#imagine if everything ever in the entire world was made out of mosquitos

[vox-off]

i still occasionally see that 'skin writing' post going around and it leaves out a very very important detail, so as someone with dermatographia let me fuckin tell you

y'know what those welts are? histamine response. y'know what histamine responses are?

ITCHY

[sheirukitriesfandom]

More OTP Questions

Robbed if sleep, tormented by OTP thoughts and mosquito bites, I decided to create another otp questionnaire.

This one is somewhat similar to my popular Unusual OTP Asks but it's written to be answered in character. As always, you are free to adapt it to your liking.

I used"LI" to refer to a character's love interest rather than partner or significant other because I didn't want to include a fixed relationship status, though the questions were written with a relationship in mind.

Please send an ask to the person you reblogged this from. It brightens their day and keeps this ask meme alive.

What is your most precious memory of your LI? What makes that memory special?

What is something your LI does that makes your knees grow weak? In what kind of situation does your LI do the thing?

Have you ever dreamt of your LI? What happened in that dream?

If your LI had to go on a long journey and you couldn't come along, what would you say to them before they leave? Sagely advice? A profound confession of all your feelings?

What's that one thing that always makes your LI smile? Is it easy to achieve?

How far would you go to make your LI happy? Would you travel to the end of the world? Would you commit a crime for them?

How do you imagine your and your LI in your twilight years? Is it a future together or are there factors preventing that?

What made you fall in love with your LI? Has your attitude towards that thing changed over time?

If your LI irreversibly couldn't remember you, would you still love them? Would you try making them fall in love with you again?

Have you confessed your feelings to your LI? What was it like? If not, how do you plan to do it? Do you even want to tell them?

Do you think you and your LI are "meant to be"? What indicates you are fated to be together?

What was the most awkward situation between you and your LI? How did it arise? Did everything work out in the end?

If you and your LI had to plan the perfect day, what would it look like? Would you go out on a date? Would you spend the entire day in bed?

How well would you say you know your LI? If someone asked you a random question about your LI right now, could you answer it?

What's the biggest difference between you and your LI? Is it a physical or abstract difference? Does it lead to tension or awkward situations?

[fruitcoops]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do another fic involving jules and coops together? Just like sweet moments between the three? I loved the baby sitting series you did and could not stop thinking about it❤️❤️ Thank you!!

Yeah, of course! I love writing my boy at any opportunity. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but the relatives are my ocs!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sirius asked under his breath as Remus finally—finally—appeared from the mass of people.

“It’s fine,” Remus said around a forced smile to a middle-aged man across the yard.

Sirius hid his mouth by pretending to look down at the nearest casserole dish. He didn’t even know what was in it; nobody had bothered with labels, and everyone’s dishes were the same basic florals in different colors. “I love you, Re, and I totally get the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing, but this is a bit much if I’m being honest.”

“Honey.” Remus’ shoulder pressed against his own. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good time, but my Aunt Jen would skin me alive if I didn’t bring the man I’m marrying to the family reunion. We can leave tomorrow if you really hate—oh, no.”

“Remus!” a shrill, excited voice called. Sirius felt his fiancé straighten up as a tall, redheaded woman in star-painted jeans hurried across the grass with three other women in tow. She reached up and gave Remus’ cheeks a squish, then leaned in a planted a lipstick-stamped kiss to his forehead. “How are you, my duckling? Was your flight alright? Make sure you stay away from the salt or else your feet will swell.”

“Hi, Aunt Jen,” Remus said, grimacing a little at her rib-crushing hug. “I’m doing well, and our flight was fine. How are you?”

“Peachy keen,” she assured him. Dark brown eyes lasered in on Sirius half a second later and he felt his fight or flight kick in. “And who are you?”

“Aunt Jen, this is—”

“It was rhetorical, honey,” Jen interrupted with a pat to Remus’ arm as she stepped closer to Sirius and immediately hauled him in for a hug. She was as tall as Remus, but broader in the shoulders and hips; he had never felt so engulfed by someone. It was a strangely enjoyable feeling.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” the shortest of the group cooed, as if she was talking to a particularly small dog in a purse. “Our Remus always knew how to pick them.”

Remus furrowed his brows. “Aunt Lisa, this is the first boyfriend I’ve—”

“But he’s not just a boyfriend!” Jen trilled, giving Sirius’ cheek a pat. “He’s a fiancé, something I learned from your mother. Not from your father—oh, I gave him a talking-to about that—and not from you, duck.”

Sirius bit back a laugh at the nickname and spared a glance to his left, where Remus had gone pink all the way to his ears. “Sorry.”

“Introduce us!” the shortest insisted, taking the other two by the hands as pulling them forward with an eager smile.

“Everyone, this is Sirius Black, my fiancé.” Remus gestured between them, and the four women beamed at him. “Sirius, this is Aunt Jen, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Allison, and Aunt Mary, my dad’s sisters.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Sirius said, holding a hand out.

“No need to be so formal,” the brunette grumbled with a teasing grin. “We have heard so much about you from Lyall. After those damned pictures—”

“Allison,” Jen hissed.

“—after the damned pictures,” Allison repeated with a pointed look. “I was about ready to drive up to Gryffindor myself and give that lousy son of a bitch a piece of my mind—”

“Allison!”

“—but Lyall talked me down and I have been waiting to meet you ever since.” She finished with a soft huff and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Remus is a lucky boy to have you. It’s very exciting to see you in person at last.”

Sirius’ heart gave a happy little ka-thump and he smiled. “I’m glad to be here. Thank you for having me.”

“He is so polite,” Lisa said to Remus out of the corner of her mouth with a wink and a thumbs-up. “Good choice.”

“You know what I just realized? We haven’t said hello to Jules yet. We’ll see you in a few, yeah?” Without waiting for an official answer, Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and practically carried him away from the table. Once they were out of earshot—and the aunts had busied themselves with one of the younger Lupins—Remus relaxed with a slow exhale. “I am…so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I had no idea they were going to corner you like that. I mean, I did, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be for another few hours. They tend to move in a pack at reunions, like sharks. Or wolves.”

“They’re really sweet.”

“They are,” Remus said grudgingly, though Sirius could read the affection dripping off him like his favorite book. “My dad’s the youngest of five, and I was the first nephew. You can imagine how that went.”

“Baby of the baby?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask one thing?” Remus nodded, visibly confused, and Sirius found he couldn’t keep his grin down any longer. “Duckling?”

“I hoped you didn’t hear that,” he groaned as they headed toward the kids’ play area beneath a large oak. “Long story short, it involved five-year-old me, a pond, and a sinus infection that made me sound like a duck when I sneezed.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius laughed, earning himself a light elbow to the ribs. “And the name stuck?”

“Considering she was the one that had to stay with me while my folks were working, she could call me whatever the hell she wanted. Please don’t ask her about it unless you want a thirty-minute TED talk about the ins and outs of my sinuses.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“No, she just overshares.”

“Sirius!”

Sirius looked up and saw a herd of small children racing toward them, led by his favorite person under the age of eighteen; Jules crashed into his legs and squeezed him tight around the waist. “Hey, I missed you!”

Jules propped his chin below Sirius’ sternum and stared up at him with the classic hazel-gold eyes that were far more common than Sirius believed before they arrived in the Lupins’ backyard. “I missed you, too! How’s the team? How’s Harry? Is he still super small or did he do that weird thing that babies do where their legs grow and the rest of them still looks normal? How was your flight? Did you have turbulence?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Good, also good, growing normally, and yes.”

“Sweet! Come play cornhole with us!” Jules grabbed his hand and dragged him along the grass at the closest thing he could manage to a sprint with Sirius’ added weight—the pre-teen years had lent him gangly legs, though he didn’t seem quite sure how to use them yet. He looked more like a foal than a sixth-grader.

“What the hell is cornhole?” Sirius muttered as the flock of kids ran ahead to grab armfuls of beanbags.

Remus grinned. “Something I’m about to kick your ass at.”

------------------------------------

By the time the sun set, Sirius was exhausted. He had been introduced to dozens of people who looked just enough like Remus to be eerie, as well as plenty who seemed to have been acquired by one Lupin or another over the course of their life. Jules fluctuated between laminating himself to Sirius’ side and disappearing for an hour at a time, only to return more grass-stained and rumpled than ever as he begged Remus to swing him around by the ankles again. His ass had been thoroughly kicked at cornhole and freeze tag; it was a true miracle he hadn’t already passed out into a food coma. For all of his earlier griping, Sirius couldn’t think of a time in recent months when he had been more content.

“You’re a brave soul,” Remus remarked as they sat in the grass together and watched the fireflies wake. Though it was a warm night, it seemed the citronella candles littering the tables were doing their job of chasing off mosquitoes.

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder. He smelled like grass and summertime and sunbaked warmth. “Am I?”

“Mhmm. I’m sure most people would have run screaming by now.”

“I like your family.”

A beat of silence passed; Remus rested his temple against the top of Sirius’ head. “I’m really glad to hear that. They’re weird and loud, but I love them.”

“And I love you.”

“Are you saying I’m weird and loud?”

“On occasion.”

“Asshole,” Remus laughed, giving him a nudge that hardly qualified as more than a gentle sway.

“Language, there are eight million kids around.”

“They’re busy.”

Sirius watched as small group run by in a wave of giggles, all clutching mason jars of fireflies with their names written on masking tape. “Thank you again for asking me to come with you.”

“Like I said, Aunt Jen would—”

“Remus.” He fell quiet. Sirius didn’t remember the last time he said Remus’ full name aloud. “Your family loves you so much. They’re everything I ever wanted growing up, and it means the world that you wanted to share them with me. All they want is to see you happy. It was amazing to finally meet them.”

“They really, really love you,” Remus said softly, his voice a little thick. “I had about twenty people tell me how wonderful you are. They all thanked me for bringing you, and not a single one mentioned the celebrity thing. Even my Uncle Jay didn’t say a word about hockey.”

“He was the one in the jersey?”

“I’ve known him for my entire life and I’ve never seen him without one.”

“Huh.” Sirius tucked his face closer to Remus’ neck and let the sound of the bullfrogs in a distant marsh lull him. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. The adults will be up for a while, but the kids will start crashing soon.”

Footsteps on the cool grass rustled to their right and Sirius looked up. “Who wants pie?” Aunt Allison singsonged, breaking their quiet bubble with paper plates and utensils. “This one is blackberry, but we have peach, pumpkin, and a few others on the table if you’re still hungry.”

“Just a small piece, please,” Sirius said.

Allison paused and cocked her head, then burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re funny!”

“I am?”

“Don’t fight it,” Remus whispered.

“You are a growing boy,” Allison said as she cut a thick slice and plonked it onto his plate. “And there’s no such thing as too much pie.”

I’m 26, Sirius wanted to say, though he held it in. “Just a small one for me, as well,” Remus said.

“Ha!” Allison snorted. “You’re already too skinny. Eat your pie or you’ll end up a string bean like your father. The NHL might have given you muscle, but it’s useless if you don’t enjoy some of your favorite aunt’s—”

“—woah, hey now—”

“—pie once in a while.” Allison kissed the tops of their heads once both plates were secure and bowing in the middle. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t poking around in the river again. Sleep well, you two.”

Sirius stared down at his plate as she wandered away. “I’m honestly going to die if I eat this.”

“Yeah, please don’t make yourself sick on pie. You really don’t have to eat all of that. The aunts and uncles are convinced that none of us are eating properly once we turn eighteen.”

“Really?”

“I wish I was kidding. You’re going to sleep so well tonight, though.”

As if on cue, Sirius stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and cuddled under Remus’ arm again. A familiar shadow bounded over not two seconds later and he barely held down a groan. “Hey, can I join you?”

Remus shrugged. “ ‘course.”

“Sweet.” Jules settled himself across their laps, staring at the sky with his head pillowed on Sirius’ thigh. “Did you have fun? I’m really glad you could come.”

“I had a great time,” Sirius answered honestly. Now please move on so I can take a nap.

“Mom and dad and me got here yesterday, and Aunt Jen kept checking the door for you guys even though she knew you weren’t coming until today. She was worried you wouldn’t like us, I think.”

“That was never an option, Jules.”

“Yeah, I know.” A devilish grin flickered over his face. “Remus is the weirdest of all of us, and if you want to marry him—”

“Get off,” Remus grumbled, shoving Jules’ legs onto the picnic blanket. “You know, you were a lot nicer before you turned eleven. Can I return you and get a new one? I have the receipt somewhere.”

“Nope.”

“That’s all a birth certificate is, right?” Sirius raised his eyebrows. “If you bring it back in good condition, I hear they give you a ten percent discount.”

Jules scowled. “That’s so not true.”

“How do you think I got Regulus?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Remus asked with a pointed look. “Run along, problem child.”

“Of the two of us, I’m the least problematic.” Despite his words, Jules clambered to his feet and dusted his hands off over Remus’ head. “I’m not the one that got a secret boyfriend and got engaged in a year. I’m so easy. Mom and dad want two of me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remus sighed as he stretched out on the blanket. “They had a second kid because they wanted two of me.”

“You’re adopted.”

Remus cracked one eye open in disbelief. “No, I’m not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—y’know what, go to bed. Or go find the stampede, I think they’re by the river.”

Sirius whistled lowly as Jules scampered off again. “That was impressive. Isn’t your aunt over there?”

“Yep.”

Realization clicked into place. “She’s going to make him go to bed.”

“Yep.”

“You’re brilliant.”

Remus smiled without opening his eyes, and tugged Sirius down by the sleeve to lay next to him. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The stars were brighter than anywhere Sirius had ever seen; for a moment, he was struck speechless by the endless rivers of sparkling white overhead. He stared until his eyes burned from dryness, then put his head on Remus’ chest and kept on looking. There was no way he could tear his gaze from it. A few shooting stars streaked across the clear sky and he felt his heart skip a beat in pure amazement when he realized there was nothing else he would wish for in that moment. He could listen to Remus’ heartbeat and the sound of his new family talking against a backdrop of the night, relishing in a full belly and cool wind, and simply stay there for as long as he liked.

[maxismatchccworld]

Patch Notes

Update 07/20/2021

PC: 1.77.131.1030 / Mac: 1.77.131.1230

Console: Version 1.44

Hello Simmers!

Hope you are well wherever you are in the world and that you are all having a fantastic Summer of Sims! We are excited to share today’s update with you. There is a lot of info, so make sure you have your tea/coffee/beverage of choice ready to read on. You all know I have my coffee ready for this!

As we continue to get ready to explore the countryside charm of Henford-on-Bagley and cannot absolutely wait to play with the adorable animals in Cottage Living, we also have updates and fixes that should improve and complement your Sims’ everyday life. We have something for everyone and we hope that you all enjoy them. Thank you for all your feedback and support.

Cheers!

-SimGuruRusskii ft. SimGuruRomeo and SimGuruJoAnna

What’s New?

Let’s start with some items that we shared in our last Sims 411! For this update, we partnered with two talented artists from the LGBTQ+ community, Ashley Lukashepsky, and Mohammed Iman Fayaz, and they have brought their inspiring and beautiful artwork into the game. We have also included the modernized version of the large afro hairstyle that we showed you. But more than tell you about it in text, let me actually attach a screenshot of everything put together:

I love everything about this scene, not only it shows you how the artwork looks in a real game setting, but the whole scene with the two Sims and their surroundings is quite magical. Also, look at that hair! The way the light highlights it, perfection! You may also notice the hair of the Sim on the right, which was also added with this update for everyone. I want to personally thank all Simmers for their feedback and recommendations, as we are continuously working on adding more diverse hairstyles and textures to not only packs, but also to our base game.

Now that we are talking about artwork, the last patch notes I forgot to add the artwork made by the wonderful Jupiter Stevens-Hill. I apologize for that, I totally blanked out. However, I’m happy to see that a lot of you are enjoying it and placing it in your Lots! That makes a very happy Russkii =)

To find Jupiter, Ashley, and Mohammed’s paintings in Build Mode, make sure you take a look at the Paintings and Posters sort and filter by Base Game items. These artists are amazing and we hope you enjoy their creations.

Now, without further ado, let’s get to some new features and improvements that are part of this update!

A little bit of Gallery

When you download a lot made with the bb.moveobjects cheat, the game now notifies you about this so you know to activate the cheat before placing the lot. Builders, this means you won't need to mention it in the lot’s description anymore!

A little for Sims

Trying to find the Sims in the current neighborhood? Select their portraits in the Relationship Panel.

"Focus the Camera" moves the camera to the Sim.

"Lock the Camera" moves the camera to the Sim and keeps following them.

Where did the Notebook go?

Found it! The Notebook has moved out of the Phone and into its own button for quicker access.

The "Center on Current Lot" button that used to be there has moved to the top right, adjacent to the Camera Controls.

Water Tool

You now can make natural, organic bodies of water! Just head into Build Mode, make a hole with the Terrain Manipulation tool, and fill it with water. It is that easy! The Terrain Manipulation and Paint Tools also have more brush sizes to enable finer detail.

In adding the Water Tool, we also took the chance to overhaul the related tools and object categories. Why not? Enjoy!

Pond Effects

All sorts of critters are available to complete the look of your pond ranging from ducks and swans to pesky mosquitoes. There is even an alligator!

New Pond Objects

Outdoor Water Décor now has an assortment of new Pond Objects to decorate the perfect pond. Some of these objects such as the Bog Log and Colorful Lily Pads have interactions on them in Live Mode to activate Turtle and Frog effects. The new Fishing Allowed Sign enables you to stock your pond with any fish your Sims have previously caught. Try it out!

New Water Styles

Go beyond the original crystal blue and dreamy magenta water. Additional options range from “Mossy Water” to “Pond Scum” to complete that au natural look.

The Shrubs category includes new plants to complement the water styles: "Green Fern", "Leaning Not-Grass Grass", "Not-Grass Grass Sans Inflorescence."

Gardening with Children

Children now can help out in the garden by planting, watering, and weeding. They build their Mental skill as they garden. The process of purchasing and planting seeds is streamlined as well to make gardening more enjoyable for everyone.

Group Cooking

Cooking no longer is a solo affair. Sims now can cook in groups of up to five Sims including children. Start cooking together by selecting a fridge, stove, or any empty countertop.

Zoomers Food Delivery Service

Are your Sims getting tired of the same old pizza delivery every night? Well, gone are the days of redundant pizza nights. Maybe you are in the mood for pasta primavera or even a fancy steak dinner. All this and more are available courtesy of Zoomer Food Delivery. Order delivery through the phone or the refrigerator and the food will arrive in a jif.

Calendar

The calendar, previously available only with Seasons, now is available with Base Game to see upcoming events such as birthdays, school and work schedules, festivals, and fairs. You even can use it to book events, so it’s time to get to party planning!

Bug Fixes

Consoles

In Snowy Escape, skiing, sledding, and snowboarding on Bunny Slopes now contribute to the Extreme Sports Enthusiast Aspiration.

Also in Snowy Escape, Sims with high enough Skiing and Snowboarding skills now can enjoy the more advanced slopes. Sims also use the Lift to go to the top of the slopes and not go “the hard way.”

Simmers can now rotate Sims downloaded from the Gallery in Create a Sim. Spin them ‘round, ‘round, Simmers ‘round, ‘round -  like a record ‘round, ‘round, ‘round, ‘round.

The Sims 4

We made some improvements that should help our Simulation lag, particularly on the usage of some computer interactions like playing BlicBlock, along with fishing interactions, which should make the game perform a bit better. Note that this doesn’t entirely fix simulation lag but it should help and it is a step in a good direction.

Fixed an issue in which placing Mirrors directly opposite Doors would create a visual glitch in which walls and borders would disappear around them and well it was quite spooky to be honest, glad we solved that one!

Ever wish your food didn’t expire? I know I do, especially when it comes to traveling and coming back to see a fridge in pristine condition, that is a dream… but alas, it is not meant to be in life or in Sims. Fixed an issue in which traveling didn’t let food expire.

Sims stuck sleeping and couldn’t cancel that interaction? Not a product of a sci-fi film as I thought, but I can say that we have fixed this issue, well I hope.

You want to know how to not make my day, have my coffee brew endlessly but without giving me the coffee! Luckily the issue in-game about the Brew Coffee interaction being stuck has been fixed. Wasn’t it odd? Wait… Sleep and Brew Coffee were stuck in a mysterious loop? SUS.

If your Child Sims suddenly interrupted their computer sessions to draw on the activity table when Inspired, worry not, this should not happen after this update.

Fixed an issue that caused the “Items Removed” pop-up to appear when no items were removed from the game.

Fixed an issue in which setting Lots on Slipshod Mesquite would sometimes generate a crash of the game for some Simmers. The Lot couldn’t handle that much flavor.

Some blush and lipstick opacity sliders are back as they were greyed out.

Step-Parent/Child relationships are no longer missing in the Genealogy Panel. Similarly, other cases of broken families in the Genealogy Panel have been fixed as well. It is all about reconnecting or connecting with what is important.

Platforms will no longer raise in height automatically when creating new walls to intersect part of them.

We also fixed an issue in which if you placed platforms in basement levels and a staircase from the floor to the platforms, it would create this gap or hole in front of the stairs and Sims were not able to route correctly. You know, I have played many platformers in my lifetime, but do you imagine Sims trying to jump those gaps? I mean, I am called JumpFail for a reason… glad we fixed this one!

World view Lots that had some off-centered border have been adjusted.

Toddlers will no longer gain negative Sentiments against their parents randomly, especially the Festering Grudge Sentiment. I should not be laughing at this issue as I type it, I should not…<giggles>

We got word that the camera was malfunctioning and bouncing uncontrollably in some Lots across multiple Worlds. We fixed an issue that caused this, but let us know if there are new instances.

Sometimes Ghosts can be part of our Households if we choose to, however, it is really hard to live with Ghosts that constantly break things, it makes it a bit… unlivable. So our expert team of Simghostologists has communicated with these Ghosts in the non-physical realm and they have agreed to not break everything all the time.

Fixed an issue related to flooring glitches while placing the dance floor or crystal clear flooring.

Went through all the trouble in hiring a Nanny only to have your Toddler get sent to Daycare? More than a schedule conflict I imagine having the Nanny show up and there is no Toddler so what does the Nanny do in this case? Do they leave? Do they stay and wait? I must know… However, This should no longer be an issue.

Fixed an issue where using ‘{}’ (curly brackets)  in renaming objects would make these invisible in lists or UI in general.

Fixed an issue in the Likes and Dislikes section in Create a Sim that had some categories displayed incorrectly (either cut off, or words broken apart in new lines incorrectly) for some languages.

There was a clipping issue with the eye preset ymAsian13_Eyes that occurred when Sims were in extreme emotion, like Angry, and blinked. We adjusted this preset so this should not occur.

Toddlers can be picky eaters, but Toddlers not eating any fish recipe? That is suspicious, so we had a chat with the little angels and we have found a way to help them enjoy the complex flavors of our fish recipes.

Our UI team has fixed an issue in which a scrollbar appeared in the Sentiment section in the Relationship Panel when there were no sentiments. The mysterious scrollbar was mysterious. Similarly, they have also fixed an issue in which if multiple Sims gained sentiments together their thought bubbles look quite not right with the incorrect colors, so now they should look proper.

The Likes and Dislikes icon in Create a Sim will no longer overlap its text. It looked weird, honestly.

Droids (if you own Journey to Batuu) and Drones (if you own Get Famous) clipping into all kinds of objects in Build Mode? We saw that too, so there should be a fix for that in this game update. I mean this went beyond just crashing into things…

The option “Join After School Activity” will no longer be available if Simmers don’t have Seasons or Get Famous packs installed.

Sims in deviant paths now can properly reach the Level 4 of the Criminal Career.

Now, this is one that made my day, Cowplants are now able to dance again when Sims play music in front of them. Dance Cowplant, Dance!

Fixed an issue in which relationship points gained by friendly introductions were more than usual if Simmers didn’t have Snowy Escape installed.

We adjusted the color swatches for the S. Cargeaux Counter Island so that when it gets dirty, the counter doesn’t completely change colors. Dirty Counter - who dis?

Fixed an issue where the Scared Emotion UI was displaying a broken pose for Toddlers. The pose was kinda more scary than what the Toddler had been scared of, so glad that is done.

Outfits worn while Purchased and Worn in Festivals/Kiosks/Stalls should no longer remove accessories that were in place for the Sim.

Error code 134:571e5862 that occurred to some Simmers should be fixed now.

We fixed a few hairstyles (yfHair_EP05WavyBob, yfHair_EP01PartedFlat, yfHair_EP05UnderCutDreads, yfHair_EP01ShortSwept, and yfHair_DreamyCrew) that when used with the recently added color options would create splotches in the eyes, change the color of teeth, and/or change the eyelashes color.

As always the Localization team and this author have fixed and improved text across all packs and updates.

Get to Work

Aliens can now enjoy their custom Blush options in Create a Sim. Lewks out of this world!

Retail employees will now appropriately change into their assigned outfits. Listen, I grew up wearing uniforms for school, I get it, sometimes they are not the prettiest… but you have to wear them if you have to go to that establishment. I know the pain too well… but my sense of style grew from that… I think.

We made a fix to some of the swatches from the Barely Better Digital Camera that were missing a description for the item, so now all the swatches will display the text in all its glory.

Get Together

Some of these Sims are not like the others, some of these Sims just don’t belong. Can you tell which are not like the others by the time I finish writing these notes?

Fixed an issue in which some of the rooftops in Winderburg were not displaying Snow (if you own Seasons) correctly.

Fixed an issue where Sims didn’t sometimes change into their Club outfits when a Club Gathering was being held.

City Living

The Scattered Panes window in Build Mode now displays appropriate shadows in all options.

Sims enrolled in the Social Media career will now gain influence at the end of their stream instead of every few Sim-minutes.

Two hairstyles (ymHair_EP03BunHighPins and ymHair_EP03BraidedFlateBun) have been updated to reflect the correct look when choosing the Neutral Black color option.

Your Sims want to shoot some Basketball Close Shots, but they are trying to eat first? Well, now your Sims can finish eating before trying those hoops. Nutrition is important!

Cats and Dogs

We fixed an issue in which whiskers were not being seen applied to Cats. A Cat without whiskers is like Peanut butter without Jelly… or something like that! Just wrong!

Robot Vacuums should all now return to their docks accordingly. I hope this issue was not a sign that they were becoming sentient.

Sims will no longer get a Moodlet referring to the death of their Pet when witnessing the death of another Sim. The loss of a Sim is heartbreaking, but also getting a Moodlet for the death of their Pet when the Pet has not died, that is cold Grimmy, very cold.

Speaking of Robot Vacuums becoming sentient a few lines above, we fixed an issue that made the game crash when Cats would sit on the Robot Vacuum. CatonRobot.exe is now working.

We fixed an issue in which some Simmers experienced a crash with their last played Household loading into Brindleton Bay.

Seasons

Sims were changing into their cold-weather gear… while not in cold weather? We had some conversations with Sims and even though they love their winter outfits, dressing up in full winter gear in the summer was probably not the wisest choice. So the issue in which Sims randomly would change into their winter outfits while not in winter is solved.

Egg Hunts are adorable and fun! But not being able to have the furniture reset after looking for Eggs in them, can be quite the rain on Sims’ parade. But this should no longer occur.

Island Living

Mermaids will no longer keep the “Dried Scales” Moodlet when they are hydrated. Mermaids’ skincare regimen pays off! Moisturize, moisturize, moisturize!

Fixed an issue in which Lots that are placed in the sand looked quite odd displaying all edges of the Lot when it rained.

Sims that have the Collector Aspiration Trait are now able to catch Frogs in Sulani as part of their adventures exploring the island waterfall. Good Luck!

We fixed an issue in which some Simmers experienced game crashes when loading into certain lots in Mua Pe’lam. Happy Exploring!

Discover University

Sims having a hard time in Uni? No matter what they do they keep failing classes? Worry not, Sims will no longer fail classes when meeting all the criteria for course completion. Work hard, pass your classes hard!

Having Roommates can be hard. Have your Sims had Roommates complain constantly and leave even when their needs are met? Yeah, we made it so that Roommates don’t do this any longer.

Fixed an issue in which beds were counted incorrectly when placing an ad for Roommates. I mean, as much as Pets and even Toddlers can live with Roommates, the ad should be truthful to how many beds there are actually in the Lot, not count Toddlers and Pets as needing adult-sized beds.

We fixed Servo animations so that they don’t look like they are walking on one leg when hovering to their destination. Now they will hover properly.

We fixed an issue in which in some instances Professors could not go to work when a Professor NPC is added into that same Household.

Fixed an issue in which removing and adding back Household members as Roommates would create some… inappropriate moments, ahem.

Eco Lifestyle

Evergreen Harbor’s peace has been restored: roads and parts of neighborhoods no longer disappear or turn blue when businesses open in Port Promise while the Modern Development N.A.P is active.

yfBody_EP09DressShirt no longer has a weird texture in some of the footwear from various packs, especially platform shoes and chunky sneakers.

Had you moved to Cypress Terrace in Willow Creek and found you couldn’t really do anything there? We fixed the routing failures and interaction failures on the Mitey-Mitey Home - Insect Farm.

Snowy Escape

Mountain Climbing can be challenging, even for those experienced. But having indecisive moments before a climbing route like getting off and on your bike constantly seems that a lot of doubt is passing your mind… However, we did speak to these Sims that were experiencing this behavior and calmed their fears and doubts, so this should no longer be an issue.

The hairstyle yfHair_EP10BobBluntOmbre now covers all of the Sim’s ears.

For Simmers who own Seasons together with Snowy Escape, rain options no longer affect snow.

Sims no longer have the option to give a respectful or military introduction during activities such as Dancing or Bike Riding. I mean, I’m not sure about you, but I can’t dance and respectfully introduce myself at the same time. So many falls… so many falls.

We made some corrections to the Slippers that came with this pack and they should no longer display a greenish texture on Sims’ toes when selected in Create a Sim. Yikes.

Fixed an issue in which for some Simmers playing with the Yoshida Hall Household would generate a game crash when loading into Mt. Komorebi.

We took a look at our Ramen menu and have updated our cooking menu to label Miso and Egg Ramen as Vegetarian safe options. Buen Provecho!

Want to run a Restaurant in Yukimatsu but also want to enjoy the slopes? Now your Sims can enjoy the slopes and dine in style. However, this action is only directed, and will not be autonomous. In the same vein, Restaurant employees will not be tempted to leave work to enjoy the slopes.

Journey to Batuu

Batuu is an awesome destination for those who want to enjoy something fun and different, but if you bought a Droid from the Droid Depot and never saw it in your inventory, I know how frustrating it can be. Never fear, the Droids you were looking for will appear now in Inventories when purchased.

In Journey to Batuu, the First Order ID no longer disappears from inventory so Sims now can Access First Order Plans for the Top Notch Trickery Mission.

Fixed an issue with the Leveling the Playing Field Mission in which the Scoundrel Informant would not appear on the scene after Sims stole the Prototype Blaster and went to Oga’s Cantina to wait for the informant.

Dine Out

Eggs and Toast sound super basic and easy right? They will continue to be that way for our unassuming Chefs on the Chef Station since we fixed an issue that made them… challenging. Sims can also use the second burner for other recipes without fail or routing out.

StrangerVille

The Decorations and Kid's categories in Build Mode should no longer have a "New" highlight when there's nothing actually new.

Dream Home Decorator

Lighting can change the ambiance of a room, and your mood in a flash. Luckily we have fixed an issue that lighting was not even on sectional sofas to continue to set the right mood for our Sims.

Our stylists fixed the Sleep ‘N’ Study Styled Room to remove the P.R.I.M.A Computer from it as this is not an item that is accessible for everyone, pardon our dust.

Laundry Day

Fixed an issue where an animation clipped when Sims were loading their laundry machines. Because having your clothes go through you is awkward, are Sims made of fabric? I don’t think so.

Bust the Dust

Don’t need Simoleons, don’t need Fame. Don’t need dinner to have this date. It’s strong and it’s sudden and it’s cruel sometimes but it might just end your night… the power of Dust, that’s the power of Dust.

Our cleaning agents have determined that Sims won’t get romantic negative Moodlets related to filthy levels of dust in public places like parks.

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: New Game Patch (July 20th, 2021)

There’s a new Sims 4 update available for PC/Mac and Consoles. If you have auto updates enabled in Origin’s “Application Settings”, the game will auto-update once you open Origin. If you have auto-updates disabled, you will need to manually update by clicking the game in your library.

Your game should now read: PC: 1.77.131.1030 / Mac: 1.77.131.1230 / Console: Version 1.44

Remove all MODS and Custom Content before updating your game

Hello Simmers!

Hope you are well wherever you are in the world and that you are all having a fantastic Summer of Sims! We are excited to share today’s update with you. There is a lot of info, so make sure you have your tea/coffee/beverage of choice ready to read on. You all know I have my coffee ready for this!

As we continue to get ready to explore the countryside charm of Henford-on-Bagley and cannot absolutely wait to play with the adorable animals in Cottage Living, we also have updates and fixes that should improve and complement your Sims’ everyday life. We have something for everyone and we hope that you all enjoy them. Thank you for all your feedback and support.

Cheers!

-SimGuruRusskii ft. SimGuruRomeo and SimGuruJoAnna

What’s New?

Let’s start with some items that we shared in our last Sims 411!

For this update, we partnered with two talented artists from the LGBTQ+ community, Ashley Lukashepsky, and Mohammed Iman Fayaz, and they have brought their inspiring and beautiful artwork into the game. We have also included the modernized version of the large afro hairstyle that we showed you. But more than tell you about it in text, let me actually attach a screenshot of everything put together:

I love everything about this scene, not only it shows you how the artwork looks in a real game setting, but the whole scene with the two Sims and their surroundings is quite magical. Also, look at that hair! The way the light highlights it, perfection! You may also notice the hair of the Sim on the right, which was also added with this update for everyone. I want to personally thank all Simmers for their feedback and recommendations, as we are continuously working on adding more diverse hairstyles and textures to not only packs, but also to our base game.

Now that we are talking about artwork, the last patch notes I forgot to add the artwork made by the wonderful Jupiter Stevens-Hill. I apologize for that, I totally blanked out. However, I’m happy to see that a lot of you are enjoying it and placing it in your Lots! That makes a very happy Russkii =)

To find Jupiter, Ashley, and Mohammed’s paintings in Build Mode, make sure you take a look at the Paintings and Posters sort and filter by Base Game items. These artists are amazing and we hope you enjoy their creations.

Now, without further ado, let’s get to some new features and improvements that are part of this update!

A little bit of Gallery

When you download a lot made with the bb.moveobjects cheat, the game now notifies you about this so you know to activate the cheat before placing the lot. Builders, this means you won’t need to mention it in the lot’s description anymore!

A little for Sims

Trying to find the Sims in the current neighborhood? Select their portraits in the Relationship Panel.

“Focus the Camera” moves the camera to the Sim.

“Lock the Camera” moves the camera to the Sim and keeps following them.

Where did the Notebook go?

Found it! The Notebook has moved out of the Phone and into its own button for quicker access.

The “Center on Current Lot” button that used to be there has moved to the top right, adjacent to the Camera Controls.

Water Tool

You now can make natural, organic bodies of water! Just head into Build Mode, make a hole with the Terrain Manipulation tool, and fill it with water. It is that easy! The Terrain Manipulation and Paint Tools also have more brush sizes to enable finer detail.

In adding the Water Tool, we also took the chance to overhaul the related tools and object categories. Why not? Enjoy!

Pond Effects

All sorts of critters are available to complete the look of your pond ranging from ducks and swans to pesky mosquitoes. There is even an alligator!

New Pond Objects

Outdoor Water Décor now has an assortment of new Pond Objects to decorate the perfect pond. Some of these objects such as the Bog Log and Colorful Lily Pads have interactions on them in Live Mode to activate Turtle and Frog effects. The new Fishing Allowed Sign enables you to stock your pond with any fish your Sims have previously caught. Try it out!

New Water Styles

Go beyond the original crystal blue and dreamy magenta water. Additional options range from “Mossy Water” to “Pond Scum” to complete that au natural look.

The Shrubs category includes new plants to complement the water styles: “Green Fern”, “Leaning Not-Grass Grass”, “Not-Grass Grass Sans Inflorescence.”

Gardening with Children

Children now can help out in the garden by planting, watering, and weeding. They build their Mental skill as they garden. The process of purchasing and planting seeds is streamlined as well to make gardening more enjoyable for everyone.

Group Cooking

Cooking no longer is a solo affair. Sims now can cook in groups of up to five Sims including children. Start cooking together by selecting a fridge, stove, or any empty countertop.

Zoomers Food Delivery Service

Are your Sims getting tired of the same old pizza delivery every night? Well, gone are the days of redundant pizza nights. Maybe you are in the mood for pasta primavera or even a fancy steak dinner. All this and more are available courtesy of Zoomer Food Delivery. Order delivery through the phone or the refrigerator and the food will arrive in a jif.

Calendar

The calendar, previously available only with Seasons, now is available with Base Game to see upcoming events such as birthdays, school and work schedules, festivals, and fairs. You even can use it to book events, so it’s time to get to party planning!

Bug FixesConsoles

In Snowy Escape, skiing, sledding, and snowboarding on Bunny Slopes now contribute to the Extreme Sports Enthusiast Aspiration.

Also in Snowy Escape, Sims with high enough Skiing and Snowboarding skills now can enjoy the more advanced slopes. Sims also use the Lift to go to the top of the slopes and not go “the hard way.”

Simmers can now rotate Sims downloaded from the Gallery in Create a Sim. Spin them ‘round, ‘round, Simmers ‘round, ‘round –  like a record ‘round, ‘round, ‘round, ‘round.

The Sims 4

We made some improvements that should help our Simulation lag, particularly on the usage of some computer interactions like playing BlicBlock, along with fishing interactions, which should make the game perform a bit better. Note that this doesn’t entirely fix simulation lag but it should help and it is a step in a good direction.

Fixed an issue in which placing Mirrors directly opposite Doors would create a visual glitch in which walls and borders would disappear around them and well it was quite spooky to be honest, glad we solved that one!

Ever wish your food didn’t expire? I know I do, especially when it comes to traveling and coming back to see a fridge in pristine condition, that is a dream… but alas, it is not meant to be in life or in Sims. Fixed an issue in which traveling didn’t let food expire.

Sims stuck sleeping and couldn’t cancel that interaction? Not a product of a sci-fi film as I thought, but I can say that we have fixed this issue, well I hope.

You want to know how to not make my day, have my coffee brew endlessly but without giving me the coffee! Luckily the issue in-game about the Brew Coffee interaction being stuck has been fixed. Wasn’t it odd? Wait… Sleep and Brew Coffee were stuck in a mysterious loop? SUS.

If your Child Sims suddenly interrupted their computer sessions to draw on the activity table when Inspired, worry not, this should not happen after this update.

Fixed an issue that caused the “Items Removed” pop-up to appear when no items were removed from the game.

Fixed an issue in which setting Lots on Slipshod Mesquite would sometimes generate a crash of the game for some Simmers. The Lot couldn’t handle that much flavor.

Some blush and lipstick opacity sliders are back as they were greyed out.

Step-Parent/Child relationships are no longer missing in the Genealogy Panel. Similarly, other cases of broken families in the Genealogy Panel have been fixed as well. It is all about reconnecting or connecting with what is important.

Platforms will no longer raise in height automatically when creating new walls to intersect part of them.

We also fixed an issue in which if you placed platforms in basement levels and a staircase from the floor to the platforms, it would create this gap or hole in front of the stairs and Sims were not able to route correctly. You know, I have played many platformers in my lifetime, but do you imagine Sims trying to jump those gaps? I mean, I am called JumpFail for a reason… glad we fixed this one!

World view Lots that had some off-centered border have been adjusted.

Toddlers will no longer gain negative Sentiments against their parents randomly, especially the Festering Grudge Sentiment. I should not be laughing at this issue as I type it, I should not…<giggles>

We got word that the camera was malfunctioning and bouncing uncontrollably in some Lots across multiple Worlds. We fixed an issue that caused this, but let us know if there are new instances.

Sometimes Ghosts can be part of our Households if we choose to, however, it is really hard to live with Ghosts that constantly break things, it makes it a bit… unlivable. So our expert team of Simghostologists has communicated with these Ghosts in the non-physical realm and they have agreed to not break everything all the time.

Fixed an issue related to flooring glitches while placing the dance floor or crystal clear flooring.

Went through all the trouble in hiring a Nanny only to have your Toddler get sent to Daycare? More than a schedule conflict I imagine having the Nanny show up and there is no Toddler so what does the Nanny do in this case? Do they leave? Do they stay and wait? I must know… However, This should no longer be an issue.

Fixed an issue where using ‘{}’ (curly brackets)  in renaming objects would make these invisible in lists or UI in general.

Fixed an issue in the Likes and Dislikes section in Create a Sim that had some categories displayed incorrectly (either cut off, or words broken apart in new lines incorrectly) for some languages.

There was a clipping issue with the eye preset ymAsian13_Eyes that occurred when Sims were in extreme emotion, like Angry, and blinked. We adjusted this preset so this should not occur.

Toddlers can be picky eaters, but Toddlers not eating any fish recipe? That is suspicious, so we had a chat with the little angels and we have found a way to help them enjoy the complex flavors of our fish recipes.

Our UI team has fixed an issue in which a scrollbar appeared in the Sentiment section in the Relationship Panel when there were no sentiments. The mysterious scrollbar was mysterious. Similarly, they have also fixed an issue in which if multiple Sims gained sentiments together their thought bubbles look quite not right with the incorrect colors, so now they should look proper.

The Likes and Dislikes icon in Create a Sim will no longer overlap its text. It looked weird, honestly.

Droids (if you own Journey to Batuu) and Drones (if you own Get Famous) clipping into all kinds of objects in Build Mode? We saw that too, so there should be a fix for that in this game update. I mean this went beyond just crashing into things…

The option “Join After School Activity” will no longer be available if Simmers don’t have Seasons or Get Famous packs installed.

Sims in deviant paths now can properly reach the Level 4 of the Criminal Career.

Now, this is one that made my day, Cowplants are now able to dance again when Sims play music in front of them. Dance Cowplant, Dance!

Fixed an issue in which relationship points gained by friendly introductions were more than usual if Simmers didn’t have Snowy Escape installed.

We adjusted the color swatches for the S. Cargeaux Counter Island so that when it gets dirty, the counter doesn’t completely change colors. Dirty Counter – who dis?

Fixed an issue where the Scared Emotion UI was displaying a broken pose for Toddlers. The pose was kinda more scary than what the Toddler had been scared of, so glad that is done.

Outfits worn while Purchased and Worn in Festivals/Kiosks/Stalls should no longer remove accessories that were in place for the Sim.

Error code 134:571e5862 that occurred to some Simmers should be fixed now.

We fixed a few hairstyles (yfHair_EP05WavyBob, yfHair_EP01PartedFlat, yfHair_EP05UnderCutDreads, yfHair_EP01ShortSwept, and yfHair_DreamyCrew) that when used with the recently added color options would create splotches in the eyes, change the color of teeth, and/or change the eyelashes color.

As always the Localization team and this author have fixed and improved text across all packs and updates.

Get to Work

Aliens can now enjoy their custom Blush options in Create a Sim. Lewks out of this world!

Retail employees will now appropriately change into their assigned outfits. Listen, I grew up wearing uniforms for school, I get it, sometimes they are not the prettiest… but you have to wear them if you have to go to that establishment. I know the pain too well… but my sense of style grew from that… I think.

We made a fix to some of the swatches from the Barely Better Digital Camera that were missing a description for the item, so now all the swatches will display the text in all its glory.

Get Together

Some of these Sims are not like the others, some of these Sims just don’t belong. Can you tell which are not like the others by the time I finish writing these notes?

Fixed an issue in which some of the rooftops in Winderburg were not displaying Snow (if you own Seasons) correctly.

Fixed an issue where Sims didn’t sometimes change into their Club outfits when a Club Gathering was being held.

City Living

The Scattered Panes window in Build Mode now displays appropriate shadows in all options.

Sims enrolled in the Social Media career will now gain influence at the end of their stream instead of every few Sim-minutes.

Two hairstyles (ymHair_EP03BunHighPins and ymHair_EP03BraidedFlateBun) have been updated to reflect the correct look when choosing the Neutral Black color option.

Your Sims want to shoot some Basketball Close Shots, but they are trying to eat first? Well, now your Sims can finish eating before trying those hoops. Nutrition is important!

Cats and Dogs

We fixed an issue in which whiskers were not being seen applied to Cats. A Cat without whiskers is like Peanut butter without Jelly… or something like that! Just wrong!

Robot Vacuums should all now return to their docks accordingly. I hope this issue was not a sign that they were becoming sentient.

Sims will no longer get a Moodlet referring to the death of their Pet when witnessing the death of another Sim. The loss of a Sim is heartbreaking, but also getting a Moodlet for the death of their Pet when the Pet has not died, that is cold Grimmy, very cold.

Speaking of Robot Vacuums becoming sentient a few lines above, we fixed an issue that made the game crash when Cats would sit on the Robot Vacuum. CatonRobot.exe is now working.

We fixed an issue in which some Simmers experienced a crash with their last played Household loading into Brindleton Bay.

Seasons

Sims were changing into their cold-weather gear… while not in cold weather? We had some conversations with Sims and even though they love their winter outfits, dressing up in full winter gear in the summer was probably not the wisest choice. So the issue in which Sims randomly would change into their winter outfits while not in winter is solved.

Egg Hunts are adorable and fun! But not being able to have the furniture reset after looking for Eggs in them, can be quite the rain on Sims’ parade. But this should no longer occur.

Island Living

Mermaids will no longer keep the “Dried Scales” Moodlet when they are hydrated. Mermaids’ skincare regimen pays off! Moisturize, moisturize, moisturize!

Fixed an issue in which Lots that are placed in the sand looked quite odd displaying all edges of the Lot when it rained.

Sims that have the Collector Aspiration Trait are now able to catch Frogs in Sulani as part of their adventures exploring the island waterfall. Good Luck!

We fixed an issue in which some Simmers experienced game crashes when loading into certain lots in Mua Pe’lam. Happy Exploring!

Discover University

Sims having a hard time in Uni? No matter what they do they keep failing classes? Worry not, Sims will no longer fail classes when meeting all the criteria for course completion. Work hard, pass your classes hard!

Having Roommates can be hard. Have your Sims had Roommates complain constantly and leave even when their needs are met? Yeah, we made it so that Roommates don’t do this any longer.

Fixed an issue in which beds were counted incorrectly when placing an ad for Roommates. I mean, as much as Pets and even Toddlers can live with Roommates, the ad should be truthful to how many beds there are actually in the Lot, not count Toddlers and Pets as needing adult-sized beds.

We fixed Servo animations so that they don’t look like they are walking on one leg when hovering to their destination. Now they will hover properly.

We fixed an issue in which in some instances Professors could not go to work when a Professor NPC is added into that same Household.

Fixed an issue in which removing and adding back Household members as Roommates would create some… inappropriate moments, ahem.

Eco Lifestyle

Evergreen Harbor’s peace has been restored: roads and parts of neighborhoods no longer disappear or turn blue when businesses open in Port Promise while the Modern Development N.A.P is active.

yfBody_EP09DressShirt no longer has a weird texture in some of the footwear from various packs, especially platform shoes and chunky sneakers.

Had you moved to Cypress Terrace in Willow Creek and found you couldn’t really do anything there? We fixed the routing failures and interaction failures on the Mitey-Mitey Home – Insect Farm.

Snowy Escape

Mountain Climbing can be challenging, even for those experienced. But having indecisive moments before a climbing route like getting off and on your bike constantly seems that a lot of doubt is passing your mind… However, we did speak to these Sims that were experiencing this behavior and calmed their fears and doubts, so this should no longer be an issue.

The hairstyle yfHair_EP10BobBluntOmbre now covers all of the Sim’s ears.

For Simmers who own Seasons together with Snowy Escape, rain options no longer affect snow.

Sims no longer have the option to give a respectful or military introduction during activities such as Dancing or Bike Riding. I mean, I’m not sure about you, but I can’t dance and respectfully introduce myself at the same time. So many falls… so many falls.

We made some corrections to the Slippers that came with this pack and they should no longer display a greenish texture on Sims’ toes when selected in Create a Sim. Yikes.

Fixed an issue in which for some Simmers playing with the Yoshida Hall Household would generate a game crash when loading into Mt. Komorebi.

We took a look at our Ramen menu and have updated our cooking menu to label Miso and Egg Ramen as Vegetarian safe options. Buen Provecho!

Want to run a Restaurant in Yukimatsu but also want to enjoy the slopes? Now your Sims can enjoy the slopes and dine in style. However, this action is only directed, and will not be autonomous. In the same vein, Restaurant employees will not be tempted to leave work to enjoy the slopes.

Journey to Batuu

Batuu is an awesome destination for those who want to enjoy something fun and different, but if you bought a Droid from the Droid Depot and never saw it in your inventory, I know how frustrating it can be. Never fear, the Droids you were looking for will appear now in Inventories when purchased.

In Journey to Batuu, the First Order ID no longer disappears from inventory so Sims now can Access First Order Plans for the Top Notch Trickery Mission.

Fixed an issue with the Leveling the Playing Field Mission in which the Scoundrel Informant would not appear on the scene after Sims stole the Prototype Blaster and went to Oga’s Cantina to wait for the informant.

Dine Out

Eggs and Toast sound super basic and easy right? They will continue to be that way for our unassuming Chefs on the Chef Station since we fixed an issue that made them… challenging. Sims can also use the second burner for other recipes without fail or routing out.

StrangerVille

The Decorations and Kid’s categories in Build Mode should no longer have a “New” highlight when there’s nothing actually new.

Dream Home Decorator

Lighting can change the ambiance of a room, and your mood in a flash. Luckily we have fixed an issue that lighting was not even on sectional sofas to continue to set the right mood for our Sims.

Our stylists fixed the Sleep ‘N’ Study Styled Room to remove the P.R.I.M.A Computer from it as this is not an item that is accessible for everyone, pardon our dust.

Laundry Day

Fixed an issue where an animation clipped when Sims were loading their laundry machines. Because having your clothes go through you is awkward, are Sims made of fabric? I don’t think so.

Bust the Dust

Don’t need Simoleons, don’t need Fame. Don’t need dinner to have this date. It’s strong and it’s sudden and it’s cruel sometimes but it might just end your night… the power of Dust, that’s the power of Dust.

Our cleaning agents have determined that Sims won’t get romantic negative Moodlets related to filthy levels of dust in public places like parks.

[1dffchallenges]

Growing Pains

Written By: @rosegoldsweetpea​

Characters: (Daniella/Harry)

Summary: When a wish on a sixteenth birthday candle goes wrong, Daniella finds herself ten years into the future. Navigating a new boyfriend, her best friend who is no longer her best friend, and her crumbling relationship with her family, Daniella finds out that adulthood is not everything she ever imagined.

A “13 Going on 30″ AU

Warnings: Language

I had boobs.

I should preface this by saying that I’ve technically always had boobs. They existed before this moment. But they had always been tiny. They were what my mother affectionately called “mosquito bites.” As I held my new boobs in my hands, however, I could tell these were not mosquito bites. These were actual boobs that I saw on models in magazines. I wasn’t wearing a bra— which I hadn’t needed to wear anyway because the size of my boobs had always left something to be desired. Lifting my silk sleep shirt away from my boobs, I examined every inch of them. Sure enough, there was a small scar underneath, like someone had cut my boob open with a knife. 

“I got a boob job?” I whispered to myself.

“What did you say, babe?”

Along with suddenly having boobs, apparently there was someone in my house.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, the one thing my father taught me to do whenever there was a stranger around me. The man standing behind me had floppy brunette hair and tattoos covering his arms. Definitely not someone who would ever be allowed in my house, per my father’s rules. In fact, I think my father would have an aneurysm if I ever brought home a boy that had tattoos. This mystery boy’s eyes widened when I screamed in his face. “Babe, are you okay?” He moved like he was going to rush over to me and I took an immediate leap back.

“Who are you? Why are you in my house?” My voice screeched out, reaching an octave I knew was probably unpleasant to his ears. 

His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” He moved again, but I was quick to mirror his movements, scooting backwards. I nearly fell on my ass because there was a couch in the way of my step, but I managed to right myself before I did any real damage. “Daniella, are you okay?”

“How do you know my name?” I asked, grabbing the nearest object to use as a weapon. It happened to be a pillow, so it wasn’t very effective, but it made me feel better. I could throw it at him and block his vision while I found the kitchen in this place and got a knife. “Who are you?” I asked again.

“Liam. Your boyfriend of three and a half years.”

“I don’t know a Liam!” I argued, throwing the pillow in his direction. I didn’t stick around to see if he caught it or not before I was tumbling through the house. I wasn’t familiar with the layout of this house, like I had been with the floorplan of my childhood home, which I was fairly certain I had fallen asleep in last night. This was some kind of apartment, decorated with too many neutrals for my taste. There was a giant mirror I passed by, decorated around its edge with swirling cream wood and gold accents. I managed only a glance in its reflection as I moved, but what I saw made me stop in my tracks. 

In the reflection was me, only it wasn’t me. Last I remembered, I did not have a boob job, my hair was short, and my eyebrows had looked horrendous because I had accidentally plucked them too much. This Daniella had long hair that fell to her lower back and her eyebrows looked like they had been recently waxed. And then there was, obviously, the boob job. “What the hell is going on?” I exclaimed, sure that this mirror was some fancy one that only Bill Gates owned. It showed you what you wanted to look like. Or, if it was a real mirror and not a billionaire one, it was obviously broken or something. 

“Daniella, sit down,” Liam said placatingly, his voice soft and soothing. He didn’t touch me, which I appreciated, but he kept his arms out in the likely case that I would fall to my knees as I dragged myself to the tan couch in the middle of the living room of the random apartment. “Do you need water? Did you have a bad dream?”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” I stuttered out, my breathing coming quickly. I hadn’t had a panic attack since I was thirteen, when I had thought my best friend Harry was going to move away. “Where am I?”

“You’re in your apartment.” Liam gently sat on the couch next to me. “I woke up and you were gone. Then I came out here and you’re just standing in the living room. Do you think you had a sleepwalking episode?”

I didn’t sleepwalk. At least, I didn’t think I did. But this Liam guy was insinuating that I did, in fact, sleepwalk often enough for him to be concerned about it. “You’re really my boyfriend?” I asked hesitantly, my breathing still shallow. “You didn’t try to drug me and kidnap me, right?”

“What?” The word left his mouth in such a surprised and offended tone that I knew it wasn’t true. “No.”

“Tell me facts about myself, so I know you aren’t just lying,” I demanded, trying to keep my tears at bay and my breath from coming in and out shallowly.

He didn’t even take a second to think. “Your name is Daniella Araceli Rodriguez. Your birthday is February first. Your mother’s name is Alejandra. You once threw up on a cast member at Disneyland. When you were younger, you wanted to be a veterinarian, but then found out that they were the ones who euthanized animals and you started crying. You broke your arm in the seventh grade because your old best friend Harry dared you to flip over some monkey bars and you fell.” 

Okay, so obviously this boy knew me. Either that, or he was a fantastic stalker. 

“Liam, I think I’m going crazy,” I whispered, assured at least a little that this Liam guy actually knew me. “The last thing I remember is my sixteenth birthday. My friend Harry was there, and some girls from my school. Gianna’s brother was bringing beer...” I trailed off.

“How about I call Gianna? I’m sure she’d be able to help you. I want you to stay on the couch until she gets here, okay? I don’t think it’s a good thing you can’t remember anything.”

“I’m still friends with Gianna?” I asked breathlessly.

Liam’s brows furrowed again. “Babe, Gianna is your best friend. I’m gonna go call her, okay? Maybe she can call into work for the two of you.”

I could do nothing but nod as Liam stood from the couch and made his way over to the kitchen counter. I could see his phone resting there and a little tiny key rack with two sets of keys in it. Obviously, this Liam guy and I were very close. Close enough, I noticed, for us to live together. Upon my survey of the apartment, I realized there were pictures of us plastered everywhere, as well as a pretty cocoa-skinned girl with wild curls. Her face was familiar to me, albeit a little bit older. So Liam hadn’t been lying. I was really still friends with Gianna.

Harry was nowhere in the pictures.

This was weird to me for two reasons. First of all, Harry loved being in photos. Though we had both been pretty nerdy in high school, he was the life of the party. So I found it hard to believe he would have stayed out of the pictures that were now decorating my living room. The second reason I found it weird was because Harry was my best friend in the entire world. 

The circumstances of my friendship with Harry went as follows: we met in kindergarten when a nasty first grader had stolen my lunch in the cafeteria and Harry had stood up to him. The first grader ended up punching him in the nose. I had felt so bad that I had burst into tears and held up the end of my shirt for Harry to use as a tissue to block the blood as we awkwardly stumbled to the nurse’s office. Our mothers had arrived there at the same time, Anne Styles freaking out because her son’s nose was bleeding and my own mother Alejandra freaking out because the bottom of my shirt was bloody.

The next day, I asked my mother to make another sandwich and pack extra oreos. I sat next to Harry at lunch and thanked him for being so nice. And thus, our friendship had begun. 

It only grew stronger when I realized that he lived down my street, just a short walk and even shorter bike ride away. There wasn’t a day that went by where I wasn’t begging my parents to ride down to Harry’s house. Their answer was usually different renditions of “if Anne is okay with it, then we are too” and since Anne Styles was an angel on Earth, she was usually okay with it. 

“Babe,” I heard Liam say from the kitchen. He seemed to be off the phone, if him holding it in his hand was anything to go by. “Gianna called the both of you out of work and is on her way here.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, “are you gonna be here too?”

A guilty look crossed his face. “I...can be if you need me.”

“What do you do?”

He looked concerned again. As he should be. If he was telling the truth and we had been dating for the past three and a half years, shouldn’t I know what he did for work? “I’m a foster care recruiter.”

My mouth fell open. I was sure I looked like a fish. I was apparently dating someone who was incredibly good-looking, seemed nice, and worked as a foster care recruiter? “That sounds like a pretty important job. You should go.”

“You’re pretty important to me, too,” he argued.

“I’ll be fine. Really. I...remember Gianna and I’ll probably be more comfortable with her around anyway.” He still looked hesitant, so I reached out and grabbed his hand in my own. His fingers dwarfed mine. “Go. I’m fine. Hopefully Gianna can help me sort this out.”

He looked like he wanted to kiss me, but thought better of it. Instead, he pressed a hesitant kiss to my knuckles. “Alright. I’ll be back around six, okay? If you need me at all, call me. I’m serious, babe. My boss will understand.”

“I will.” Releasing his hand, I gave him a wobbly smile. I wondered if he could tell I was about to burst into tears. “I promise.”

Liam seemed as if he’d rather be shot in the foot than leave my side when I was so obviously going through something neither of us knew how to deal with, but he nodded and stood from the couch. He grabbed one set of the keys on the little rack and put his phone in the pocket, grabbing a blazer from a fancy and antique looking coat rack near the front door. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered pathetically.

And then the door closed behind him.

I spent the next twenty minutes trying to think about the last thing I remembered. We were having a sixteenth birthday party for me in the basement of my childhood home, and I had invited Gianna and a couple of her friends over. Obviously, Harry was there. We were setting up beer pong because Gianna insisted her brother would get us actual beer to play with. Harry had given me a beautiful mini-model of the house he was working on for his theatre tech class. It was pretty much his dream to become a set designer for theatre and cinema. He had produced a small strawberry cupcake from the fridge we had in the basement, which was my absolute favorite flavor in the world. 

What the hell had I wished for when I had blown out the candle? I couldn’t remember.

A knock on the door cleared the fog of my memory, and it was like I couldn’t stand up fast enough. It also felt like my legs were like jelly. By the time I made it to the door, I wouldn’t have been surprised if two minutes had passed even though the walk was only about twenty feet. Yanking it open, I was met with the familiar face of my friend from high school, holding two iced coffees and a little bakery bag. The second she saw me, she smiled.

“Hi, sweetie. You remember me, right? Liam said you were fuzzy on some things.”

I didn’t answer. I just threw myself into her arms.

“Oh thank God,” she cried out, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me as tightly as she could manage. “I would have burst into tears if you said you didn’t remember me.” We stood there clinging to each other, forgetting that the iced coffee was melting and dripping condensation down my back. “I brought you an orange cranberry scone, your favorite. Hopefully this helps.”

I didn’t remember orange cranberry being my favorite. But this was Gianna, and I trusted her a hell of a lot more than I trusted myself right now.

“What is the last thing you remember?” she asked me when we settled onto my couch, the coffee and scone putting something in my empty stomach and making me feel a little better. “And don’t even worry about Nick being upset. I told him that you were having a family emergency.” I didn’t know exactly who Nick was, but using context clues, I was able to guess he was my boss.

“The last thing I remember is my sixteenth birthday party.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Funny. I would have thought you wouldn’t remember that. We got absolutely plastered.”

I didn’t even remember that. Harry gave me his mini-model house, I blew out the candle on my cupcake, my mother and I got into an argument about something…

“I wished my mom would start treating me like an adult,” I said to myself, the words finally clicking into my head. Harry’s fingers, wrapped around the bottom of the cupcake wrapper, grinning as I closed my eyes and blew out through my mouth. Harry complained because I spit on him, but had gotten his revenge when he smashed the cupcake into my face.

“What?” Gianna asked.

“Nothing. Sorry.” My head was spinning. “What do we do?”

“We’re designers for Nicholas Jennings. We’re currently working on some pieces for his summer showcase.”

“Nicholas Jennings?” I breathed out. Nicholas Jennings had just been starting out his career when I was sixteen, but he had already been predicted to be one of the top designers by the end of the decade. He was known for his avant-garde looks that were still wearable for the workplace. “We work for Nicholas Jennings?”

“Work for him? Sweetie, you’re basically his muse,” Gianna stated excitedly. “His entire winter collection was based on that movie you recommended to him. The Iron Giant?”

Another thing that was familiar. Harry and I would sit on the couch in my basement and watch Iron Giant at least twice a week. He always made fun of me for crying, but I knew it made him tear up too. I could only imagine what Nicholas Jennings had come up with if he were using the film as a concept for an entire clothing collection. However, I doubted Nicholas Jennings had fattened himself up with oversalted and greasy, buttered popcorn when watching the movie like Harry and I had.

“And…” I leaned forward, as if it were a secret, whispering even though it was only the two of us in the apartment. “And I got a boob job?”

“And they look fantastic. I know you’re insecure about the scarring it left, but Liam doesn’t mind and your tits look great.”

My hands went up to cup them again, sure I was still imagining this whole thing. Gianna just laughed. 

“Listen, we are going to take today and research what’s going on, yeah? I was reading something about Kleine Levin Syndrome last week, which could be it, but Liam said you weren’t sleepwalking…”

Gianna’s voice trailed off as a lightbulb went off in my head. Research. Research like contacting the only person who could talk me through what the hell was going on at this moment in time. I ignored Gianna’s surprise when I abruptly stood from the couch and walked to the kitchen counter, where my phone was resting. I had an iPhone when I was sixteen, but this was some fancy one that didn’t have a home button. It took me at least six tries to get it open, but when it finally did, I didn’t hesitate to click the phone button.

Gianna stared at me as the other line rang, the little intervals between obnoxious dial tones spent biting my thumb nail. 

“Hey, it’s Harry. Sorry I can’t get to the phone, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you later.”

“Harry!” I shouted, surprised that he still had the same phone number and excited that this meant I could talk to one person who knew me better than anyone else. “It’s Daniella. I really need to talk to you, so call me back when you can. I have the same number. Er, if you don’t remember the number, it’s 205-1340.” I awkwardly pressed the end call button and tossed my phone back onto the counter.

“Harry Styles? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Gianna stared at me with sympathetic eyes. “Sweetie, we haven’t talked to Harry since high school.”

I think she was expecting me to gasp or something, but instead I snorted. Yeah, right. Harry and I not talking? There was a higher chance I would spontaneously combust. Maybe we weren’t as close as we used to be when I was sixteen, but even that was highly unlikely. Harry was the one person I told everything to. “Okay,” I said, just to placate her, but I was still chuckling a little bit in disbelief.

She gave me a look. “Okay, but...don’t be surprised if he doesn’t call back, okay?”

“He’ll call,” I promised, more certain about this fact than anything else in my life. The most serious fight Harry and I had ever gotten into was when I had accidentally killed his goldfish. He hadn’t spoken to me for three weeks, and the only reason he finally did was because I went to go apologize and burst into tears. Harry was awful when someone was crying. 

“Which reminds me,” Gianna said after several moments, pulling out her phone, “I need to call Nick and say that we’re not going to make it to the party tonight.”

“Party?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. We were invited to the launch of Christian Siriano’s new collection. But Nick will completely understand if you aren’t feeling well.”

I was invited to a collection launch party? I felt the smile on the face widen. At least in the midst of waking up ten years older, I had a pretty decent life. “We don’t have to cancel. As long as you stick by my side, it should be okay.”

“I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I want to go,” I promised. “Maybe it’ll help me remember something.”

Gianna looked uncertain, but also was biting her lip like she was considering my idea. After a few moments of considering me, she groaned. “Fine. But Liam will want to come to make sure that you’re alright. I’ll call Nick and Rachael.”

“Rachael?”

“Your assistant.”

“Right.” I had an assistant. Sixteen-year-old Daniella was snorting at me right now. “I can call Rachael, if you want to call Nick. What time is the party?”

“Not until eight.” She looked at her watch and sighed. “I’ve got to head out. I’m meeting a potential new employee for lunch. You’ll be okay here by yourself, right?” She looked so worried that I sent her a small grin. 

“I’m doing better. Seeing a familiar face helped. And I know Harry will call back and he’ll help.”

Her face fell. “Right. Harry will call.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Well, if you’re sure you’ll be okay, then I’m off. Call me if you need anything, okay? Or Liam.”

“I will, Gianna. I promise.” I couldn’t stop myself from reaching forward and giving her a giant hug. I honestly didn’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been here to calm me down. “Thank you.”

“I’m always here for you, sweetie,” she whispered, squeezing me back before releasing. “I’ll see you tonight. I’ll have my driver pick you up at around seven forty-five so you don’t have to worry about getting an Uber or anything.”

Gianna left, shutting the door behind her quietly. I could do nothing but stand in the middle of my apartment, staring at the home I’d somehow managed to create for myself, despite my not remembering it. I tried searching through the pictures on my wall to see if I had any with my mother and father, but before I could I remembered Gianna’s words about calling Rachael and took my phone out.

She answered on the second ring. “Hello Miss Rodriguez. How can I help you?”

It was then I realized I had absolutely nothing to say to her. “What are you doing tonight?” was the only thing that blurted out of my mouth.

“Um...staying here to work on that collection concept you asked me to?”

“Oh. Why aren’t you going to the party?” I questioned. If Rachael worked there as my assistant, then wouldn’t she have gotten an invite? Why would she willingly choose to stay and work when there was a freaking Christian Siriano launch party?

“I wasn’t invited, Miss Rodriguez.”

“Well that’s stupid,” I claimed. “I am officially inviting you.”

“You’re...you’re inviting me to a launch party?” She sounded confused, like I’d never interacted with her before. Which was insane. Had Gianna been wrong when she said Rachael was my assistant? “You’ve never done that before.”

“Sure I have!” I did not, in fact, know if I ever had. Then, I had the best idea ever. “Oh! Can you do me a huge favor please?”

“Yes ma’am. What do you need?”

“Could you find out where Harry Styles lives?” Surely Harry wouldn’t mind if I dropped by. I was getting a little anxious as the minutes ticked by without a reply, as Harry usually had his phone glued to him. Since we were both apparently twenty-six now, it was entirely possible he was at work, but I would still feel comfortable knowing I could see him in person rather than texting over the phone. 

“Of course. I’ll email you his address. Is there anything else you need, Miss Rodriguez?”

“Nope, that’s it, Rachael. Thank you! I’ll see you tonight!”

“Right…see you tonight, Miss Rodriguez.”

When I hung up the phone, I had no clue what to do. Being in a body I didn’t really know, in an apartment I wasn’t familiar with, was terrifying. So I decided to take the time to snoop around my own place, starting in the kitchen. I opened up cupboards and drawers, finding fancy chrome silverware and glass plates that were neatly stacked in the cupboard above my kitchen sink. The entire kitchen was decorated with black paint and dark wood, something I never thought my own kitchen would look like. It was sleek and modern and so far from my colorful blue-cabinet and white tile kitchen at my childhood home that it was almost shocking.

Opening up the fridge, I examined its contents. Inside was nothing but vegetables and almond milk. I was pretty sure I had never once had almond milk and there were purple vegetables in one of the drawers. Did purple vegetables even exist? I closed it, suddenly frightened of what Liam and I seemed to eat on a day-to-day basis. Moving out from my kitchen, I examined the living room with passing interest. The one thing I was really concerned about was my bedroom.

This room was nearly as dark as the kitchen, with canned lights dimmed when I flicked the light switch on. It was attached to a bathroom which had a heavenly looking tub. Deciding to start in the bathroom, I rummaged through some of the drawers, finding an expensive Tom Ford cologne that I assumed belonged to Liam. in my own drawers there was a variety of face creams and serums that I had only ever dreamed about purchasing when I was sixteen. 

Before I could examine my bedroom too closely, my phone chirped. I had honestly forgotten I was holding it, so the sound made me jump before I realized it was probably Rachael with Harry’s information. I tried to hurriedly unlock my phone again, still struggling a little with the technology, but managed to get Rachael’s new email opened.

Harry Styles, 515 W 52nd Street. Avalon Clinton apartment complex.

Grinning, I managed to quickly strip my silk sleepwear off and change into the first outfit I found, not bothering to even zip up my boots all the way as I exited my building.

~

Harry’s apartment complex was an incredible building. My jaw dropped when I saw it, figuring that to live somewhere like this, he must have been doing pretty well at whatever he was doing. 

I found the intercom well enough, pressing the button that had H. Styles written on it in cursive script. It crackled to life underneath my touch, and just like drinking a cool sip of water after being dehydrated for thirty days, hearing the deep baritone of Harry’s voice instantly soothed me. “Hello? Who is it?”

“It’s me!” I screamed, nearly sinking in the relief that this was the Harry that I was looking for. “Daniella!” 

“Shit, the fucking thing’s broken again. I can’t hear you, but ring twice if you’re from Amazon. I’ve been waiting on that package for days.”

I didn’t know what he had bought on Amazon and it was most likely important, but I didn’t care. I hit the button twice and the door immediately opened up. Once I checked to make sure I was headed towards the right floor, I scurried inside and into the lobby.

There was a front desk, and the concierge smiled at me when I walked in, but I was on a mission. I hastily made my way to the elevators, pressing the fifth floor button and willing the doors to close faster than they were. Sure I resembled a drunk cheetah with the rush in which I was moving, I almost crashed into Harry’s door when the elevator finally stopped and let me off on his floor.

“Harry!” I demanded, pounding on the door in a series of succinct knocks that portrayed my urgency.

The door swung open and I immediately took a step back. There, standing on the other side of the door, was my best friend in the entire world. Long gone were the shoulder-length strands of curly brown hair that I had grown up with, instead cut short. He had some glasses perched on his nose and something that looked like paint on his hand. He was wearing comfortable looking jogger pants and a white shirt, no shoes or socks on his feet.

In my pleasure to see him, it took me a couple of moments to realize that he did not look equally as pleased to see me.

“Daniella,” he said stiffly, opening the door a little wider and leaning on the threshold. “I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting this.”

I launched myself at him.

He let out a “oof” when our bodies collided, but I was holding onto Harry and suddenly everything seemed okay in the world. My arms wrapped around his neck in a vice-like grip, holding him to me like he might disappear if I loosened my hold even a little. He robotically moved his arms around my shoulders to hug me back, but his stiff posture turned soothing when he realized that on top of squeezing him with all my might, I was also sobbing. 

I prided myself on not being a weepy person, but this entire morning had warranted a good cry, in my personal opinion.

“C’mon inside,” he said softly, gently prying my hands off him. Once we were both inside his apartment, he shut the door and moved to his kitchen. I wondered if I should follow him. Just when I had mustered up enough nerve to take a step, however, he had returned with a tissue in his fingers. “Want to sit?”

I nodded and let him lead me to the colorful orange couch he had in the middle of his living room. Well...living room was a little bit of an overstatement. He lived in a studio apartment, so everything was an open floor plan, save for the small door I saw that led to a bathroom. His place had much more color than mine did, and I found myself jealous at the styling choices. This place was much more me.

“Feeling better?” Harry asked, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. This in itself was weird, considering sitting on a couch with Harry almost always ended up with us sitting as close as we physically could. This was because we were both blanket-hoggers and being close meant neither one of us was trying to jip the other out of their respective half of the blanket. 

“I don’t know what’s going on, H,” I told him, my voice cracking as the emotions of this morning hit me all at once. “I...I think I’ve got amnesia or something. I don’t remember anything past my sixteenth birthday. And then I’ve got Gianna telling me that you and I don’t talk anymore?” I looked over at him and let out a crazed laugh. “How crazy is that?”

“We don’t talk anymore, Daniella,” he replied. “We stopped being friends shortly after your sixteenth birthday.”

Tears gathered in my eyes again. “No, I refuse to believe that. We’re Harry and Daniella. You’re my best friend in the entire world.”

He looked genuinely sorry to be telling me this, but shook his head. “No, Daniella. Not anymore.”

This time, I let the tears fall. My fingers curled in on themselves, balling into fists as I tried to stop myself from biting them or ripping my hair out. We sat in silence for several moments, my heart racing in anxiety because here was Harry, the person I knew most in the world and who knew me in return, and he was saying that we weren’t friends anymore. The bike rides, the late nights watching movies, the careful and soothing hugs he gave me...they were all gone. This Harry didn’t know me, not like I knew him. And who was to say I even knew him anymore?

“Why?” It was the only question I could seem to let escape.

Harry sighed, rubbing his hands over the thighs of his jeans. “I don’t know, Daniella. We just grew apart.” 

“People like us don’t just grow apart, H.”

“We did.”

“There’s got to be a reason!” I exclaimed, and I could hear that my breathing was labored. My chest felt like it was constricting, like someone had taken hold of my lungs and was crushing them between their hands.

He sensed the anxious change in my breathing and his eyes widened. “Hey, hey, Daniella. Take deep breaths for me, okay?” His body shifted off the couch and suddenly he was on his knees in front of me, holding my arms in his hands. He was tall enough to nearly be at eye-level with me. “C’mon, Dani. Breathe. Can you tell me five things you see?”

I was sure I looked a mess, with tears streaming down my cheeks and on the verge of a mental breakdown. “What?” 

“Tell me five things you see, Dani. Count them for me.”

I still couldn’t breathe properly, so his words sounded muffled like we were underwater. But I managed to get the point of his demand. My eyes shifted from his impossibly green ones to find something to latch onto. “You’ve got yellow and red throw pillows on your bed.”

“Good. Count four more for me.”

It was impossible to ignore the soft cadence of his voice. “You’ve got granite countertops. You’ve got playbills on your bookshelf.” It made me wonder if his dreams of designing sets had really worked out. “You’ve got clay on the counter. And there are sculpting tools next to it.”

“There she is,” he said softly, a hand hesitantly raising to brush my hair back from my face, where it was sticking because of the tears. “Now count five things you can feel.”

“The couch. My nail polish. Your shirt.” I brushed my finger against the shoulder of it. “My hair. The paint on your hands.”

He looked down at them, as if remembering. “I scrubbed, but it wouldn’t come off.”

“Typical,” I choked out, giving him a tight smile. My breathing was beginning to even out and return to normal, but I still felt like someone had placed the weight of the world on my shoulders. “What happened, H? Tell me.” I had to know. I had to know why we suddenly weren’t friends, like we had been for our entire lives.

I heard a sigh escape him, but luckily his fingers didn’t retreat. I think if he pulled away, I might have started up on the attack again. “I don’t know, Daniella. We just grew apart. I guess it was you hanging out with Gianna in high school. You just stopped bothering with me. Or maybe it was the funeral—”

“What funeral?” I interrupted.

“C’mon Dani,” he whispered brokenly, “you know what funeral. Don’t make me say it.”

“I don’t remember anything, Harry. I swear to you. I woke up this morning and my...my boyfriend of three and a half years that I don’t remember at all was trying to get me to calm down because I didn’t know who I was. I look like me and feel like me, but at the same time...I don’t? For Christ’s sake, Harry, I’ve gone and gotten myself a boob job!”

He cleared his throat, his cheeks turning pink. “Obviously I hadn’t noticed, Dani. I’m not looking there.”

“It’s hard to miss them!” I was glad this seemed to get a laugh out of him, but he turned serious once again.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“Not a thing past the night of my sixteenth birthday. The last thing I remember is you giving me my cupcake and then blowing out the candle and you trying to smash it in my face and then...nothing.”

His thumbs on my shoulders began to rub across the fabric of my jacket. It was cold in his apartment, but it was a comfortable kind of cool. To be honest, I hadn’t felt as comfortable this morning as I was sitting here now, with my best friend looking at me like I was something fragile that was about to shatter. At this moment, I didn’t care if he thought I was weak. If it meant that he would explain what the hell was going on and tell me that we could be friends again, I would cry a thousand more tears.

“Dani,” he whispered in a tiny voice, “I’m so sorry.”

“What funeral?” I asked again.

He flinched, like he was avoiding the question. Then, his arms moved to caress my face, anticipating my reaction to his next words. He cradled my cheeks like I was going to fall apart. “Your dad’s.”

I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him, processing his words. That couldn’t be right. I had just spoken to my father less than twelve hours ago, when he had helped me set up a board game table in our basement as asked if we had a couple minutes for a quick round of Operation. My father was always a sore winner. He had purposely jostled the table so I would hit the metal and lose my turn. 

“No, you’re lying,” I mumbled, but I knew deep down that Harry would never lie to me. He was honest to a fault.

“You...you weren’t at the funeral. You and he were in an argument of some kind and you didn’t show up.”

I shook my head, his hands moving with me as he cupped my cheeks. He anticipated the tears, catching them with his thumb the second they started to fall. “No, H,” I groaned out, the feeling of panic twelve times worse with the new news. “No, no, no.” I was a blubbering mess. He didn’t move from his spot, slotted between my thighs and holding my face tightly in his hands. “No, there’s got to be some mistake. I would have gone. I would have.”

“Maybe you did,” he said in a soothing voice, brushing my tears away. “I left pretty early. Maybe you just showed up late.” But we both knew his words were empty. He didn’t truly mean them. “Let’s get you a glass of water, yeah?”

“No!” I clutched onto his fingers, gripping them tight enough to leave bruises. He didn’t pull away or wince in pain. 

“Alright,” he said soothingly, “I won’t go anywhere.”

He allowed me to sit on his couch, crying my eyes out until there were no more tears that could possibly come. Last night, I went to bed with everyone I ever loved in the world content and safe. Now, I had lost my friendship with Harry, I didn’t remember this insanely nice boyfriend I apparently had, and my father was dead. I hadn’t gone to his funeral because of some stupid argument. What argument could have been enough to keep me from attending his funeral?

“What have I done to ruin everything?” I questioned in a teary voice, shaking my head at myself. What the fuck had I done in my life to deserve this? There had to be a reason.

“Don’t think like that, Dani. It wasn’t your fault.”

But obviously it was. Obviously there was something I had done to piss off the universe so much that they took the most important people away from my life. I stood up quickly, suddenly feeling like Harry’s apartment was suffocating me. He let me go without question, but his eyes were trained on me like he was afraid I was going to have another panic attack. “I have to go,” I stuttered out, my body moving towards the door before the sentence fully left my mouth. 

“I think you should stay here until you feel better,” Harry said, kind enough to worry about me even though apparently we weren’t friends anymore.

“I’m sorry for showing up unexpectedly.” They were the only sentiments I managed to get out before I was out of his apartment, rushing towards the elevator. I didn’t know why I was running away from Harry. All I knew was that it was imperative that I get out of his apartment and away from the life I’d apparently fucked up.

The elevator doors were closing when I heard him call my name. 

I let the tears fall once again.

~

Since I was a little girl, I had dreamed of getting invited to a party as fancy as a Christian Siriano launch party. Now, here I was, waiting for Gianna to pick me up for said party, and I felt like shit.

I had reluctantly gotten ready for the party, pulling out a fancy dress and one of my many pairs of heels that I already wanted to rip off my feet. I was already missing the Vans my mother had gotten me for my birthday that I had been wearing when whatever this weird dream had happened to me. Due to my low mood, I hadn’t felt like doing much to my hair, so it was just up in a high ponytail that would have to do. This weird twenty-six-year-old skin of mine didn’t need foundation, but I made sure to coat my eyelashes in waterproof mascara in case I started sobbing again, which I had in spurts since leaving Harry’s apartment.

My father was dead. The only reason I was even going to this stupid party and not on the soonest train ride back to my mother was because maybe something at this party would shake my memory loose and I would remember something. In reality, I wanted to curl up in a corner and cry some more. Still, when Gianna’s limo pulled up in front of my building, I plastered a smile on my face and opened the door with mock enthusiasm.

“You look amazing, sweetie!” Gianna said excitedly when I opened the door. She was wearing a bright yellow dress that set off the dark color of her skin perfectly, along with gold accessories. “Love that color on you!”

The first dress I had picked was a bright fire-engine red high-necked dress with tulle puffed sleeves. The shoes were a satin material in the same color as the dress. If I had been in a better headspace, I would have screamed because the label on the dress said Versace, but right now it didn’t matter who the hell had made the dress. I plastered on a smile. “Thanks. You look fantastic.”

“Get your ass in the car! Nick is so happy you decided to come tonight. Christian is looking forward to it, too!” She slid over in the seat as I situated myself inside the car. The second the door shut behind me, her driver was taking off to the destination of the launch party. “Liam is coming tonight, too. He texted me and said he wanted to surprise you, but I figured that with everything going on, a surprise is the last thing you needed.”

This was smart of her. If Liam showed up and started being as incredibly kind and sweet as he had been this morning, I might have thrown up. Did he know about my father? Had I talked to him about the mysterious argument that had estranged us? I felt the tears welling in my eyes again at the thought of it, so I choked them back and tried to focus on Gianna, who was talking a mile a minute about who would be at the launch.

“Rachael is coming too. She said that you invited her this morning,” Gianna said, looking at me to confirm. When I nodded, I was surprised to see a frown grace her features. “Sweetie, that’s fine and all, I’ve got no problem with Rachael. But she hasn’t exactly been to one of these before. And she’s a bit meek. They might eat her alive.”

I frowned. “Rachael is nice. I wanted to invite her.” I had no clue if Rachael was actually nice, but I knew she shouldn’t be excluded from the party even if she was meek and hadn’t been to one before. “Besides, she did a big favor for me this morning. She found Harry’s address.”

Gianna’s eyes widened. “No shit. Did you go and see him?”

“Yeah. You were right. We aren’t friends anymore.” The words hurt even saying them out loud. “When he answered the door and saw me...he looked annoyed, like I was something from his past he couldn’t shake off.” I guess that’s what I was, now. And even though he had been so sweet, trying to comfort me and holding me tightly, it didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t wanted to see me when I knocked at his door.

“Oh, sweetie. Things will work out, I’m sure of it.”

I wondered if Gianna calling me “sweetie” was a normal thing. I hated it.

We pulled up to the party, smiling fakely at photographers that were loitering outside as we walked into the building, clearing the security easily. The inside was decorated in bright avant garde styles, bleeding color into every corner of the venue. It was a beautiful setup that I would have been dying to explore if I hadn’t been so muddled emotionally. I was so wrapped up in the decorating that I jumped when arms wrapped around my waist from behind, pulling me close to a hard body.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, babe,” I heard Liam say in my ear. “You look absolutely beautiful.” I turned in his arms, immediately throwing them around his neck. I didn’t know anything about this man, but he had offered me kindness and hadn’t given up on me this morning, despite how hard I knew it must have been. He looked extremely pleased at my reception towards him, pressing a delicate kiss on the top of my head. “You need a drink?”

“Sure.” 

As soon as he had appeared, he was gone, Gianna headed over to the bar with him. And then I was alone, standing in the middle of the launch party twiddling my thumbs and feeling like I belonged anywhere but there at that moment. I saw someone moving towards me, a timid looking blonde with giant glasses taking up half her face. Still, she looked wonderful in her pale blue dress. 

“Hi, Miss Rodriguez. Thanks for inviting me,” she said softly when she made her way over towards me. Ah, so this was Rachael. She looked every bit as nice as her voice sounded, and I sent her a genuine smile.

“It’s nothing at all, Rachael. You look great.”

Her eyes lit up, and I wondered how terrible I had to usually be to have her look so terrified of me. “Oh, thank you Miss Rodriguez!”

“You can call me Daniella, Rachael. We’re co-workers, aren’t we?”

“Oh.” She looked surprised. “You told me to never call you Daniella.”

As if my night couldn’t get any worse. “Right. I wasn’t feeling myself that day. I apologize. Feel free to call me Daniella.” Suddenly uncomfortable with the revered way she was looking at me, like I was some kind of fashion god giving her access into the world I lived in, I gestured towards the bar. “Want a drink?”

“Sure!” she said quickly, smiling brightly. “Mind if I go with you? I don’t really know anyone here.”

Me neither, I wanted to say, but refrained. “Of course. C’mon.” Following in the direction Liam and Gianna had disappeared to, we made it to the bar with ease. “What do you want?”

“I’ll take a strawberry martini.”

I had no idea what cocktail I wanted. My alcohol experience consisted of sneaking shitty beer into my basement and champagne at my cousin’s wedding. “Make that two,” I told the bartender, smiling softly as he got to work. “Hey, Rachael, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Miss Ro—Daniella,” she corrected herself. The bartender handed our drinks over and she immediately took a sip. I didn’t bother with mine yet, on a mission.

“Do you know why I wasn’t talking to my father when he died?”

She flinched. “Ah...no. I just remember reminding you about the funeral and...um...you weren’t too happy.”

How selfish was I in this new life that the idea of my father’s funeral made me angry? “Right. If you’ll excuse me, I’m just...going to go powder my nose.”

I left Rachael nodding after me as I walked through the venue. I saw my boss (I still couldn’t believe I worked for Nicholas Jennings) and tried my best to stay out of his sight, lest he greet me and ask me questions I didn’t know the answer to. Walking into different hallways and still not able to find the bathroom, I decided to just lean up against a pillar on the second floor of the building, looking down at the launch with a sense of bittersweetness.

I had seemingly gotten everything I wanted. At what cost?

The second I heard whispers, I ducked behind the pillar, not willing to join in conversation with people. However, I recognized the voices almost immediately as Liam and Gianna.

“I still don’t know what happened to her, Gianna. It worries me.”

“I know. It worries me too. But...we’re still going to tell her, right?”

I peeked out from the pillar and saw them standing at the entrance of the hallway, Liam’s hands wrapped around Gianna’s wrists. The lights were reflecting brilliantly off her dress.

“You want to tell her that we’ve been having an affair for eleven months when just this morning she didn’t recognize either of us?” Liam asked incredulously.

“I know the timing is shit. I know it, Liam. But I can’t hold my feelings in any longer. Besides, you know she was seeing Rachael’s boyfriend for that little three-month period a couple years back.”

“And we discussed that. I forgave her. Sleeping with your assistant’s boyfriend twice isn’t really the same as sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend of almost four years.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed off the pillar, walking in the opposite direction on my tiptoes so I didn’t draw attention to myself. The hallway swung back around in a circle to the staircase, so I quickly rushed down them when I was in the clear and made my way out of the building, letting the New York air cool my skin.

I hadn’t thought going to this party would make me feel worse, but I had been proven wrong.

Without thinking, I pulled out my phone and called Harry.

He picked up on the second ring. “Dani? Thank god. I was worried when you left earlier. That wasn’t exactly the best news to hear.”

“Do you want to get dinner with me?” I asked bluntly, ignoring his concerns. “I just...I need to get away from reality for a while.”

The other line was silent, and I was terrified he was going to reject me. He would remind me that we weren’t friends, that he hated me and thought I was selfish, and then tell me that he never wanted to see me again. The longer I heard nothing but his breathing, the more certain I was that these events were about to unfold. So I was surprised when I heard him say, “Sure. Meet me at Blue Elephant. It’s the Thai place a couple of blocks down from my apartment.”

For the first time that night, I felt a genuine smile spread across my features.

~

I tried not to laugh when the noodle from Harry’s pad thai dangled from his mouth, but the snort escaped me before I could stop it.

He had gotten to the restaurant much quicker than I had. He wasn’t lying when he had told me it was just down a couple blocks. He had raised a brow at my fancy attire, since he was just in jeans and a black shirt splattered with tiny little paint flecks. His fingernails had clay under them, which would have been gross if I hadn’t known it was because Harry spent nearly all his free time sculpting. The comfort of this sight nearly had me in tears again, but I shrugged it off in favor of ordering what Harry suggested from the menu. I had ended up with what the restaurant called “glass noodles,” which was their low-carb options that had lots of vegetables mixed in. Harry had gone for the classic pad thai, which if the way he was slurping was any indication, he enjoyed.

“How are you doing?” Harry asked hesitantly, like he was unsure how to ask the question.

I shrugged. “I woke up this morning not knowing anything about my life, not being friends with you, finding out my father is dead, and seeing Liam and Gianna discuss how they were going to tell me that they’re having an affair.”

“Shit. That’s terrible, Dani.”

The wry laugh left my lips before I could stop it. “The thing that kills me is that I deserve it. I let a stupid, petty argument that I can’t even remember keep me from the funeral. Apparently I slept with someone in a relationship. It was my assistant’s boyfriend, by the way. And I don’t know what I did to ruin our friendship, but obviously it was my fault.” I twirled some of my pasta around my fork. “I work for Nicholas Jennings as a designer. I just came from a Christian Siriano launch party. I managed to get everything I’ve ever wanted, but it feels terrible.”

“You didn’t ruin our friendship single handedly,” Harry assured. “It was the both of us.”

“I can’t even argue with you, because I don’t remember.”

He sighed, pushing his plate away from him. “It was your party. Everyone had left to go get beer with Gianna’s brother.” I sat up eagerly in my chair, ready to hear his version of events so I could decipher when it all went wrong. “I had just given you the mini-model for my theatre class and then I let you blow out the cupcake and smashed it in your face.”

“And?” I asked impatiently. “And then what? That’s the last thing I remember.”

His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck. “And then I kissed you.”

My mouth had been open, ready to comment on whatever he had said, but no sound came out. I stared at my best friend, who suddenly looked so embarrassed and small, and my heart ached in my chest. “You kissed me?” I whispered, food completely forgotten in front of me.

“I kissed you,” he repeated. “You had strawberry frosting on your face and you just...looked so beautiful. I’ve always thought you were. And there was a moment when you were trying to wipe it off that I thought I might have seen something in your eyes...but I was wrong. I kissed you and you pulled away. You looked so regretful, like you were running through a thousand ways to let me down easy in your head because you were always too kind to me. I tried to tell you to forget it, that it didn’t mean anything, but you were determined to talk about it.”

“Did we?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t let you. I knew the second I pulled away I had made a mistake. But you kept...pushing. And I got angry, said some things I didn’t mean. You got angry back, and said some other things. Then you shoved the mini-model in my hands and told me to leave. The glue was shit, so it crumbled a little. I’m sure it was an accident, but...after the rejection, it felt like it was on purpose.”

“Harry, I would have never—”

“I know,” he interrupted, giving me a hesitant smile. “I know, Dani. It was just me being pathetically in love with you.”

The words made me wish the ground would swallow me whole. “In love with me?” My voice was so quiet, I was surprised he heard it.

“Yeah, Dani. In love with you.”

The Harry from my memories suddenly shifted, as if with his confession I was seeing him in a new life. My quinceañera, when I had asked him to be my escort and he had to help me zip the back of my dress up. The first day of high school, when he had ridden his bike to my house and looked at me like he was seeing someone new. That moment he had just told me about, looking at him with strawberry frosting on his chin because I had managed to swipe some there.

Was there some other emotion hiding in those eyes every time he looked at me?

“I’m sorry,” I said, unable to say anything else.

“You don’t have to be sorry for not loving me, Dani. It wasn’t your responsibility.”

“But I should have fought harder for your forgiveness.” The tears did come then. I felt like that was all I had done today, just sob and sob. “I should have fought for us. I don’t want to be the person that doesn’t fight.”

I stood from my chair, slapping down a twenty dollar bill to cover the price of my meal. He watched me with clouded eyes, part-betrayed that I was leaving him once again and part-understanding that being in that restaurant was going to suffocate me with the weight of what had happened today. As I made my way towards the exit, he let me go.

I wondered if he would have before the night of my sixteenth birthday.

My lip wobbled as I hailed a cab, pulling out my phone to see all of the missed text messages from both Gianna and Liam. There was even one from Rachael, who had seen me leave in a hurry and asked if I was alright. My heart clenched in my chest when I saw her name across the screen. I wondered if she had any clue that I had apparently slept with her boyfriend. Assuming that she would have quit if she had known, I was going to guess she didn’t know. The texts from Liam were all variations of him asking me where I was. 

I couldn’t even be angry with him for cheating on me with Gianna. Who knew what kind of person I was now? What if I had pushed him away, like I had with Harry, like I had with my father? If he found comfort and love in Gianna, who was I to tell him he was wrong? 

My feet were carrying me somewhere I didn’t know, walking in the direction of my apartment that wasn’t home. When the first drop of rain splattered on my nose, I didn’t even feel it. 

I just felt numb.

~

The house before me was very non-threatening. It was a small thing, brick on the outside and a bright red door. When I was younger, the kids at school used to tease me and call it the “Three Little Pig” house, the one left standing at the end of the story that the wolf couldn’t blow down. I hated it when I was little, but I found it comforting now. Even with all that had changed in my life, this seemed to still be the same.

Knocking on the door shouldn’t have been terrifying, but it was suddenly the most scary thing I’d ever done. Before my fist could meet it for a third time, the red door swung open to reveal my mother, looking at me with a softness in her eyes that I was sure I didn’t deserve.

“Harry called me earlier. Said you might be coming here.” Her words were matter-of-fact, like there was no arguing. And there wasn’t. I wasn’t entirely sure how Harry had guessed that I was going to visit my mother, but I supposed he still knew me like the back of my hand. “Said you’ve got amnesia?”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that came from my throat. Amnesia was a weird way of putting it, but it was the only explanation I could give. I was sure “I’m really sixteen and just woke up in twenty-six-year-old Dani’s body” wouldn’t work with my mother. And then I was flinging myself into her arms and sobbing, like I constantly did now. “He said I didn’t come to Dad’s funeral,” I cried out.

“You didn’t,” she replied simply, but she held me in her arms and squeezed my shoulders like she had when I was younger. I hadn’t felt more like myself than in that moment, except maybe talking with Harry. 

“But why? That doesn’t make sense.” I clutched her to me, wanting nothing more than to melt into her skin and disappear forever. 

She sighed, rubbing my shoulders. “Come inside. We’ll talk.”

Minutes later I was sitting at the familiar circular dark wooden table from my childhood. My mother had poured us iced tea, a drink I had forgotten I loved until I took a cautious sip of it. We sat in silence for a few moments, just drinking as she stared at the wall across from me. Just as I was about to open my mouth and ask again what had happened, she began to speak.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“No,” I promised. “The last thing I remember is Harry shoving a cupcake into my face at my sixteenth birthday party after I made a wish.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “What’d you wish for?”

I smiled grimly. “For you to treat me like an adult.” Awkwardly picking at a loose thread on my sweater, I looked away from my mother. I didn’t want to see the disappointment or hurt on her face when my words registered. “I...I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, you did. And you were right. Maybe if I had treated you like an adult, you would have...you would have come to the funeral.” She took a long sip of the tea, steadying herself. “You’ve got to know that we always planned on telling you. But we just never did. And that was on us. And you’d always struggled so much with your identity. Remember when you used to come home from school and cry just because you felt like you didn’t know yourself?”

I remembered those days well. The last one I could remember had been two days before my birthday. Harry seemed to fit in so well with everyone he met, and I just didn’t have that skill. I had come home crying to my mom, asking why Harry could manage to fit in everywhere but I couldn’t. 

“Two Christmases ago you were looking in the attic to help find some tree topper I had bought. You came down from the attic with that piece of paper in your hand and my heart stopped. I knew right then and there that you’d never forgive us.”

“Mom, it can’t be that bad.”

“Believe me, it is.” There were tears in her eyes now as she set her glass down. Her hands shook. “You...found adoption papers and letters from your birth mother. She had written to you every year on your birthday. Your father and I never showed them to you. And obviously...we never told you about the adoption.”

If there was one thing I did not expect for my mother to say, it was that.

“What?” I managed to stutter out, blinking at her in disbelief.

Her tears fell now, streaking the mascara on her bottom lashes and leaving horrible black lines down her face. “We always meant to tell you, you...you have to believe that. And you got so, so angry with us. You said you never wanted to talk to us again. You marched out and went back to New York to stay with Liam. And then your father got sick and I...I just thought we would have so much more time to make things right with you before he died. I called you to tell you about the funeral and you just didn’t care. And the shitty part was that I couldn’t blame you.”

My tears had stopped, simply because I was trying hard to process what she had just told me. My mother, the one who braided my hair when I was younger and kissed my knee when I skinned it, wasn’t my actual mother. And my father, who read me bedtime stories with funny voices and made me pancakes when I was feeling sad, he wasn’t my actual father. I had never felt less like I knew myself.

I laughed.

It was a short, stark sound in the silence between us. My mother had been staring at the ground and she looked up at me in surprise when she heard it. I couldn’t help it. I laughed again. I laughed until there were angry and frustrated tears falling out of my eyes. 

“Do you know what kind of person I am?” I didn’t give her the chance to answer before I started speaking again. “I’ve spoken more to Harry in the past two days than I have in the last ten years. I let him feel like I hated him. I slept with my assistant’s boyfriend and apparently haven’t told her about it. But I did tell my boyfriend, who is currently having sex with my best friend because of something I did, I guess. And now I find out I didn’t go to my father’s funeral because I was being an absolute bitch?”

“You had every right to be upset—”

“No! I didn’t have the right to not go to the funeral!” My lower lip quivered. The reality of the words set in with me then. I had missed my father’s funeral because of something as stupid as me being adopted. That didn’t change the fact that he had gone to all the little father-daughter dances my school held when I was young. That he had taught me how to swim and clapped when I could jump into the pool with no problems. That he had held me when the boy I liked called me ugly. “I didn’t go to the funeral,” I whispered brokenly.

My mother’s arms were around me before I had time to blink. She flung herself across the table and wrapped me in her embrace. I felt her tears on my shoulder, the tears the both of us had apparently needed to cry since two Christmases ago. When the pain got too uncomfortable, I moved out of my chair so I could be closer to her, on my knees on the kitchen floor. She slid out of her own seat, grabbing onto my shoulders and kissing my head.

“I’m sorry,” she kept saying, over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”

“I missed the funeral,” I repeated, my fingers digging painfully into her shoulder blades. If she was in pain, she didn’t show it. She just held me harder as we both kneeled on the kitchen floor.

~

New York was having a good weather day. 

I was sitting outside a little cafe, munching on an ice cream cone. It had been only hours since I’d left my mother’s house. We had talked, cried, drank wine that she had stashed in a cupboard, and cried some more. Even before the freak accident in which I had aged ten years overnight, it was the most I’d really talked to her in a long while. There was a dull ache in my heart because I wanted my father to be there, but my mother had kissed my forehead in the way he used to when I was headed out the door. 

“I love you, Dani,” she had said, with so much conviction that it had nearly brought me to my knees.

“I love you too, Mom,” I had replied. She smiled that big grin of hers, the one I used to tell her could light up the world. 

Now I was waiting for Liam and Gianna to arrive. I had called them both the second I got into a taxi from my mom’s house and was waiting to meet them. The cafe was the first one I had found (though it wasn’t as if they were lacking in New York), so I didn’t know if it was any good or not. If the ice cream was any indicator, it was fantastic.

“Thank god you’re okay,” Liam said from somewhere behind me, and then I was forced out of my sesat and engulfed in a huge bear hug. Liam’s hugs were nice, I decided. Maybe if I had met him when this weird thing hadn’t happened, I would have loved him. “Why didn’t you return any of my calls?”

“I was visiting my mom. Sorry,” I mumbled into his shoulder.

He pulled away immediately. “Your mom? Is everything okay? You haven’t spoken in—”

“Two years,” I interrupted, nodding my head. “Everything’s fine, just needed to talk some stuff out with her.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay.” He pulled me back into another hug, rubbing his hand on my back. “Do you want to sit? Have you ordered anything?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for you and Gianna to get here.”

“You don’t have to wait much longer.” Gianna appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and gave me a small hug. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, sweetie. Did you ever figure out what the hell was going on yesterday? Memory all back?”

“Not at all.” And that was still the frustrating part. I gestured to the little bistro table and watched the two of them as they moved towards their seats. I had never really had to examine how two people moved together before, but they moved like they were magnets. Liam hesitantly reached out his hand for me to hold and I saw the quick glimpse of something akin to heartbreak on Gianna’s face.

At least I knew the two really loved each other.

“So, what did you and your mom talk about?” Liam asked, his thumb making circles on the back of my hand. 

“Life. How things didn’t really work out the way I wanted them to.”

Gianna’s brow raised. “What do you mean, sweetie? You work for Nicholas Jennings. That’s like your dream job.”

“Yeah.” And look where that dream had gotten me. “But I mean in my personal life, not really my professional life.”

It was quiet for a few seconds. Liam awkwardly smiled. “We don’t really know what you mean, babe.”

“I know.” I composed my thoughts for a moment before hesitantly reaching out my other hand to stretch it across the table. Gianna was quick to grab it, but I could tell she still looked a little confused. “I’m not a good person. I see that. I don’t know how you two put up with me. But I like to think I deserve better than my boyfriend and best friend lying to me.” The color drained out of Liam’s face and Gianna was gaping like a fish, opening and closing her mouth as if she’d find something to say. “And you deserve better than the way I’ve obviously treated you.”

“Dani,” Liam said brokenly, but I shook my head.

“It’s okay. We’ve all got things we need to work on, I guess.”

And that was the truth. If there was anything I’d learned from the last two days, it was that I had to work to not be the bitch I had so obviously become in the ten years I’d missed. I pat Liam’s hand comfortingly before standing from the little table, allowing Gianna and Liam to digest what I’d just sprung on them as I walked away. 

I was in a city I genuinely loved. The sky was pretty and blue and I felt a little bit of the ice cream cone in my hand dripping on my fingers. Things were okay with my mom and I. I would never get back the memories I’d lost with my father, but I’d use him as an example on how to be better. I wished for nothing more than to go back in time to my sixteen year-old self to tell her what she was missing when she wished on that stupid candle. 

But maybe it wasn’t all bad, I decided, when I stopped at a hot dog stand to ask for some napkins and saw Harry ordering on the other side.

“Dani,” he said, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Hey. What are you doing?”

“Walking,” I replied, gesturing to his hot dog. “Looks good.”

“I’d ask you if you wanted a bite, but I know you don’t like mustard.”

The fact that he’d remembered something so insignificant made me smile. “Right.”

He finished up his hot dog and took one of the napkins I offered. “What’re you doing today?”

“Nothing much. Why?”

“Mind if I join you on your walk?”

I pretended to think about it for a moment, but it truly was just pretending. My mind was made up the second the question had left his mouth. “Only if you tell me what you’re doing for work. Don’t think I missed all the clay and stuff in your apartment.”

He flushed, the apples of his cheeks turning a cute pink color. I wanted to poke them, like I used to when we were kids, but didn’t know if it would be welcome or not. “You don’t want to hear about my job,” he said, like he had already decided it was going to be a boring topic.

“Harry, I always want to hear about what you’re doing.”

It was a statement he must not have heard from me in ten years, because he gave me a soft and hesitant smile, the kind of smile I imagined he had given me as kids through the lens of someone in love with me. It made my stomach warm to see it.

“Really?” At my enthusiastic nod, his smile widened a little bit and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. Well, shortly after high school I was just working for the theater department at the community college. It didn’t pay much, but it was a good experience for the resume. I worked there for about three years and then got into sculpting.”

“Which explains the clay,” I joked, reaching for his hand. I lifted it between us and gestured to the clay caked underneath his nails. He laughed, nodding his head at my observation.

His laughter came up short when he realized that we were skin-to-skin, my fingers dancing across his knuckles to get a view of the clay. It turned his skin a light gray color, somewhat matching the color of the shirt he wore. “Yeah,” he said, and his voice sounded a little breathless. “Yeah, that explains the clay.”

I was hesitant to release his fingers, but I did. He didn’t move his hand away, however, just stared at me with those impossibly green eyes of his. I had always been jealous of them when we were younger. “Harry?”

“Yes?”

“If I were to hold your hand, would you hate me?”

His smile was quick and soft, and I realized there was a tiny little speck of mustard on his top lip. “If you had asked me at sixteen, I would have jumped at the opportunity. And maybe faint.”

I laughed. “I’m not asking sixteen year-old Harry, though. I’m asking twenty-six year-old Harry.”

“Right. Semantics. I suppose he’s fine with it too, if it means you’ll go out to dinner with him.”

Our fingers threaded together, still awkwardly hanging in front of us. His hand was warm and callused, and I could feel the texture of the clay. “I would love to go to dinner tonight. You can regale me with stories about how you fell in love with me when we were kids.”

He laughed, and our hands dropped to fit more comfortably between us. “It’s not very hard to fall in love with you, Dani.”

~

I was used to getting ready for a friend hang-out with Harry. For those, I knew what I would wear. It would be some variation of comfy jeans or leggings, a graphic tee of one of my favorite bands, and some Vans. I was familiar with that ensemble.

It was a little different getting ready for a date with Harry.

He had followed me back to my apartment, where I saw some of Liam’s stuff was already gone. It seems he wasted no time in seeking shelter with Gianna. I was honestly happy for him, if he was happier with Gianna. Harry sat on my couch and laughed while I tried on different outfits, seeing which one would fit his surprise restaurant better since he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. In each dress, he twirled his finger to signal he wanted me to turn in the dress before he disagreed and sent me back.

“Could you at least give me a hint on what to wear?”

“Do you have jeans at all?”

I poked my head out of the door to my bedroom, giving him a look. “I would never wear jeans on a date.”

“It’s a date with me. You know I don’t care what you look like.”

That made the butterflies in my stomach set off. Apparently, however, twenty-six year-old Daniella didn’t own a pair of jeans, so I settled on a casual sundress and slipped it on. It was a pretty orange color that looked good with my skin, and had little yellow flowers printed at the bottom. When I walked out into the living room, Harry grinned.

“Perfect,” he said, standing from my couch. “You look beautiful.”

If I were still sixteen and Harry was just a friend, the words wouldn’t have such an effect on me. But the truth of the matter was, my skin was warming, butterflies were flying, and my eyes were looking at Harry in a new light. “Thank you.”

“I have always wanted to say that to you and not have you punch me in the shoulder.”

“I wouldn’t have punched you in the shoulder!”

“Yeah...but you wouldn’t have looked at me like that, either.”

I wondered what expression was on my face to make his eyes go slightly dark and hazy. Letting out a short, breathless laugh, I grabbed his hand and led him out of my apartment. “Lead the way, since I have no idea where we’re going.”

The walk to the restaurant was spent talking about old memories from the past, Harry’s fingers intertwined with mine. There were several points where we had to stop walking so the two of us could laugh, bending over at the waist as we remembered when Gemma had put makeup on Harry or I had fallen into a puddle of mud at one of our family get-togethers. When we got to our destination, I stared at the theatre in front of us with a look of awe on my face.

“C’mon, I told the guys that I needed this place to myself tonight. I’ll give you a grand tour.”

He took the keys out of his pocket and opened the door. The lights were automatic, turning on when they sensed movement. We were in the lobby of the theatre, with programs from all the productions hung on every inch of the walls. Harry laughed when I took in the colors of all of them as he opened the door to the main stage.

“You’re a giant softie,” I breathed out when I saw that there was a picnic set up on the stage. “I’m telling Gemma.”

“She’ll never let me live it down.”

“That’s the point, Harry.” But I squeezed his fingers even tighter in mine. “It’s perfect.”

The theatre itself was beautiful. Unlike the harsh white lights of the lobby, the stage was lit with warm stage lighting that gave the place a pretty yellow glow. I took the stairs up to the main stage and sat down on a pillow Harry had placed there beforehand, unwilling to let our grip break when he moved to sit down on his own pillow. It was only when he started moving towards the picnic basket that I relinquished my hold on his hand. 

“Okay, I’ve got some pasta, a little cucumber salad, and wine. Because we all need wine.” He made a plate for me and then himself before reaching back into the picnic basket. “And for dessert…”

I wanted to laugh at the little cupcake, nearly identical to the one he had given me on my sixteenth birthday. I could tell it was what he was expecting. But I just stared at it, my throat going dry. Eventually, the smile slipped off his face and he set the cupcake on the stage. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“I know you didn’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I just...you deserve so much better, Harry.”

“Maybe. But who are we to decide that?”

“You deserve someone who hasn’t treated you like shit. Which is what I treated you like. I shouldn’t have let our friendship go just because I was scared that loving you would ruin things for us.”

“Dani,” he said softly, reaching out to take my hand in his. “It’s all in the past.”

“But it’s not. Not for me. For me, it was two days ago. And I know that it sounds crazy and you don’t believe me, but I...I’ve obviously made some choices that have hurt a lot of people and I don’t remember making any of them. I hurt you.”

“Yeah, you did. Look at where we are now, though. Look at where you are.”

“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret this tomorrow because you’re holding onto a sixteen year-old version of me.”

And that was the point of all of this. I couldn’t just forget that this weird time blip had happened, and I couldn’t forget that apparently I had made shitty choices for the past ten years of my life. I wished more than anything that I could go back to the night of my sixteenth birthday and just tell Harry that while I didn’t love him at that exact moment, I would be willing to give us a shot because really, it was Harry. I knew that I could fall in love with him if I just had the time. Maybe I already had been, secretly, and was just scared.

“We’re just...we’re not sixteen anymore, Harry.”

He nodded, his mouth tight-lipped and his eyes sad. I think it was because he knew what I was saying was true. We couldn’t change the past. “I know,” he whispered. “I just...having you back in my life was like this out of reach dream.”

“I don’t want to go the next ten years not talking to you, Harry. But I think you’ll be so much happier with someone else. Someone who doesn’t run away when you tell them you love them.”

The wry smile on his face made my heart break. He gently slid towards the end of the stage and jumped off, his feet hitting the ground with a thudding sound that echoed in my ears. He made it to the back of the theatre before he turned around, tears in his eyes and a small smile on his face. “Maybe in a parallel universe, then. I’ll see you around, Dani.”

The tears were already on my cheeks when the door shut behind him.

I didn’t feel like eating anything after Harry’s departure, but I picked up the cupcake gently, willing it to bring me back to the night of my sixteenth birthday, before I had royally screwed myself over. Setting it down with a sigh, I started to pick up the food items so Harry wouldn’t get in trouble for leaving food on the stage. It was only then that I saw the candle and lighter in the basket.

I cried as I stuck the candle into the cupcake and lit it with the lighter.

“I wish I could go back and do this all over,” I mumbled to myself. Shutting my eyes, I softly blew out the flame of the candle.

I kept them shut as I leaned back and lay on the stage, letting myself fall asleep.

~

“Dani?” I heard, and I opened my eyes slowly. The theatre was gone, the soft yellow light something harsh and white again. I took in my surroundings, noting the Jonas Brothers poster on the wall and the ugly pink color of them. I sat up quickly, looking around the room before I gasped and looked down at my chest.

No boobs. 

“Dani, you awake?” I heard someone say from the other side of the door. Immediately I was up, shooting like a bottle rocket as I flung my door open. Harry stood there, sixteen year-old Harry with his head of floppy curls and the spot of acne on his chin. He was holding something wrapped in a pretty pink box.

“Harry?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he stepped into my room, setting the pink box on my bed as I shut the door behind him. “You okay?” he asked. “You seem off.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I said, still looking around my room to reassure myself that I was actually here. “I...I think I had a really weird dream.”

“What was it about?”

“It was terrible, H. We weren’t friends anymore.” He sat on my bed and I moved to sit next to him, careful of the pink box that I somehow knew contained a little theatre set he had made me.

“Well, that’ll never happen,” he snorted. “But, let’s focus on something happy. Open up.” He handed me the box. I pulled apart the purple ribbon and opened it up. It was in an Amazon box, but sure enough, it was a beautiful stage designing set. “It’s Wicked, since I know that’s your favorite musical.”

“Harry,” I whispered, “it’s gorgeous.”

“You like it?” When I nodded enthusiastically, he relaxed. “Oh good. I was worried. Also, I got you something else.”

From behind his back he produced a pretty pink strawberry cupcake, complete with a candle. He took a lighter out of his pocket and held it up to me. “Make a wish, Dani.”

When the flame was lit, I closed my eyes. I didn’t bother to make one. There wasn’t anything more that I needed.

I was expecting the smash, and the cool feeling that followed. I was expecting Harry to double over in laughter as pink goop fell from my face. I was even expecting my own laugh as I wiped it from my eyes so it wouldn’t burn them. What I wasn’t expecting was for Harry to suddenly take my face in his hands and kiss me, the minty taste of his breath mingling with the strawberry of the frosting coating my mouth. The kiss was over before it had begun, and Harry stared at me in fear, like I was going to reject him.

Instead, I smiled.

“Harry,” I said softly, reaching out my hand to him. His own hands shook when he placed his fingers in mine. “Do you want to go on a date?”

When his shoulders sagged in relief and he nodded, I knew.

“Oh, and I really need to go talk to my dad.”

[virovac]

This recontextulized the entire finale for me

From earlier in the thread, two pages ago

(“Oscar” is Leila Hann’s nickame for the Dunwich Horror)

Oscar’s voice is so deep that you feel the vibrations in your flesh rather than hearing them. And they immediately conjure up an overwhelming fear reaction from the deepest part of your animal brain.

I suspect that in the world of the story, we have that fear reaction to infrabass sounds (an actual phenomenon in real life, by the way) BECAUSE they resemble the voices of the Old Ones. Like the dogs recognizing the smell of the Old Ones as the tell of an enemy that needs to be attacked, we recognize their voices and anything resembling their voices as something to fear. Memories that go back to our pre-mammalian ancestors who just barely survived the Old Ones’ previous reign on earth. The Old Ones’ influence is already written into our own DNA.

As for what Oscar is saying. Well. If he can be believed, he and Wilbur aren’t just the sons of some random Old One on the other side of the portal. They’re the sons of the portal itself. Of Yog-Sothoth, the entity that fills the entire space between worlds and holds past, present, and future within itself.

It definitely helps with the Christ allegory. And we’re getting a pretty close parallel to the crucifixion now, aren’t we? Oscar’s words are basically just a paraphrasing of “Father, why hast thou forsaken me?” which Jesus is supposed to have shouted from the cross. Yog-Sothoth definitely falls pretty close to the Judeo-Christian conception of God, if a bit more distant from the world as we experience it most of the time.

Here’s where things get interesting, though. According to the Necronomicon (which, admittedly, may not be completely reliable. We don’t know where Abdul Alhazred got his information, after all), we can recognize the Old Ones by their particular smell. Not just the Yogspawn that they have their human collaborators create, the Old Ones themselves. Likewise, in Wilbur’s diary, he noted that he saw entities on the far side of the portal who looked a lot like Oscar.

It looks to me like we’re dealing with an entire race of Yogspawn....

And this sequence of events is even more telling.

“But that was all. The pallid group in the road, still reeling at the indisputably English syllables that had poured thickly and thunderously down from the frantic vacancy beside that shocking altar-stone, were never to hear such syllables again. Instead, they jumped violently at the terrific report which seemed to rend the hills; the deafening, cataclysmic peal whose source, be it inner earth or sky, no hearer was ever able to place. A single lightning-bolt shot from the purple zenith to the altar-stone, and a great tidal wave of viewless force and indescribable stench swept down from the hill to all the countryside.”

The men started casting their spell. Oscar reacted in pain, as if what they were doing was hurting him, and called out to Yog-Sothoth for help. In response, a lightning bolt shot down – FROM THE INVISIBLE SHADOW OVERHEAD – and disintegrated Oscar.

If they had sprayed the Ibn Ghazi powder upward. If they had sprayed that powder upward.

What would we have seen?

And now onto the main event: what I linked to above:

I read an interesting article recently about the degree to which parasites ARE their hosts. In the article's example, an entomologist who carried a parasitic botfly larva to term was haunted by whether or not the parasite, which had been grown entirely from his biomass, within his own body, was actually part of himself. Nevermind the fact that he didn't want it, and that he was at cross-purposes with the mother botfly who had infected him. Let's take that logic a little further. If a mosquito bites you, and then lays a clutch of eggs that are made almost entirely of your stolen proteins and fats, does that make the resulting larvae yours as much as hers? What if it wasn't just protein she was stealing from you? What if she was also using DNA from her stolen blood sample and integrating that into her larvae? Its not so far fetched: there are viruses that literally do exactly this. Then would her larvae be yours? If a population of these "virus mosquitoes" got by for generation after generation by biting humans, would they collectively be an extension of us? Regardless of how we ourselves felt about the annoying, itchy bites? Imagine such a virus-mosquito realizing that a human was its "father." Imagine if it drew some very misguided conclusions from that knowledge, and started buzzing in that sleeping human's ear.

Swat.

[alienoresimagines]

I'm too tired to be tough (Just wanna be loved by you) | Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Sidney Phillips

A/N : Happy birthday @murphyism, I love you so damn much🥺❤ I hope you’ll enjoy this one and have an amazing birthday!! This was supposed to be fluffy but actually isn’t, it’s more of a character study. I’m not entirely satisfied with it but eh, I hope u’ll like it :) Again thank you @punkgeekchic for being my beta reader and taking the time to correct all my mistakes💙

Taglist :  @murphyism​ @mavysnavy @speirs-sexy-ass​ @order-of-river-phoenix @inglourious-imagines @liebegott​ @tvserie-s-world @stressedinadress @warrior-healer

Posted : 24/09/2020

Masterlist Prompts Taglists

Hoosier loved winters. True winters, with snow and cold, where you’re sick with the flu and not with some illness mosquitoes gave you.

It was the time of the year where he could just lay on whatever surface he found as long as he was wrapped in his blankets.

When he was a kid, he always loved and expected Christmas. His mother’s kind eyes at the end of the stairs near the Christmas tree, waiting for him was the first thing he thought about when asked about home. It was probably the only day he would’ve consider waking up early willingly. Now, he held Christmas and snow even closer to his heart as it was the only things not tainted by the war.

It was the first time he’d celebrate it since he was back. Sidney had invited him to spend it with him, his parents and sister being away somewhere in Chicago. Hoosier refused to think about why he had accepted.

“Are you going to be laid under your blankets all day?”

Sid sat down on the space left of the couch, two cups of coffee in his hands as he handed one to Bill who nodded his thanks while taking the warm cup in his cold hands.

“Why would you want me to do anything else?” He looked up from his blanket, brought the mug to his lips and took a sip, all while carefully studying the younger man who was watching him with something that looked like softness in his kind blue eyes. Hoosier refused to linger on it, but he craved something that he knew only the man beside him could offer. The warmth that was radiating off Sidney only made it to harder to not reach out to grab him by the collar and cuddle to his side. He didn’t even know why he was fighting that instinct, that need.

The source of all his internal conflicts was neatly clothed, Bill noticed. His blonde, slightly curly hair was arranged perfectly to fit his face, his white shirt straight and clean. No matter how much he denied it, Sid always put time into his appearance. There were times Hoosier feared it was to impress him.

Though there was no need, the only thing between them two being Hoosier himself. And for once he was ready to give in. Ready to give him more than a few kisses when the war came too close from knocking at his heart’s door, more than lingering touches he couldn’t hold back, to give him the person he was, but most importantly the person he wasn’t anymore.

“Fair point.” Sidney’s gentle voice brought him back to reality, making him painfully realize how dry his throat was. As if he was back on the damned last island, with dust and blood everywhere he looked. It was easier when they were fighting a war. Then Hoosier could act as he wanted, although chained by fear, he was allowed to joke around and in a rush of fondness give a present and celebrating someone’s birthday. Even if the present was a mere grenade, in a battle it could save his life. But Hoosier hadn’t think about that aspect, it was simply the first thing he laid the hand on. After all, they were in a war, he could have died at any moment, leaving and forgetting everything behind. Past loves and future sorrows.

Hoosier took another sip of his too hot coffee without breaking the eye contact, feeling the warmth deep within his chest again and butterflies in his stomach. Maybe this time, Sid wouldn’t be disappointed and Hoosier’s heart wouldn’t be crushed.

The ringing of the phone in the hallway pierced his ears but he did not flinch and instead rolled his eyes and reluctantly started to move out of his comfortable spot.

“I’ll take that one, Bill.” Sid was off before Hoosier could say a thing but he heard how the younger one’s voice was shaking. His fists clenched as guilt washed over him but he couldn’t let his fences down, no matter how much he tried. Hoosier felt like the bad boy in high school who’d bring girl’s hopes up just to let them know he was in fact interested in their best friend. His mother didn’t raise him like such, the twist in his stomach let him know.

It most probably wasn’t what Sid had in mind as company for Christmas. Hoosier threw his head back and closed his eyes, praying to a god he stopped believing in.

Sidney’s youthful faith appeared in the doorway, a fake smile on his face and Hoosier’s silent prayers turned into curses.

“Eugene wants to know if we’re down for a walk.” He was tired, Hoosier finally realized.

Tired of loving someone who didn’t allow himself to give it back.

Tired of trying and trying for what seemed to be nothing.

Bill was tired too.

“When?”

“Why would that matter, do you have something planned in the near future?” That stung, and Bill flinched. He deserved it though, but what hurt even more was the look of guilt on Sid’s features. People like Sid shouldn’t have to be sad or feel any kind of negative emotions.

“Yes, for ya to sit down here and cuddle me, ’m cold.” Sid watched him with wide eyes, surely repeating what he just said in his head over and over to be sure it was real. Bill watched as Sid’s blue eyes sparkled and he bit his lips, trying so hard not to smile but failing miserably.

That sight was worth fighting every evil in the world.

“I..I’m sure Gene won’t take that against you.” No, that he wouldn’t. But Bill knew that Sledge fella had some unpleasant but deserved words for him. Bill smiled at Sid, truly and with every emotions he could muster. It seemed to be enough for Sid as he left, lighter than before.

Somehow, it hurt even more.

When Sid returned, after muffled whispers of bliss and hushed confessions to his best friend, the smile hadn’t left his face, even if Bill could say he was trying to tone it down.

His own face was softened, lips forming a lazy smile as he observed Sid with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” He asked while making place for him.

“Are you alright? I mean.. I don’t want to force you in anything you don’t want.. I-” Sidney spoke fast his doubts but his eyes didn’t lie. Oh, what did Bill do? What was he even doing?

Nothing good could ever come out of it, his brain whispered.

He’s scarred and so are you. Right now doesn’t have to be good as long as he makes you feel a better man, his heart chimed in.

Bill’s face darkened for a second before he looked at Sid’s face again. He made eye contact with him for several seconds, corners of the lips twitching slightly.

“Sid. Stop thinking and come cuddle with me.” Sid laughed in relief, still a bit stiff but making his way over. They struggled a bit at first with all the fluffy blankets but they managed, and the younger one settled on his side, head layed on Bill’s shoulder and slowly intertwining their fingers, his own shaking.

Hesitating, not sure of the moves he was allowed to do without making Bill walk away.

For the first time in days, Bill’s love for Sid won against his hatred, and he firmly but tenderly squeezed Sid’s hand.

[gravelgirty]

Hi could you talk more about caves what you said on that post is really interesting

Sure thing!

First of all, it was an amazing cave I worked in. You never forget that. I'll pick one of my favorite topics,

the FALLOUT SHELTER AGGRAVATION TAX.

Clears throat.

Limestone caves are literally stone libraries in the geologic record of the world. Twice a year the airflow would change and then you'd smell smoke from decrepit old torches dating as far back as 1812. People made saltpeter in these caves, they were natural mines for things that went boom, and one of those 'requirements' meant airflow so you wouldn't suddenly and embarrassingly, drop dead of too much Underground. This is why the coal miners were eternally bemused and asking us questions like airflow. Sometimes you gotta canary. Sometimes you are the canary. This often led to predictable questions that was these old gents trying to be polite, but what they really wanted to know was,

'why the hell are you being paid $10 a trip plus tips to walk us 1.1 miles underground up to 3 times a day and no one has a mortgage gun aimed at your head?'

To which I would say, 'it wasn't quite that bad. If no one shows up at all we get paid $10.' ...Dear Saint Barbara, Chango, and the Gods of Deep Mystery, the things we tell ourselves. $10 a day. Crap. Thank goodness I had Granny's House, dad was paying the property tax, the water was on a well, and garbage was less that $20 a month. A shame we can't afford a TV, but hey, we can stay busy digging up that quarter-acre garden that will keep us fed plus the road kill Deer in the fall.

But the conditions that created saltpeter (I'll go into depth on that later if people are interested) also convinced some weird-ass people in Washington DC that caves were the perfect place to do a DR STRANGELOVE and people could go hide out in the caves, free of...well, nothing, really, because radiation = straight lines +caves, air, irradiated air and water, and everything goes down into the caves...

Look. It made people feel safe, ok? And it wasn't the worst decision the Pentagon ever made, considering they were telling the scientists working with HOT RADIOACTIVE MATTER to stay safe by sticking the stuff on a long pole so they wouldn't have to touch it.

Everybody knows about the bomb shelter President Kennedy was prepared to run to with his family in case of Cold War. It was in the Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs (I prefer to think of it as the HIDDEN FIGURES birthplace). FYI everybody who lived here knew where it was. There are only so many power stations one measly little resort that cries that it can't afford to pay for its own water bill can keep.

[insert sniffle boohoo sobbing of the pro-confederates who run that place and while I can't be there for you, try to imagine the joy I am stockpiling for the day when we have another traitorous uprising and this time, the resort doesn't get a GO PASS GO by dangerous romantics and is finally burned to the ground.]

Anyway, the important people like the President, his family, his Secret Service, his staff, cook, maid-in-waiting, bootblack and et al got to go bunker down in the luxurious bomb shelter at the resort, which probably wouldn't be very resort-y after a certain point of Castro going, 'fuck you, you whippersnapper Irish Dog' or Khrushchev throwing a little more than his shoe around. I'm not convinced it was that great of a place to hide, really. I mean...they have lightning rods on the trees over there, and believe it or not, cavers in that country have been hit by lightning while underground. Because. Lightning. If it can bake entire acres of potatoes in the field, two subterranean surveyors with metal measuring tape haven't got a prayer.

I want you to know that I can't at this point go into detail (space restrictions) on the importance of all these caves to Union Sympathizers, slaves on the Underground Railroad, and the Far-Righter MAGAS called Confederates. Trust me when I say, if you didn't know where these caves were, you had absolutely no right to know.

In Appalachia, limestone caves were listed on properties and handed down because of their value. Thomas Jefferson made a point of making sure there were lots of caves to provide nitre for the Gunpowder Committee. I don't know if landowners had to pay taxes for having saltpeter caves (probably), but when the Cold War came around, they definitely and cheerfully sold the access rights to the government because...it was the government. I am not in the least bit joking when I tell you there are people over there who are still pissed off over George Washington's Whiskey Rebellion.

If you really want to get into the psyche of Appalachians, go read up every scene Terry Pratchett ever wrote about Lancre in his Discworld books. Just give them more libraries and a LOT of coffee stations.

Oh, dear. I forgot all about the owling and the Prohibition.

Owling = the practice of moving your herds of cattle from one ridge to the next to avoid a higher payment when the taxman came a-calling.

Prohibition = The Second Oldest Profession.

These days, many of the Fallout Shelter caves are being used for...modern needs. Meth labs, if you're a sensationalist, but if you aren't, bear in mind that hiding out stolen cattle and horses still requires big places out in the middle of nowhere. But when Mr. Gov't Man came around and offered cash for the access rights to grand-daddy's old saltpetre cave? Goodness gracious, we know we aren't supposed to take people's money from them because that's a sin, but...taxes...you know how it is... (most of the mountain folk had no real quarrel with Kennedy despite his heathen dog Catholicism because it wasn't his fault he was brought up Catholic, but when it came to the government...well, it was the principle of the thing).

In short order papers were drawn, and shelters were built and good god, they were ugly. Clapboard shantytowns, I swear. They were stockpiles whacked together with off-brand plank and tenpenny nails for where the selected few could bunker up in the cozy, damp, dripping, chilly, dusty, sneezy, probably-warm-from-stray-radiation environs. I have no idea who the Pentagon hated enough that they would send them to these caves. They had a bottleneck opening for easy defense, yes, but there was no defense against puking yourself to death or accidentally taking off your own skin with your uniform at the end of your shift.

YOU THINK I"M KIDDING?? YOU THINK IT IS A COINCIDENCE THAT CLASSIC DR WHO SHOWS DALEK HISTORY IN AN OLD STONE QUARRY? WELCOME ABOARD!

A fallout shelter's stockpile generally consisted of

*High-quality medical equipment, even though some of that stuff had a shelf life of three minutes.

*Radio Equipment. Which was probably a real belly laugh to the folks running the NARO satellite dishes up in Green Bank, because families in the most rural portion of WV (Pocahontas County) spent their evenings parsing Latin and teaching the young lads and lasses the wonders of shortwave and how to rig up your own crystals in case you needed to jackleg your own.

*Food. God. Awful. Food. It was designed to keep you alive, but you can't say anything more charitable about it. Honestly, I'm surprised nobody tried to corner a government contract on dehydrated water.

*Water. Potable water for drinking, but, I should say, I couldn't find any means with which you could make a potable distillery. Or, how much of this potable water was going to be used to rehydrate the ghastly awfulness of the dehydrated food, or the canned goods that included stuff the military couldn't wait to forget. Go ask your grandparents how much canned horse Circa WWII they ate while they served, m'kay?

*Candy. High energy, easily digestible candy. Flavor optional, at the discretion of the same government that made the WWII Chocolate Bar.

*The containers themselves. Yep, they counted. They were heavy metal barrels and tough buckets or small drums, plus the amazingly dense metal and plastic containers for medical kits, candy, and misc. I'm not sure if they had a requirement other than impervious, waterproof, and on sale. In fact, the smaller drums/buckets were supposed to be lined with the plastic used to wrap the other goods, and convert into a toilet.

Cold War comes and goes. I'm sure what happened next is shocking:

1) medical supplies goes missing in the dead of night.

2) Electronics follows. That probably makes the electricians feel good, because...what good would they have done in the wet, dust-filled atmosphere of the caves?

3) Candy. Candy, did you say? I don't remember seeing any candy..?

4) The gradual disappearance of the food rations is mysteriously in proportion to camping trips multitasking with double-dog-dares. Who needs a frat pledge if Freckles here has never been introduced to the joys of Dehydrated Ketchup?

5) If you think the backyard blacksmiths are making forges with tire rims, do you think metal containers stand a chance?

This leaves the barrels of water, but who would want to drink that stuff? It's been sitting around for how long? Ew. And the boards for those shelters...cripes.

This inadvertently makes up a tiny little side bonus for the hard-working tour guide. Because these shelters are usually ridiculously close to the entrance of the tour caves. You have to take your tour group in stages, see, and once they finish gasping and wheezing their way through the first 300 steps, you have to take their minds off how miserable they are and pause at the shelter with your flashlight, and describe this little chapter of history. By this time the bats are hanging off the boards (your chance to remind them of the exorbitant federal fines for hurting these little mosquito-hunters), the occasional lost salamander, and the beginnings of the Dreaded Cave Cricket (ten minutes with these little monsters and you'll never think pink is an effete color ever again).

And the mold. There are patches of mold the guides have been watching for YEARS. Some of them have even bothered to look them up, because...tourists. They love to stump the guides and use it as an excuse for not tipping you because you haven't taken a Master's in The Encompassing Topic of Karst Everything and are clearly a dumbass, hah-hah I'll spend my money in the overpriced gift shop, peasant.

But no, folks. If you ask them one more damn time if they're sure all the candy and drugs are gone...we're too tired to take your bleeping bleep bleep tip anyway.

[docholligay]

The Great Nugget Caper, 1 of 2

I only got the first half of this done before I leave for my little birthday trip to a bunkhouse in the middle of nowhere, but I hope you enjoy it anyhow! it’s still 1800 words ahaha. In the MaS universe

It would not be fair to accuse Michiru of being a paranoid sort. She was not necessarily given to imagine that the world would not go on without her, that she was the only one who could appropriately care for a loved one’s needs, that the rest of the world was grossly imcompetent on the subject of how to order delivery or fluff a pillow. To an extent, she prided herself on not being overly fussy on such subjects. If Mina wanted to take M.A. to the park herself, Michiru did not worry. If Rei fed Kimi, she assumed Rei was perfectly capable of such a thing. Michiru was not some fearful clucking hen. 

But all of us fall short of our best expectations, from time to time, and so it was with the current situation. Haruka had been home from the hospital for two weeks, mostly asleep or halfway there in the first, the second slightly more alert on the couch in the living room. She was, in all medical ways, fine. Or doing just as expected, perhaps slightly better than. They had been warned that recovery from the extensive surgery would be slow, though ultimately largely rewarding. 

Haruka had taken it like a champ, she could admit to herself. After fighting against the pain of it just hard enough to prove that she could transfer in and out of her chair herself, and thus be allowed to go home, she had utterly given in to relaxation. Rei and Mina had helped chase her toddler around the house, Kimi was the sweet sort of baby she always had been, and so Haruka had felt little guilt over sleeping for an entire week. 

What she did feel guilt over, however, was her mild annoyance with Michiru’s fussing. 

It made sense, of course. Michiru had been affected by Haruka’s long stint in medical care after the end of the War as much as Haruka had. Haruka had panicked while they readied her for surgery, over which she felt more embarrassment than guilt, though her doctor had been exceedingly kind, and she had cried a little as she came out of anesthesia, which she supposed was just how she was living her life now that she no longer had that same deep well of anger to rely upon. Michiru had seen her in pain and distressed, and it had reactivated some of her old fears as well. 

Haruka told herself this, often. 

Patiently. 

Rounding into the second week, Haruka had begun to taper down her pain medication, and feel slightly more like herself. She went downstairs in the morning to watch TV and read a few magazines. She ever so slowly and carefully changed her pajamas and washed her hair. She rolled into the kitchen around noon and made a simple little lunch. She colored with M.A. All of which might have been fine but for Michiru’s insistence on helping, or that Haruka was pushing too hard and going to hurt herself. It became a buzzing background noise, like a mosquito to the ear. Haruka let me help you. Please, allow me. I can rinse you. M.A, Papa needs to rest. She had tried removing her hearing aid, to remember, in a twist of cruelty, that her hearing loss only affected the one ear. 

The grilled cheese was the last straw. 

Haruka had thick cut bacon, peppered and sweet smoked, a gift from Usagi and Seiya for her recovery. Did Usagi understand love outside of food? Sometimes Haruka wasn’t sure, but she would never complain about getting artisan bacon. She had been thinking about it all morning, until she putzed slowly into the kitchen and laid out some simple white bread, cheese, and started to fry up the carbon in a pan. She was going to cook the grilled cheese in the bacon grease. She was a genius. 

“Oh, Haruka, you must let me do that.” 

Haruka sighed. “Michi, it’s a grilled cheese. I make it for our three year old all the time.” 

“No,” MIchiru came up behind her, “the pan is very hot, and remember, she said it would be six weeks at least until you were fully recovered.” she shook her head and took the handle of the pan, “I will make this for you, my love, please, please go rest.” 

“It’s a grilled cheese.” she looked up at Michiru. “I’m not doing anything. I haven’t been outside of the house or the hospital in weeks.” 

“Haruka.” 

Haruka Tenoh made mistakes. Her heart was often in the right place, but who knew where the hell her brain was half the time. Later, she would blame this particular breach of intellect on the pain medication, and her great love of her wife. She looked so worried. She was so insistent. She clearly loved Haruka and wanted her to get better. 

She shrugged and wheeled herself back to the living room, gingerly setting herself on the couch. Michiru, a bit longer than Haruka might have expected later, presented her with a grilled cheese sandwich, or what might have been a grilled cheese sandwich in another life. The bread was charred black and smelt of burnt oil, the cheese had flowed out the side and barely caressed her beautiful bacon. The bacon had been slaughtered a second time, crisp to the point of blackness, the gorgeous peppering flacked off. There was no hope for the sweet cure. 

For the first time in a very long time, Haruka felt the icy fingers of despair close around her heart. 

There are a multitude of reasons to expand our families beyond blood or legality, to create communities that allow support to be a web of many threads and not one singular lifeline. If it had only been Michiru and Haruka against the world, it might have been too much to ask against the frustration of a ruined sandwich, and the thousand small cuts of Michiru’s worry. Luckily, Rei saw everything, even when she could hardly see. She had tried, as gently as Rei knew how, to tell Michiru that Haruka was perfectly capable of doing small things for herself. 

“Haruka is perfectly capable of doing small things for herself.” She said, in what she felt was an impressive show of gentleness. “That sandwich looks awf--not like what Haruka wanted.” 

Michiru frowned deeply. “I confess it will not win any particular culinary award.” 

“Come on,” Rei grabbed her by the elbow. “We’re taking the kids to the zoo.” 

Haruka had never loved Rei so deeply as she did in this moment. Bless her stubborn, impossible, insistent personality, at least right now. She picked Kimi up from her tummy time and moved toward the door. 

“M.A.!” she yelled upstairs. ‘Your Mama and I are going to take you to the zoo!” 

There was a tiny thundering and a shout of pleasure, but Michiru looked at Rei as if she might be both insane and a traitor. 

“I can’t possibly leave, Haruka needs--”

“Michiru, I’ll be fine.” Haruka laid her head back on the couch, eyes to the unfeeling ceiling.” 

She whirled about. “And what if there is some emergency? A fire? A flood? What if you fall?” 

“Michi--” 

“That’s why I’m here,” as if on queue, and perhaps on direct text from Rei, Mina came through the door, grinning brightly, her choppy bob bright pink at the shoulders, “I’ll fireman’s carry her over my shoulder and dump her on the lawn.” 

Michiru pursed her lips together tightly. For all the sins she could, and would, happily lay at Mina’s feet, she would never let harm come to Haruka if she could help it. Michiru knew this to be true, as well as she knew that Rei was never going to allow her to stay in the house with Haruka. 

It is frustrating, to lose, but it happens to us all eventually. 

Michiru took her purse from Rei’s outstretched hand and gave a brief huff. As Rei helped M.A. get on her shoes, and clicked Kimi into a stroller, Michiru looked at Mina seriously. 

“She needs her pain medication every 6 hours, and she can take an extra if there’s a particular breakthrough. Nothing too strenuous, or I will hear about it, and I will be terribly cross with you--” 

“Oh no, not cross!” Mina broke into a peal of laughter, “Calm down. We’re not gonna do anything. We’re gonna make grilled cheese or some shit.” 

“Nothing. Strenuous.” She walked back over to Haruka. “You’re certain you won’t need my help.” 

“Babe,” she took Michiru’s hand, “I am SO sure I don’t need your help.” 

Michiru stood for a moment, still trying to play the chess game, still trying to reason out a way that she could win the day and stay with Haruka, watching her, caring for her, ensuring that she was safe. But there seemed no way to move the king, with all of them set against her, and so she sighed. 

“Promise me that you will take care.” She shook her head, “That you won’t hurt yourself in some foolish attempt at bravado.” 

“No one wants to do this again less than me.” 

She nodded, withdrew her hand, and looked back to Mina. “Behave.” 

“Michiru!” Rei snapped from her position behind Kimi’s stroller. “Come on, everyone’s waiting.” 

“Come on, Mama!” M.A. tapped her toe and waved. 

Michiru put her purse and her shoulder and took her coat, sighing as she followed the little parade out the door, taking one long last look at Haruka. Haruka smiled and waved as they left, and the door shut behind them, cloaking the room in silence once more. 

Haruka dramatically threw her head back and sighed. “I love my wife.” 

MIna sat down at the edge of the couch. “Yeah, I have to remind myself of that sometimes too.” 

“She’s just,” she sighed again, “I know she worries about me, and I know it was a big surgery and stuff but, you know, I, I’m an adult, and I can make a grilled cheese sandwich.” 

Mina glanced over at the side table. “Well, if that’s the banner for adulthood, Michiru’s in trouble, that’s for damn sure.” 

Haruka chuckled, then looked longingly at the sandwich. “That was Usagi’s special bacon.” 

“Our lives are nothing but sacrifice for the princess,” it sounded strange coming out of her mouth. She hadn’t thought of Usagi as the princess for at least a year, she thought, but there it always was. She stood up quickly, as if she could dodge the thought. “What do you want to do today?” 

Haruka crossed her arms and looked up at Mina conspiratorially. “I want to get out of here.” 

“Like the backyard?” 

“Mina,” Haruka adjusted herself carefully on the couch, “I haven’t left the house in weeks. Michi’s watching me like a hawk. I want to go out, to a shitty bar, our shitty bar, and get a beer, and a plate of loaded chicken nuggets, and I want it right now.” 

“You realize your wife will kill me if she catches us?”

“Yeah.” 

“Noble of you to be willing to sacrifice my life like that.”  Mina tucked her hair behind her ear, “Are you supposed to drink on your meds?” 

“No.”

“Excellent. I’m in.”

[wafflebloggies]

Second Contact

[more of this]

They were building next door, again. Alan didn’t have any more idea what they were building than he’d had when they’d moved in, but the shuddering noises kept on and on and on, from behind the tall, bleak, green-painted steel wall around the perimeter of the place where the house next door had been. Alan lay awake and stared up at the ceiling, watching the lampshade sway in the pale slant of moonlight, jerking with each percussive thud. The noise usually stopped by midnight. His parents seemed to be able to sleep through it.

The lampshade jumped like a salmon. Alan jolted upright with a gasp. That one hadn’t even sounded like it came from next door. It sounded like something dropping onto the roof of their house, directly over his head.

He told himself to calm down, made himself lie down again. His imagination, it was just his imagination. It had to be. Nothing could-

The window creaked.

Alan was suddenly very aware of the space in the room, the night breeze stirring the curtains, the empty floor, every single hair that was trying to crawl right off his arms and the back of his neck. He'd never felt more awake in his life- he was pretty sure no other ten-year-old in the history of the world had ever been this awake, ever.

 His eyes were riveted on the window, where the moon shining against the curtains made a perfect backlit shadow theatre. The shape of Something- a slow, long, spidery, distorted Something- eased up the sash, and slid into the pool of shade under the window.

Into his room.

Alan wasn’t quite sure how he ended up out of bed, but he did it. Before the dark mass under the window started to move again, he had slipped out from under his bedclothes and into the recess between the bed and the wall. Directly in front of him, the tall obelisk of his wardrobe blocked the way. It was the biggest thing in the room- too big, really, for a room this small. It was right between him and the door.

The Something moved across the room. Flattened against the floor by the baseboard, all Alan could make out was the soft pad of footsteps on the rug under his ear. He couldn’t tell how many feet. He couldn’t even hear breathing. Very slowly, praying nothing would catch or shift or creak, he pushed out with his bare foot, felt with his toes under the wardrobe’s nearest corner for the heavy wooden knob of its front leg. The frail one, with the twist- the one his dad kept meaning to fix.

The Something stepped into the moonlight, into the centre of the room. Alan held his breath, shut his eyes tight, and kicked.

The wardrobe moved, but not much. At the horrible shifting creak it made, the Something turned suddenly, and Alan caught the flash of an eye and something else- something unearthly and inhuman that glinted like metal. He kicked again, terror giving an edge to his strength, and flung his shoulder against the back edge of the wardrobe. It was just enough.

The wardrobe toppled, the lower drawers sliding out as it went, thudding into the rug like a handful of giant’s dominoes. The Something let out a single shocked squawk before the whole thing went over, and before the heavy front had even slammed into the floor, Alan was moving, diving across the room for the torch in his desk drawer. He grabbed it and pumped it up, the whirring of the battery loud in the wake of the wardrobe’s settling crash. The strengthening beam of light swung wildly across the room, and Alan scrambled across the bed and peered down at the floor.

“Ow,” whined the Something. “That actually really hurt.”

---8---

“I mean you no harm,” said the alien.

It was a strange thing to say, considering. Most of the alien was sandwiched, firmly, under the bulk of the wardrobe. Alan, who was sitting on top of the wardrobe with his bare feet drawn up, to put as much weight on it as possible, shifted his grip on the mosquito whacker in his hands. He didn’t feel too confident, facing down an alien-robot-monster-thing with nothing but a two-dollar electrified tennis racket, but at least he wasn’t the one pinned to the floor.

He wasn’t entirely convinced by the thing’s delivery, either. The words were ‘I mean you no harm,’ but the way they were said sounded more like ‘you just wait.’

“Who are you?” he said, shakily. “What are you? What are you doing in my bedroom?”

He could feel it trying to pull itself free. It was hard to believe that the floor-shaking crash the wardrobe had made as it tipped had failed to wake either of his parents, but then, the three of them had been dealing with the horrendous construction noise from across the street every night since they’d moved in. Probably, by this point, his parents could have slept through an earthquake with very little disturbance. Alan didn’t dare get down off the wardrobe to fetch them, just in case his own relatively insignificant weight was the only thing preventing the thing’s escape.

The alien squirmed a bit, but seemed to realise it was well and truly stuck. It let out a long, impatient sigh. “Don’t freak out, okay,” it said, “but… I’m not from this planet.”

Alan stared. “Well, yeah,” he said, at last. “You’re an alien robot, I heard you landing on the roof.”

“I’m not a robot- you’re actually being very rude right now, you know? Just because parts of me happen to be inorganic-”

“Rude? You broke into my room!”

“The window was open!”

They stared at each other. The bedside lamp had been knocked over in the initial scuffle, and in the crooked slant of light Alan could see the alien’s eyes, very vivid emerald green and slightly reflective in its metallic face. It wasn’t a big creature. Given that most of it was under the wardrobe, it was maybe about the same size as he was.

“You know, this wasn’t the sort of welcome I was expecting at all,” said the alien. Its voice was loaded with accusation. “It took me a really, really long time to get here, I had a lot of majorly cool plans, and all that’s happened since I arrived is, people yelling at me, and refusing to listen, and now you actually attacked me, and I don’t- I don’t feel like you people are even taking me seriously at all! What do I have to do? Literally, what do you want from me, I’m the first contact you humans have ever had with an interstellar species, exponentially more advanced than your own, would it kill you to show me a little respect? I- I have a ship and everything! I… I…”

It stumbled over its words, and stopped. The silence dragged out for a little bit, and Alan was about to speak when to his astonishment and embarrassment he heard the alien make a noise like a stifled sniffle.

“Are- are you… crying?”

“No,” said the alien, furiously and damply.

Alan arrived at a decision. He put down the mosquito whacker and climbed down off the wardrobe, ready to dash back at any moment if the thing tried to make a move. He padded over to his school coat, hanging on the back of the door, went through the pockets and brought the alien a crumpled tissue, which after some hesitation it took, and blew its nose on.

“My name’s Alan,” he offered, sitting down on the rug by the alien’s side, against the wardrobe. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

It made a sound halfway between a hiccup and an incredulous sniff. “Hurt me? It’d take more than this stupid, flimsy little… uh…”

“Wardrobe.”

“…wardrobe, to hurt me. I mean, it’s kind of squashing me into the floor, but that’s no biggie.” Another nose-blow.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m- uh- well, my name is way too complex to translate into your primitive phonology. You can just call me, uh… the Captain.”

He posed, dramatically, or at least as much as he could, squished as he was between the wardrobe and the floor. He really didn’t look very comfortable.

---8---

“Cool! That’s great, Alan. Maybe you can start by getting this thing off me, how does that sound?”

Alan sat back on his heels.

“Actually, um, I’m not sure I can,” he admitted. “I don’t think I can move this thing by myself. Dad had to ask the guy next door to help us get it up the stairs. Mom says it’s genuine oak.”

“That’s nice,’ said the alien. ‘I’m glad I’m not having my spine crushed by some cheap knockoff.”

They tried, anyway. Alan braced his feet on the wall and pushed until he saw flashing lights, and the alien made a lot of straining noises without appearing to actually help much, but the wardrobe didn’t budge an inch. Giving it up as a bad job, Alan pushed his sweaty curls out of his face and tried to think.

“In movies,” he said, slowly, “kids always try to keep stuff like this a secret.”

“Which never works,” the alien pointed out.

“Yeah, it never- wait, how do you know?”

“Oh, I know movies,” said the alien, shifting under the wardrobe enough to rest his chin on his hands. “I’ve watched all of them.”

Alan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He was just beginning to say ‘what do you mean, all of them?’ when a sound from the direction of his parents’ room down the hall brought him sharply back to the problem in hand.

“I’m going to get Mom and Dad,” he said, standing up. “Don’t worry, they’re… uh… don’t worry, okay? Just try to look… harmless.”

The small alien-robot-kid stuck half-under his wardrobe gave him a look that was at the same time both overly patient and quite unreasonably exasperated.

“I’ll try,” he said.

---8---

Alan knew his ground.

“We can't just call the police, Mom,” he said. “We can't. We don't know what they might do to him. What if NASA decides to, to experiment on him?”

His parents looked dazedly at him, the alien, and each other. They had the shellshocked faces of two sensible, rational adults who really weren’t prepared to be dealing with this sort of thing at 3AM.

“Alan-”

“There's this thing they showed us in class that they can do to monkeys, where they cut it open and put its brain in a sort of dish of chemicals, and it's still alive, and they poke it and make the monkey react, and its body is still twitching around even though its brain is gone! What if they do that to him?”

“Alan,” said his dad, after a rather queasy sort of pause, “it's not our-”

“It IS our responsibility, Dad! Look at him! He's not going to hurt anybody! What if they torture him? What if they kill him, and next week, his whole family shows up and atomizes the planet? We don't know! We're the only people who can do anything now, while his brain's still on the inside!”

The alien had listened to all this with the aloof, dignified expression of somebody who didn't understand a single word. Alan's mother put a hand on his dad's arm, and drew him across the room to the window, where they started to talk in urgent, grown-up whispers. There was a lot of pointing and waving, mostly from his dad, who talked with his hands. Alan watched them, trying to make out what they were saying, but after a minute the alien poked him in the leg.

“What did you tell them?”

“Um,” said Alan. “Just, er, that you're very important and it'd be good for Earth if they helped you, probably.”

The alien nodded. “Very diplomatic,” he said, approvingly. “Tell them they can start by getting this wardrobe off me.”

[goodlucktai]

a life in your shape

the moomins pairing: moomin/snufkin word count: 2290 read on ao3

x

“Oh, my,” Moominmamma says, pressing a hand to her mouth. It doesn’t quite manage to hide her smile. “Someone looks comfortable.”

“Shh, don’t wake him!” Moomin whispers. He can feel his face warming at everyone’s attention but he scowls around at them anyway. Hunching his shoulders and hovering protectively, Moomin insists, “He’ll be embarrassed.”

“He should be,” My says immediately. But there’s no heat to it, and she nudges Sniff with her boot none too gently when it looks like he’s about to say something else. “Let’s start a new game. I’ll be the dealer.”

Moominmamma sets a folded blanket within reach of the sofa before she moves back toward the kitchen. Snorkmaiden is grinning, bright and full of mischief, but she reaches over to take Moomin’s playing cards without making fun.

The moment Moomin’s hands are freed, they gravitate automatically to the mumrik on his lap.

Snufkin makes a noise in his sleep that is entirely contented and rolls over so that his face is smushed against Moomin’s stomach. Oblivious to the muffled giggles from the other side of the table, thank goodness, and dreaming deeply.

He gets this way sometimes, when it’s warm and sunny and the air is sweet. Moomin can’t count how many times he’s nearly stumbled over Snufkin having a nap in the middle of the garden or the flowering meadow. Typically, Moomin is quick to crawl in and join him. It isn’t strange at all!

But he’s never done it here before. On the sofa in the drawing room, with all their friends around, right before lunch. Snufkin nodded off with his cards still in his hand, slumping over onto Moomin’s shoulder.

“Oh, Snuf, you’ll ache all over if you sleep like that,” Moomin had said right away, thinking little of it. To be fair, there was a patch of sunlight pouring right over them from the window, which made their seat the perfect spot for an afternoon nap. “Lay down properly, I don’t mind.”

Half-gone already, Snufkin promptly did as he was told. He took off his hat, scooted far enough away that he could lay down with his head on Moomin’s leg, and was out like a light. That was nearly twenty minutes ago, and Moomin has lost every single game he’s played since. To say he’s distracted is, perhaps, an understatement.

It’s just-- Snufkin is very soft when he’s asleep. He’s solid but not heavy, and warm like a hot water bottle. Every other breath he takes catches on a faint purr, so quiet Moomin is probably the only one in the room close enough to hear. Snufkin’s arms are curled up by his chest, the sleeves of his weathered smock riding up, and his dappled wrists are like velvet where the dark fur of his paws meets his much paler forearms.

Moomin smooths his fingers over one of Snufkin’s wrists with unending care, marveling at the texture. He’s very different from a fluffy moomin or a snork. Even his half-sisters don’t have paws or a tail or eyes that shine like lamps in the dark. He’s a creature all his own, as far as Moomin knows. Even if there were others just like him out there somewhere in the big world he so loves to travel, Moomin can’t imagine they’d hold a candle to his Snufkin. No one ever could.

“He’s really tired,” Sniff says through a mouthful of one of the cinnamon rolls leftover from breakfast. When did he filch those from the kitchen? Moomin didn’t even see him get up. “Winter must have been hard on him last year, huh?”

Moomin’s mouth is already open to scold Sniff for hogging all the leftover sweets, but that draws him up short. He blinks, and says, “I dunno. He didn’t tell me anything about it being hard.”

“He wouldn’t, would he?” My says impatiently, glowering at what must be a losing hand of cards. “You’d worry, and he would feel bad, and then he’d have to make it up to you somehow. He saves himself a lot of hassle by only telling you about the good stuff.”

Stricken, Moomin blurts, “I make him feel bad?”

“That’s not what she meant, Moomintroll,” Snorkmaiden jumps in. She looks like she’d like to pat his arm, but doesn’t want to reach over the sleeping Snufkin to do it. She settles for an affectionate smile. “She just means he’s considerate of your feelings. He would be really sorry if he hurt you, so he’s careful not to, that’s all.”

Little My says, “That’s not what I meant, you’re putting words in my mouth,” and Sniff loses interest in the conversation in favor of another roll, but Moomin thinks about it. He can’t stop thinking about it. He turns it over and over in his head, even as he goes on carefully petting one of Snufkin’s wrists.

Truly, the only things he knows about the world and Snufkin’s journeys are the things Snufkin tells him. Snufkin has sometimes told him about little things that have gone wrong, the days he only had mushrooms and berries to eat because the fish wouldn’t bite, the nights his tent leaked or let mosquitoes in. But surely he must get tired sometimes. Surely it storms, surely he gets lost, maybe he even gets hurt.

Moomin can feel his stomach turning at the idea, and realizes My has a point. If Snufkin ever told him something terrible had happened to him when he was away and all alone, Moomin would probably be sick with worry every time he left from then on, and it would turn every autumn sour.

But-- he isn’t a little child anymore. He knows better. After all these years, he knows that the three quarters of the year Snufkin stays in the valley is more of a compromise than Moomin had any right to ask for or expect. It’s blatantly going against his nature, to stay so long and return every year, but here he is for yet another summer. Here he is, deeply asleep while his friends talk and play around him, closer to them than he’s ever let himself get before, a companionship he had to learn.

Moomin thinks of how little he’s given in return and bites down on an unhappy noise before it slips out.

“Lunch is ready, everyone,” Moominmamma says from the kitchen, her voice a bit softer than usual. “We’re eating out in the yard today.”

Papa must have set up the table and chairs already, or Mama probably would have asked Moomin to help. As his friends lay aside their cards and get up to file outside, Moomin says, “Mama, can I eat later?”

“Of course, dear. I’ll put a plate aside for Snufkin, too.”

When the door closes behind her, Moomin and Snufkin are alone in the house. It’s quiet, the mealtime chatter muffled through the walls and removed from this peaceful, sun-filled room. Everything is touched with gold, dust motes winking in an out of the light.

Moomin has never been so happy to sit still. He’s a little hungry, and his leg is starting to itch, but he doesn’t want to move an inch.

“I don’t ever want you to feel bad, Snuf,” Moomin tells his sleeping friend, petting the dandelion puff of Snufkin’s hair into order with his fingers. It takes some work, since Snufkin very rarely wants anything to do with brushes, and Moomin bends all his attention to the task. “You’re always looking after me, but I’d like to look after you, too. Every now and then, at least. You hardly need it, but when you do, I’d like it to be me.”

He doesn’t want there to be a line between them that Snufkin thinks he can’t cross. He doesn’t want there to be things Snufkin can’t tell him.

Moomin will never be happy to see Snufkin leave, and he’ll always miss Snufkin when he’s gone-- but a few weeks out of the year is small change, really. And it’s always such a delight to see him in the spring that it makes the time spent missing him worthwhile. It makes Moomin’s heart race, to hear that harmonica drifting over the hills for the first time in the new year, to run headlong down the hill and crash into Snufkin’s waiting arms, to love until he aches from it.

He doesn’t think he would ever want to give up those moments of meeting again. Yearning desperately for someone isn’t a pleasant feeling, not all the time, but the giddy expectation of seeing them again is sweeter than apricot jam. Moomin is suddenly much closer to understanding part of the reason why Snufkin is so adamant about leaving in the fall.

Most of it has to do with the manner of creature he is, the wanderlust in his heart and the hungry curiosity that drives him from place to place, but perhaps some of it has to do with how nice it is to miss someone you love and be missed by them when you’re away.

“Oh,” Moomin says, very still. “Oh, I see.”

“Hmm,” Snufkin murmurs, barely rousing. “What do you see?”

Moomin shakes his head, pushing the untidy fringe out of Snufkin’s slitted eyes. The touch lingers, because it has no reason not to, his friend a familiar shape beneath his hands. “Just thinking about how clueless I’ve been, that’s all. We can talk more about it when you’re awake.”

Snufkin blinks a few times, giving the words a moment to permeate. Once he’s made sense of them, he agrees, “When I’m awake.” A pause. “You don’t look very comfortable.”

“I’d rather lie down with you than sit up anymore,” Moomin admits.

So they shuffle and maneuver themselves into a different position, a well-practiced ritual from all the stormy nights Snufkin was bullied into sharing Moomin’s bedroom over the years, and Moomin remembers the blanket Mama left for them on the table by the sofa.

The sofa’s not really meant for both a moomin and a mumrik to nap there together, but they manage. Snufkin can sleep in impossible places, and he fits really anywhere he puts his mind to. He’s mostly laying across Moomin to consolidate space, and the weight of him, and the weight of the blanket, and the weight of the sunlight touching down on them from all the windows, makes staying awake for very much longer a Herculean task.

Still, Moomin doesn’t want to sleep yet. He touches Snufkin’s hair, distracted by it, and Snufkin says, “I should cut it.”

“If you want,” Moomin says agreeably. When Snufkin cuts it, he cuts it all the way gone, and his head is left covered in an uneven fuzz not unlike the dappled fur on his wrists. Moomin likes that as much as he likes having this ridiculous mane to mess with. There’s not much about Snufkin that Moomin doesn’t like, really. “Or we could try braiding it. Mymble probably knows how.”

Snufkin makes a noise of interest at that. He’ll hold off cutting it, now. Moomin smiles at knowing him so well, and bumps his nose to the top of Snufkin’s head.

“You’re silly,” he says fondly. “Go back to sleep.”

He would chafe at this, if it were a few years ago. He would want every second of Snufkin’s attention he could have, and he would want to fill those seconds with adventures and games and memories for Snufkin to take with him into the wider world when he left, as if begging don’t forget me.

Moomin is a little embarrassed to have been that child. He was kind and thoughtful without a doubt, because he was raised that way by kind and thoughtful parents, but sometimes he was very greedy, and never more so than with Snufkin.  

Snufkin, who would never forget him. Who has seen the whole world and then some and chooses their little valley to return to, year after year. Who wrote Moomin a song of his very own, the happiest song Moomin’s ever heard, and plays it in both greeting and farewell.

One doesn’t have to be present to be here, Moomin thinks. To say Snufkin is truly gone is to say he’s not there in Moomin’s heart, and that is a lie and a falsehood and every horrible thing in between. And it’s okay to miss him, because loving him while he’s away isn’t quite the same as loving him while he’s here to hold, but it’s nothing to be sad about.

In fact, he’s rather lucky.

“Don’t forget, though,” he says, blinking through a wetness in his eyes he can’t explain. “I want to talk to you about something when we wake up.”

“Something important?” comes the mumble, muffled against Moomin’s shoulder.

“Oh, very. I have an apology for you. And an epiphany to share!”

“The apology I don’t need. But any epiphany of yours will be an inspiration.” Snufkin’s tail swings once, lazy, where it’s hanging over the side of the sofa. He stretches like melting rubber, all languid limbs and self-satisfaction. “We’ll write it into a song.”

Absurdly touched, Moomin says, “You don’t even know what it’s about yet.”

“A poem, then. A secret one, for you and me. Can you tell me what the theme will be, or am I meant to wait for the rest of this very important conversation?”

“You’re silly,” Moomin says another time, because it bears repeating. He noses Snufkin’s hair again. “I suppose I can tell you now, since it’s nothing you wouldn’t have guessed. The theme will be love.”

“Ah.” Snufkin sounds pleased, but not surprised. Moomin can feel the shape of a mumrik smile pressed to his fur. “The very best one.”

[houseswolo]

Day 17 - 'Tis The Season To Be Thirsting

"Oh come all ye Forceful..."

The last of our Thirsties to be showcased:

Wilson

(Tumblr: @wilsonthinks66​ | Twitter: Wilsonthinks66 | Ao3: Wilson66)

What got you into Star Wars?

When a certain Adam Driver revealed his beautiful face in The Force Awakens 😍 helloo handsome

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!

"You're not alone." "Neither are you."

I think I told Luke to piss off and let them kiss!

Why do you write / make art?

Because why not?! I write when I have that little niggling idea that just won't go away.

The Object of your Thirst…

Oh so many but if we're sticking to the Star Wars it's got to be the beautiful Adam Driver and my favourite ginger Domhnall Gleeson

Which Adam look do you like the best?

Unwrapped and bare chested 🤤😍

Which Adam avatar/ role do you like the best?

Flip Zimmerman, I think my stomach literally flipped (pun intended 😏) when Adam wheeled around on that chair 💦💦

Which part of Adam do you like the best? 

A part? How can you only pick one part.

Favorite Star Wars Movie

Probably The Force Awakens, it was the film that made me watch the others in preparation, although Rogue one is a close second.

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

Don't judge me but I love writing angst obviously with a well earned happy ending. This is what I want to write as I've made a promise to myself to focus on what I enjoy reading/writing and not worry about others' opinions.

**Eyes the dark Evil Rey idea that won't leave me alone recently**

We'll get to you soon.

(HS: Dooo eeeet!)

Your TRoS Prediction

They all live happily ever after... Hux included 🤞❤️ no I know that may be too optimistic but I do hope we get Bendemption 😍

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

Red and black are my favourite colour combination, although I adore autumn colours too🍁🧡

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating? 

Silence 😂 seriously I am so easily distracted that I need solitary confinement 😅 which may be why I sometimes struggle to finish fics.

Are you a dom or sub? 

Switch baby! 🤘 For the perfect partner I'll be whatever they need 😏

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

I've spent most of my life at yards, I'm not going to miss the opportunity to roll about the straw barn, now am I? 🙊

What's your kink?

Who doesn't love a good Dom but on the flip who doesn't love a well-behaved sub? 🤷 I'm easily pleased.

Use three words to describe yourself

Loyal, kind (I hope I come across as such) and argumentative sometimes because I can fall out with myself if I'm that way inclined 😂

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

Well it's my name and I wasn't feeling imaginative 😅

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

I'm a don't touch me while a sleep spoon, solitary spoon 😘

Do you like it rough or soft? 

See if you pick one, you lose out on the other. I'm too greedy for that.

Favorite fic you read

Unexpected by pontmercy44. The first star wars fandom fic I ever read that introduced me into this world, I guess.

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

Decades to Fall for Sunshineflying. A reyux fic (don't shoot the multishipper!) That I just loved writing and wish that every fic was that easy to create. 😍❤️

Favorite SW character besides Kylo and Rey

Oh well this is so hard for me umm 🤔 maybe that ginger General of First Order... I struggle to remember his name 😘 love me some Hux

______

Taz

(Tumblr: @tazwren | Twitter: WrenTaz | Ao3: TazWren & TrashcanWren)

What got you into Star Wars?

Literally, a lightsaber being stuck into my hand, at 7yrs, and being asked to be Vader to my cousin’s Luke Skywalker. I’d never heard of SW till that moment, and I fell headfirst into the Dark Side and in love with the galaxy far, far away! Its been the one franchise that as been a constant for me, the whole time growing up, and I’ve loved having something SW to look forward to every few years. SW and Reylo lifer! 😁😁😎😎

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!

“You are not alone.” The minute Kylo/Ben said those words, I was gone for Reylo. No true villain would give a flying fuck about his so-called adversary’s mental and emotional health. When their hands touched? I screeched in that theatre! And I may have yelled at Luke as well. Walked out and hunted for Kylo/Rey fanfics and the rest was history!

Why do you write / make art?

I do because the stories show up and make it impossible for me to do anything else but tell them. They buzz and breed and drown out all other sounds, like manic mosquitoes. They can be quite a nuisance that way, but... *throws up hands* ... I gots to do what they tell me to do! 😆

The Object of your Thirst…

Uh, do I even need to answer this? Adam Douglas Driver, Mr.Sensitive-on-a-stick, BDE Boss hisself 😎😏

Once I discovered him, all others ceased to exist for me. (Hugh, who? Chris, what?)

Which Adam look do you like the best?

I like Adam every which way, but my favorites are with facial scruff and slightly shaggy hair - Phillip Altman meets Ben Swolo. Oooh, anytime he is a sweater (or half out of one!) or with his shirtsleeves rolled up. So, um, yeah... 😁

Which Adam avatar/ role do you like the best?

Philip Altman is BAE - he always lightens my heart. And Ben Solo? He owns the frickin’ thing. So yeah, anyone who knows me, knows one ain’t enough 😏

Which part of Adam do you like the best?

His face - it’s so emotive and expressive! His eyes, those lips, that smile that launches a gazillion ships. His hands, his strong-ass arms. That glorious mane of hair. Have I mentioned them tiddies and the tree-trunk thighs?! Oh, and when he flexes his back, and...

Uh... let’s just say, everything Adam? 

Favorite Star Wars Movie

The Last Jedi was the most beautifully written and shot movie in the entire franchise, with a depth of characterization and exploration of symbolism that was brilliant. This will always rate as the best for me. A close second, and one I will always love, is Empire Strikes Back. That was quintessential Star Wars and an amazingly good watch - snark, action, angst, love, betrayal, rescue, OMFG!

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

Until I started writing Reylo, I’d never been able to write fiction. I could never visualize the stories. And once I started, I haven’t been able to stop! I’ll write anything Reylo, I’ll try writing anything at least once (so, yeah, there may be dark fic as well one day!). My style defaults to either mildly angsty, or humour-laced fluff, or depraved smut. So, not sure what that says about me 😂

Your TRoS Prediction

Bendemption. Reylo. *mic drop*

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

Blacks, Reds, Greys, slashes of bright turquoise and white and ochre. Blue and white-striped awnings shading an alfresco cafe, overlooking a green ocean. Bright, city lights, reds and yellows glinting off the black water of a bay. A busy airport, with the scents of perfume from Duty-Free as you zoom past it.

If you were a candy bar, what would your name be?

The Ever-lasting Gobstopper 😂

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating?

In a hotel room, on my own. In the back of cab, in the window-seat of an airplane. At my desk, looking out through the window as the breeze blows through the trees, and the Burn This playlist keeps going on repeat. 

Are you a dom or sub?

Both? Both is good.

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

On the back of a bike, in the middle of the night, stopped at a traffic intersection.

What's your kink?

Size. Hands. Humour. Fidelity, and yet threesomes (go figure, I’m depraved). Mild Dom. Intelligence and thoughtfulness. Hair. Fuck it, Adam.

Use three words to describe yourself

Loyal, funny, organized-chaos (its a thing, trust me!)

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

I’ve always had Taz as a nickname, for the Warner Bros Tasmanian Devil (yes, I’ve been known to be exactly like that! 😂). Wren is a nod to Kylo Ren, and the fact that one of the earliest fanfics I read had Rey naming her son ‘Wren’ as a backhanded pointer to Kylo! So I’m, Taz, a Knight of Ren.

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

I can be both, till I fall asleep. Then, pls leave me tf alone 😬😁

Do you like it rough or soft?

Both - why choose?!

Favorite fic you read

There are so very many in this amazing fandom! The one that I’ve loved from the beginning, though, is The Art of Broken Pieces - a beautifully written Bendemption fic. 

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

God, this is hard! My recent favorites are Brooklyn Bridge Blues, Caught Between Beats, and A Taste For Two - I like that I’m able to explore a variety of stories and emotions through them. I’m most proud of Confidences To A Stranger because I was able to explore a storytelling medium that I hadn’t before. 

Favorite SW character besides Kylo and Rey

Padme Amidala - she reminds me of my mother and grandmother, both of whom were strong women, who got shit done, while always taking care of their people. She was a queen in more than just name. Han Solo - I am weak for a scoundrel/villain/bad boy in a leather jacket, with a hardass, snarky exterior that hides a heart of gold. The reluctant hero.💙

____

Meet the other Thristies! Thirst Order Advent Calendar Day:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

cc: @tazwren @drnucleus @ashtyntaytertot @deadlikemoi @nite0wl29 @thereylowritingden @houseplaidam @housedadam @house-crylo @housereysistance @my-jedi-life @shestoolazytologin @koderenn @thoseindarkness @areylofan @lostinqueue-ffa @queenoferebor  @cosmo-gonika @roguesinside @wilsonthinks66  @dangertaylor @lilia-ula @wandering-minds-found @looc-at-me @hopelesslyreylo @ferashacosplay @andabatae-writes @semperfidani ​ @reylo-fade-to-grey @cb-lainey-schooled

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 3: Of Monsters and Men

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Taylor meets his new bodyguard, debates casual necromancy, and learns the truth behind his hallucinations. All while a fae makes him cream soda.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Taylor doesn’t remember waking up — one second he’s asleep and the next he just isn’t.

Despite the things he’s seen (not really seen, but thought he’s seen) he’s not a fan of these kinds of wakings. Would rather emerge slowly as if from a cocoon. With enough time between breaths and heartbeats to let the dreams that plagued him fade away into fuzzy oblivion — forgotten despite all efforts to bring them back to recent memory.

He prefers it because when he wakes all at once there’s no helping remembering his dreams.

And all of that — the cemetery, Vera’s gloves, Kristin’s tears, the moon and moldy flowers — definitely isn’t something he wants to linger on.

“Are you gonna freak out now? Because these walls ain’t soundproofed.”

The voice resists its accent; clips sounds the Louisiana slang wants to let hang. He’s never heard it before but doesn’t need to.

It does the trick. Reminds Taylor how easily the world of dreams can blend with reality.

He takes in his surroundings with eyes still shut. The scratchy pilling on the cushions underneath, the stale air that’s made his shirt stick sweaty to his body, the repetitive squeak of a portable fan that should have retired a lifetime ago.

If he keeps his eyes shut will it all go away? Can it really be that easy?

Of course it isn’t. He knows it, the stranger knows it… but still a guy can dream.

“I know you’re awake, kid,” the stranger continues, “sleepin’ people don’t breathe like that.”

Taylor’s nose scrunches. “Don’t watch me breathe.”

“Then don’t breathe weird.”

The fact I‘m not hyperventilating right now is a fucking miracle, Taylor wants to say back — doesn’t in favor of inhaling so hard his nostrils burn before letting it out in a whistle on his dry lips.

Instead he snaps his eyes open and stares at the bald patches of peeling paint on the popcorn ceiling.

Something shifts behind him; the squeak of leather on pleather.

“You’re handlin’ this awful well.”

No, he’s really not. “I’m not unfamiliar with waking up on strange couches.”

“Is that so?”

Taylor doesn’t like the way the voice drops into a suggestive purr. It’s enough to get him to sit up on his elbows and try to shake the fog from his head. The familiar words, “how much did I drink last night?” are on the tip of his tongue but without the pounding headache there to accompany them they just don’t feel right.

A hand appears out of the corner of his eye. He watches scarred knuckles on tanned skin flex silvery as a nondescript flask is placed on one of the coffee table’s few bare spots.

“Here — this’ll help. Trust me.”

Taylor takes it. Can smell the familiar simmering honey and spice of whiskey. But he isn’t even tempted — screws the cap back on and sets it pack with a little too much purpose.

The stranger gives a ‘huh’ of surprise. “You sure? It’s not top shelf, but —”

“I’m gonna say this once;” as he does Taylor sits up and digs his knuckles into his eyes to quell the dizzy rush, “don’t ever offer me alcohol again. Please.”

As bright and inconsistent colors flash before his sight there’s silence.

Then, “fair enough,” and takes back the flask.

He can’t immediately tell if the stranger is just prone to dramatics or if the positioning of the lamp-sans-shade is purposefully there to shroud his rescuer (or kidnapper) in all the shadows the apartment can offer.

But it’s definitely him: the guy from the dive bar. Where his memory ends his eyes pick up the slack and fill in the sharp face like a puzzle. Dark eyes — almost black — and evidence of a five o-clock shadow. A little bit of a greying sheen to the hairs at his temples. And a strange scar like an inverted triangle brushed flippantly from left temple to eyebrow to the top of his cheekbone.

So he’s the quintessential ‘rugged, grizzled, don’t-play-by-the-rules’ type. Which, in Taylor’s opinion, just makes the worn leather trench coat overkill.

And his very presence makes things very very complicated.

Makes his head incite a full-on civil war between the things he knows and the things he’s seen — not to speak of the independent faction trying to resist both.

The man grabs something small off of the stand beside him and a glass of water — takes one of Taylor’s hands off of his jeans and pushes it into his palm in a very non-negotiable style.

“At least take this. That headache looks real fierce. Won’t work as fast as the booze, though.”

Oh, he knows. But he’s glad for something to help no matter how little and washes down the aspirin tablet with the entire water glass.

Judging by the awkward silence that follows neither Taylor nor the man know how to actually… begin. Because there needs to be a beginning — maybe not right now but there was earlier and if he thinks about it too much, if he lets his imagination run wild and spiral, he’ll start to panic.

Last time he checked panic wouldn’t bring Kristin back from the dead.

Kristin. Oh god. He needs to find her body.

“Can I…?” He raises the glass. The stranger slaps his knees and hauls himself up with possibly too-much dramatic effort and takes it to refill. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

It’s a small apartment with only as many walls as needed. Ideally Taylor would prefer a room between him and the man to make his escape (which will be the exact opposite of stealthy) a little bit easier, but…

He waits until the leather-clad back is turned before slowly starting to stand. Not one step and the fucking floor creaks underfoot.

Shit. “Uh — can I get some ice?” Taylor asks; louder than necessary to cover it up.

The man (probably) rolls his eyes. “Want a straw while I’m at it? Maybe a little pink umbrella?”

“I’d prefer yellow.”

“I bet you would.”

Taylor waits, poised like a viper, and strikes when the ice maker on the fridge door begins to rumble to life. Dashes as fast as he can — though it isn’t until he moves more than an inch that he realizes just how sore everything is — to what looks like every closed front door he’s ever seen.

Aaaand it’s locked.

There’s a deep rich laughter behind him as Taylor yanks on the brass handle; twists the lock this way and that in his growing panic and previously undiscovered claustrophobia.

When he looks back the man is behind him, glass in hand — with ice, too.

“Stop laughing!” Taylor’s voice cracks — makes him wince.

With a shake of his head the man approaches. Taylor tenses for some sort of assault but instead watches dumbly while his personal space is invaded. Damn this guy is tall.

“Stop being so funny.”

“What kind of fucking sicko locks an apartment from the outside?!”

Bemusement falls into a slight frown. He flinches, feels the stranger reach around…

The door unlocks with a click.

“Dunno, but I’ll let you know when I meet one.”

Not a second into looking up and up into the man’s face does Taylor push him back. Keeps his back pressed against the door and blindly searches for the knob but forces distance between them.

It doesn’t take a psychic to know he’s wary. The stranger sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“Listen — I ain’t holdin’ you hostage, or anything. You’re free to go.” But before Taylor can even twist his wrist he adds; “Not that I’d really wanna run the risk of facing Casper’s Cannibal Cousin again but that’s just me. You seem like a strong, capable guy. Lemme know how it goes.”

Fuck.

Taylor gives him a wary eye. “Are we — I mean… am I actually safe here?”

“With the wards on this place you’d have a hard time being stung by a really pissed-off mosquito.”

“Not funny.”

“Who’s laughing?”

Somehow they end up back in the same positions they were a minute earlier; Taylor’s fingers wet and numb from the glass and the other, well, he couldn’t look more like a middle-aged drunk if he tried; especially now with the coat off and thrown over the back of his chair.

“Do you have a name?” Taylor tries — and fails — not to let it get to him when he gets only a nod. “Wanna share?”

“Just call me Ryder.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s not your name.”

“Yes it is.”

“It’s dumb.”

“You’re dumb.”

A tense and silent stand-off follows. This is why he doesn’t spend much one-on-one time with cis-men, not that Taylor would say that out loud.

Finally ‘Ryder’ relents; “My first name’s Nik. Nobody calls me Nik — they just call me Ryder. That means you’ll call me Ryder, too.”

Well he won’t, but that’s beside the point. “And where are we? Are we still in New Orleans?”

The question catches Ryder by surprise.

“‘Course we are. Just a couple’a blocks over from Bourbon.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

He tries not to feel peeled back into layers by the scrutiny of Ryder’s gaze but with eyes like that it’s kind of impossible. Makes him freeze up — words forgotten.

“Is that really all you wanna ask?”

His face flushes hot. “No, of course not.”

“Then ask.”

“Ask what?”

“You know what.”

“No I don’t,” again his voice cracks — makes him focus on the wet spot the glass leaves on his jeans rather than the look on Ryder’s face, “like — I really don’t. Because… because my head is telling me to ask ‘what happened’ but when I think about it I automatically default back to the fact that nothing about it makes sense — nothing about it could have been real.”

Ryder takes too long to respond.

“Just because it doesn’t make sense doesn’t mean it wasn’t real, Taylor.”

And doesn’t that just fire off a spark in his brain. Makes him turn and slam the glass down and give Ryder the hardest, worst, and most rueful look he can.

“Fine — you want me to ask questions? We’ll start with — with that. How d’you know my name?”

The man shrugs. “Because I’m being paid to.”

“You’re being…” —oh the headache— “so you were stalking me in the bar?”

“No.”

“Uh, you just admitted it.”

“Uh, no I didn’t.” Taylor must’ve hit a nerve judging by the tick in Ryder’s scarred brow. “Strange as it may seem — and we really ain’t short on strange with all this — I wasn’t hired until after I left the Touristy Unicorn.”

That doesn’t help. “Hired for what?”

“For protection detail; bodyguard stuff. For you, kid.”

Does he look like his brain is short-circuiting, because that’s definitely how he feels. And in his silence Ryder takes the opportunity to keep talking without being harassed. “I wouldn’t’ve taken it on a normal day but, shit, you ain’t normal. Not even taking into account that you saw me in my booth —”

“— No shit I saw you. You were just sitting there.”

Ryder shakes his head. “Sure was but I was glamoured up to the nines. Nothing under a century or without some heavy magical aid should have been able to see me.”

Taylor disregards his crazy talk — he has proof. “My friend saw you first.”

“Who, the tipsy co-ed?” he barks a laugh, “Nah, she was more focused on the two mashing mouths to my side. Was too hard to enjoy my drink with the sound of sloppy spit-swappin’ for me to forget.

“She may have been seeing the world a little liquored-up but she definitely didn’t know I was there. But you? You looked right at me; saw right through my glamour and with no small amount of effort judgin’ by how sick you looked after.”

His headache. And wasn’t that what had started all of… of whatever this was? His headache and wanting to go home, getting lost with no signal, and then…

There’s no resisting the permafrost that blankets over his bones. When Taylor looks at Ryder he doesn’t see him; just sees the outline of him and that awful haunting thing in his mind’s eye.

Ryder continues; “You can turn the paranoia down a notch. I was content to mind my own business until I got a call on a damn payphone nearby.”

“A… payphone?”

“Well they don’t ring on their own. And in this town if someone in the know crosses by a phone ringin’ on its lonesome then that means its for them.” He sniffs; brushes something off like it’s no big deal and Taylor’s the fool for not just knowing. “Picked it up and there it was in my head: your face, your name, and the message. That’s how you know there’s something heavy hangin’ in the air… the kind of spellwork that can dig into your head without a trace.”

Magic. Spellwork. This is too fucking nuts.

Still, he has to ask. “What was the message?”

“‘Protect him.’”

How foreboding and creepy that is — well he’ll deal with that later. Because up until shit went down he didn’t need protecting. Had done a fair job of protecting himself all his life. But how can you protect yourself from things you don’t know about?

“What was it?” When there’s no quirky quip Taylor knows he’s starting to ask the right things. “What was that thing in the cemetery?”

“I…”

“Come on, Mister Answers. Where’d your answers go?”

“Hey, now you just —”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know!” Ryder growls through gritted teeth. It’s the first time his posturing slips — shoulders slumped and instinctively seeking comfort in the contents of the flask. “I don’t… I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit; the dead, undead, the undead-dead. But I’ve never seen anything even remotely close to whatever the hell that was.”

Some bodyguard, he wants to say — doesn’t. Strange as it is Taylor finds himself comforted by the fact that he’s not the only one completely ignorant.

Not that it lasts long. Because when his brain finally puts everything together — shadows and skeletal killers and spellwork and the fact that the thing he’s been thinking was a flagpole leaning against the wall has a bright crystal atop it and is most likely something ridiculous like a wizard’s staff — it shuts off.

At least he’s got his answers.

Ryder knocks back the rest of the flask and tucks it between the cushions in his chair. Leans forward elbows-on-knees and studies Taylor’s face.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to ask me what happened before you keeled over,” he says finally, “but now I’m not so sure you wanna know.”

“I do,” he answers on autopilot.

“You sure?”

He’s sure.

The story Taylor expects goes something like…

“I drew a circle around the creature, sated from its kill. Using the blood of my ancestors and sacred herbs I’ve been cultivating for this exact moment, I conjured magical holy fire and banished the demon back to the depths of Hell.”

But that’s not what he gets.

“I thought I had a shot when you went into hiding — you know how damn hard it is to chase something chasin’ somethin’ else through that shit? — but lost it again. Finally found you at the entryway and used the thing’s distraction to get a few arrows lodged in its, uh, well I think it was its back.

“Thing is those were holy light arrows I used. Blessed by every priest in every religion you’ve heard of and some you ain’t. I’ve used those things to take down malformed conjurings, hundred year-old revenants, the works. But it was about as effective as throwing a rock at its head.”

“I’m guessing that’s a bad thing.”

“You’d be guessin’ correctly.”

Taylor runs his hands over his face. Shoves down the thickness that wants to consume his lungs and keep him there; solid, immobile.

“Okay, okay —” talking more to himself than Ryder, “— okay. This is good. Crazy, but good.”

The look he’s given really shouldn’t be a surprise. “Did I break ya?”

“No — I mean, maybe, but not with that — no you… actually you saved me. So I’m grateful for that. Thank you.”

Ryder snorts. “Finally…”

“But you didn’t save Kristin. So I’m going to push down every… every problem I have with everything you said and pretend with all this crazy that conjurings and holy arrows and whatever-the-fuck-else is real —”

“It is. But, kid —”

“— And you’re gonna help me find some voodoo or hoo-doo or whatever kind of spell you can that’ll bring her back.”

The fact that Ryder doesn’t look the least bit remorseful is an issue he’ll deal with later — though that plate is starting to get a little crowded. But if the universe seems intent on throwing him into this fucking insanity with no warning or even a tutorial mode then he’s going to meet it head-on and screw the rest.

He leans forward and starts rifling through the leather-bound books, tomes, and sheets of paper scattered on the coffee table. “So what here can help us? Do we need a lock of hair, or a personal item, or —”

“She ain’t dead, kid.”

Taylor nods but doesn’t really register what he hears. “Got it. Dead meaning, what, her soul hasn’t crossed over yet? Is she still on the, uh, the mortal plane or something?” He looks around wildly; lifts up his feet like he’ll find her hiding there in miniature.

“Shit — is she here with us? Can you see her? Kristin? Krissy?”

“Whoa — okay, yep, you’ve cracked.”

Then Ryder’s hands are on his shoulders and oh hell no. His body reacts before the brain can catch up and he’s pushing Ryder away — giving himself breathing space.

“Don’t touch me.”

Much like the flask it’s an issue Ryder doesn’t push. Holds his hands up and gives a curt nod but that doesn’t make him look any less concerned. Now he’ll start to argue with the man, because technically it’s his fault Kristin died in the first place.

“There’s gotta be something —”

“To get you to chill out and listen to me? Yeah I doubt it.”

“— No. To help us contact her.”

“Could try a phone.”

Taylor snaps. “This isn’t a joke! I don’t know this crazy stuff like you do. So stop making jokes and — and help me!”

“Christ,” Ryder rubs his head — leans forward but doesn’t make a move to put his hands on Taylor again, “if you’d listen you’d not sound so damn stupid! She’s not dead, Taylor. The thing didn’t kill her.”

No, no… he saw…

“I won’t say it didn’t get close but she wasn’t the target. I don’t know if that limits it’s powers or… or hell, maybe it was feeling merciful or malicious. But your friend ain’t dead. — In a bad way… but not dead.”

It’s not even in the realm of good news — what did that mean, ‘in a bad way’ — but it’s the best news he’s heard yet so yeah he fucking runs with it. Leaps to his feet and doesn’t even bother trying to misdirect Ryder this time because not only is the door unlocked but he’s going to see Kristin alive.

And, really, with the zeal in which he was ready to pursue some form of necromancy to bring her back he’s kind of disappointed in how surprised Ryder sounds behind him.

“Kid — where d’you think you’re goin’ exactly?”

Still walking to the door, only backwards now. “Where do you think? Is she at the hospital, which one? Come on — take me there.”

“Well that ain’t happening but regardless how about we stay up here instead?”

“How about we don’t?”

“Kid —”

“First I need you to stop calling me that. Second I’ll grab a cab if I need to. Thanks, Nik—Ryder—whatever for saving me but I need to go see her.”

Ryder doesn’t stop him from slamming the apartment door behind him and finding his way out. That must mean he’s not entirely devoted to this bodyguard job, right? If that’s even really the case. Not like he has any proof.

It’s probably guilt at not saving her in time, rationalizes Taylor as he looks around the crowded hallway only to spot a winding, iron-wrought staircase almost hidden in the corner.

That makes the most sense. He feels guilty and there was nothing he could have even done in the first place.

Though, finding out where Ryder gets those hallelujah arrows might help.

He’s at the bottom of the steps when he remembers Vera had his phone last — is halfway through entertaining the idea of going back up to ask Ryder if he could borrow his when he takes in the ground level.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It’s still dark outside but dawn has to be on the approach — last call having already been there, done that.

The bar is small and he can only think of it as oaken. Wood floors on wooden-panel walls with a wooden bartop in the corner decorated in carvings so small and detailed they could only have been done by hand. Even the booths are wooden on the outside with what look like rich mossy-green velvet lining.

But the place doesn’t smell like a woodshop — not how one would expect what has to be a quarter of the population of Louisiana’s deforestation, has to be — rather a forest. Like all the wood is still growing and alive. Pine needles and sap and mulchy earth digging into his bare toes and proving life continues to live underfoot.

Though when he wiggles his toes Taylor is almost surprised to discover he’s got his shoes on.

The place is empty save for two patrons and a lanky young man behind the counter.

One man, hulking in stature no doubt even if he’s bent over the table before him, scribbles diligently in a notebook with a glass of something bright at his side. Must have one of those cheesy lite-cubes within because he could swear the drink is pulsing color.

The other is a woman mostly obscured by the bar and her ombre violet sheen of hair. She’s gotta be decorated for Mardi Gras though the bone-white hand she twirls a lock of hair around would be more suited for a Día de Muertos party.

She notices him first — offers a flawless grin of black lipstick and white teeth before she learns forward and whispers something to the bartender.

He rounds on a practically choreographed flourish of his heel. Beams wide and unabashed as though he’s greeting an old friend and not a complete stranger.

“Taylor, my mortal! Good to see you again. You look famished. Are you famished? You look famished. I should get you something. Are you a vodka-type or a gin-type? You know what — I’ll fix a couple options up. Variety is the spice of life!”

Before Taylor can even process the English language enough to turn him down the bartender disappears in a shock of his albino-white hair. Leaves him staring at the silvery fabric of the partition.

“Garrus is a hoot, isn’t he?” asks the goth girl — she waves over a hand and pats a stool beside her in invitation. “Come, come! I wanna see what he whips up and you will too.”

He casts a longing look to what has to be the front door of the place — the only thing that isn’t wood, as he notes the iron decor with irony. But can’t even step in that direction before she clears her throat in a way that says she won’t take no for an answer.

So… he sits? He sits.

“I’m surprised Ryder didn’t come down with you. Or did you let him drink himself asleep?”

Taylor shakes his head. “No, he’s… he let me go.”

“Huh, funky.” She taps long dark nails against her cheek and stares at him with wonder. Underneath the strange combination of lights she looks even more pale than he thought — almost translucent. It must be her makeup that makes it look like her veins run black under her skin.

There’s a throbbing in his temples so Taylor looks away out of habit.

“You should call your friend back.”

“Why? It’ll be a good show — and even if it’s not your fancy you’ll still get free booze out of it.”

“Well I don’t drink.”

“Drink what, vodka, gin? I knew I called you for a tequila man.”

“No,” and headache aside he looks grim into her purple color-contacts, “like at all. I’m sober.”

Just as the girl’s expression falls into embarrassed horror the curtain brushes back as if by a gust of wind. The bartender Garrus barrels forward with an actual cauldron in his arms and every nook and twiggy-armed cranny filled with various corked bottles and vials.

“Not for lo~ong!” he sing-songs. Drops his things carelessly on the bar surface and starts picking through them intently. “Now I could have sworn I had more cane root than this, but maybe if I sub in —”

Taylor goes to speak but the gaunt hand on his arm stops him short.

“Garrus, he’s sober.”

“I know, Ivy my love, I heard. Honestly what was Ryder thinking trying to unload all this on the poor man without even offering him a drink?”

Ivy gives a sigh of honestly and precariously balances on thick-sole heels to reach over and grab Garrus’ next glassy victim out of reach.

“H-Hey,” he practically whines, “that’s not in the spirit of things!”

“Listen to me,” and Taylor’s grateful she’s going through all the trouble but can’t not laugh when she sandwiches her friend’s face in both hands, “sweetheart — he is sober; dry, straight-laced, whatever you want to call it — go for it. But this human no drinkey.”

If that’s what it would have taken for Taylor to get the man to stop he isn’t entirely sure he’d have had the guts to do it.

As it is Garrus looks like he’s taking it personally before their eyes meet and his face goes flushed pink all the way to the tips of his rather pointy ears.

“Oh.”

Ivy resumes her seat cheerily. “My work here is done.”

“S-Sorry,” Taylor tries to offer, “I’ll take a coke if you’re really, uh, insistent.”

Garrus is interrupted before he can answer. And by a voice that rings startlingly familiar, too.

“Why not whip up one of those old cream colas for him, Garrus? You were just talking about how much you missed making them.”

It’s enough to put the pep back in his leather-booted step. Has Garrus clapping in delight and pointing between them to the only occupied booth with a wink.

“Darling, you’re a genius!”

Garrus gathers up his cauldron and brews; dashes back behind the curtain. Taylor meanwhile whirls around on the stool cushion to the vaguely recognizable face previously ducked in concentration.

Krum — that was his name, right? The more-mountain-than-man he had bumped into heading home from rehearsal earlier that day.

Who gave Taylor the early triggers of a panic attack in how his skin seemed to turn to a literal mountain under the company lights.

Who pushes up an almost comically tiny pair of spectacles and gazes back at Taylor with similar vague recognition.

“Understudy-boy?” He pulls off his glasses and wipes the lenses with the hem of his sweater — as if he’s the one hallucinating things and not the other way around. “Well I’ll be, it’s you!”

Ivy joins the conversation while sipping her margarita through a stirring straw. “You know this guy, Krom?”

“K-Krum.” corrects Taylor.

“Well actually,” says the man in question sheepishly as he slides out of his seat and comes to join them, “it is Krom. It’s a family name, too, and I’m very proud of it. But mortals never hear it right and I just sort of stopped correcting them.”

Ivy croons. “You gotta get thicker skin you big lug.”

When Krom tries to take the stool next to him, though, Taylor flinches back violently. Practically falls off his seat in his haste to get back. His ‘little throbbing’ is a full-on migraine now; the lights too bright and the smells too weird and he has to back up and steady himself on the nearest support column to keep from vomiting all over the nice shiny floors.

Like most concerned samaritans Ivy and Krom are on him in an instant. Their voices blurring together with the ringing in his ears; “Honey are you okay? — what happened — oh no did I hurt him — go get Ryder!”

“NO!”

He’s startled when he realizes it’s him yelling — not them. Blinks through teary eyes to look into the expressions of two ordinary people warped and twisted by his traitorous mind.

Ivy’s makeup looks melded to her face — like if she catches the light a certain way he’ll see her skeleton and the lines above are the tension of her muscles. And Krom is still a literal mountain man but in high-granite definition; he swears he even hears stone grind with every movement.

“Oh god…” he wails and covers his eyes. Scratches at them like maybe he can claw off the tears instead of just wiping them away.

In the bright darkness there’s muttered, muffled noises. Footsteps echoing on wood, then metal.

Then the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He knows there’s a hand hovering just above the surface of him.

“The more you go on fightin’ it, kid, the more it’ll hurt.”

He doesn’t have to open his eyes to imagine the look on Ryder’s face.

Words seem impossible but he finally manages to grit it out. “I won’t.”

“Won’t what?”

“I won’t give in. I’m sober. I’m sober!”

He manages two good smacks to his skull before Ryder snatches his wrist ironclad. “Hey—Hey! Stop that!”

“I’m sober fuck’s sakes! This should have stopped! I’m sober and I’m not. crazy!”

They struggle over his hand but Ryder’s strength beats out Taylor’s fright and panic. Just lets it hang limp in midair in the calloused grip.

“You were up there with me fully ready to take on some high-level necromancy bullshit and this is what sets you off?”

“You were gonna let him do what?!”

“Relax, Iv’, relax,” Ryder sighs, “I wasn’t gonna let him do it. But still he believed. You did believe, didn’t you?”

Did he? He doesn’t know. Can’t even tell if he’s still awake right now or if this is all some awful feverish nightmare he can only hope to never have again with the help of his sponsor.

Ryder tries again. Closer, this time — almost a whisper.

“Didn’t you?”

“I —” the whole bar hangs on his every word, “— I think so.”

“So believe me now when I say this: you aren’t crazy. Weird I guess, and maybe a bit gutsy. But not crazy.”

It isn’t much. But it’s enough for him to pry his eyes open and look at the man above him through the tears.

“You don’t get it. I… they look like…”

“Like what?”

He shudders the words out; “Like monsters.”

“HA!”

The cackle — or shriek — is so loud and so close it startles both of them out of their closeness; out of the intimacy of his admission. Makes them both look at where Ivy sits cross-legged on the floor with them sucking on a lollipop.

“Well I should sure hope so,” she teases, “because my glamour looks like a cheap imitation of the real thing! That’s what I get for skimping with B-O-G-O spell goods.”

Glamour. He knows that word. And Ryder knows he knows too judging by the wry little smile he gets. “Yeah, them too.”

“But —”

“Glamours are for all kinds’a things, kid. Here, c’mon up ya get,” with both hands Ryder helps him stand, “that particular one of mine was for secrecy. Most common ones you’ll run into though are harmless little shifts — ways to make the not-so-human look a little bit more that way.”

There’s a gasp and all eyes fall on Krom, now fully stone. His hairline replaced by filed-off pointed edges and skin rippling with crystalline sediment.

“You can see through glamours?” He asks, mortified.

Ivy’s black lips peel back with her grin. “Wicked.”

Garrus appears from around the bar with interest. Still pale but there’s no denying the actual point and tilt of his ears or the way his skin seems to almost shimmer. His eyes pale but reflective like bright diamonds.

“I wondered what set off my wards when Ryder here dragged you in. Seeing through glamours is some high-level magic. What’ve you charmed?” He looks Taylor over with interest.

“What have I… what?”

Ryder answers for him. “Already did my due diligence, guys. He’s not wearing anything charmed — he is charmed. Can see through the veil au natural.”

“Wicked.” repeats Ivy.

��Guess you’re my not-so-mortal, huh?”

Krom shakes his head with hands clasped together. “No wonder you were so frightened at the company. I’m so sorry, Taylor. I had no idea.”

Taylor swallows but manages a smile. “It’s… it’s okay. Not your fault, right?”

And the more he looks at them — really looks instead of seeing passing glimpses and resisting their existence — the less everything hurts. The ringing in his ears fades and like a drum at the end of a song his head abruptly clears. Along with the clouds that seem to hang invisible over his head every time he has one of his hallucinations.

But they aren’t hallucinations. They’re real.

It’s all real.

There’s a hesitation before Ryder lightly touches his shoulder. Taylor doesn’t flinch away — in fact a little human (maybe?) warmth is kinda comforting.

“You good?”

“Y-Yeah, I think so,” he inhales shakily, “I just can’t believe it’s all… I mean that it’s not in my head. It’s real. Everything I’ve seen is… is real.”

But everything means everything. Makes his heart settle down somewhere in the region his stomach ought to be occupying.

Makes him look Ryder head-on.

“So why does it want me dead?”

[fxckbiscuit]

Day 9: Ichi-go Ichi-e | The City

“So is that an agreement? Let’s both die in the morning?”

SasuHina | Rating: T | @sasuhinamonth

Ichi-go Ichi-e (一期一会): a Japanese proverb embodying the philosophy that every second in an encounter should be highly treasured, for it will never occur again; “one time, one meeting”

2:03 PM

     “If I don’t ask you this, it will haunt me for the rest of my fucking life.”      “What?”      He looks at her nervously, frozen from where he sat, phrasing and rephrasing the words in his mind he wanted to say but just couldn’t. The train was moving slowly enough to make everything outside a wondrous streak.      Intrigued and a little nervous too, Hinata’s eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement at what he’s struggling with. They were seated across each other for the two-hour ride, aimlessly dissecting whatever idea stumbled upon their vagabond minds.      Now the train finally slowed to a stop. The afternoon sunlight bounced off the windows, lighting up the lounge car. He gets off on this station, she remembered him saying earlier.      “What?” she questioned again.      The burden was on him. She leaned back on her seat in anticipation. The doors to the train opened. People were boarding and unboarding. A warm bright glow hung in the air.      Her lips curved into a smile. He had to say what was needed to be said.      “I want to keep talking with you, if that’s okay,” he admitted as his eyes scanned hers in search for an answer.      “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay. Me too. But don’t you have a plane to catch?”      Sasuke continued, “I have a little time to kill so how about this. Okay. Yeah, we just met but…Fuck. You want to get off the train with me? Maybe go see the city?”      The thought was a siren luring her to uncharted seas. She leaned over the table, half-smiling at the idea, her mind not entirely made up yet.      “But…what would we do?”

4:55 PM

     “We never talked much, but it was alright,” he explained, picking up where he left off.      “Before my brother died, he liked to look at the night sky with me, which was deeper than any conversation, don’t you think? Anyone can talk to you. Anyone can look at you. But isn’t it quite extraordinary to have someone else seeing the exact same world you see?”      Hinata nodded in understanding, unsure of what to say.      There were cobbled streets and hundreds of joints. She caught a glimpse of a lavish, massive fountain that hardly seemed real—built into a palatial building, adorned with sculptures of godlike humans.      He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, now I told you my story. Might as well tell me yours.”      “Strange how we avoided this topic for this long.”      “I know. And now you owe it. You have to tell me.”      “But I don’t have one.”      “That’s bullshit. Everyone has stories”      “I guess, but it’s not good as yours. You got arrested. Arrested,” she argued, making sure to put emphasis on the word. He raised a brow at her dismissively. She gave in.      “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m married.”      Sasuke almost tripped over.      “You’re what?”      She looked at him for a moment, sizing him up. She watched different emotions flicker through his eyes.      “I said I’m married,” she flashed a smile of mischief. “…To boredom and distaste.”      Hinata could tell he dived headfirst into a state of relief.      He raised a middle finger to her.      “Oh, touchy,” she shook her head, cracking a laugh. “Anyway, anything relatively interesting that ever happened to me was because of accidents. Without those happy, little accidents, I’d be barely a person.”      A twenty-foot angel statue greeted them as they turned a corner. Up ahead they could already see the veins of the city, alive with the hustle of people.      “We’ve known each other for a little while now, and we’re stuck together so…here’s a little game. Uh, it’s all just questions really. I ask you a question, you ask me a question. Simple. Ready?”      “Yeah. Wait, we can ask any possible question right?”      “Of course. You go first.”      “Can you describe your first sexual feelings toward someone?” Hinata asked with a laugh. He shot her an amused look.      “Let me think…here, my first sexual feelings were consummated by an obsessive hookup with a magazine. Ever heard of ‘Playboy’?”      “Yes.” Her shoulders were still shaking with laughter when Sasuke dropped the next question.      “Right, what are the things that infuriate you?”      The sky was bright with yellows and oranges and pinks as they walked along the boardwalk near an amusement park buzzing with the noise of thousands.      He received a long, fuming sigh as a reply. “Boy, almost everything infuriates the shit out of me.”      “Yeah? Name some.” His eyes hovered over her short figure, glinting with mischief as he noted that his demand riled her up into a little ball of anger. As they walked around without definite aim, their conversation hummed with the city’s mid afternoon rush.      “I fucking hate men who tell girls what to do, like to smile or something. Hell, you’re just minding your own on a street, then suddenly a man tells you what the fuck to do as if you owe him something. I hate…”      Hinata took a deep breath and gripped the straps of her backpack, “I hate how people are dying fighting or caught up in a war conjured by people who don’t give two shits about anything. And it sucks that we don’t know what to do for them. I hate mosquitoes, I hate people with myopic views, I hate plane rides. Oh I hate those.” By the second, she grew angrier while he got amused.      Looking up at him, her face twisted in disgust as his smirk morphed into half a grin. Not a second later, they both blew up in a fit of laughter.      As they were calming down, she thought of a question for her new friend.      “Okay, my turn now right? What’s a…a problem for you?”      Sasuke looked at her and noted with deep concern that he found her endlessly fascinating. The thought frightened him.      “You. You’re a problem.”

6:38 PM

     “How long ‘til you leave here for the airport?”      “About six in the morning? Six-thirty at the latest.”      A breeze picked up, the tall grass on the little cemetery tilting away from it. He pulled his jacket over his shoulders to stay warm. The memorial park was still within the metropolis, the whispers of the city a constant sound. A rabbit ran past them on the wide staircase, descending to the array of old headstones ahead.      “I came to this exact place once as a kid,” Sasuke said, wandering around, eyeing the almost identical angel heads.        “Yep. I was with my mom. The groundkeeper told us most of the bodies buried here washed up from the riverbank,” he gestured to the patch of woods beside the grounds with Hinata following his gaze.      “Why did so many bodies wash up on the banks?”      “From boat accidents I think, and mostly suicides.”      “This idea of nameless, unknown people lost in the world, I always liked that. If none of the people you’ve ever known knew you were dead, they could only imagine what happened, give you a story weighing on both ends of a spectrum—the best and the worst…”      She tucked astray strands of hair behind her ears. He stopped by one grave.      “It’s similar to not being dead at all, no?”      “I remember this one. See, she’s twelve when she died, and I was that age too when I came here. Now I’m a decade older and…”      “She’s still twelve. Twelve forever.” Hinata finished his sentence. She fished out a pack from her bag, lighting up two sticks, and handed one over to Sasuke. It was eerie, he thought, how she could tell he wanted a cigarette.      But awful notions clouded his head, the lifeless twelve-year old left a bigger crater in him than he led on. The sadness of the setting sun seemed to have gotten to him. He exhaled. Everything seemed to be tinted with melancholy. He turned to her.      Just like that. His brain running a million miles an hour was halted in half a second.      He took in the sight of her.      He wanted so badly to memorize every detail. How old was she? What was her favorite book? Did she prefer coffee or tea? How many sticks did she light a day? What did she think of Tarantino movies? Maybe she liked Scorsese more? Has she ever been in love before? What made her get out of bed in the mornings?      While Hinata was finishing up, Sasuke tried to ransack his mind for the right words to say. Nothing came up. “Let’s get out of here.”

8:29 PM

     “From up here, you ought to think the city is alive—the streets are the veins, the people are the cells…It’s all a lovely, breathing chaos, don’t you think?”      Her eyes bored into the half-empty second bottle as she mused.      They were sitting on the edge of the bookstore’s roof, four stories above the ground. Sasuke thought they were so high up they were practically part of the night sky.      “Yeah, look…stars up above, stars down below. It’s tough to decipher where the other starts and where the other ends.” A beat closed in before he continued. “Pass me the wine?”      Hinata ignored him. She looked at the city beneath. Her entire world tilted. She closed her eyes, laughed at the way everything spiraled.      “Very gracious of you to call this shit wine,” she cracked him a smile. “It tastes like an open grave. We’re gonna be sick if we keep downing that piss. So let’s play. Best day, worst day.”      “Never heard of that one,” Sasuke responded, lighting the cigarette between her lips.      “’Cause I made it up, just now.” She said with a crooked grin. After drawing her legs up, she leaned forward and rested her arm on top of her knees, her pale skin the most vivid memory of his night.      “How do we play?”      With her lips slightly parted and a far-off look in her eyes, it occurred to him that she might be a little plastered already.      “Easy. We tell the story of our best day. Better narrator wins. Loser drinks. We tell the story of our worst day. Better narrator wins. Loser drinks.”      Remembering she was nursing a roll between her fingers, Hinata’s cheeks hollowed out a little as she took a long draw.        She wouldn’t look at him. He drank up her movements with idle fascination.      Taking a drag from his own, it also occurred to Sasuke that he might already be a little plastered too.      Hinata felt herself flushing under Sasuke’s gaze and tried to distract herself by blowing smoke rings. His stare was puzzling, just like him. It stirred up her insides in the most fascinating way, morphing her smoke rings into shaky, pseudo circles desperately pretending to be round.      Seconds later, she concluded that his laugh was one of the best sounds she has ever heard. “That was horrible. Here, like this.” Sasuke showed her. He cracks his mouth open and blew perfect ones.      As she followed his lead, only wobbling, sad-looking circles managed to escape her mouth. A fraction of his laugh was heard again. Hinata stifled the thought of the inevitable morning where his laughter would be nothing more than a half-remembered vision.      Inhaling for yet another try, she held it in for a few seconds.      Maybe it was the small high of the nicotine rush, or the light buzz from the cheap bottle, or something else, he didn’t know.      When she parted her lips with the smoke pooling out ever so slowly, Sasuke had wanted to kiss her.      So he did.      And she kissed him back as the smoke danced around their faces. When he pulled away a little, she couldn’t help but smile a bit.      “Is this okay?”      “Yeah. This is fun.”      “Wanna do it again?”      She was sold. The night was cold but the hand on her cheek was warm. They made out some more.      He pulled away again. His lips grazing hers as he asked.      “Wait, how do we know who’s the better narrator?”      She shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

10:16 PM

     “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. The night had become colder. Glowing orbs of car lights pierced strange patterns throughout the street.      She was slightly terrified of crossing the street since everybody there drove like they were stunt extras from a car chase in a bad action flick.      Another sharp turn took them down a busy street. They walked and drowned in the neon glow of the city, eyeing the vibrant buildings lit by hundreds of multicolored lights. The pubs were everywhere. Pubs with proper names like the Apple, Conspiracy Garden, Purple Unicorns, and the Aged Ship.      “Here we are,” he glanced over her, brushing his thumb against her knuckle.      “The Drunk Poet?”      “Let’s go in. You wanna go, yes?”      “Yeah, but why’d you pick this one?”      “I noticed it’s the only one offering discounts for students.”      Hinata couldn’t even see the bar from where they were. A wall of people guarded it and a haze of smoke hung over, as if it had its own climate.      “What are you having?” Sasuke asked. “I’ll go and get it. Maybe you try to find somewhere to stand?”      “A zigzagger?”      “Right. Okay.” He threw himself into the crowd and was absorbed. It came to his mind that this was the first time they were separated since they met just hours ago.      Squeezing herself in between bodies drowned in liquor and sin, she backed far into a wall for a little air. There was nowhere to stand, she thought. Pressing herself in close, she examined the wall fastened with hundreds of ripped pieces of paper.            ‘Let us go then, you and I            When the evening is spread out against the sky            To lead you to an overwhelming question…            Oh, do not ask what is it            Let us go and make our visit.’      Sasuke found her there, looking intently at the wall like a psychopath, reading the grimy papers like her life depended on it.      He carried a pint glass full of dark liquid coughing up tiny bubbles. Passing her the glass, she had a brief flash of the disgusting wine they had earlier. She shuddered. He placed himself next to her then looked up at the wall too.      “I like that one. Read it to me,” he said, pointing to a poem passage.      “’Stand at the window as the tears scald and start,’” he threw an arm around her shoulders, earning himself a blush across the bridge of her nose. She ran on.      “’You shall love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart.’”      Her skin was alive with the feeling of equal parts wonder and doom.      “Hinata, I have a crooked heart. And you…” he bent down, giving her a light kiss on the chin. “…Are my crooked neighbor.”      He felt giddy so he smiled at her.      At that nanosecond, the world could have ended. And she still wouldn’t have moved from where she stood, staring up at him.      Sasuke averted his gaze, hoping she wouldn’t notice he was hopelessly hooked, and then buried himself beneath the scattered words again.      “I like that one too,” he said, distracting himself.            ‘What is the life of a human being—            A drop of dew, a flash of lightning?            This is so sad, so sad’      “I like it too,” she paused to think over the words. “But I don’t think I completely agree with it.”      “Why not? It’s true. We are so small. Life is so fragile. It’s an inevitable fight and we’re doomed to lose. Time is always never enough. I had to learn that the hardest possible way. All we are is a split second in the grand scheme of things. There’s no greater tragedy.”      “Maybe we’re all just little dewdrops and lightning flashes, born to a tragedy of being forgotten and passing too quickly. But I think there’s no bigger spectacle than that. I might be nothing more than a dewdrop, but maybe I can make ripples on the water or maybe tip over leaves,” she said, determined to disagree.      “You might be nothing more than a lightning flash, but maybe a little kid would catch a glimpse of you and remember you and make you feel like you’re not just one, but a thousand more. Sasuke, it’s not a tragedy at all, no?”

12:21 AM

     “Look at that lady.”      “What about her?”      “How do you think her story goes?”      “She helps run a food bank in her spare time. See her bag? It contains a small gift she just bought from the night market. It’s for the little girl who always comes by their truck. A lady of altruism.”      They were huddled on the topmost step of plaza’s stairway, overlooking the flea fair. The city twinkled with the string of lights hanging above the stalls.      “Perhaps she’s planning to kill her cheating lover. Not a gift on her bag, but a gun. She knows what a .44 does to a man’s dick. Now she’s this vengeful lady,” Sasuke countered. Hinata laughed.      She furtively pointed to a young couple. “The blue-eyed girl with the black-haired boy. They’re just about to go home from visiting the girl’s family in the next city from here. The girl works as a psychologist, but the boy is a fucking sloth.”      “Mm. Guy over there with the bowl cut…he wanted to be a monk and went to various monasteries. Changed his mind because all the monks did was ask if they could suck his cock.”      “Ahh. Sucking cock. Everything always comes down to that, no?”      He laughed. “You’re right.”      “About the cock sucking part?”      “No, no. About what you said in the cemetery. How you could make up the best and the worst stories for people.”      “They could end up anywhere if we imagined hard enough,” she muttered, pale eyes studying the ocean of people below.      “Maybe we could end up anywhere too,” he replied, feeling half out of his mind. Just a bit. It was nice.      She let herself imagine it—the crunch of browning leaves under their feet as they walked home, discussing magic in the universe, and cats, and ruling systems, and whatever the fuck there was to talk about. She imagined the cold hitting her skin when they arrive and don’t stay in their clothes. She imagined all the futures they might have, all the people they might become.      “Yes. We could. But this night is almost over, Sasuke.” She gave him the softest smile.      “Do you think we’ll see each other again?”      “I don’t know. The future is uncontainable.”      “Right. And unknown.”      “And finite.”      “And terrifying.”      “And beautiful.”      “So beautiful…”      “Let’s just pretend we’re going to die when the sun comes up,” Hinata propositioned.      The midnight streets were still awake with the cacophony of multitudes. He’s never been this far from home, and sitting right next to him was a girl he liked but cannot have.      “So we won’t be that lonely when we never get this night again, right? That way, I could imagine the best for you and you could do the same for me,” he said, accepting the loveliest of all tragedies—the quick, fluttering moment when their lives intersected, only to part and go their separate ways again.      He knew what she meant.      “Exactly.” Hinata looked at him, feeling both happiness and hopelessness sink in as the lights faltered beneath them.      Sasuke’s voice was just above a whisper, hoping to keep the next few words a little secret between them and the universe. “So is that an agreement? Let’s both die in the morning?”

5:50 AM

     “Let’s just stay here for a while and watch the world go by.”      So they lazed there—backs against a thousand blades of grass, fingers intertwined, staring up at a cloudless summer sky.      “This is it, Hinata. We’re going to die soon.”      “I know.”      “What could we do?”      “Take joy in it.”      She shifted on her side to burn his image on her mind: crooked smile, tousled hair, careful hands, eyes the color of the night sky.      He thought of all the dark. And the quiet. And the city. And her. And her eyes. And her lips. Mostly her eyes—her eyes looking back at his like there was something inside him worth seeing.      The buttons of her shirt were fastened all the way up. He subtracted three. He lifted a hand to trace her collarbones.      She wondered what it’d be like to memorize every line on his fingertips. He lifted his head to kiss her neck. Her fingertips grazed the grass and then his hair.      “Almost forgot,” reaching into his jacket, he drew out a piece of paper. “I got something for you.”      “Oh. You stole this from the Drunk Poet,” she glanced at him then laughed.      “Yep. You should call the cops on me,” he said, smiling. Silently, she read on.            ‘Loafe with me on the grass…            Loose the stop from your throat,            Not words, not music or rhyme I want…            Not custom or lecture, not even the best,            Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice            I mind how we lay in June,            Such a transparent summer morning’      Not wanting to catch sight of the rising sun, she laid on her stomach, whispering something.      “What did you just say?” Sasuke asked, placing a hand on the small of her back. The corners of her mouth turned up.      “Today’s a good day to die.”

Thank you for reading!!

Art: idontliveinatent Excerpts: T.S. Eliot, W.H. Auden, R. Akutagawa, W. Whitman Plot: R. Linklater

[aerialflight]

BTS fic recs (or: a continuation with less magic!aus but there still is some on this list)

It’s been around six months and I’m again sucked into the BTS fandom, mostly because of the BTS World album and game. Seriously, how they manage to spit out so many songs so fast is amazing. And you can thank my dad for getting me back into the fandom cause he is just as obsessed as I am about BTS, which I find hilarious and my mom long-suffering XD.

Anyway, so I’m recommending yet another list that has cumulated over the months, some recommended to me by @onceabluemoonwrites (thank you for the recs and continuing to spur my obsession) and those I stumbled upon and ended up loving. Hope you all enjoy and I apologize that there aren’t as many magic!aus in advance, but there still is some since it wouldn’t complete without it!

-

girls just want to have fun by fitzgarbage

Ship: Suga/J-Hope

“Namjoon told me you’d probably be haunting a corner. I didn’t know what he meant, but I think I get it now.” He’s breathing hard. “I knew you right away. You look really good, by the way.”

(suga is transgender, he's a she in this fic. suga is amazing and the background ships had me invested and oh man, this is one of those fics that steal your heart if you let it.)

Stars Lost in the Sea by smiles

Ship: Jin/Suga

2018 In a desperate attempt to overcome his writer's block, Kim Seokjin rents a cottage by the sea on a remote island in the southern part of Korea for the summer, intent on successfully completing a story.

1933 Min Yoongi spends his nights tending the lighthouse, providing a light on the horizon for lost sailors to navigate safely, all the while feeling lost by himself, a lightkeeper without a guiding light.

There are some people who are meant to cross paths, even if it means time itself must bend to accommodate them.

(editor!Jimin is high strung and gungho and this alone made me fall for this fic for giving me this. this story is the definition of ‘star-crossed lovers’, i was rooting for them so hard. bless.)

rumour has it (but maybe it'd be better to just ask me) by Curionenene 

Ship: Jimin/RM

"Tae! I think Kim Namjoon asked me out on a date?”

That, makes Taehyung look away from his phone for once. “The Kim Namjoon? Sex on walking stilts, Kim Namjoon?”

“No, Kim Namjoon who’s my cousin third removed. Of course, the Kim Namjoon, you walnut.”

“Walnuts are actually really good for brain development.” Taehyung says distractedly before he frowns. “Wait, Kim Namjoon is your cousin?”

-

(Or: Namjoon and Jimin like each other, Taehyung and Hoseok are great friends, Seokjin and Jungkook aren't as great, and Yoongi is paid far too little for this.

Oh, and there are rumours. Supposedly, Namjoon is a sex god. Everyone is saying it, so it must be true.

Spoilers: it's not.)

(you know those fics that has gloriously disasterous characters that makes you feel like you’re less of a mess than they are? this is it. this is your pick up fic. so pick it up please.)

jack i'm flying! by ameliabedelias  

(honestly though, this author has written some of the funniest bts fics i’ve ever read, definitely recommend)

Ship: Jin/Jimin

“Are they okay?” A concerned booze cruise attendant walks by. “They’re not gonna jump, are they?”

“Please, just ignore them,” Hoseok sighs, flopping into one of the deck lounge chairs as Seokjin and Jimin get into position. “They’ve been doing this for three years now. It's kind of their thing.”

//

Or, five times Seokjin and Jimin do the Titanic Pose™.

(this fic is proof that this is the most chaotic pairing i’ve ever seen the sheer chaos man i’m not kidding. this is gold. solid gold.)

you are so gorgeous it makes me so mad by ameliabedelias  

Ship: Jimin/RM

Park Jimin is Instagram famous. Or he was, until Kim Namjoon walked into one of his pictures and stole the spotlight. 

(same author as previously, i just had to people this fic is incredible. jimin is characterized so beautifully here. the title alone should make you want to read it.)

light at the end by fruitily

(you don’t know what you were missing in life until you read their fics)

Ship: Jin/Jungkook

death follows jungkook. death is crashing at his place and not paying rent. death is eating all of his cinnamon toast crunch.

(seokjin is not death. he’s just the guy who’s nice enough to take you to the last stop.)

(i cried tears of laughter enough to fill a lake. jin is a grim reaper. yes. you heard me right. and jungkook has to deal with it. its amazing.)

in all dishonesty by fruitily

Ship: Suga/V

while taehyung is trying to figure out whether or not min yoongi wants to stab him with a fountain pen, they find out they make an excellent team when it comes to board games.

(this gave me so many flashbacks to when i was a kid. they are perfect for each other and my brother laughed so much when i read him a few lines. because he is a cheating cheater who lies and is very impressed by this pair. you'll see what i mean.)

can't get it up without you by Curionenene

(i love their fics. LOVE)

Ship: Jin/Suga

“Actually,” Seokjin speaks up then, because it looks like Yoongi's friends are having a hard time believing him. “I think the most dramatic one was when we literally tried to migrate to escape each other, but our planes went down, and we both drifted to the same deserted island.”

Now even Taehyung looks incredulous. “You're kidding.”

“No. We ended up fucking just so we could hasten the process and go onto the next life. Because the mosquitos there? Worse than death.”

“Wait…” Jimin says slowly. “You mean you actually die?”

~*~

(Or: Yoongi and Seokjin are soulmates. They hate each other.)

(the summary should be enough incentive to be honest, but yeah, if you want to die laughing, please read this. p l e a s e.)

So Collapse, Fall. by Curionenene

Ship: Jungkook/V

“Mmm… but what was it that made you decide to come back?” Seokjin rephrases.

Taehyung glances at Jungkook, and deliberately, his lips twitch up into a smirk, eyes darkening just a little bit. “I’m a human after all. Foolish. Figuring out my intentions shouldn’t be rocket science.”

For a moment, the other three in the room just stare at him. Taehyung doesn’t let the stares unnerve him, only deciding to cock his head to one side, eyebrow raised as the silence drags on. And then finally it breaks when Jimin shakes his head before letting out a true blue giggle, “well. He’s interesting at least.”

-

(or: Jungkook is a god, Taehyung just wants to be his friend. They both end up as something more.)

(i actually usually don't get into this pairing (surprising since this pairing is actually the most popular on ao3), but the worldbuilding and magic pulled me in.)(laugh and point at me for finding another magic fantasy fic. i won't blame you.)(i love v's characterization in this. he's delightfully complicated and straightforward and manipulative in a good way? i know it sounds weird, but you'll know what i mean when you read it.)

you say witch like it's a bad thing by Curionenene

Ship: Suga/Jin

“It's still a lot of work, even if you have magic on your side.” Yoongi glances over at a jug filled with what looks like pieces of pineapple. And then, as both cat and witch stare at the jug, the pieces are suddenly no more, instead replaced entirely by liquid. “Heck. Magic is draining. I’m going to need a nap later.”

“Why do you think I start at 5 am and only open at 11?” Seokjin grumbles, before he sighs, “yeah, okay. I get your point. No tea then. But we gotta think of something to make with avocados.”

“Why the fuck are we doing avocados?” “Because I ordered avocados.”

“Oh. Ok. Let me rephrase that: why the fuck are we doing avocados?”

~*~

(Or: Seokjin is a witch, Yoongi is his familiar. 99% of their life is bickering like this. The other 1%? Well, you'll have to read and see won't you?)

(blue recommended this to me and i read the whole damn thing. and let me tell you, it wasn’t the magic (well, not just the magic since the worldbuilding makes me want to swoon) that made me stay. it was jin. and his goddamn puns. puns galore. puns everywhere. every shade of pun imaginable, it’s all here. suffer with me along with yoongi. it is glorious.)

something tells me we'll be alright by czar (cmajorchords)

Ship: RM/V

“You’re absolutely right. This is a childish, petty feud, and I’m sure Kim Namjoon is an upstanding citizen and exceptional researcher. I’m sure he is a thousand times more of a professional than I am, and isn’t late to work all the time, and probably doesn’t occasionally sneak into the lab after hours so he can touch the pretty little vases with bare hands instead of using gloves –”

“Doesn’t what?”

“- it’s just that I don’t think I can work him. On, like, a moral level. Like an ethical one. An emotional one? Maybe even metaphysically?”

His supervisor sighs loudly. “So what’s the problem exactly?”

Taehyung scrambles for the first thing that comes to his mind. “Once, when we were at a mixer, he ate the last cranberry-chocolate chip muffin and didn’t even offer to split it.”

Six weeks in the desert at an archaeology dig sounds like everything Taehyung had ever dreamed of. Too bad Kim Namjoon's coming, too.

(this is a really cute fic and just, namjoon is this rambling mess and v is so humanely insecure and all of it is just, ugh. ugh i couldn't stop grinning.)

Fixing Christmas by jeoncrocs

Ship: Jungkook/RM

Namjoon is having the Worst Christmas Eve ever, and it's chiefly his own fault. A kind stranger turns it around.

(I COULDN’T STOP LAUGHING THIS WAS SO FUNNY XDD)

Hold Still by Oh_Hey_Tae

(i’ve recommended a fic from them before and there’s a reason for it. all their fics are just, yes.)

Ship: J-Hope/Jungkook

Jungkook’s going to say that he wasn’t scared, but he literally screamed and was about to throw down with a pan so he says instead, “How’d you get in, anyway?”

“Door was unlocked. Didn’t think anyone was home. Be glad I’m not an actual creep.”

And then this amazing thing happens.

It’s small and simple, quick as can be, but it leaves Jungkook stupefied, mind melting, like he’s lost on a wave.

Jung Hoseok winks at him.

Oh, no.

(Or: Jungkook falls in love easily, Hoseok doesn't open up easily, and somehow they manage to meet in the middle.)

(jungkook is precious here. precious. i want to wrap him up and hug him tight. and i really like how they portrayed hoseok here. and also, theres some representation and i connected to this. a lot.)

Words of Power by rkatz

Ship: Suga/J-Hope

All words have power. Some more than others. And none more than a name.

(behold, a magic!au soulmate fic with stellar worldbuilding. seriously, i am crying over how creative this is, i want to pick at this author’s mind and ask how they came up with this. thank you blue for recommending this!)

Law of the Jungle by MmeIrene

Ship: Jin/RM

“You’re an actor,” said Namjoon after a moment, and Seokjin nodded, looking pleased with their progress.

This was decidedly different, Namjoon thought, staring at Kim Seokjin’s bemused expression, than how it went in movies. Which, all things considered, was terribly ironic considering that Namjoon was being told he couldn’t study in his own library so that the aforementioned Kim Seokjin could film there with his movie crew.

Or, Namjoon is a frazzled grad student who just wants to finish his thesis, but somehow ends up getting cast as an extra in a movie instead.

(you know this is good when a character is accidentally in a movie. any student who wrote or is writing a thesis will understand namjoon’s dilemma on a spiritual level. he stole my heart in this fic, he really did. i don’t blame you one bit jin for falling for this boy.)