works, and the facts leave a non-disputable conclusion. 

You’re the odd one out and you can’t get an invite to be even no matter how hard you try.

You truly don’t belong here. 

“Richie, have you ever considered that maybe we need to do it right this time?” Natalie asks, her tone dripping annoyance, “Her being here clearly doesn’t affect your ability to be an idiot, so you can go fuck yourself because she’s staying.” 

Richie narrows his eyes at her. His lanky limbs flail as he attempts to make his emotions seen without having to verbalize them. Natalie has had it with his stubbornness and she knows that she might be puking her guts out in about fifteen minutes. The great debate has to have an ending in sight soon. 

Besides, she knows that Richie’s apprehension toward the whole thing is because he’s resisting change and trying to get under Carmen’s skin. It doesn’t matter how great she knows her brother can make something. Richie will try and put a pin in it before it becomes something he no longer recognizes. 

Just like their dad. Somewhat like Mikey. Especially like Carmen (even though she knows he doesn’t recognize his own stubbornness yet). 

“Jesus, that’s fuckin’ horse shit if I’ve heard it,” he sneers, “And I happen to be very intelligent and very charming – and FYI – I also know how a fucking business works and all this “foo-foo,” “high dining”, microgreen shit –” 

She holds up her hand to him and rolls her eyes. She’s surprised she hasn’t been able to see the back of her skull yet. “It’s fine dining, but whatever.” 

“Fuck all the way off. Fine dining, microgreen shit is a dishonor to our roots and I will not stand for it.” 

Natalie’s hand smacks down on a metal rolling table with a rusty toolbox and a wrinkled pad of Post-it notes. The sounds of clanky metal snap everyone’s attention to her. Natalie was never mean. She was always sugary sweet and ooey gooey; trying to be in everyone’s good graces at all times and forever attempting to fix things before they had the potential to be broken. But she could also brush the sugar off and leave a bitter and tongue-curdling hurt if she got pushed to her limit. 

She’s not had a full night’s rest since she got asked (more like begged, but she’s not one for bragging) to be their project manager, she can’t bare to stomach anything nowadays without wrestling the urge to puke it back up, and the fucking pregnancy hormones are filling her with unexplained bouts of rage as of late. 

She is not one to be fucked with and Richie knows that. He just always wants to poke the bear. 

“Well that’s fuckin’ sad that your “roots” are tied to an Italian beef shop, but that doesn’t change my mind whatsoever,” she pushes past him with more force than she intended, guiding you along with her to wherever she had in mind, “You can bitch and moan and holler all you want but you’re not the one losing your fucking mind over fucking paperwork so whatever other unhelpful and extremely negative shit you have to say can get shoved up your ass and you can get fucked because I’m not putting up with it.” 

Richie is rendered speechless – a phenomenon that does not occur very often. 

She turns to you and gives you a friendly smile. Her hand rests softly above yours that are bawled into anxious fists. “Let’s go into the office so we can talk some more. Are you okay with that?” 

You’re still frozen in equal parts shock and fear; too scared to say no. 

“Umm. . .yeah. Yeah, we can go to the back,” you swallow and she brisks you away to what you assume is where all the paperwork is housed that they need help making sense of resides. 

You arrive outside of a closed wooden door and Natalie steps in front of it, her arms coming down to hug the hinges of it in a way that makes you slightly worried. “So I know that you’re not a hospitality attorney and I know that you’re doing this for free and you’re totally at liberty to say you want out the second you say the word,” she speaks softly. 

You know that she’s starting to panic. Your feelings and her feelings are starting to merge into one; two halves of the same whole – people pleasers. 

“But it’s. . .a lot and I don’t know even know where to start and this is legitimately driving me insane so –” 

Her anxiety starts to break your heart. The pang in your chest makes your decision for you. No matter how uncomfortable you are, you know you need to do the right thing out of the kindness of your own heart. 

“No, it’s fine!” you cut her off, “I’ll take a look and we’ll figure it out. Nothing you have here is too much. I can promise you that.” 

Ocean blue irises engulf you with sentiment and appreciation through their gaze. Natalie’s shoulders sag before her hand finds the gold doorknob. A deep breath adds to the noise of chatter and squeaks of the faulty fire alarm in the hallway. The oak door opens with a wheeze and a groan; stuck because of the swell its wood causes from the constant fluctuation of temperatures in Chicago. 

“Well,” she begins, “Here it is.” 

The mountains of cardboard boxes all labeled with acronyms and doodled with nonsense send the pit in your stomach down to your toes and through the center of the Earth. 

Holy fucking shit. 

Natalie notices your shock and starts to go back into “fix-it” mode. She hasn’t eaten at all today, but she figures that the emotions bubbling up and down at a fixed and constant rate are what fill her insides and are making her nauseous. Bile starts to make its way up her throat but she forces it back down. 

She’ll be damned if this goes even more sour than how she knows it has. 

“It’s a lot and it’s more sorting things and making them make sense than doing actual work? Like you’re gonna be doing work but it’s not rocket science. . . Not that being an attorney isn’t hard! My husband is one and I. . .need to shut up now,” she word vomits. Despite the apparent fact that she’s panicking, the sound of her voice is soothing and the gentle hand she places on the junction between the base of your neck and your shoulder does wonders to ground you. “And there’s no rush to have all of it done. It’s a work at your own pace kinda thing?” 

You both know that she’s fibbing about the last part. 

The frantic text at 11 PM last week and the hour-long phone call debriefs you had yesterday and three days before say otherwise. This is her compromising and making her needs smaller. This is her being like you and you being like her; being like each other. Digging yourself into holes to help others no matter the effort – no matter the pain. 

“No, I’m doing this because I want to. Just let me know exactly what you need and we can get to it as soon as possible.” 

You know that you must have said the golden word because as soon as the statement leaves your mouth, Natalie whips out her phone and starts reading off a list she had compiled of all things that have some link to the legal world. 

Contracts. Permits. Tax revenue sheets. Paystubs. Workers Compensation. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. City Ordinances. Chicago royally fucking anyone who dares to open a business, really. 

The sad part is that this should scare you. This should make you want to run out of here and never look back and purposely take the long way to get somewhere if you knew where you were headed would cross paths with the restaurant. 

But you don’t do any of that, and the buzz of finally doing something that you know is helping people overpowers the migraine of stress you can feel looming over you the second you agree to help them out. 

“You’re amazing,” she says, eyes twinkling with admiration. 

Your cheeks turn a shade of baby pink that you hope she can’t see. You’ve never taken well to flattery. 

Richie’s knuckles give a soft knock on the door and it opens before either of you can think to welcome another presence. His gaze finds both of you fist-deep into the first box labeled “Cocksuckers: For IRS - 1987.” You already know that he’s not related to the Berzattos by blood, but the beautiful blue eyes make you question that fact. He gives a sheepish smile almost to apologize for his interruption and you think he’s about to apologize before he opens his mouth and says, “Suge, your dashing baby brother is bout to blow a fuse because the fed is here.” 

Natalie stops what she’s doing. Her hands come to rest on the flimsy cardboard box and she throws her head back to eye the ceiling. If she can count the row of six vertically, maybe she can slow her breathing and calm herself down enough to spare Carmy the chewing out of a lifetime. 

One. 

“Sugar!” 

Two. 

“Get the fuck off me!” 

Three. 

“I said get the fuck off me! I need to see my fuckin’ sister!” 

Four. 

“Sugar!” 

Five. 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” 

Six. 

“Natalie!” 

Her brother appears in front of her disheveled and angry. Even though she’s only five years older than he is, she always sees him as the little baby she used to put in her strollers and push around for years until he got too big and too “grown” to think playing with his older sister was cool. Years spent with him also meant years studying him; knowing his ticks down to the smallest one and learning how he expresses every emotion. 

It was the only way she survived living in that house until she was eighteen. 

Dealing with an angry Carmen is nothing in comparison to dealing with an angry Michael or even attempting to console a slightly agitated mother. 

Besides, Carmy’s anger, while often misguided and very explosive, was never unexpected. He always has a tell and there’s always a few seconds before he completely comes unglued. Adult temper tantrums are shit shows, and quite frankly she’s fed up with having to diffuse one of his every couple of hours as of late. 

Her face starts to fall when she sees Carmen’s left eye begins to create that deep crinkle it does when he gets pissed. He starts to wrinkle his nose and she knows that he’s about to start screaming. 

Richie lets out a whistle before pushing Carmen’s head in a playful yet agitated manner. Before his hand can be swatted at, he jumps out of the way and joins in on a distant conversation about his daughter’s last dance recital. 

He has a smug grin on his face that Carmen wants nothing more than to slap off him. He knew that touching him would provoke him even more.  

Richie always has to poke the bear. 

Always. 

Carmen tries to contain his anger the best he can. Even though he’s totally against the idea of having you in the building, he knows there’s jackshit he can do about it now. Sydney said yes, Natalie sought you out, and Uncle Jimmy thought the idea was brilliant. The vote was three against one and he knows that all he can do is go fuck himself. So much for everyone promising not to make decisions about the restaurant without his okay. 

It’s not like his credit will be the one that’s fucked if this place turns to shit. 

His arm stretches to hold the side of the door’s hinge and supports his body weight as he leans to the right. “You hired a fucking attorney and didn’t tell me?” he snaps. His face pinches in a way that brings his nose, eyes, and mouth closer together; a face their mom used to make before she came totally unglued. 

You have your back turned toward the door he’s looming in. Something about being targeted makes you want to be blind to it; to shut your eyes as tightly as you can and will it away. You know that the way he’s acting has everything to do with him and nothing to do with you, but you can’t help it. When you feel out of place, every action to push you further out feels personal. 

“She’s doing it for free,” Natalie scoffs, putting a lid back on one of the boxes and crossing her arms over her chest. She would offer up more information, but what would be the use if Carmy is as wound up as he is? 

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar, and you don’t even fucking care!” he screeches, seemingly uncaring that you’re right in front of him and that he’s biting his sister’s head off as if it’s nothing. 

You start to pull files out of the boxes faster than you were before. The distraction is needed because you know that if you listen too intently to what else is being said, you’ll start internalizing it later. 

Nothing with you. Everything with him. Nothing with you. Everything with him. 

“No. She is not gonna fuck us,” she pushes a finger into his chest and her nostrils flaring, “You’re gonna fuck us because you’re being so stubborn and stupid and can’t have a goddamn conversation like an adult.” 

His chest pushes deeper into his sister’s finger. “You calling me a baby? You calling me a fucking baby?” 

Carmen usually isn’t one to pick a fight in his everyday life, but once he gets started he refuses to back down. The rational part of his brain knows that he’s going overboard but he can’t help himself. The rage inside has nowhere to go and this whole thing is really pissing him off. He’s so fucking sick of everyone acting like he’s too immature and irresponsible to handle things.

Natalie’s finger comes out to become a full palm. “Well then stop the yelling. Stop the pissy pamper attitude. Stop wasting our fucking time and just admit that you’re way over your fucking head and don’t know everything.” 

Carmen balls his hands into fists and licks his lips to prevent him from saying something really fucking mean. He knows that Natalie is just trying to help but she always is, and it fucking sucks when she always saves the day even when he doesn’t want her to. The restaurant was supposed to be theirs; supposed to be all him and Mikey and everyone who made them into the people they are. It was never supposed to be his. It was never supposed to be his when he has not a goddamn clue what he’s doing and Natalie driving herself borderline insane trying to proactively fix everything before it turns to shit. 

He doesn’t know what to say because she’s right. Sugar is always right and Carmen is always wrong and he wishes Michael was here to balance them out; to add a third option so it wasn’t so split. 

But he’s not here. He won’t be here. He never really was here. 

“Fuck!” he yells at the top of his lungs. 

“Fuck!” Natalie shouts back. 

Argument over. 

His shoes slide on the floor with ease and he tries to steady his breathing. His arms let go of the door frame and his head hangs with the dissatisfaction of still housing a boulder of anger. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he whispers, voice growing smaller as he walks away. A loud clash of hollowed metal is heard shortly after. “Fuck!” 

“Punching the lockers doesn’t get rid of the fact you’re a little bitch, Cousin.” 

Richie has to poke the bear. 

Always.

[igglemouse]

The start of a new day brings me a fresh wave of optimism and that's all because of the success of my stand. It started as a random dream, a stray hope that maybe, just maybe, I could move forward into a new life and have it be fueled by a career driven by my passion and ambition.

So yes, I will start the day off with left over pizza because I simply deserve it!

There are a few things I must do before I can really get the day started. The usual chores of course. I cook so there's always dishes to be done and counters to be cleaned and of course there's always flowers to attend to as well. It's the dying days of spring with the coming of summer so I have plenty of gardening left ahead of me it looks like and that is work I look forward to.

Just when I think things are going well the day hiccups, putting before me a challenge, a problem to be solved in the form of a broken toilet. Yeah, I'm not going to worry about it and so I call the now usual repair service, my voice familiar to them by now, and let them know that something else in my house is broken.

I thought about trying to fix it myself but I do have things to do today and I do have somewhere to be as well.

And that somewhere? Pascal's.

I'm not going to dwell on what Simón and I shared earlier this week. I'll think of it as a book completed and closed. I've come to Oasis Springs to start a new life and that means starting new relationships which also includes those of the romantic variety.

So here I am before Pascal's place, large, big enough to house multiple people to be sure but its less than what I would have expected. He's an athletic prodigy, right? The next big thing? I'd think he'd at least live in a mini-mansion of sorts.

It's more than I have so who am I to judge?

Pascal is there to open the door for me and lead me deeper inside. Holding my hand on the way there, perhaps ready to direct me into this next part of my life or maybe he's just grabby? Either way, his presence is welcoming and his smile is inviting.

"You look amazing," he breathes out, bringing his lips to my fingers for a well placed kiss. Playing the role of gentleman, I suppose? The subtle action brings some warmth to my cheeks that is difficult to hide.

Pascal pushes every button for me. Physically, he's everything I could ever want. Mentally? Well, that is up for debate, isn't it? Mental faults are something you have to dig up to discover. Honestly, I feel fortunate that he finds me attractive at all.

"Love day is tomorrow," I remind him, already picturing another date with him, wondering if I should imagine a future with him at all.

"I know! It's just too bad I have a game that day," he says, sincerely disappointed, I think. "It is only a day, we have more than one day to spend together, don't we?"

"We do," I agree, two words fumbling from my lips and realizing that the language we are using right now assumes there is an 'us'. It's vague and really, too vague for my tastes. I want something more, something concrete, something I can rely on. Especially from a man like him. I chew on my lower lip, hesitating to ask the question I know must be asked. "When you say we..."

The laughter that comes from him is welcoming and the sound itself pushes relief through me. It's warm and jovial and comes before a confident nod of his head. "Yes, we! There should be a we, shouldn't there?" It was my turn to give a nod, I feel a little fluttery to be honest, thinking this relationship is advancing rapidly but feeling like there is no sense in getting in front of a speeding train. "Frida?"

"Y-yes, yes, 'we' sounds good!" Does that make it official? I suppose so. For a moment I think of Simon and then remind myself that he's a man from my past and not my future.

In the wake of our mutual agreement I can see that Pascal seems a little lighter, the smile on his face brighter with a vibrant look to his eyes. It's the look I imagine he has on his face after scoring a goal or making a crucial play while playing futbol.

Speaking of that, I find myself a little more curious about his world. I don't know much about it, if I'm being honest, next to nothing other than a bunch of people kick a ball around and try to get it into a goal, but the questions I ask him, about the basics and such, creates a shared energy between us. His passion for kicking balls around on a field is very infectious. "I should come! See you play-"

"It's an away game," he says, crushing that idea the moment I thought of it. "Of course you could travel. There's a wives club or something, they keep together sometimes but-"

"Yeah, pass," I reply a little harshly. I'm not a wife and I sure don't want to spend time with a gaggle of what I presume are stuck up and spoiled women who will certainly judge me for being just a girlfriend. "I can't any ways, my food stand is really picking up and I don't want to slow down that momentum."

"Your stand is so cute," he says, bringing energy back into the conversation. "And those waffles were amazing. I keep meaning to come back but my diet is pretty strict sometimes."

That I can understand. He's an athlete, after all. "I thought about becoming a full time chef. You know, work at a restaurant so that I can earn even more simoleons."

At this he frowns for just a moment. Quick enough for me to notice. He's also quick to explain himself. "If you're going to be with me you won't have to worry about simoleons."

"You can never have too many! Besides, I'd like some simoleons that I earn for myself. You know?"

"Yeah," he utters, but the word comes out flat, a tone that doesn't quite fit well into my ears. It's a disagreement then, one he's not ready to get into but what could be the issue? If we were to become official official, you know, living together and everything, what would be wrong with having more simoleons between us? "Give it a year, Frida, and I'll be one of the best players in the world. Simoleons will never be an issue for us."

He says it with such conviction and confidence that all I can do is nod my head. There is a clear determination in his voice and and a look in his eyes that tell me this is a future he's already seen. One promised to him or at least he believes it has been promised to him. This part of him is a little intimidating, the drive of a man that will not be stopped and will let nothing get in the way of his goals but that part of him is also exciting and admirable. Maybe it's because its a contrast to what Simón offered, a man who was happy to get what he could out of life, nothing more. Pascal, I can tell, is a man that settles for nothing.

I make it back home with more of a direction. I'm not single anymore. I'm not single! I don't know if this is a good or bad thing (because you know ladies sometimes its better to be single than miserably coupled) but it is definitely a thing!

I'm back in my kitchen, making waffles and baking cookies and decided to do something a little new. Fried chicken! It's one of those foods universally loved, who hates fried chicken? Other than vegetarians and vegans I suppose but I hope it will be a welcomed surprise for my customers!

The waffles and cookies disappear from my counter, dishes that are familiar to my customers by now, and the chicken is not far behind. Overall, a pretty breezy 700 or so simoleons are earned and that's enough alone for rent. I might outgrow my little place before I can even get settled into it!

The sun starts to fall, casting long shadows over the day and slowly but beautifully giving way to night. I don't like having my stand open at night because...duh, why would I? So I'm just about ready to close up shop until one more person lingers over to my stand.

"Hola!" I call out, catching his attention. One more sale won't hurt.

"Fryda?" He asks, his pronunciation all wrong. I nod my head any ways, impatiently wanting to make my sale and call it a night. "Closing up?"

"Yes, loong day but...one more," I keep it simple, Simlish still being new to me meant short sentences are better than longer ones and despite what others say I do not like my accent.

"Anything you would suggest?"

"Ummmm..." that's a question I don't get a lot so it makes me think for a moment. I look over the counter, most of the dishes are cleaned, my best offerings long gone leaving nothing I'd really suggest. "Pizza?" I wave a hand over it. It's not my best creation but he smiles, hands me his simoleons, and takes a slice.

"Can't go wrong with pizza! Thanks, Fryda!"

But little does Friday know that her last lingering customer was none other than Ray Booker. Infamous local food critic and one who was looking for any reason to leave a scathing review.

He happily made his way to a nearby bench in a neighborhood park, cleared of children thankfully, and signaled for his cameraman to pop out and start the show.

Once the lens fell on him he went into his usual motions. Playing up his chewing, making the same 'oooh' and 'ahhh' sounds as if his palate was so distinct that he could suss out every bit of flavor.

After finishing it, he gave his audience a knowing smirk, an expression they knew all too well as the precursor for a bad review.

"I've never had a slice of pizza so bad that it might make me consider having pizza ever again. Who makes a cream corn pizza, any way..."

Episode List - Next

[imomisoplays]

Brunch Plate

Sul sul, tombler!

I’m back with the last household in my gameplay rotation – the Ito-Landgraab family featuring Nanami Ito. My Nanami used to live with Kiyoshi and Aria, and grew up together with their daughters Stella and Vienna. She went to Foxbury University to study Computer Science, and later entered the tech guru career. Nanami was still living with Kiyoshi and Aria even after the twins graduated and moved out; matter fact it was a few years back when she met Malcolm Landgraab and agreed to be in a so-called traditional marriage and have kids. The twins, Kieran and Sean are born the following year.

Fast forward a few years later, the twins are well into their tenacious toddler phase, yet Nanami and Malcolm’s marriage is distant. Just when they both consider to come off clean to Malcolm’s parents, they are hit with two consecutively horrible news: when taking a respective vacation on Mt. Komorebi and Henford-on-Bagley, Geoffrey had died after falling off a cliff while climbing, while Nancy perished after a fierce attack by a rabid rabbit (pun intended). Just like that, the only people who forced Malcolm to “marry a nice girl and bear a heir for the family” is gone. Which brings us to today: Malcolm and Nanami is still married by the papers, but he spent half of his week with them and the other half in his other properties. Don’t get him wrong – Malcolm is a good father, it's just that he (and Nanami) is not a good spouse.

I did warn you Nanami’s family drama would be juicy, didn’t I? 🍵

Anyway, let’s just start with the cooking process. Life in the desert is good, and since the twins have their own nanny, Nanami’s mornings started off later than for other people. Hence, today’s menu brunch plate fits perfectly for Nanami’s lifestyle. Additional point for it being easy enough for the twins to feed themselves with. The cc recipe is made by @oni28 (click here to download it). Please be aware that you would need to install Oni’s Recipe Pack Mod which is updated regularly on their Patreon page.

Brunch is a portmanteau of breakfast and lunch, and is usually eaten during late mornings. It originated in England in the late 1800s, but gained popularity in the United States in the 1930s. Although the menu features a wide range of foods, some common brunch items include: eggs, either fried eggs, eggs Benedict, or omelets; bread, most popular being French toast or pancakes; fruit or vegetables for vibrancy; a sweet touch of pastry for sweetness; and alcohol… for emotional support, I guess.

I feel like I need to take 1,000 screenshots from this angle just because of how much I struggled to place all those items on the shelf. I don't know about you but placing clutters in Sims 4 will forever be my Achilles' heels 😔

Cutting the store-brought bread into slices. Another chance, we will make bread from scratch with Nanami, I promise!

Chopping the tomatoes, because girl have to stay healthy and eat enough fiber.

EGGS! It’s always sunny-side-up in Philadelphia Oasis Springs!

Really love how chonky everything looks. Might be biased but one could never go wrong with a plate of toast and egg.

Also, another close-up of my Nanami. She is always so fun to makeover in CAS! Growing up, she was very punk with her red and black attire (Wei WuXian incarnate -- toast of Emperor's Smile if you get that reference!) – dark eyeshadows, fishnets, and piercings! So much piercings. As she grew older she took most of them off, but keep one in her right brows for sentimental purposes. Nowadays she enjoys her comfy boho style.

I have yet to find the perfect photoshoot place for this house, but this will do for now!

And one more picture – a sneak-peek of the next member of the Ito-Landgraab household, if I may. This is Kieran! He just woke up from his morning nap, just in time for some brunch plate. Better leave some for your twin brother too! Until then, dag dag!

P.S. I realized later that I had ReShade off for this post, hence the colors look less dreamy and more... desert-y. You'll see what I mean when you compare this post with my other posts. P.S.S. Definition and detailed information of brunch is taken from this article, this article, and this Wiki page.

Imomiso's note: This post is originally posted on the now deleted blog.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

I always have this feeling about Castle Village is that it’s not as lively as Pelican Town, like everything there is like an empty desert. There are not much trees growing there, no snow, no cold weather, flowers are rare over there.

What are your views on it? I wanna hear your opinion.

I have to disagree, dear anon, about Castle Village not being as lively as Pelican Town. Well, there's nothing in Crimson Baldlans but a perpetually howling bloody sandstorm and merciless monsters - that's undeniable. But thanks to wizards and witches (special credit to Camilla), people were able to find a home even in the literal hell on earth.

From the size of the concept-art that FlashShifter showed, and my perception before watching the interview, gave me an idea that the place is pretty big. Probably a bit bigger than Pelican Town itself (that's if you exclude the railroad area, the beach and the forest).

Of course, given the closed nature of the village itself and the fact that only Camilla decides who is allowed to enter, it makes it clear that you can't expect an influx of tourists. However, don't forget that the Castle Village is the main coven and gathering centre for all adventurers and wizards in the whole Republic, where you can buy a new sword, enchant amulets, stock up elixirs, sell valuable monster loot, learn to develop your magical talent, hone your swordsmanship, or just be in the company of people who work as hardened monster hunters. The many who have been given permission to step onto this land and purchase property, as well as the number of indigenous people who were born in the Village, will cumulatively make up the same number of people as in our good old Pelican Town.

As for the setting of the town itself - I always thought that the walls of Castle Village were built around a magical oasis that allowed people to live here, providing a source of fresh water and food resources, and protecting the oasis from corrupt magic was the job of the Ministry of Magic, Camilla in particular, since she was the one who lived here.

I always thought Crimson Baldlans was just an ordinary desert with unusual oases. Dark magic of unknown origin slowly but surely consumed the entire desert over a long period of time, but the magic that surrounded the oases tried to resist the dark onslaught. Unfortunately, it was not possible to resist for too long (to prove my headcanon, I will give the example of that black lake in Crimson Baldlans, where we could fish in the game). There was only one oasis left, the most important one, and the wizards of the time realized that their only hope of salvation lay in this little scrap of life in the middle of an already corrupted desert, as it held the secret to fighting this dark magic. The people built walls, put up a magical shield and began to study and guard the oasis. Some were immersed in the search for answers to this important question, others just wanted to live without worries, mages and adventurers settled here, started a family, the settlement grew, and we have what we have.

By the way, I'll add that one of my favourite headcanons that I've never written about here (or did, but forgot lol) is that once in a while Camilla opens up for a day or two for all the merchants that somehow know about the Castle Village to enter here so they can sell their wares and buy raw materials from the local merchants. A sort of event where there's a bazaar in the centre of the village, so there's even more people for a while (Thanks to this ambient that inspired this idea): 👇

https://youtu.be/8uRtW8lBe0I?si=19f49CEV1_IYIVg5

The climate is a bit more complicated, because time and weather in the village itself under the magic dome now flows differently: it's always, I think, a warm spring (late spring, when it should smoothly turn into a hot summer, to be even more precise), while everything outside the walls of the impregnable fortress has nothing that hints at life but a searing sun, a desert storm, and certain death. I swear, some of the natives are sure to complain that Crimson Baldlans has "heat worse than Hell".

I don't usually focus on comparing the world building of SDV and SVE with the real world, but the setting, buildings, objects that I saw in the latest teaser from FlashShifter about the Castle Village reminded me of Egyptian motifs, and the Middle East in general. I could be wrong, it's just my guess, so feel free to write about your theories!

So, conclusion:

For me, the Castle Village is provided as a hub for all monster hunters, adventurers, mages, wizards and people who are not sceptical or fearful of magic. Each house is an impregnable fortress of dark stone, the same as the walls of the Village. The main magical academy and the most imposing Adventurers Guild towers above this houses. There is sand everywhere, and only a few places have emerald grass, flowers, ponds and gardens of extraordinary beauty with many different plants and sculptures. Everywhere there is the smell of spices, the noise of markets, laughter in taverns, the clinking of blades, and the air is saturated with magic.

Nevertheless, there is gloom, isolation from the world and a huge graveyard, reminding all residents and visitors to the Continent of Galdora that this is not a perfect blooming paradise and how easy it is to lose one's life. That the vast number of graves are but a small fraction of those fallen heroes who gave everything to protect this place, for many of their fellows still walk around as soulless shells, shadows of their former selves. That almost all of the part of the place they call home is a cursed land that will spare no one.

[kimium]

kimium you do not know me but I read almost all your Hitman Reborn fics because even after 10+ years this hellhole series won't let me go, and each one of your 10051 fics are like an oasis stumbled upon after days meandering in a dusty barren landscape. also your writing is just plain good.

The way I remember it that Hanahaki Disease wasn't really a trope until after the manga curled up to die with the bulk of the Fandom, but it SHAKES me that I cannot locate any Byakuran hanahaki fic. It's just unnatural feeling. Like Graham crackers and chocolate without Marshmallows. An ominous void in nature where there shouldn't be one. Light without shadows.

Please share your thoughts about 100 hanahaki to satiate this thirst of mine. Only if you want too though of course! Thank you for listening!!!

Hello Anon!

Thank you so much for this ask! You are so sweet to describe my 10051 fics as an oasis in a barren, dusty landscape. That's such a fun comparison and makes my heart warm to have such high praise.

While I also cannot exactly pinpoint when I kept seeing "Hanahaki" as a trope in fics, you are correct that it was long after the bulk of KHR was an active fandom. It certainly feels like a trope that fits Byakuran well and your analogy to a s'more without chocolate is also a very fun image. Love it.

Now, as for my thoughts on Hanahaki, let's break it down.

In general, I do not like the "traditional" hanahaki trope. However, I understand why it's popular. In fact, I wrote more "traditional" hanahaki trope fics once upon a time, so I used to like the more "traditional" trope. Unrequited love is a topic that can be cathartic for the writer and readers to explore in fiction. We've all experienced rejection (romantic, platonic/friendship, professional, etc.) and the heartbreak we feel truly feels like we are going to die. Also, flower symbolism is always Top Tier and my favourite kind of symbolism.

The main reason why I dislike the "traditional" hanahaki trope is because to me it feels very self-entitled. "You didn't return my love and thus I will die!" I cannot help but make the comparison to people who try to guilt trip someone for breaking up or not dating them.

Also, the idea of "I have to completely forget about this person" cuts off so much emotional growth and development. Yes, I know "falling out of love" is an option, but I rarely saw "traditional" hanahaki fics go that route. Makes sense though: magical amnesia is such a juicy trope (and also one of my favourites). Of course, I do not mean the traditional trope advocates it, but I cannot shake this thought out of my brain.

What I enjoy more is "seasonal hanahaki" where the symptoms are less severe and more akin to a seasonal cold/fever/mild allergies. Nothing to dismiss but also the person will recover from it with time. How the writer can set this up has a lot of flexibility which I enjoy. I've seen writers write is as literally seasonal where people who experience "seasonal hanahaki" do so in spring and fall time (where traditional cold/fever/mild allergies kick up). I've also seen people write it where the person "catches" their "seasonal hanahaki" when they first realized their feelings aren't requited.

Regardless, because this isn't deadly could you imagine the world building? The Drama! The work place or friend gossip??? This opens so many more avenues than "pity" which I find most traditional hanahaki goes towards because someone is dying.

So, where does this place Byakuran in my mind? While I am not a big fan of "traditional hanahaki fics" I think the trope suits him. Even seasonal hanahaki opens up so many avenues to explore! Could you imagine the denial he'd soak himself in?? Shouichi -obviously- loves him! They're destined to be together! The list goes on. This could lead to all sorts of irrational decisions/ways of coping for Byakuran.

Again, thank you for sending me this ask! I love taking about KHR and I'm so happy for all your support. Feel free to pop on by in my inbox again or if you're not too shy, in messages!

[sanssoucisims]

the crazy lore of my caliente and landgraab families

So for some reason, the Caliente and Landgraab families in my game have weird intertwined lives. 

I’ve already talked about Johnny Zest (who you may or may not know is related to the Landgraabs) and his wholesome life with his adoptive daughter in a previous post, but the rest of his family has been up to quite a bit.

First of all, for the record: Geoffrey and Nancy Landgraab along with Katrina Caliente are deceased. They died of old age a while ago long before I conceived the idea of creating a blog to document my sims’ lives, so I haven’t grabbed a lot of funny screenshots of them.

But anyway...

The whole gang lives in this little section of Oasis Springs, aka Bedrock Strait (I only have Johnny Zest’s household as playable since tbh I like them the most. I honestly don’t care for the rest of them lmao). As you can see, everyone but the Zest family likes to show off how big and bougie their homes are.

Malcolm Landgraab (son of Nancy and Geoffrey) is married to Don Lothario (who lived with the Calientes) of all people.

My personal headcanon is that Malcolm got tired of the richy rich snooty super-straight lifestyle that his parents tried to raise him in but didn’t know how exactly to get out of it at first. Don, on the other hand, realized he may be bi-curious though he wasn’t sure how Katrina and her daughters would take that considering they were crazy for him. One thing led to another, and Don started to fall for Malcolm. Once Malcolm reciprocated his feelings, they eloped and moved into their own place together.

Now here’s the crazy part: Don and Malcolm share four children together. Malcolm actually had his two eldest children (Jayme, who is a teenager, and Dusty, who is a child) with KATRINA MOTHERTRUCKING CALIENTE. Presumably, this was before he found himself attracted to Don and it’s probably how he wormed his way into the Caliente family in the first place. Who knows how Malcolm and Katrina broke up, but as I’ve said before, she’s currently dead and out of the picture.  He has two daughters with Don (half-sisters of Jayme and Dusty): Jodi, who is a toddler, and the most recent addition to the family, newborn Alisa.

For two people who have the noncommittal trait, they sure are loyal to each other. I mean, Don was willing to put up with someone sleeping with a woman he was probably attracted to at some point, and then marry that person and raise the children he had with Katrina as his own. That takes... something.

Oh, and, Don is currently an elder, so he’ll probably kick the bucket pretty soon. Well, at least he can spend the remainder of his life with his lovely family. This is basically the whole reason I wanted to make this post so I could have their crazy relationship recorded for the ages, lmao

Now I bet you’re wondering how Katrina’s daughters are faring without Don...

Dina Caliente is married to Gavin Richards (from the Roomies household) of all people. Meanwhile, her sister Nina is still single AND living with them. I’d imagine she’d be, well, less than pleased, lmao. Why she doesn’t just move out, I don’t know. Maybe she thinks she’s prettier than her sister and deserves Gavin more than her.

Dina and Gavin share three sons together. Their genealogies weirded me out at first but it seems like Dina adopted a son named Laurant, who’s now a teenager (he’s the one with mid-length red hair). Gavin, on the other hand, adopted a son named Heath, who’s also a teenager (he’s the one with the short brown hair). I imagine they get along pretty well and are close to the same age, so they’ll always tend to hang out with each other.

Their third son is Gordon, who is an infant. He’s a weird one, because his genealogy shows he’s the biological son of Dina and Gavin. However, when I looked at the genealogies of his brothers, he was shown as either adopted by Gavin (according to Heath’s genealogy) or adopted by Dina (according to Laurant’s genealogy). Even if that seems to be one thing the brothers will fight themselves over, all that matters is their parents have acknowledged their baby brother as their own, and they seem to be very much in love (they had a lot of flirty interactions that seemed to rival another one of my sim couples...)!

Moving on to the Caliente sisters’ other siblings (because Katrina apparently got busy before she died)!!

Tonya Caliente is (I believe) Katrina’s eldest “non-canon” child (if you didn’t catch on already, it’s because I have neighborhood stories turned on for my townies/”other households” so they’re able to have lots of babies). A while ago, when Katrina was still alive and having more and more kids, I decided to move Tonya and a few of her younger siblings out and into their own place (only for Katrina to replace them with more babies). Back when I moved Tonya and her siblings out, she was (I think) either a teenager and they were just children, but now she’s a young adult and they’re all teenagers.

Tonya is the one with the short dark pixie cut, reddish cardigan, and black pants. Her younger siblings (at the moment, I don’t know if she’ll adopt more or anything) are Wendell (the only boy, who’s sitting off to the left), Gem (the blonde with the blue dress), Rylie (the one who for some reason generated with a flipping Victorian dress, no joke), and Elise (the fan of the color blue playing with her phone off to the right). They haven’t done anything too earth-shattering yet; in fact, they’re probably the most normal of the extended Caliente-Landgraab family (I suppose Dina and Nina’s little family could be considered “normal” too, if you ignore Nina still living with her married sister and keep in mind Dina’s healthy romantic relationship with her husband).

As for the rest of the Landgraabs (yes, Geoffrey and Nancy got busy too), it appears that Malcolm’s siblings have inherited their parents’ home. They all live there together.

There’s Russell and Irvin, who are a teen and young adult, respectively. At first, I assumed they were possibly twins considering their shared hairstyle, but knowing their age difference, it isn’t possible, lol. Sure isn’t stopping them from sharing a bedroom, though. When I looked at Irvin’s genealogy, it appeared he fathered a daughter with a random townie woman, Alexandra Weir. However, they actually don’t seem to have any kind of relationship with each other. I can only assume they were one of those people who dated in high school and ended up having a one-night stand which resulted in her getting pregnant and him ditching her because he wasn’t ready to have a kid. Yeah, weird (this post is getting messy on its own so I don’t think I’m going to throw Alexandra in here too. Maybe she’ll get her own post one day...).

Then there’s Gideon and Kailani, who are both young adults. Kailani has quite a few unfortunate traits (she’s gloomy, evil, and has the “sinister” major impression personality - courtesy of the Wonderful Whims mod) though has surprisingly gotten along well with everyone so far.

Gideon, on the other hand, received the notification below as I was literally in the middle of writing this post. It seems like he’s taken after his brother Irvin and had a one-night stand with Cassandra Goth of all people, and now they’ve got an infant daughter. And of course it’s the female partner who’s raising their child on her own.

“Ok”. That’s all he can say, lmao.

Lastly, there’s Halle (a young adult), who has also taken the same path as her brothers and had - well, adopted, actually - a little girl of her own named Lila. As you can see, Lila has a very interesting sense of fashion. I actually headcanon Halle (whose originally appearance was generated by default to be the most “hipster” or “LoOk aT mE i’M sPeCiAL aNd NoT LiKe ThE oThEr GiRLs”) to be quite a fangirl of the notorious Willow sisters (my OCs) and wants to emulate them. It’s likely due to the fact that she was the most spoiled of her siblings and is now passing that down to her daughter, whom she also wants to be special and unique (hence her qUiRkY appearance).

Guess I should prepare for the Caliente-Landgraab dynasty to flourish and drag in more people throughout my town...

[simvibing]

Meet Emmalyn Helton

A former psychology professor at Foxbury Institute turned entrepreneur running a successful bakery and cafe serving the Britechester community. Emmalyn is the daughter of Simon Helton, the mayor of Willow Creek, and Lillian Helton, a renowned bestselling novelist, and sister of Sierra Helton, a well-sought-after playwright. Growing up, Emmalyn did what was expected of her. She got all A’s, dotted her I’s, and crossed her T’s. She learned proper etiquette by the time she turned 11– prim and proper, the star child Simon always wanted, though he expected to have a Jr. to pass on his family name. Emmalyn fit the role perfectly though. The press loved her. Simon brought her and Sierra along on campaign tours to help seal the deal as a beloved father and husband. As Emmalyn grew older, the pressure only grew stronger and she started to feel less free to express herself— she knew how to play the role of the perfect daughter, but who was she aside from a politician’s daughter? Like her mother, she was incredibly creative. She loved baking, a skill she picked up from many summers visiting her maternal grandmother, Savannah out in the rolling hills of Henford. Simon enjoyed Emmalyn’s baked goods like everyone else but constantly did his best to persuade her to stick to a more prestigious route for her future. She could do it on the side as long as she focused on what actually makes money and commands respect. Simon persuaded her to look into politics since she knew the ins and outs already, but she settled for the path of obtaining a PhD. While in college, she encountered men like her father— charming, ambitious, and full of themselves. It was familiar. Weren’t men supposed to lead anyway? So, she let them lead her right into chaos and a broken heart. Most of the guys she dated were in short-lived relationships, but one guy really messed with her head. Donovan “Don” Lothario. Born and raised in Oasis Springs, he was also a child of a politician— governor of Oasis Springs and a cherished alumni at UBrite. For Emmalyn to date, a guy like Don would only boost connections for her dad to reach the type of status he’d only dreamed of. The governor was very close with the Landgraabs who had been looking to expand their operations out East. Then, Don ghosts Emmalyn out of the blue. Things had just started to escalate with their relationship and she just knew he was going to propose soon. Instead, his non-committed self realized they moved way too quick and he was in no way ready to settle down. He enjoyed playing the field even though he told Emmalyn he loved her and flaunted her around campus. Come graduation day, he disappears. No one could tell her where he’s gone. Completely wiped socials. Heartbroken, Emmalyn blames herself for not doing more or being too much— she honestly can’t pinpoint what went wrong and why. She did everything he asked her to do. He told her to dye her hair blond, to stop wearing heels because she was practically towering over him, and even gave up sushi because he thought it was disgusting to eat raw fish. And here she was, single, confused, but holding a Masters in psychology… shouldn’t she have seen the signs? She dove deeper into her studies and decided she would pursue becoming a professor and then, she‘d seek tenure. Her students loved her! They loved how she gracefully carried herself, brought in the occasional platter of baked goods for early morning classes and was straightforward with them. She published numerous research articles and secured adequate funding per the university guidelines. And yet, she was denied tenure. Constantly overlooked by inconsiderate people, she faced a turning point. From that point on, she decided to live her life for herself, no more chasing accolades in hopes someone would see her and validate her worth. Welcome to “Layers of Perspective”

[babbushka]

My thought for a request is going to a drive in with exhibitionist!Flip and him going down on you or fucking you in the bed of his truck and making the springs squeak louder than the movie and drawing attention. I’d like to request that please

Thank you for doing a flip celebration!

Anonymous said: For my request, can I request something with some public sex with flip like maybe at a movie theater or drive in please and he takes it a little too far??Thank you for the special Flip day!

1.8k NSFW (oral sex (f receiving), exhibitionism, sex in a public location, praise kink, fingering, hair pulling)

Snuggled up in the back of Flip’s pick-up truck, you nestle your head against his shoulder. He got a good spot, made sure to get here early for it, for the front-row seat at the drive-in. It’s nice, being this close to the screen, it looks like they put up the whole thing just for you. A brand new movie hit the theaters this weekend, something called Jaws, a flick directed by that Spielberg fella. Folks said it was supposed to be good, and you’re supposed to be watching it, but Flip’s got other plans for the night.

Plans that he is getting antsy to start setting in motion, you can tell. With one arm wrapped around your shoulders, the hand that’s resting right near your chest keeps creeping closer closer closer, and you have to bite back a grin.

“This is such a bad idea.” You tell him straight, and he peers down at you from being a head or so taller, raising a brow in your general direction while some men are on a boat on screen.

“Do you not want to do it?” He asks, sincerity in his voice.

“No we’re absolutely fucking doing it,” You shake your head, looking up at him with a sparkle of mischief in your eye, “I’m just telling you right now that it’s a bad idea.”

Immediately, Flip retracts his arm and uses it to tug you down the back of the truck a little further. It’s been transformed into a more comfortable oasis for movie watching; pillows and blankets pad the otherwise hard bed, a small towel to clean you up when he’s had his way with you, and even one of those new camping coolers filled with snacks and drinks. He bought you one of the big over-priced popcorn buckets, but there was no reason to shell out a couple quarters on M&Ms when you already have them at home.

“We’ll be fine, everyone’s in their cars, we’re in our car…no one can see us.” Flip begins kissing your apprehension away, his tongue hot in your mouth as he trails his tongue across the edge of your lip.

“Except for the security that walks around.” You roll your eyes, letting yourself be manhandled and moved around, until you’re lying down comfortably among the pillows.

“I know the security, we’ll be fine.” Flip dismisses the concern and you can’t help but laugh at his flippancy.

You had made up your mind that you were going to let him fuck you at the drive-in a long time ago, but it was still fun to get him frustrated about it. He always had a bit of an edge when he was all riled up, and you can tell he’s riled up now.

“Say it again and maybe this time I’ll believe you.” You murmur against his lips one last time, adrenaline from the public act, so out in the open – literally under the stars – beginning to pound in your chest.

“If you seriously want me to stop, tell me.” He says, big brown eyes filled with the light from the screen.

He’s so handsome, too handsome for his own fucking good, you think, but if you tell him that now, his ego will go through the roof, so all you do is pat his cheek lovingly before shoving his head down playfully, and ordering him to, “Shut up and eat me out already.”

The one problem with this plan was that your genius husband didn’t take into account the fact that the bed of his truck isn’t long enough to fit the both of you the way he normally eats you out, without his legs hanging off the bottom. So after a moment or two of figuring out positioning, he settles on turning his whole self around. His feet rest by your head, and you pat his leg sweetly, rolling your eyes at him.

“Will you talk to me?” Flip props himself up on one elbow, eyes wide and eager, “Let me hear you?”

“Someone will hear!” You scoff in fond exasperation, giving his leg a shake.

“The movie’s so loud, and everyone’s got their windows rolled up, won’t you let me hear you?” He asks again, and you lick across your teeth and nod.

With that, he ducks his head under your skirt, and tugs aside your panties. You’re already a little wet, how could you not be with him hugging you close and kissing you throughout half of this movie? How could you not be, with the knowledge that this was coming?

His fingers slip between your folds and he begins the steady process of stretching you out just a little, just enough to get you to relax. He’s not going to dick you down out here, that would just be asking for trouble, so he doesn’t have to finger your pussy for long. Still, the two of you savor the feeling of his thick fingers shoving themselves up up up into you, and you do your best to swallow your moans.

Carefully, Flip builds up a rhythm that has you growing anxious for more, desperate for more. He’s not going fast enough to give you any proper friction, it’s slow, it’s tantalizing, it’s maddening. Your grip on his leg is all you give him as an indication, because you know that if you start begging now, you’ll be shouting it for the whole drive-in to hear.

Gripping his calf now, he gets the hint, and you can feel the hot breath of a chuckle ghost across your inner thigh as he positions himself perfectly to press his plush lips right against yours, kissing your pussy for a moment before his tongue finally finally finally drags through you.

You swallow down a moan, unable to stop the little sigh that escapes from your throat as he begins to make out with your cunt, his tongue thrusting shallowly at first as he licks and sucks on your folds. Teeth scraping gently over your flesh, you’re so sensitive already, your nipples hard in your blouse.

“How is your tongue so long?” You hiss out as quietly as you can, face already starting to pinch up in pleasure. You’ve completely given up on watching the movie, whatever troubles the characters are having require far more attention than you’re willing to give them.

“Like it?” He mumbles into your body, making you shiver all over, making you shudder, as his thick muscle rolls into you, dragging around patterns that have your head lolling back against the pillows.

“Yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Spreading your legs as far as they can go for him, you press your hips up to his face, feeling his nose breathe in against your thigh, panting against your cunt, “I could keep you here all day, you’re so good at this. My pussy eating champ, that’s what you are.”

“Pull on my hair.” Flip moans breathily, and you waste no time tangling a fist into his silky locks.

“Way a-fuckin’-head of you honey oh my god…!” Your eyes roll back as he responds to the yanking of his hair, so you do it again and again.

Holding him in place, you get so lost in your own pleasure that you’re not so certain you aren’t suffocating him. Flip’s got his arms wrapped around your thighs, hugging you tight to him as you squirm and whimper, your nipples rubbing and chafing against your blouse. One of your hands leaves his hair and pinches at it instead, the sting going straight to your clit.

Then he does something with his tongue, something so good, that you can’t help yourself as you yelp out an extremely too loud, “Oh fuck!!”

At once, Flip wrenches himself away, and at that moment, the entire drive-in theater is also screaming and cursing loudly, because blown up ultra-tall and extra-wide is the largest shark you’ve ever seen, mouth pried wide open showing off a row of teeth that have frightened the entire crowd.

“Holy shit!” Flip feels like he’s about to have a fucking heart attack, even has to slap a hand against his chest to catch his breath, your slick shining on his goatee, as the realization that the timing had saved your asses stuns him with its convenience, “That was close.”

“Sorry, you have to warn a girl before you do that though!” You smack at his bicep, big and strong and flexing in his flannel.

He snickers at you, pushes his fingers back up into your cunt as he settles right-side up next to you once more. He’s got his other arm settled underneath your head, acting like a pillow, as you throw your leg over his hip. Kissing him, you can taste yourself on his tongue, a reminder of where he just was, what you were both doing.

“Are you gonna come?” Flip asks as he strokes his fingers against your walls. You’re relaxed enough and stretched enough and certainly fucking wet enough now that he can fit three inside your cunt, and it’s almost like he’s fucking you with his cock from how thick that feeling is.

“Yeah, yes – I – I’m so close.” You grind down on his fingers, clutching and holding onto his flannel as you pant against his neck, chasing the feeling, knowing that your time is running out, knowing that the movie will be over soon.

“Want to come down my throat or on my fingers?” Flip kisses the top of your head, but you don’t have the energy to think.

“I – I – don’t make me choose.” You whine, eyes shutting tight as you bite your lip, his fingers pushing and pulling, in and out, in and out, thumb rubbing your clit, your whole body on fire there in the back of his fucking truck.

“On my fingers then,” Flip decides for you, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he speeds his hand up, “I want to watch you.”

It only takes a few more moments of attention before your body spasms against his chest. He fingers you through it, thrusts into your pussy as it clenches and throbs, comes comes comes all over his palm. He feels so accomplished, and you’re blissed out of your mind, and the people in the theater are screaming again, and none’s the wiser.

A few moments more, and you’re calmed down enough, snuggly again. Flip’s wiped himself away, cleaned up between your legs with his little towel, and cracked open a nice cold pop for the two of you to share sips from.

“Well, what’d you think?” He finally asks, making you scoff out a laugh, because of course it went well, of course it was amazing, your husband wouldn’t let you have anything less.

“I think…” You say, knowing that you’re likely going to do this again, likely going to want to do more than just get eaten out here in this makeshift bed, “You’re gonna need a bigger truck.”

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I am once again taggin' some flip lovin' friends lol @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars

[ygreczed-3]

The Red Guard and the Snow Angel

Summer Falls desert concept art

Hank and Connor

Gavin and Nines meditating + thunder, snow, fire and wind seal

Gavin and the thunder spirit

More concept arts - traditional art & inking

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

When they go through the Summer Falls desert, Connor and Nines pass out fairly soon due to their intolerance to fire magic. They only get better at night, when the temperature drops, so they stay awake to watch out while the humans sleep. During the day Hank and Gavin have to take them on their horse/Sumo and walk beside them, even though the intense heat isn't making things easy for them either. They reach a village in an oasis where Connor and Nines get better, and when they realize there's a spring in it, they decide to go and rest a bit as the night arrives.

Nines and Gavin are gone meditating on a less crowded part of the spring.

Gavin : That's stupid… How can this make me stronger than my training ? Nines : Stop talking and focus on your breathing.  Gavin : Grmphh.. Nines : Can you feel the source of magic inside your body ? Gavin : … Yeah. Nines : You have to… establish a connection with it. Show him you don't fear it Gavin : But I fear it. Nines : The war spirit you host is an incredible source of power, and you can believe me, it is as bellicose as you are. It only needs a goal to aim for and you'll be able to channel its energy.  Gavin : … You know I'm your enemy… Why do you help me ? Nines, closed eyes : I know I can compete with you. I'm ready to be challenged. And it's funnier to fight a skilled warrior than a scared little boy. Gavin : … Fucker.

X

Connor and Hank in the hot spring

Connor : I think that's what your hug feels like. Hank : hm ? Connor : The hot water. I think it's what hugs feel like. Hank : You said my hugs... Connor : Did I ? I was just thinking… about how you hug Sumo sometimes. He loves it. Hank : Yeah, this big boy loves cuddles  I admit that. Connor : It must feel good. Hank : What… You've never been hugged before ? Connor : Golems do have… intimate behaviors, of course but it's not… I mean we're… not physically warm, so... (NB : I was thinking golems in this universe would be like vampires, not as freezing as actual snow but still colder than humans) Hank : ...Thought you didn't like heat that much. Connor : Warmth from human's touch is different from fire magic : it feels more… safe, less aggressive. I think I'd like that. Hank : … How do you know that ? Connor : I touched your back to heal it, remember ? Your warmth feels nice. Hank : Yeah okay, you touched me, but you don't know what my hugs feel like ? Maybe you'd hate that. Connor : I wish I could know.

They look at each other, but then Hank looks away and stands up.

Hank : It's late, I'm tired. I'm going back to the inn. Connor seems disappointed, but then Hank keeps going. Hank : You coming ?

When they enter the room they share all together, Nines is already in stasis and Gavin is snoring loudly.

Hank takes Connor's wrist silently, looking at him in the eyes as if tacitly asking for permission. Connor just lets himself be enveloped by wide arms, and rests his cheek on his collar bone.

Connor sighs, closing his eyes as he enjoys that nice bear hug. He feels that warm something in his chest growing in his body, invading his stomach with pleasing flutters. 

Connor : Hank… Hank : Shhh… it would be embarrassing to wake those two idiots up now.

Connor bites his lower lip as he silently reaches for Hank's hand, his skin turning white as he presses gently each of his fingers against Hank's. It's known to be a quite intimate gesture among golems, and the closest human equivalence to it would be a kiss. Connor is aware that it could even be interpreted as indecent given how close their bodies are, and that if Nines was to wake up at that moment he would probably choke on thin air. Of course Hank has no clue about that and just thinks it's funny.

Hank : What, you wanna dance ?

Connor realizes they're holding each other on the left side and touching hands on the right side, and it seems like they're going to waltz. He chuckles from the absurdity of the situation from a human's perspective. 

Connor : I wouldn't know how to. Hank : Good thing, I'm a terrible dancer. Connor : Ahah...hmm, Hank, I like it. Can we stay like this for a moment ? Hank : Sure.

X

One night in the middle of the desert, Gavin is on the watch as Hank sleeps in the tent. Connor is with him, but Nines inexplicably stays around the fire, silent. Gavin is bored out so he just starts the conversation. 

Gavin : I feel like the old man and your stupid brother are getting along. Nines : I have this feeling too. Gavin : Doesn't bother you? Nines : What can I do ? I asked Connor to be careful, but I'm not blind… He's shining with glee whenever Hank is around him. I can't… force him not to feel. Also, I think Hank isn't that bad of a person… for a human. Gavin : Still certain we're the bad guys ? Think about it : you were made to serve us.  You betrayed your creators and let us starve like dogs. Nines : Humans didn't create us. Kamski did, and if he had wanted to, he could have made unthinking, obedient golems. Maybe we were meant to break free. Gavin : Oh yeah, so why can't you even procreate ? Simple answer: you were not designed to be an individual species from the start. You were built with no other purpose in life than to help us survive.  Nines : Didn't that even occur to you that humans did bad things too ? Gavin : We're just trying to survive ! Nines : So we are. Gavin : … So what ? You're saying we're two evils ? Of course we are. But I have to protect my people, you understand that ?

Nines stays silent, exploring the surprisingly genuine glare Gavin throws at him. Of course he understands that. His own despise for humanity is only driven by his deep desire to protect Connor, Marcus, and his people. He looks back at the fire heating them, unconsciously processing how ridiculously similar they are.

And yet, something starts growing in his mind, the irritating sensation his relationship with Gavin has changed from the moment they met, and that he unexpectedly wanted to protect him as well.

Nines : Would you kill me ?

He can't even explain how this sentence even made it out of his throat. He already knows the answer. Gavin stares at him longingly, noticeably surprised by the question. He stays silent as he puts more wood in the fire.

Gavin : If I had to, I probably would. But I… hum… don't want to. Nines : … hm. Gavin : What about you ? Would you kill me ? Nines : I don't know. If lives were at stake, certainly, even if I'd find this decision… regrettable. Gavin : ... Oh wow, is that your way to tell me you like me ? Nines : … Don't set your hopes too high.

Gavin breathes in a laugh and goes back to silence, smiling smugly. 

X

They arrive in Nestlepeek and split in two teams, Hank and Connor go to the center of the town, where Connor hopes to find more precise information about Kamski and where he hides.

Gavin and Nines were supposed to go buy supplies, but as they head to the covered market, they are challenged by a man in the street to defeat his champion in a fight. As Nines realizes it's all for illegal gambling, Gavin accepts and finds himself in a cage, combating a birdman.

He thinks he's got the hang of it but as soon as the birdman starts flying Gavin can't touch him with his sword anymore and becomes vulnerable to his aerial attacks.

Nines : Gavin ! Summon the spirit ! Gavin : No way ! Nines : You'll lose if you don't ! Gavin : I know what I'm doing, alright !? Nines : You obviously don't ! Thunder magic gives you advantageous long throw attacks, you can't win against a flying foe with close combat techniques ! Gavin : I think I killed enough Golems to know how to fight flying foes ! Nines : You bastard…

Nines uses his snow magic to catch the champion in ice and immobilize him.

Owner : What the hell !!! Who did that ?! Nines : I did. I'll replace your champion, open the cage.

The owner is confused first but then he sees the opportunity and accepts. Nines enters the cage and gets ready to fight.

Gavin : … You wanna die ? Told you I could do it. Nines : We've been talking about this fight for ages. It's time to see what you're capable of.

They start fighting and they're pretty even for the first ten minutes. Their fight gathered a lot of gamblers and spectators.

When Nines starts to take advantage, Gavin's eyes suddenly turn bright yellow, and he charges at him : Nines can see the thunder magic halo surrounding him. He parries many strikes but Gavin has gained in speed and ferocity. Soon enough, Gavin throws him to one extremity of the cage, and as the crowd around them is screaming in excitement, Gavin holds up his dagger. He's trembling, electricity forming around his hand. 

Nines can make eye contact but somehow, Gavin isn't answering his glare.

Nines : Gavin- You hear me ?

Gavin doesn't say anything, and Nines is sure he's gonna die when the human warrior shoots down his dagger… only to hit one of the cage's bars just behind him. Gavin closes his eyes, and opens them, showing blue-green orbs again, and he straightens up, breathless.

The crowd boos them as Gavin takes a step back and drops the other dagger. He asks the owner to open the cage and leaves the place, Nines following him, still out of breath as well.

Nines : Gavin !

Gavin stops, letting Nines get closer, until they face each other again.

Nines : You did it. You mastered the spirit… Do you realize that ? Gavin : I could have killed you, then everyone around me. That's what the spirit wanted to do… Do you realize that ? Nines : But you didn't. With a bit more training-... Gavin : I almost killed you, Nines, for fuck's  sake ! Nines : … So what ? Thought you were ready to. Gavin : Listen, this beast wanted you dead, everyone dead so bad… How can I… How can I use this power when I know how dangerous and unstable it is? Nines : … But you stopped it, right ? You can control it. Gavin : You fucker, if it wasn't for you, I know I couldn't have stopped it. I would have killed all those strangers, I know that, and I'm not… I'm not a murderer. Nines : … What do you mean, for me ? Gavin : Drop it. I need some air, don't follow me.

X

Hank and Connor enter the library, Connor is looking for the archived events-records to see if Kamski came into this village (which is most likely given it's the first one you can find after the desert)

It appears that the local people can fly so the library is very high, and most scales don't even reach the top of the bookshelves.

Hank : How the hell can we reach the archives ? Connor : Wait a minute, I'll go there and take some volumes with me.

Connor spreads his wings, that widen to support his weight as he takes off to the highest point of the library. Hank is impressed by how graceful Connor looks in the air. When the golem comes back with a consequential pile of old, handwritten books, he's just there, mouth open in amazement.

Connor : Here we go… the last 10 years of history in this village… Ready to pull an all-nighter ?

Hank doesn't reply.

Connor : Hank ? Hank : You're beautiful.

Connor blinks once, his lips slightly parted from the surprise, his eyes conveying nothing else than confusion and yet, low-key content.

Connor: ..I'm sorry ? Hank : When you fly I mean… that's impressive… and beautiful. Connor : Huh… Thank you, I guess ? Anyway hum… let's… let's find a table… Hank : “Thank you” ? But do you even realize how beautiful you are ? Connor : I was created to meet some human ideal. Why would I be proud of something that isn't my doing ? Hank : Ah, don't be so modest.  Connor : … you know, I think I find humans more attractive than Golems. Each one of you is unique, and I love everything you call “flaws”.

Hank laughs halfheartedly at his last line.

Hank : You don't make sense, kid.

X

They read the archives until it's dark outside. Hank can't help but yawn as Connor lights the candles to keep reading.

Connor : You can go back to the inn, Gavin must be there already, and Nines can take over. Hank : Nah, I'm good. Connor : Hm… Hank : You okay ? You look… worried. Connor sighs : … What if we can't find Kamski ? What if… I was wrong, what if we had to go back to Detroit and Jericho with just nothing ? I don't want to return to a situation where I'll have to fight you… I just can't.  Hank : … Yeah, I understand that. I don't think I can remain a Red Guard after what we've been through… After I got to know you. Connor : If we were to fail… nothing will never be the same again. Without you.

Hank just looks at Connor with sharp eyes, as if he's got the urge to say something. At this point Hank knows he's falling for the Golem, but of course, he won't say anything, because he's sure it's only one sided, Connor is so young and handsome he can't possibly feel the same.

Actually the dark haired golem is totally in love with the man, but again, he thinks Hank can't reciprocate his feelings since he's probably into women (after all he used to have a wife), and definitely not into Golems anyways. It just feels so unfair to both of them to consider going back to their normal life when they just want to stay with the other so bad. They just wish they could stay together and run away in some romantic and lovesick lunacy. Again, they won't tell each other about it.

[joshstambourine]

What Friends Do pt. 2

Warning: Cursing

Word Count: 2954

Synopsis: Josh and Jake are surprised when an old friend stumbles back into their lives, taking their world by storm with old feelings, new feelings, and problems they never would have expected.

Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader x Jake Kiszka

Jake laid in his bed, blankets wrapped around him tightly as his eyes just lingered on the ceiling above him. He didn’t want to be awake. He didn’t want to be continuously stuck staring. Something though just wouldn’t let him sleep tonight. In a smooth movement Jake turned to lay on his side with his eyes closed, it only lasted for a moment as they soon opened again to look at the clock beside him reading 2:42 AM. Not all that late no but certainly late if you cuddled into bed at 10:30 pm, this fact made Jake let out a low groan in annoyance. 

‘What is going on with me tonight?’ Jake wondered to himself, as he moved to sit up straight. He began rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. Jake never had this much trouble sleeping usually, of course he wasn’t quite like Josh who was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but he’d normally be out within twenty minutes.

Looking around the dark room, Jake eventually reached out to turn on his side lamp. The light blinding for a brief moment, but Jake's eyes adjusted as he made his way to his feet. In nothing but boxers he made his way from his bedroom to the kitchen, if he was going to be awake he was going to enjoy it at least. Jake opened a couple of cupboards and began to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

Back against the counter he began to take a small sip, but was interrupted by the sound of his phone chiming from the living room where he normally left it to charge. His brows furrowed a little, ‘Why is someone texting me so late…?’ He wondered to himself, moving towards the living room. Jake planted himself on the couch and his legs kicked up on one end with his head at the other.

Unknown Number

(Received 1:43 am) Hey Jake! It's (Y/N) sorry to text so late, but I just wanted to make sure I sent you a text before I forgot. It was really nice to see you guys today! Hopefully we can get together sometime soon!

Clearly an email was what the notification sound was actually for but Jake chose to ignore it. Jake moved to take another sip of his whiskey as he contemplated whether or not he should bother responding. It felt like forever since they had seen each other let alone spoken; he knew well that he had changed as a person and that more than likely she had as well. This (Y/N) wasn't the same girl he had fallen head over heels for in high school.

It was easier to tell himself that than to really believe it unfortunately; his mind quickly pulled him back to how her eyes had met his earlier. Jake felt like (Y/N)’s eyes were full of so much love as she looked at him… but was he only imagining it? Jake felt like he had been staring at the text for hours by the point he decided to toss his phone back to the side.

Taking a bigger swig of the drink, Jake began to push his hand through his hair, thinking about the few memories her scent had trudged up into his mind. To Jake’s surprise he could still envision the old her when he closed his eyes, he supposed that old habits were harder to get rid of then he would care to admit.

A small memory slipped into view of (Y/N) as she walked ahead of him down a beaten down path in the woods. Summer sun making her skin sparkle, she lightly turned to look back at him with a small laugh. A ratty black Janis Joplin t-shirt hung over her shoulders, it was something that Jake could always remember her wearing. A lit cigarette smoldering between her fingers as she cheerfully took a drag. The sight made him wonder now if (Y/N) still smoked, Josh and her had started around the same time after a friend of theirs stole a pack from his dad. Josh had since quit knowing how much it was ruining his voice. With how crisp (Y/N)’s voice was he had to imagine that she must have given the terrible habit up.

(Y/N)’s smile brought him to another moment, he could see clearly in his mind’s eye as Josh spun her in the middle of the kitchen while they were trying to make dinner. Jake was there, but at the time he kept to himself… leaving Josh alone with her to enjoy their time. (Y/N)’s eyes were always so full of joy when she was with Josh. 

The laugh that left (Y/N) soft lips was slowly drowned out by the sound of heavy rain, his view becoming one of her standing in the middle of the rain, completely drenched but laughing as she danced alone to the music she seemed to always have playing in her head. A sudden picture of (Y/N) standing before him in a drenched floral gown, her voice filling his ears, “Jake?” He could picture her uttering, with a saddened look in her eyes.

"Jake?" Called her sweet voice again, this immediately caught Jake's attention, he quickly turned to his side. Music played loudly overhead, his gaze fixing on (Y/N) who was suddenly dressed in a black lace dress that fell just below her knees. “Are you listening?” (Y/N) asked him.

"Huh? What did you say (Y/N)?" Jake quickly responded with a shake of his head.

(Y/N) let out a little laugh, "I asked you if you wanted to dance?" She repeated to him, wearing a soft smile. (Y/N) was so beautiful at this dance. Jake could remember that he had a hard time keeping his eyes off of her, the way her dress fit, the way she had done her makeup, even the way she chose to wear her hair, it was all so perfect.

Ah… Jake was at the spring dance again.  

His eyes moved to take in the sight of her outstretched hand. Jake could recall being a little frazzled, though he couldn’t quite remember what he had been looking at beforehand that made this gesture so surprising. It took a second but soon a wide smile came across Jake’s lips, "I'd love to!" He said eagerly. Taking her hand as he felt his cheeks go a soft pink, "oh… wait, what about your date?" He slowly asked. Both (Y/N) and Jake came with different people to that dance,

"Ah, he went to find a spot to smoke a little while ago." (Y/N) softly mused, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He’ll probably be back soon but I just wanted to take this opportunity.” They would find out later that both of their dates had ditched the party together to hook up. Right now however, (Y/N) held tight to Jake's hand as she led him out to the middle of the gym that doubled as a dancefloor when the school saw fit.

Looking back, it was beyond cliché that it was the song that played, some might say meme worthy but of course it was Wonderwall by Oasis playing over head as Jake had his first slow dance with (Y/N). Jake could remember how nervous he was as he placed his hand on her side, unsure if he was holding her too tight. (Y/N) seemed to have no issue placing her hand on his shoulder with a friendly smile across her lips. It was a lot of awkward shuffling at first, Jake unsure where to look, and (Y/N) only smiling when their eyes did meet. 

Jake realized now that she could tell how nervous he was, the way she had begun to sing along with a serious look in her eye was all to make him chuckle a little. Even back then (Y/N)’s voice was something magical to listen to. The sound of it made Jake relax a little; he was completely caught up in the way her lips moved. His own lips would curl into a smile when she would close her eyes and become entirely enthralled in the music. Jake always frowned when he remembered just how sweaty his palms had gotten, and even more wistful when he thought about just how much tighter he wanted to hold her hand in this moment.

This wasn’t the last slow dance Jake had shared with (Y/N). In fact he always made a point of dancing with her at these kinds of things, because frankly, the times Jake shared with (Y/N) were some of the best moments he'd end up having at the school dances. 

Of course also getting to watch Josh and (Y/N) pick the most outrageous songs to dance poorly to was also an astounding highlight of everyone's night.

As that dance came to a close, neither of them pulled away very quickly. Jake just stared down at (Y/N) with gentle eyes, and she stared back up at him with a warm smile. Jake knew that he didn’t want to let go of her hand yet, that he loved the feeling of her fingers being laced with his. “Hey (Y/N)?” Jake lightly started,

(Y/N) was already looking at him, and responded with a light, “Yes Jake?” 

“I…” he started, trying to muster up the courage to tell her how he felt, but Jake just couldn't do it. At the time he was so filled with self doubt that he couldn’t imagine her ever feeling the same towards him, “I’m… sure Josh would probably love a dance too.” He tells her weakly, immediately beating himself up on the inside. 'What was that…?' He remembered thinking to himself; when Jake was laying in bed later that night he would think about all the suave things he could have said instead.

(Y/N) gave a nod in agreement, "Yeah you're probably right…! His date seems to be off with every other guy tonight." She utters, looking across the room at a blonde girl dancing with someone who clearly wasn't Josh. "Thanks for the dance, Jake!" (Y/N) said in a sing-song way, her hand lightly running down his arm, "I'll see ya in a little bit?"

Jake gave a weak smile, and an enthusiastic head nod "y-yeah, of course! See ya later…." He uttered. Finally releasing (Y/N)’s hand just to watch her walk off through the crowd. Even then Jake felt like he could never compare to Josh; that (Y/N) would choose Josh over him every single time.

Those memories were always difficult to even just graze over, especially after everything else that would happen later. Jake could feel his heart get heavy as the scene began to change. The music was still playing loudly in the gym, he could hear it despite standing in the middle of the parking lot. Jake had come outside to look for his date, she had never come back from the washroom and being as naïve as he was, he hoped that maybe she went outside for a smoke. Instead he found a tearful (Y/N) sitting on the hood of his car. 

(Y/N) sat slumped over her one knee while the other leg dangled down, she was smoking a half finished cigarette and looking at the ground. All Jake could remember thinking as he approached her was. ‘Where on earth are her shoes?’

(Y/N) was almost always barefoot and this was no exception.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Jake called out lightly, gaining her attention rather quickly.

“Oh… hey Jake…” she responded in a half hearted way, returning to take another drag of her cigarette. 

Jake frowned as he heard her say his name in such a sad way, “What’s up? You sound upset…” He lightly asked, coming to sit beside her on the hood of his car.

(Y/N) shook her head a little, “Ah… Alex is gone.” She stated, referring to her date whose car was indeed missing from the parking lot now. Jake furrowed his brows a little, he couldn’t believe that Alex would just take off without a word --- of course he figured out why later, but at this moment it burned him up a little.

“Oh… I’m sorry.” Jake told her honestly, beginning to scratch the back of his head, “If it makes you feel any better I think Lindsay is gone too…” He muttered, referring to the girl he had asked last minute to the dance.

(Y/N) was quick to look at him with her brows furrowed, “No that doesn’t make me feel any better!” She exclaimed, “I have to beat up a bitch now.” She was quick to say. (Y/N) despite being the same age as Jake always seemed to be so protective of him; Jake really couldn’t say that he hated that fact even now. 

Jake laughed a little as she said this, “It’s okay (Y/N)...” he sighed, “I knew she wasn’t really that into me from the beginning.” He shrugged, trying not to seem all that bothered. Jake always tried to seem put together when it came to being around (Y/N) but things like this always were a blow to his self-esteem. 

(Y/N) shook her head clearly unhappy with this news, “Jake, you definitely deserve better than her anyways.” She tells him, taking another deep inhale from her cigarette. “You’re way too good of a guy to be treated in such a shitty way.” She tells him with smoke pouring from her lips, still slightly shaking her head.

Jake watched (Y/N) with a small smile, he was happy that she thought that of him anyways. “You really think so…?” He lightly asked.

(Y/N) gave an enthusiastic nod, “Of course I do! You’re handsome, funny, and charming.” She tells him seriously, turning her focus to him. “You deserve someone who loves all that about you---  someone that loves everything about you.” She told him with a smile. 

He gained a little bit of courage, his gaze becoming focused on the moon. “Do you love everything about me…?” Jake asked, it was a forward question of course, but he wanted to know.

(Y/N) seemed to raise a brow, surprised by his asking. Her arm quickly came out to pull him into a headlock, “Of course I do! That’s what friends are supposed to do!” She laughed, “And then make fun of you mercilessly for being such an amazing person.”

Jake had to stop himself from frowning in that moment, giving a weak laugh; he should have known that would be her answer. “Yeah I guess it is huh…” he uttered, moving to place his hand over hers, his thumb brushing over her soft knuckles.

(Y/N) looked over at him, she must have been able to tell that her answer didn’t quite suffice as she began to give a lopsided expression. She just couldn’t resist taking another puff before saying anything though. Jake couldn’t help but shake his head a little, “Why are you doing that?” He lightly asks her, causing her to look at him quizzically.

“Doing what?”

“Smoking.” Jake said sternly, he always hated seeing her or his brother smoking. “You know it's terrible for you.” He continued.

“Well fuck Jake, I didn’t realize you cared so much.” (Y/N) laughed, as her arm on him lessened its grip. “They're just addicting, I don’t know what to tell you.” She admitted, tossing the remainder to the ground.

Jake would shake his head at that moment, “You’re an idiot.” He told her.

“Hey! I just told you I loved everything about you, you don’t need to be so mean about it.” (Y/N) responded loudly, she clearly knew he was right… but oh how she hated being wrong.

“If you’re ever going to get into music you’ll need your voice you can’t just fuck it up by smoking that garbage.” Jake continued to scold, recalling the look she gave him. It was a look that really expressed how she felt about getting into music… a strong disdain.

“Y’know Jake… not everyone wants to get into music like you.” (Y/N) told him pointedly, “Some of us have other dreams.” She continued, with a hate filled look. Thinking about it made Jake upset still, he knew how heavily (Y/N) was being strong armed into music by her family at the time… she didn’t need him to add to it. (Y/N) recoiled her arm, bringing it to sit on her lap. 

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I just don't---” Jake could recall starting, hand moving to take hers.

All of a sudden Jake’s eyes had snapped open staring at the ceiling of his apartment, sun pouring through the curtains in an inhumane way --- he had fallen asleep. Sluggishly he sat up, running his fingers through his slightly knotted hair while he searched for his phone with the other, ‘what time is it…?’ he wondered, knowing he had to meet with Josh for eleven… or twelve Jake’s time.

Jake cradled his phone in his palm, seeing the time was 10 am. That was a relief at least. He also noticed a new text.

Josh

(Delivered 9:30 am) Okay so hopefully it’s cool but I invited (Y/N) to tag along at 11! If it isn't… well sucks to suck I guess.

The sight of it made Jake let out a light drone, falling to lay back on the couch again. “...Well fuck.” He uttered.

[picnic-table-writing]

Raspberry Gummies

We arrived during the opener’s last song: lopsided indie rock. The backyard venue was buzzing with people I had never met, save for an oasis of familiarity near the middle which Tessa and I latched onto like a life raft––rescued by smiling faces and friendliness. Eva, Aidan, Emily, Emilie... usual candied dynamics in a fun-sized portion.

We soon decided to both have another gummy––Are you feeling anything yet?

The sun slid steadily towards the earth­­––warm pink light clipping the top of the house––while an ambient glow trickled through the not-quite-blossoming branches of the Sakura tree to blanket us all in spring. A lull in the performance lineup left space for socialization. I finally learned the name of a person who I’d seen three times before on campus (all coincidences, and two of which was them complimenting me on my sweater), which I now know to be Sonia. I congregated with the band who was my reason for coming in the first place: Aidan, Micah, Isaac, Josh––when are you playing? will there be time? are you excited?

By the time the next band started I was feeling comfortable, things were a bit funnier than usual but otherwise I knew where I was. I was struck by the quality of the music; it was as if a professional rock and roll band had stumbled in from the alley in a drunken stupor, deciding that the only way they would feel at home was by terraforming the environment through the purity of their sound. The singer and lead guitar fancied themselves comedians, pausing between songs to tell stories and laugh at the crowd. One of the tracks featured a slow building lead-in to the chorus, where the singer led everyone to crouch down in a hushed conspiracy of anticipation; and all the while the drummer kept the beat pumping with a head-splitting veracity. The release into frenzy with everyone jumping up in unison was just as electrifying as you’d imagine. I realized during those bridges that drummers are the most moving musicians to watch; no other shows the life-and-death drama of their craft more clearly­––in every moment the body battles its physical limits with the lifeblood of the song on the line. There’s something seductively tragic about their movements. It was near the end of their set when nighttime established itself over the yard, and it was under this cover of darkness that the gummies sprang their revenge.

Whenever I’m too high I tend to freak out, desperately grasping for continuity with every moment bringing a fresh wave of disorientation. I look at the person beside me singing along with the band, I search in my mind for what I should be doing, I try to copy them. I notice how the muscles of my face are being held, I am too aware of how air is hitting my arm right now. I swallow. It feels weird––my adam’s apple moving with its own agency. Someone catches my eye to the left, a guy around my height, wearing a denim jacket. His hair looks like mine did before I cut it, he nods coolly to the beat. The sporadic flashes of light illuminate his profile so I can see some of his face, and a numb horror washes over me as I realize that he is me. I feel foolish for having thought I was here as a person––no, I am a floating observer, a dreamy film camera here to capture my life from a few months ago. The more I look at myself the clearer this becomes. How strange it is to see yourself as others do––have I always looked that rigid? I’ve usually despised looking at myself in pictures, and while the hatred remained in person at first, it is starting to subside. Seeing myself in motion adds an element of sympathy that I could see people getting used to; a mouse face that announces its self-consciousness through animacy. I wonder what is so special about myself to get a filmic adaptation, but I make sure to frame the shot elegantly nonetheless. My trance begins to intensify, a dolly-zoom spinning sparks of parallax across my vision, when suddenly a hand grabs my shoulder and I whip around to see Tessa with an alarmed look on her face.

She said “what’s going on?” through wholesome giggles, and I immediately fell back into the evening as I previously knew it (back to past tense––thank god!). I told her that I saw another version of myself over there, and about my momentary freakout, and she laughs and I laugh, restorative light-headedness. She questioned me on it further, so I point him out to her, and he still looks exactly like me, but she says she can’t see him (wait wait, back again?). I’m quite a bit taller than her so she can’t see over the people between us and him, I lean over to give her room, and he turns away just as she looks at him. She says she can’t tell: it’s too dark.

We stood there gob-smacked and slack-jawed for a while, talking about how we couldn’t believe how high we were, before giving up on listening to the music and shuffling over to Kat––when did she get here? She was standing with Eva and Emily; we communicated our dismay to them and were met with amusement. Suddenly, in a non sequitur of consciousness, I found myself surprisingly deep into a conversation with Maggie about how her hair was shorter than it was last year, and I did my best to say what a normal human would in that situation. Returning to the druggy solidarity of Tessa and the others, we found enjoyment in saying the things we were thinking and marveling at how ridiculous they sounded out loud. Someone tells me to look down and before I know why or how, my vision becomes nothing but purplish white; an ocean of rods and cones crying out in pain. I exclaim and press my palms into my eyelids, the purple edges of the ocean start to recede and I finally realize that it was a camera flash: someone had taken a group photo of us all from below. I can only imagine how goofy I must have looked. I open my eyes to find Tessa equally pained, waving her hands in front of her eyes––ohmygod ohmygod, and once again we are spurned into inescapable breathless laughter.

I noticed at some point that the bands had switched, now an alternative indie group whose name has slipped my mind. The camera flashes continued their assault on my retinas, but once I got used to them I found the beauty in their spectacle. Along with each one came my own personal snapshot from the moment of the light, a Polaroid negative printed in blue and green over my eyes. A figure with outstretched hands, a paintbrush hair-flip, Josh’s smiling face; a chemical slideshow of jubilation viewable by me and me alone. I felt a rush of gratitude for the magic of my sensory experience, that the illusory system produces beauty even when it is momentarily broken.

The light behind the band was steadily cycling through all the colors of the rainbow, and Tessa and I became transfixed by a pressing scientific discovery. We noticed that the leaves of the tree in the distance became more sharply detailed when the light was near the red end of the spectrum, and murkier on the blue end. I stared at those branches for way too long, riding the marry-go-round of visible light, running my imagination along the tactile crimson buds and stirring the indigo soup. It had been who-knows-how-long before I noticed the music building in the background, keyboard arpeggios dancing higher and higher, tickling my eardrums. I turned to Tessa to say “wait this sounds amazing!” and she nodded her head enthusiastically—Right?? The singer with dyed-red hair stepped away from the microphone to focus on their guitar solo, singing with metal rather than breath. Closing my eyes, I could feel the physical presence of the music, a rainbow orb spinning above the yard. Everything reaching crescendo, fierce melodies piercing my soul, I felt a white-hot ball of euphoria rising out of my spinal cord, before it was sling-shotted by the resolving note into my skull, bouncing around inside for longer than I thought possible. Vegas bulbs igniting with every supercharged pinball bounce, I made a noise halfway between a laugh and a scream, and I had to steady my dizziness against the tree, a floaty high made from the overwhelming distillation of the music and the people and the life into my brain. I told Tessa I couldn’t believe how good I felt at that moment, that I had no idea such a feeling was possible. And the best part about it was that the gummies weren’t what gave me that high; sure they might have helped a bit, but I had a confidence within me that it was produced by my environment, and the inconceivable effect it has on me when I’m able to truly appreciate it.

This is not to say the experience wasn’t scary. Early on, the host of the party grabbed the microphone and said his neighbors had called the cops for a noise complaint, which did wonders for my paranoia. From that moment on, any passing flashlight or unexpected movement was a SWAT team with guns drawn. Also, I would frequently fall back into my retrograde amnesia–whereamIohgod mindset, a sinkhole of unreality that came and went unceremoniously. All I had to do to trigger it was look across the yard at myself, unable to suppress my curiosity in this past version of me. Tessa later called my experience ego death, which seemed right. It certainly felt like dying––like this was my last opportunity to kiss my earthly body goodbye before pledging allegiance to the great Nothing. There was so much I wanted to say to myself. And yet––like an estranged father on the run, I was condemned to make silent amends from a distance… observing my creation in all his damaged solitude through a one-way mirror, unable to salvage our relationship with words––I love you; I know you; I’m sorry, please forgive me. I made sure to keep my distance from him; it was hard to picture us interacting without one of us trying to kill the other. Tessa did well to diffuse my situation, repeating that the guy didn’t actually look like me at all, and approaching random friends to ask “are you nate? are you nate?” in a demonstration of my ridiculousness. She was right: when I eventually got close to him the effect vanished. But nothing could convince me that this wasn’t just another malevolent trick by the god who was responsible for our meeting. There is strange part of me that refuses to recover from the existential test of that experience; some arcane allure to the idea that I am not the only version of myself in the world. Maybe it’s because it makes me feel less alone. It’s comforting to believe that there’s other mes bumbling around out there, making the same mistakes for the same non-reasons, who would understand, who could join in on a smiling shrug at our own expense. The more friendships I have, the more I realize how far away true understanding really is; that no one will ever fully know me, even if they cared to. We are all castaways––each stranded on our own island of an archipelago. We have too much to tell each other, and the smoke signals aren’t enough. Sometimes I think the great expedition of our lives is to cross this unknowable gulf that lies between us, to become acquainted with the embarrassing core of each other’s being, to show the version of yourself that’s only there when you’re alone. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared at the prospect of someone stepping onto the shifty sand of my domain––what will they think of the me that hasn’t been packaged for human consumption? Maybe a compromise is best. Meet me in the middle, hitch your raft to mine for a little while, and we can trade our mother tongues into the night.

I was beginning to come down when Aidan’s band started their set. I had seen them play maybe eight times before, and this was up to their standard level of magnificence––no amount of complication could change my love and appreciation for them. To be in such close proximity to a creation so enlivening is enough to make me feel like the luckiest person in the world. They generate a sacred space at all their performances, one in which you can go bananas with your closest friends and give in to the insanity calling your name. Not only is it amazing to know a band so closely, but each of their concerts have been a gift––free of charge. They’re really out here making us all happy one weekend at a time, out of the kindness of their hearts and the strength of their art. The whole project has been oddly validating, as if it confirms the quality of our community. Part of me feels that the creation of something great from our friend-group was an inevitability; like a chemical process in which colliding enough interesting atoms together is bound to produce something beautiful––social alchemy.

By the time they finished, it was nearing eleven o’clock. Some people began to head for the alleyway exit, others shuffled forward in a congregation of thanks––this was when we’d ask for pictures and autographs if we weren’t already friends. After hugging everyone and doing my best to convey my appreciation, I noticed how fried my brain felt and decided it was time for me to leave as well. Of course, it only made sense to leave with Tessa––my comrade in the terrifying experience. I am endlessly thankful that she was there to keep me sane. As we were crossing the wooden threshold out of the yard, I couldn’t help but throw a glance back at myself, secretly hoping he was looking at me too. I saw him gazing up at the stars with a little smile on his face, breathing in the evening while it lasted. The smile was contagious, and I turned back contentedly to Tessa, ready to skip off into the darkness.

Nate

[igglemouse]

The morning light pulls me from my sleep as the headache reminds me that I've probably had a little too much to drink but not too much to have forgotten about yesterday.

The room around me is bland and simple, a space that's mine but one can hardly tell with how impersonal it is right now. It might as well be a hotel room.

Still I am thankful. I do miss home, deeply, but at the same time I realize I can't go back and that here, Oasis Springs, isn't so bad. My father, a man I don't enjoy mentioning as he is a horrible person and yet for some reason he's done me this kindness.

I wanted to deny this, to say no to this simple bit of fortune, but that would have left me as prey among wolves...

The kitchen is my sanctuary. Despite waking up with darker thoughts the moment the mixer starts mixing a smile forms on my face. Ideas push into my mind about how to give my waffles a bit more kick but not only that, what else can I sell for my food stand?

Just the act of cooking is meditative for me. It's ancient alchemy you know? Our ancestors would just stuff whatever they found in their mouths and might throw it over a fire but how far have we come from those times?

I am surrounded by modernity. Bottles of sauces and jars of spices. Each honed over the decades to add texture, flavor, and aroma, making this all a science not only to enhance taste but also to tickle the soul.

Making simoleons however is not so much a science. I started earlier in the day which might have hurt me because in the end only forty simoleons were made. I could say that this was the worst day ever but then again forty is better than four.

Perhaps there is a secret to it, finding the right time, the right dishes, the sweet spot? I don't know. All I can do is pack up and try again tomorrow.

The day's light fades and with it the realization that expectations were not met. Again. This whole food stand business has really been a story of ups and downs and while I'm sure I can take it, it doesn't make the process any less frustrating.

I sink into the cushion of my couch, flip on my TV, and spend some time wondering what can be done to be a lot more consistent. Improving my skills obviously, the better the food tastes the more likely people come back over and over again. Skill will come with time, practice, and patience.

Perhaps its my marketability that is lacking? Watching commercials is a reminder that sometimes a good advertisement campaign is all a product or service needs to make simoleons.

An insistent knock at the door breaks up my thinking. That's right, I do have an expected guest today...

Of course my visitor is the increasingly familiar face of Pascal of of course I step aside and invite him inside. He takes a moment to take in my small place, the hint of being impressed on his face but its only a hint because he opts not to say anything other than to ask if he might sit.

There isn't much here, a couch, a table, and a bed. My only income is my food stand and that's not at all reliable yet and so the dining table seems as good a spot for a conversation as any.

"So, what's up?" I ask, suddenly feeling nervous, even more so than my conversation with him yesterday? How does that happen? I guess because then I thought he was just some random handsome guy and now I know that he's very ambitious and might just be the most eligible bachelor in town.

"Dunno, just wanted to see you again is all," he says casually but still looks around some. "You have a nice place."

"Gracias," it's then I take a small breath and calm myself. He's here, isn't he? He doesn't have to be and yet he is. The attraction is mutual, I assure myself, so I should act like it.

"Flower Day is tomorrow," he mentions, as if that has some meaning to me. It doesn't, not really. I've always thought of it more as a filler holiday. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do something together?"

"A date?"

He chuckles. "I guess you can call it that, yeah."

There's a lot of confidence in his offer as if it is a formality itself, he expects a yes, and I plan to give him one but only after one question is answered. "Why me?"

"Why you?" This catches him off guard. "What do you mean?"

"You don't have a lack of options, I am sure, so what makes me stand out from the others?"

This draws another laugh and a look my way as if I have asked a silly question. I suppose I'm just not used to seeing the worth in myself. I mean eventually I figured I'd find love and settle down and start a family but I certainly didn't come to Oasis Springs with that in mind. It was more like I was pushed out into the desert and forced to survive. Any friendly travelers I meet on the way would be appreciated but not necessary, never necessary.

"You're humble," he says breaking a silence between us I wasn't aware of until his voice made it apparent. "A lot of the women that approach me or vice versa expect it all and its clear that they only see my ambition, not me. They make me feel like I'd be the supporting character in their story and nothing else."

"There is nothing wrong with being a supporting character-"

"But mainly, I want a woman who is prepared for failure."

"Failure?"

He leans in just a little, taking the measure of me, seeking eye contact as if it was all he needed from me. "If I break my leg in three places would you still be with me?"

"I-I didn't even know you played for a pro team!" I say jokingly but also defensively.

"Exactly!" He says with some satisfaction. "So, tomorrow? Date?"

I push out a breath and give my head a nod. Before, the answer would have been yes but now? Yes? I'm a little less sure, this conversation felt more like a try out than just two people getting to know each other. "Yeah, sure, let's see what happens."

Episode List - Next

[cassianstattoo]

HAPPY ACOSF RELEASE DAY!

(ACOSF SPOILERS AHEAD) ARE YOU EXCITED?

I personally am. It’s time for Nesta’s story (and not just hers) to be told. So, this leads to another thing I think (and hope) you’ve been waiting for.

LET’S EXPLAIN THE PLAYLIST! (Read every song’s meaning while or after reading the book) And thank you for all your love and support.

“Alone” by Melancholia: It describes the Cauldron scene at the beginning of the book. In this song you can feel the rage and how hard she’s struggling. This song is not about weakness. It’s about her strength.

“Impossible” by James Arthur: Chapter 1. Even if it’s not so clear in this chapter, I think this song represents how Cassian feels when Nesta’s around. He feels worthless and not so different from the other men she beds (as he thought in ACOFAS). He lost his hope of an happy future with the woman he loves and he feels like he’s breaking that last promise she made her. Everything just seems so impossible.

“Sister” by The Black Keys: Chapter 2. This just makes me think of Feyre and Nesta’s fight. It’s from Feyre’s pov.

“New House” by Toro y Moi: “I want a brand new house Something I can not buy, something I can afford I just want a long shower I been feeling so crowded” Chapter 3. It’s about Nesta settling down in the House of Wind. It’s not the place she feels she can call “home”. First of all, it’s not really hers. The last two sentences of this verse are about her breathing and trying to calm herself at the end of the chapter. She’s just tired.

“My Mother & I” by Lucy Dacus: Chapter 4. The whole song is about Nesta and the relationship with her mother when she was a child. I think there’s nothing else to say. Also, in the 1st Chapter it says that she’s born in spring, so the song talks about a girl who was born in May. It all fits.

“Teacher’s Pet” by Melanie Martinez”: “Teacher’s pet If I’m so special, why am I secret? Yeah, why the fuck is that? Do you regret The things we shared that I’ll never forget? Well, do you? Tell me that I know I’m young, but my mind is well beyond my years I knew this wouldn’t last, but fuck you, don’t you leave me here” Chapter 5 and 6. Nesta and Cassian’s first day of training together. She basically doesn’t want to act like she’s his pet and she’s got to do whatever he want just to respect her sister’s will.

“Dangerous Man” by Valley Of Wolves: “They say I’m a wanted man Holding line and break the fire I’m setting all the captives free But I’m hanging by a wire” Chapter 7. It’s about Eris and his double-cross. That’s how probably Cassian pictures Eris in his mind tbh.

“Control” by Halsey: Chapter 8. Nesta facing the stairs. It can be linked to other chapters too because if you take this song as a whole and not just a few verses, it really contains A LOT of things. For example, the line “The House was awake”. Also Chapter 9, when people start calling their children. You can find this moment in the song when it says “All the kids cried out ‘please stop, you’re scaring me”.

“Bookstore Girl” by Charlie Burg: Chapter 9. The bookstore girl is Gwyn and Nesta tries to know more about her.

“Wrong Direction” by Hailee Steinfeld: “I don’t hate you” Chapter 12. This song is about the chapter’s ending.

“You’ve Got a Friend In Me” by Cavetown: Chapter 13. Nesta and Gwyn’s interaction. Also, Nesta helping her.

“like that” by Bea Miller: Chapter 16. Nesta and Cassian’s tension is hilarious, but this song makes me thing about this scene so much.

“Queen” by Shawn Mendes: Chapter 17. Elain fighting with Nesta. This lyrics is so powerful. The first part is Elain talking to Nesta. The second part is Nesta talking to Elain.

“You’ll Follow Me Down” by Skunk Anansie: Chapter 17. Same scene. This is totally Nesta. She’s so scared of herself and of the world that surrounds her. She’s afraid to lose her sister in this world she still knows nothing about if not violence. She wants Elain by her side, even if it means dragging her down with her.

“Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer: Chapters 18/19. I like to call it “THE chapter”. Do you need me to explain why I chose this song? Um, I don’t think so. You know it.

“Only You” by Ellie Goulding: “Baby I’m on my knees” Chapter 22. He’s... returning the favor.

“Revolution” by Diplo, Faustix, Imanos, Kai: Chapter 24. Our girl Nesta knows what she’s doing. What she’s starting.

“Best Friend for Hire” by Anthony Amorim: Chapter 25. The whole song is about Nesta and Emerie’s interaction. Everytime I listen to it I can’t help but cry.

“Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue)” by Hozier: Chapter 26.  Nesta’s worried about Cassian and gives him relief.

“Rise Up” by Andra Day: Chapters 27/28. These three girls are going to rise up, bitches.

“Nina Cried Power” by Hozier, Mavie Staples: Chapter 29. This song is really powerful, just like Nesta. She always is, but in this chapter we learn HOW MUCH.

“Fix Me Now” by Garbage: “Bring me back to life (fix me now) Kiss me blind” Chapter 31. THAT scene. HE HEATED UP THE WHOLE ROOM Y’ALL. Cassian literally kissed her back to life.

“Ready or Not” by Fugees: Chapters 34/35/36. I can’t choose only one quote from this song. But can you hear its vibes? Nesta’s leading a dead army. This is THE power. 

“PILLOWTALK” by ZAYN: Chapter 37. *wink* This song says everything.

“Go Fuck Yourself” by Two Feet: Always chapter 37. I couldn’t choose just one song, you know. Also, lowkey Chapter 38.

“Never Again” by Breaking Benjamin: “Never again, never again Time will ot take the life from me” Chapter 38′s ending. All I can say is: NEVER AGAIN.

“Boy In The Bubble” by Alec Benjamin: Not linked to just one chapter. It makes me thing of Azriel a lot.

“Past Lives” by BØRNS: “I've got the strangest feeling This isn't our first time around Past lives couldn't ever come between us Some time the dreamers finally wake up Don't wake me I'm not dreaming“ Chapter 39. Gwyn and Azriel. Well, these lines are about them, but I think the rest of the song represents Elain and Azriel, too. I don’t know if you feel the same.

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day: THIS IS AZRIEL’S SONG. YOU CAN’T TELL ME OTHERWISE.

“Watch Me While I Bloom” by Hayley Williams: Chapter 41. Nesta teaching Cassian how to treat a woman. She’s got big dick energy ayeee

“R U Mine?” by Arctic Monkeys: Still chapter 41. Cassian taking control of the situation. This song just screams “dominant” lmao.

“Walls Could Talk” by Halsey: So Halsey once said “The House was awake” (Control). What if those Walls Could Talk? Like, poor thing. It could have a mental breakdown. This song is dedicated to the House of Wind ‘cause it needs respect. It’s alive. Just imagine how’d you feel watching non-stop those two fucking and fighting. Also Azriel, you’re loved.

“Despicable” by grandson: “If I were you I wouldn’t love me neither” Chapter 43. Tamlin deserves a song, too.

“Part Of Me” by Katy Perry: Chapters 45/46. It’s all SO chaotic. This song means a lot of things. They all lied to her, but this song is particularly about Nesta and Amren’s fight. In my opinion, she did the right think telling Feyre the truth ‘cause she deserved to know, but it just wasn’t the right time and space.

“Don’t Give Up On Me” by Andy Grammer: Chapter 47. Cassian’s going to take care of Nesta. She made a mistake but she knows here better than anyone. He won’t give up on her.

“There You Are” by ZAYN: Chapter 50. Cassian comforts Nesta when she finally explodes. He’s there for her with open arms.

“You Found Me” by The Fray: Still Chapter 50. This chapter was so hard to read and this is another song that can describe it best.

“Locked Out Of Heaven” by Bruno Mars: Chapter 51. Illyrian bat boys just love flat objects. I see.

“Thin White Lies” by 5 Seconds of Summer: Chapter 51. Yeah, still thinking about that desk.

“Chosen Family” by Rina Sawayama: Still Chapter 51. This song is wholly dedicated to Nesta’s new found family. Not only Gwyn and Emerie, but also Cassian.

“Library Magic” by The Head And The Heart: Chapter 52. Listen to this song and read the scene at the beginning of the chapter.

“Battle Cry” by Imagine Dragons: Chapter 54. I know it’s weird but I feel this song talks about Lanthys and Nesta’s fight.

“Hurt” by Christina Aguilera: Chapter 55. Nesta takes Cassian to the place she lived with her family in the mortal lands. It’s dirty and broken now but it’s still there. Nes talks about her father and realizes how much he’s done for her and her sisters.

“Story Of Another Us” by 5 Seconds of Summer: Chapter 56. I know this sounds like a sad song but to me it represents Gwyn’s present. The story of their past (of another “them”) and also their present.

“Drama Club” by Melanie Martinez: Chapter 57. Eris vibes, y’all. I know you can feel them. Everytime I listen to this song I can’t help but thinking of him. So the only thing I can tell you is: listen carefully.

“Genius” by Sia, Diplo, Labrinth: Chapter 57. Hear this song. It just makes me think of a ballroom where two people try to talk to other people and they’re avoiding to make eye contact. And they fail (yeah, those people are Cassian and Nesta btw)

“Therefore I Am” by Billie Eilish: Chapter 57. Still about Eris, but also Cassian. They can’t stand each other. So imagine the astronomical energy (inside of this bus lmfao) when Nesta comes in between.

“All About Us” by He Is We, Owl City: Chapter 57. Nessian dancing.

“Rock Bottom” by Hailee Steinfeld ft. DNCE: Chapter 58. This song is SO accurate. This is the moment I realized “That’s it. I think I can die happy now” and then I started crying. Nesta just thinking she’s not enough and she deserves to be with someone as ugly as she thinks she is. Cassian is like “shut the hell up, woman” and yeah. That’s the kind of energy and conversation I was waiting for.

“Stop Crying Your Heart Out” by Oasis: Chapter 58. Their life becomes brighter. They have to stop crying their heart out because of their fears and the emotions they keep trying to hide. They need to feel free and express all the love they can give to each other.

“Fade Into You” by Nashville Cast, Sam Palladio, Clare Bowen: Chapter 58. Finally the truth comes out and everything becomes real. Even if the song is pretty sad, the lyrics is just SO accurate and it describes the scene perfectly.

“I Miss You” by Adele: Chapter 59. Basically Nesta feeling needy ‘cause she doesn’t see Cassian for days, but it’s more than that. Pay attention to the depth of the song. It shakes you. And that’s what Nesta feels when she thinks of Nesta.

“Beautiful” by Christina Aguilera: Chapter 59/61. I want to dedicate it to my favorite girls in this book: Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. They’ve been through a lot but they also learnt to face their fears. And they realized that unity is strength.

“Smile” by Uncle Kracker: Chapter 62. Cassian’s sooo happy to be with Nesta it breaks my heart. And his own too.

“Broken Pieces” by 5 Seconds of Summer: Chapter 62. Aaand here we go again. Cassian just wants Nesta to give him the chance to be happy with her.

“Carried Away” by H.E.R.: Chapter 62. Nesta thinks they got too carried away and now they’re at a point of no return. She opened herself to him too much. It’s not like she regrets this but she understands that now everything’s too real and changing. She doesn’t feel ready.

"What’s Up?” by 4 Non Blondes: Ending of Chapter 63. Okay, I’ll make you laugh but this is me after reading it. I needed to put a song about how I felt when I read this freaking ending, after all the devastation Chapter 62 brought into my heart. And the fact that Nesta’s 25 and the first line begins with “25 years”... I DIED. Also I think of her just screaming to the word “WHAT’S GOING ON?!”.

“Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves” by Eurythmics ft. Aretha Franklin: Chapters 64/65/66. DO I NEED TO DESCRIBE IT? NAH, I DON’T THINK SO. THESE GIRLS ARE POWERFUL, STRONG AND SMART AS HELL.

“Run The World (Girls)” by Beyoncé Chapters 67/68/69/70. The girls want to win and they’re going to conquer everything with no mercy.

“Puppets” by Depeche Mode: Chapter 71. Eris impotence t is heartbreaking.

“Warriors” by Imagine Dragons: This song is for every character. It’s about Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn, but also Cassian, Azriel and Eris. They’re fighting different battles and they’re doing it with every ounce of power they have.

“Emperor’s New Clothes” by Panic! At The Disco: Chapter 74. Nesta kicking Briallyn’s ass.

“Survivor” by Destiny’s Child: This song is dedicated to Emerie and Gwyn. They spent all their lives learning how to survive. At the end, they finally won.

“Set Fire to the Rain” by Adele: THE Nessian Anthem. I put this here ‘cause FINALLY they’re endgame. But something bad’s about to happen...

“Cancer” by My Chemical Romance: Chapter 76. This chapter’s been the hardest one to face. I had to put the book down for a minute and breathe. I know this song made you panic and ow you know why I chose it. I can’t stop crying thinking about Feyre in those conditions and all the IC and her sisters surrounding her. I’m still so heartbroken.

“You Saved Me” by Skunk Anansie: Chapter 77. Nesta cares about Feyre. She’s her little sister and she just can’t let her die like that. She gave her a happy ending even if Nes had to lose almost every ounce of power she had and learned to accept. But they’re worthless in comparison with her sisters life. She just loves them both. She’d do anything for them and this scene proves it.

“Lean on Me” by Bill Withers: This song is about friendship and sisterhood. Nesta’s relationship with Gwyn and Emerie, but also with Feyre and Elain (and lowkey Rhys). Also, I dedicate it to little Nyx, too. They all love you, babyboy, and would do anything for you. Welcome to this chaotic world, kid!

“Sorry” by Halsey: Chapter 78. These are not explicit apologies. Nesta doesn’t need to say “sorry” vocally. She already demonstrated it. Her actions speak louder than words and her sister know it. This song is not about a “romantic lover” but a “person who loves” and they all love too much and strongly.

“Amazing” by Aerosmith: WE FINALLY SEE THE LIGHT. This is the happy ending they deserve (but the cliffhanger is killing me tbh). It’s about everyone in this book. I put it in the playlist ‘cause at first I thought it could refer to Azriel and Cassian. But the more i listened to it, the more I realized it just describes every single character.

“The Reason” by Hoobastank↓

“this is me trying” by Taylor Swift: Both the songs refer to Chapter 80. Nesta visiting her father’s grave is one of the first steps to finally go on. The songs represent what she really wants to tell her father. He’s the reason to start over. And she’s trying. Even if she made mistakes she’s ready to fight for the happiness and love she denied herself years and now she knows she deserves it.

[hankwritten]

Keep in a Cool Dry Place

Demoman/Soldier, 3k

A couple of old, past their prime mercs live out their days, but at least they’re slowly breaking down together.

Oftentimes, Jane would go out onto the deck to find Tavish fixed in place, chin tilted skywards, soaking up the stars for all they were worth. He could be like that, sometimes for hours, eye glossy against the Milky Way as he stood so still he could make a statue proud.

“You’re up awful late,” he said to Jane, unmoving. Probably had realized Jane had been watching for a while now.

“Could say the same to you,” Jane said, pulling himself into a deck chair with a great cascade of air from his smoker’s lungs, the grunt of an old man he always thought was an exaggerated affectation until it started happening to him.

“I don’t get up at five in the morning,” Tavish reminded him.

“You could. Good for the health, Tavish.”

“I don’t think anything’s good for the health these days. Just bad, and slightly worse.” He drummed his fingers on the deck’s railing. “C’mere, look at this.”

“I can see the damn stars just fine from here,” Jane sniffed.

Tavish broke from his surveying to shoot a grin Jane’s way, features cut sharp in the porch light. “Come on you old fart, get over here.”

Jane grumbled, pushing out of the chair with more effort than he would have liked to admit. He made his way to Tavish, joining him at the railing, their shoulders brushing just briefly until Tavish swung an arm around Jane’s waist.

His voice took on a fading quality all of the sudden, as though far away winds were dragging him skyward. “Nice night, isn’t it?”

Jane watched him. In the past few years his good eye had grown white in the center, a fuzzy film growing out from the pupil that would one day take the whole cornea. It was irreversible, Tavish had explained, years of buildup from stromnium or strotenium or something like that, Jane could never remember. Tavish wasn’t surprised, had told Jane that he was shocked he’d still had the thing this long, but that didn’t mean there was no mourning within the man. It was just different than how most people would have gone about it.

“Sure is,” Jane said. “Real beautiful.”

“Aye. And you ‘n me, we’re not seeing the half of it. Those telescopes, the ones the size of whole buildings, all they have is a bunch of different magnifying glasses and yet when they put ‘em all together you can see whole galaxies that weren’t there before. Same sky, just some folks can see it, some folks can’t.”

“You can still see it,” Jane reminded him, a gentle bump to the shoulder.

“For now,” Tavish agreed. He turned, smiling with just the corner of his mouth, a testament that was gone before Jane could fully appreciate how much he loved the small, sad ways he chose to be happy. A hand came up to brush the side of Jane’s cheek. “I just keep thinking about how one of these days will be the last day I see you.”

Their foreheads came together. Jane’s hand rose to cover the one across his cheek, thumb rubbing the small band of gold on Tavish’s finger. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this; despite the decades, despite the promises made on cold desert nights, despite watching the grey hairs spring in Tavish’s beard and knowing the same was happening to him, it was still hard to fathom that someone had chosen to spend the rest of their life with him. Even though the years with Tavish came close to outnumbering the years without, that time in Jane’s life of infinite loneliness, of stubborn self sufficiency, made him question how he was ever lucky enough that someone had hung on their sense and decided he was worth it.

Jane pulled Tavish closer. “Yeah. Well. If you’re going to keep a last image of me in your head, I really wish it was back when I was still handsome.”

Tavish laughed, swaying them both slightly in the unusually still air. Normally winds rattled the badlands, stirring up loose sand and seething through plants too hardy to notice. It felt like, for once, the world had chosen to be kind this night, just for them.

“You get handsomer every day Jane,” Tavish said, and hidden behind the words were each day I love you more. “I just…miss.”

“Miss how things used to be?”

“More than that. I’ve got the ‘ole yearning, I suppose, the eater of men.” Tavish chewed his words, looking up at the sky again. “I miss places. I miss how everything used to feel, even if it wasn’t terribly good.”

“Not talking about going back to your home planet, are you?” Jane joked, jerking his thumb at the now witnessed stars.

“No,” Tavish snorted. “Not exactly. But I…” He trailed off.

Now it was Jane’s turn to bring his hands to the sides of Tavish’s face, his own ring warm from where he’d been cradling it inside his fist. “What is it, Tav? You can tell me.”

Tavish looked not at the stars nor the horizon, but the ground, kicking the wooden deck neither of them had ever gotten around to re-staining. “I feel…I feel the hills always calling out to me. Like there’s something in my bones that just wants to rest, to go back where it’s green, to where it isn’t so bloody dry. Every time we visit I think ‘is this the last time I’ll ever see it? The very last time? Am I going to be too old or too tired the next time around, and never feel like I’m home again?’”

Jane watched the worry lines in Tavish’s forehead. “You want to go back to Scotland.”

“I dunno. Just the more my eye goes the more I…I dunno.”

They hung in silence for a while longer, just breathing. Jane hadn’t felt the need to wear his helmet for a long time, not at home, not at this mansion that was their private oasis from the rest of the world. Were money made their problems—if not vanish—then kept far back beyond the fence where they never had to think about them unless they ventured beyond. Where, even with BLU’s protection no longer keeping the various chapters of local and federal law enforcement trying to wrangle some comeuppance out of the soldier for sins past, he still had a place of refuge.

“Let’s go,” Jane said.

Tavish looked away. “I don’t mean for a visit Jane, I mean…”

“I know,” Jane insisted. Tavish’s milky eye fixed him with disbelief. “You want to go home. I get it. We should go.”

Tavish stared at him, still uncomprehending. “Jane you know that would mean…”

“I know,” Jane repeated.

A warm, subtle smile filled Tavish’s face, and neither of them had to say any more. Tavish drew Jane in closer, and the two of them rocked in the wind that had just picked up again.

***

“Jane,” Tavish frowned as he examined the box Jane had dropped thunderously at the bottom of the stairs, “do you really need to bring all of these?”

“Hey, I’m not trying to make you get rid of your treasured possessions,” Jane pointed out, depositing a second box filled entirely with Guns & Haircuts net to the first.

“We’re not going to have space for these,” Tavish retorted. “It’s going to be a tiny little thing, remember? They don’t build mansions in Ullapool.”

Moving had left the New Mexico mansion barren and faded where pictures had hung on the wall since Tavish had first moved in. Now they were all gone, sold off as their attempts to downsize left only what was necessary and a few DeGroot family heirlooms.

It twisted something in Jane to see their home of three decades slowly dismantled into carpet scuffs and cardboard boxes. This had been his dwelling longer than any other, a turning point from when the Gravel Wars had folded in on themselves and left Jane with an odd freedom he had no idea if he was allowed to act on. Even before that, when Tavish’s mother had still been alive and the halls were filled with her vigor, this place was safe haven for Jane, where he’d come to meet with his forbidden friend and get wasted in his living room.

Now it was mostly empty. Ready for the last goodbyes.

“These are important,” Jane declared of the boxes.

“You haven’t read them in ages,” Tavish pointed out.

“So? They are valuable. Scout sold his whole Bonk! Boy collection for a fortune, and I’ve got twice as many as that little squirt does!” Jane cleared his throat suddenly. “Did.”

It was hard to remember sometimes. He thought his old teammates would want nothing to do with him after the end, but to his surprise they actually kept in contact better than when they’d actually worked together. Maybe owing to the fact he now had an actual address they could send letters to.

Neither Spy nor Sniper had ever actually retired, and over time the tepid, passably courteous correspondences with Sniper had stopped a few years after Spy disappeared entirely. Jane assumed something similar had happened to them both. Occupational hazard.

Engie had complications with his diabetes. The remaining team had shown up for the funeral, except for Pyro, who everyone politely wouldn’t mention, even when Jane asked.

The one person Jane hadn’t expected to outlive was Scout. Scout didn’t write, but he could talk anyone’s ear off, and when coming home from the second funeral in as many years it hit Jane hard that he’d never hear the kitchen phone ringing off its holder again, practically trembling as the other line was just dying to tell him about whatever exactly Scout was so wound up about today.

Tavish noticed Jane’s slipup, and kindly ignored it. Nearly ten years, and Jane still found himself forgetting. “That’s because they were comics,” Tavish explained. “They were collectors items. The only person collecting Guns & Haircuts is you.”

“And don’t I know it!”

Tavish sighed. “Are you even planning on selling them, or are you just going to do the same thing you’ve done with them here and leave them in a big box to gather dust?”

“Of course I’m going to leave them in a big box!” Jane huffed proudly. “What other purpose is there in life other than to gather material objects and then have them accumulate in piles in your living room? You do not see me complaining about the giant, wall mounted family crest, do you?”

Tavish rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed as an old argument became even older. “Ach, fine. I suppose we’ll fine the space.” When he opened his eye, he saw the third giant box Jane was hauling out for the movers. “Jane! We don’t need to be taking that.”

“Yes we do, sonny!” Jane said, slapping a hand on the trumpet of the old record player he hadn’t been able to properly fit in the box. “I do not trust those cassette tapes! The snakes that live in them always try to come out and strangle me!”

“We’ve got some CDs now-” Tavish tried.

“Even worse!” Jane declared. “Australian mind control devices!”

Tavish could see he wasn’t winning, which was just fine by Jane. The magazines were one thing, but the record player he wasn’t leaving without.

“Well,” Tavish said, looking around their house, stripped bare. “I suppose that’s everything.”

Jane couldn’t find a reason to object. He glanced around, looking for one last missing detail, one more reason to stall, but found none. Gently, he took Tavish’s hand and squeezed. “Everything we need.”

***

Scotland was even wetter than the last time they’d visited.

Mud, the most distantly remembered and ancient of substances, clung to Jane’s pant leg all the way up to the knee as they made their way down hundred-year old paths someone really should’ve figured out how to weather-proof by now. But, where Jane was grumbling, Tavish looked about as happy as a clam in water. (Or, Jane supposed was more fitting, a pig in mud.)

“Aha! Look, there it is,” Tavish said, tugging on Jane’s arm and pointing at the glimpse of water creeping around the bend. “Still there.”

“I don’t think they would have up and moved a whole lake while you were gone,” Jane mumbled, but Tavish didn’t seem to hear as he moved with surprising speed down the hill. It was times like this Jane actually envied the cane.

When he finally caught up, Tavish was breathing in the thick air, his chest rising and then collapsing with a satisfied sigh. “Used to play down here as lad. Sometimes there’s a beach, far as the eye can see.”

“Thought you were done with sand,” Jane said, stomping up next to him on damp boots.

Tavish just breamed broadly at him, drinking in the sweep of the land and the crash of the lake. Jane could remember the stories, ones from Tavish’s childhood much better than his own, told and retold so many times that he could flip open the memories like a scrapbook and find exactly where every place in Ullapool fit. An old pub, a crumbling church. The house where the DeGroots used to live, the field where Merasmus’s castle had once briefly towered. So vivid were they, they superimposed themselves over Jane’s (admittedly more insubstantial) memories until he felt he had lived here himself.

“…Gettin’ dark, Tav,” Jane pointed out.

Tavish frowned, and squinted at the horizon. “Aye, I suppose it is.”

“Think the movers are done?” Jane didn’t approve of hiring other people to life heavy things when lifting heavy things had once been one of Jane’s favorite pastimes, but Tavish convinced him that if he threw out his back again, it’d be a lot harder to get him to a doctor.

“Probably,” Tavish nodded. “Let’s go see.”

“Do you think they dropped my magazines?”

“I’m sure they’re fine, love.”

They made the long, much more slippery journey back to their new home. It overlooked Ullapool and the coast, but was nevertheless removed enough that Jane could revel in the privacy he had grown used to. Privacy was not on Tavish’s mind when they’d walked through town that first time, however, as he’d greeted nearly everyone who came their way. It had shocked Jane how many people knew him, or at least recognized the DeGroot name, and greeted Tavish as familiarly as they would have had he been gone for only a few weeks rather than years.

It was good, to see Tavish like this. Even now, as they climbed slowly back up the hill, Jane watched him out the corner of his eye, smiling at the look of serenity that hadn’t been on his husband’s face so naturally in years.

“Isn’t this cozy,” Tavish said lovingly as they crossed the threshold of their new home.

That it was. Jane had worried he had grown soft living in luxury, that his years of being rich and retied would make him forgot that he’d once loved his little apartment, had cherished the security its simplicity had given him. But now that he was back inside four walls, surrounded by the items that had come to mean things beyond their purpose, a swell of pleasant familiarity welled up in him. The curtains blocked out the last of the fading light through soft yellow. There was a fireplace (modern and gas powered) but one ready to fill the house with a warm glow.

Tavish made the motions to begin unpacking, but Jane’s pretense of rooting though the boxes had a different goal in mind. Preoccupied, Tavish didn’t turn around until Jane finally slipped the record into place.

Perking, Tavish looked over his shoulder to see Jane offering his hand as the music bubbled slowly to life. “Been a long time since we danced,” Jane said.

Tavish’s smile fit well in this homey, quiet room. He took Jane’s hand, and let Jane pull him up off his knees until they were chest to chest, resting his chin on Jane’s shoulder.

“Too long,” he agreed.

They began sway rhythmlessly to music in the middle of the tiny living room, caring little where they put their feet as long as it wasn’t one top of one another. Jane loved the record player, needed it more these days, as it was one of the only things that made the horrid, incessant ringing in his ears quiet for just a short while. Leaving the fan on at night might help him get to sleep, but the was no denying the scratching notes out of the player were a world more enjoyable.

It was piano piece, one he’d heard Tavish play now and again. There was no space for a grand piano here in this little cottage on the hill, but maybe they could get a smaller one, and Tavish could try teaching him again. Like he’d promised so long ago.

So many promises that’d slipped through the cracks, both to each other and themselves. Things they simply couldn’t do anymore. Ever since the scare with Jane’s lung cancer, they had tried to do better, had realized what they had built meant something and they couldn’t go piddling away with their complacent recklessness. Jane had quit smoking, Tavish had quit drinking as part of the deal.

But still, there were other things, other mistakes that had compounded over the years. Jane always kept thinking he should have been over it by now, that for how many gentle touches Tavish had placed against him, he should forget the violence those same hands had once brought him. The times they’d shoved a sword into Jane’s gut. The bombs from nowhere. The individual atrocities. It was duller now, the years had been good enough to do that, but if Tavish’s memories were anything like Jane’s, he understood why the ex-demoman sometimes woke screaming in the middle of the night, needing to be reminded—soothed, assured, sometimes begged—that the Jane beside him wasn’t the monster from his dreams.

That was the real tragedy of the War. Officially, all they had been paid to do was kill each other—the horrors they chose to inflict on one another had been their own doing, their own wills brought to fruition. RED had never asked Tavish to shove Jane’s shovel down its owner's throat, laughing vengefully all the while. Jane was sure he’d done equally as cruel things to Tavish during those hell times, but had trouble recalling exactly what. It’s much easier to remember the sins committed against you, than those you have unleashed yourself.

Those hands, those bloodstained, gentle, perfect hands, rubbed circles and Jane’s back, and he sighed. He’d listened to this record enough to know it was getting to the end of this side, but he found he didn’t want to move. He wanted to keep standing here, swaying with the man he loved in their home in the mountains, remembering that they had earned this.

“I cherish these moments we spend together,” he said resolutely into Tavish’s chest.

“Every one of them,” Tavish agreed.

Eventually they would lay down, rest their old bones in their new bed, but for now they held each other in the slowly encroaching night, the sound of rain playing its first patter on the roof.

[gerbithats]

A long sims 4 rant

Starting this I can already predict it’s gonna be a big one so if you stick with me, thank you and I’ll try and add pictures to make things feel easier 😆

I was thinking about it and I mean really thinking about these community surveys we’ve been getting and how they speak volumes on the way the game is handled but also also how we position ourselves as a community. I noticed alot more game changers are starting to get pretty vocal about their thoughts since the first community survey came out and that’s refreshing to say the least, but it shows a pattern that we all present: give us what is missing no matter how. We want beaches. We want cars. We want more stairs. We want bunkbeds. Etc.

So these things are probably somehow rushed into production to please the community and then, when we finally get it, it’s like we finally realize that what this game truly lacks is gameplay and not more items.

I invite you to come and think about the packs and the stuff we got throughout these 6 years with me.

🏢 Chapter 1: The apartment issue 

Yes we got apartment buildings with city living, but sometimes it doesn’t even feel like it’s a game feature because it’s L I T E R A L L Y related to living in a city, so it’s not a real feature. We have no possible way to play with apartments and condos outside of san myshuno because for the first time ever we can’t build or own apartments. This was such a missed opportunity of giving us new lot treatments like condos and even rentable properties. I mean, just think about how those 2 features could allow so much new gameplay and stories with it (I can literally imagine being a landlord, having to go fix renters stuff in my their places and doing social events as condo meetings).

The neighbors in that type of lot could also help solve somehow what so many people mention as “boring lot gameplay”. Let’s be real. hardly something ever happens with so little npcs and only the walk by sims (You have to literally run after them to make things happen sometimes and it shouldn’t be like that). But if sims were to live in the same condo or building as yours, sharing common living spaces that’s a whole other thing. Which brings me to the fact that even in the city, where apartments exist, there’s no common area other than the halls. Imagine if we could build laundries, rooftops, basements, patios with pools and all that sort of stuff.

That sort of detaling and really getting deep into the pack’s features is even show in elevators: we can’t use them ourselves (for building) and they’re not even animated, your sim is just teleported (even the modded ones have animations and that’s just awkward).

🌊 Chapter 2: Swimming in shallow waters

“We want a beach”, we said. So they gave us a beach, and a beach only. I’ve never seen so many people call a pack “shallow” as I’ve seen it happen to Island Living and tbh I do agree with them ‘cause... there’s really not much to do in this pack. For the first time ever swimming was restricted to this pack which is already a big let down by itself, but then features like deep diving were added for no reason and of course, as a rabbit whole, not actually contributing with much to do. So how could it be better?

My answer is pretty obvious: resorts. It is a livable world, but that don’t mean your sims can’t take a vacation from work and just stay there if that’s the gameplay you want to go with and resorts match perfectly with that, not to mention it would have great integration with packs like spa day. It also means a new lot type and lot system, that wouldn’t be much new if the city living building condos and sublocating them as I mentioned would’ve already been implemented, but now with the feature of renting it yourself too. Resorts could also have their own event schedules, integrated with the seasons calendar: cava parties every wednesday, yoga lessons on thursdays, etc. And the best thing would be: if you own one, you can make your own events and traditions. imagine just how fun that would be. A feature like this would also mean it’s already done for other packs coming later on, maybe a colder destination where you can ski and build iglus or even another cultural based pack like jungle adventure.

Other obvious resolution would be better mermaids. Make it harder to become one, being only able to get the kelp from a mermaid themselves. Make it less anticlimactic, having an animation of them turning before they just walk in water with a tail all of the sudden, maybe just some scales in their legs. Give them more unique features and powers like vampires and spellcasters have, such as easily persuading people (sort of like the mind control feature aliens have) and maybe even a secret lot, like a grotto where all the mermaids are. Give them curses with the points system to go with it, some mermaids are actually sirens amirite

🥶 Chapter 3: Seasons change, gameplay stays the same

Activities truly based on the season that are specific to that moment create urgency and different moments. Something I can think of is integrating a pack we already have: spooky stuff. It does feel lackluster ‘cause it’s missing opportunities, but imagine going trick or treating but actually going, loading different houses and gathering it while a meter like the active jobs one guided you. Forming groups with friends to do it or maybe for tpeing trees and bushes if you’re on the rebel teen side and destroying their porch jack’o lanterns. It could even be randomly generated, like the game would send you to 3 different houses to do it (that would bring lots of replayability value ‘cause you could end up in houses with neighbors that love you and will give you candy no problem, but maybe also neighbors with family feuds that won’t answer their door or make it harder for you to accomplish the event objectives), maybe one of those could even be a abandoned one that’s haunted or something like that.

The implementing of a better wants and fears system is very essential for this pack. Yes your sims get overheated and a popup message tells you they need some water or lighter clothes, but it’d be so good if they’d actually want to go to the beach, swim in the ocean, take a vacation from work and go to a resort. Heatwaves that would make your sim act weird, not strangerville level of weird, but maybe not obeying your commands.

Blizzards so strong that work and school would get canceled and you actually don’t have the option to leave your home lot anymore until it passes would not only add a different element to the gameplay, but also add value to the weather controler machine.

🥺 Final chapter: The general “more stuff to do” and “more things happening” factor

The game offers all these beautiful secret worlds and yet when you finally get to them there’s not much to do other than searching for rocks and frogs and doing some fishing. I miss going to a community lot hidden somewhere and finding an eremite, goddamn bigfoot, some crazy npc or even just an actual community lot with something to do and people doing stuff in it. Unique community lots would also be a way to make towns more lively and captivating like they did so well with realm of magic and the casters alley section of the world. Maybe forgotten hollow has this abandoned haunted house where people claim they’ve seen the grim reaper walking around. Maybe sixam has a alien station where they clone human sims. Maybe sulani has this beautiful sunken ship beach where a club of people that dress up as pirated meet. Maybe Del Sol Valley has a movie theater where you can watch premieres. Maybe Oasis Springs mine hides actual gold that you can collect and get rich outta nowhere. That kind of stuff.

I can’t stress this enough, but NPCs are so important to shake things up. It was so good to have a pack like realm of magic where the we would have to go to the three sages in order to progress. Having unique sims like this or npcs that change the way your story is going like burglars, firefighters, cops, social bunny, bonehilda and even a fortune teller is so important to keep things impredictable and interesting.

Age groups really need more specific restricted gameplay for better feel of progression. Many people say sims 4 is a young adult simulator and well... there’s not much to show that differs from that. Toddlers are as interesting as hamsters, locked in an object waiting for you to feed, clean and give them attention. Teens really should feel more like a transiction period, and the wants and fears system would really help out with that. I miss being able to participate in more elements that would mark a sims life even if they’re cheesy as heck, like having a prom, graduating, having a midlife crises.

In conclusion

First of all: if you got to this point thank you and I’d really wanna know what you think about all of this.

Some people may find even ridiculous for someone to go about a rant this big on a game and to that I have to say I agree lol I can’t help it tho, honestly, the sims has always been the game I’m most passionate about and it helped me express myself and my creativity so much since I was a kid. I really do care about this game and this franchise.

The point I want to make with this is: perhaps we shouldn’t ask for more and more different stuff, but actually put some effort into showing things we already like in the game and how they can be improved to make it more interesting. At the end of the day I still want spiral staircases, ladders, paintable ceiling, werewolves and all that but does it really matter if they get added to the game following the same patterns as the things pointed in here? Also we really are getting to a point where only a few things are missing as far as cas/build/buy go and I believe it’s time for us, as a community, to give gameplay as much importance as all these things we wanted so bad that got implemented. I probaby forgot to say something here and I didn’t even mention the infamous hamster pack, but anyway, I hope the point got across.

I try really hard to believe that the gurus are here for us and that most of all we, as a community, have a very strong voice, all we need to do is make it clearer and stronger about the things we really wish for this game.