#reticulated builds

[reticulating-splines]

West 70th

Row of Gilded Age Upper West Side New York Brownstones.

When I started this build in late 2022, I ofc had no idea there would be a pack specifically dedicated to apartments coming out a year later. At most I planned for people to use mods, but I had also never used any such mods myself. All this to say, I'm honestly not sure how well this build plays as a rental! It is almost completely un-playtested and still largely unfurnished, and is only being released from the vault early in honor of finally getting rental residentials to exist.

But since the exterior facades and interior floorplans are done, its still an excellent shell for you to fill out! Only the first unit is (partially) furnished as an example for which rooms are which. In terms of build and furnishing, this is the wealthy decades player's dream, a Gilded Age townhome worthy of Upstairs, Downstairs.

Lot Features:

30x30 lot

3 four-story townhouse units

Fire escapes with roof access

Family and service stairs for each unit

Front and Back entrance for each unit

Large kitchens with separate scullery and pantry

Servant's dining hall, Housekeeper's quarters, and staff dormitory

Three story stair hall with glass skylight and picture gallery

Parlor, Library, and Dining room enfilade

Butler's pantry

Master bedrooms have private sitting room, ensuite bathroom

Children's room on third floor has private playroom, ensuite bath

Disclaimers

Un-fully-furnished

NOT Playtested

CC list on Patreon:

Download Here

#west 70th #ts4 build #ts4 historical #the sims 4 for rent #ts4 1900s #ts4 cc #ts4 1890s #sims 4 apartment #reticulated builds #reticulating splines

[chungledown-bimothy]

The Fix's Facts

The Big Guy:

-For every snake, there is one snake dick. Snakes have 2 dicks. (said thrice)

The Scattered Mind:

-The tails on a swallowtail butterfly's wings don't serve any aerodynamic purpose. They're there so birds will grab them, at which point they'll break off and the swallowtail can escape.

-Eyes can't be itchy. They, unlike the membranes around them, don't have itch receptors.

-More than half the bones in your body are in your hands and feet.

F For Freezer: (and for facts!)

-The urethra contains taste receptors

-When eagles grip onto something, they have to flex a muscle to let go. An eagle can hold onto something so hard that even after it dies, it never lets go.

-Most of the pyramids on Earth are in Sudan.

-Pelicans have three stomachs, one of which is just for bones.

-Acids are easy to detect, oxygen and carbon dioxide are not. But when carbon dioxide meets water, like it does in our blood, it creates carbonic acid. This means our bodies can detect the presence of carbon dioxide, but not the presence or absence of oxygen.

If we are deprived of oxygen, we have no idea that that is happening as long as we are breathing out carbon dioxide. If we are not breathing oxygen, we just go to sleep and die. But if we allow the CO2 to build up, we panic. We flail. We break. Until finally, we die.

Grappling With Death:

-People can have constipation so bad that it will back up and impact their vagus nerve. As they are eliminating that impacted stool, it can have an effect on the nervous system so great that they forget who they are. Constipation-related amnesia. A woman in Tokyo forgot who she was for 8 hours.

-Bones are living.

-The reason we produce blood inside of our bones is because it's one of the places that's safest from UV radiation.

-There are some birds that can produce a nutritious substance that's a kind of milk. It's almost like lactation, but it evolved separately (convergent evolution). Pigeons do it.

-There are some salamanders that feed their babies their own skin

BONUS ROUND: Brennan "Bird Facts" Lee Mulligan

-There are some species of birds that have a secondary pouch in their esophagus/digestive tract where they have what's called a craw, that has stones or other hard material to help break up food matter before it passes into the rest of their digestive tract.

-Woodpeckers have a tongue bone called a hyoid bone that wraps around their brain because it needs to protect their brain from the impact of pounding into trees to devour their common meal items, grubs and larval insects.

Emergency Powers:

-You can't hum while you're blocking your nose.

-The longest animal is the bootlace worm.

-There are some reptiles that have a light-sensing organ on the top of their head so they can sense shadows that might be coming from something that's coming for them.

BONUS ROUND 2: Brennan's Back, Baby

-The black mamba has been observed at top speeds of 12.5 miles per hour. At that speed, it would almost certainly catch even some of the fastest humans on the planet. Even faster people wouldn't have the stamina, because resting or average speed is 7.5 miles an hour, which is faster than the human average, which is 6, and that's for healthy adults.

-The reticulated python is the longest snake in the world. The biggest is the anaconda.

Case Closed:

-There's little creatures in the sea that make pretty little lights. Why would they do that? It attracts little fishes who suck them up, and the light makes the fish glow. This attracts more little fish.

-The North Pole is actually a South Pole, because when you look at a compass, it points north. But the north pole of the compass is what's pointing north, and north poles point to the south poles.

BONUS ROUND 3: Once More, With Feeling

-Diners originate from dining cars on trains. The first diners were the dining cars of trains that had been taken out of service and were used stationarily as restaurants.

#dimension 20 #mentopolis #mentopolis spoilers #hank green #the fix #brennan lee mulligan

[artingabout]

Good Omens Aziraphale & Crowley Muppets

Since I'd levelled up a bit on my skills when I got to these two, I thought I'd do an updated muppet build :)

Behind the scenes:

My materials:

1/2 inch thick reticulated foam (head)

3/4 thick reticulated foam (body)

contact adhesive

basic gardening wire to make the hands poseable and wire-cutter

beige fleece fabric for skin tones

short-pile off-white fur fabric and extra long-pile orange fur fabric

clear resin with white pigment & acrylic paints.

miscellaneous felts for mouth/features

a whole load of random fabric off-cuts to make the clothes

threads etc for sewing

felting needles

arm-poles (can be bought or made)

After building a couple of other puppets, I decided to try and do these two at the same time, because I'm a nugget. I also redesigned and shaped the heads and bodies for both of them, since Crowley is long and lanky and Aziraphale is softer and rounder.

It took a bit of fiddling with the fabric sizes as well but once the fabric was one, they both looked much better.

As you can see, the mouths look a lot neater than my first once. Turns out when the instructions mention a seam allowance is essential, you probably should do one 😅

While I did Aziraphale's eyes the same way as usual (white resin with felt eyelids/lashes), Crowley's needed to be more snakey, so I used a clear resin in the mould, then painted them from the back.

Next up was adding the hair. Short-pile is so much easier, because essentially, you are making a wig to fit the shape of the muppet's head. When you have a longer pile, it can get caught up in the seams and need some teasing out afterwards. Once they're in place, you stitch them on and style them as needed (I think it's ladder stitch - if it's done right, the seam should be borderline invisible)

For these lads I also wanted to style them in their iconic costumes from S1. Thankfully, I've also been learning to make clothes, so I was able to work out how to make Aziraphale's collared shirt and Crowley's jacket, although I will fully confess my sizing was a bit off because muppets are not the same shape as actual humans XD And conveniently, I already has Aziraphale's bowtie, thanks to a cosplay.

For something a little different, I actually used loose felt and felting needles to make Aziraphale's eyebrows, so I could give them a bit more shape and fluffiness.

And in conclusion, I'm delighted with them :D

#good omens #arting about #puppetry #muppet omens #aziraphale #crowley

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Mycelial Remnants

Read on Ao3

Warnings: nightmares, body horror (light), panic attack

Pairings: none

Word Count: 6901

Rose is having strange dreams. Not just strange because, you know, mold and all that, but strange because they don't...feel like hers. The Megamycete remembers far more than any of them realized, and with it come some interesting challenges.

 

Creak. Creak. Creak.

The floorboards warp and shape themselves to her shoes as she creeps through the hallway. The light from outside glows with a sickly radiance, shadows from the bugs flying around giving it an almost static-like flicker. Rose swallows through the thick air and gags on the smell of rotting fish.

The building shudders.

She glances over her shoulder. The shadows keep dancing along the cracking walls, the putrid smell of rancid something emanating from a crevice in the floorboards. She keeps moving, further and further, passing through a moldy door and into a poorly lit dining room.

Four figures sit at the table. One crawls with vermin: centipedes, crawfish, grubs. One sits completely immobile, crystallized and oddly beautiful in its milky-white stillness. One shifts constantly between two forms; first, its torso grows impossibly long, its spine reticulating like some crazy snake with its head waggling from the bed, and then it morphs into a swap creature with a horrifying gas-mask-like protrusion coming from the part where its face should be. And back again. The fourth is by far the most humanoid, but it has a clown face and keeps shedding bits of its fingers, making a horrible wheezing sound that could be laughter.

The plates in front of them are covered in mold.

Mine, the voice in Rose’s gut whispers, mine. My family. They were mine.

Her feet take a step forward without her permission.

Mine, the voice says again, as Rose's hand reaches out for the molded plates, mine, come join my family, my family, mine, mine mine—

Rose blinks and she’s no longer standing. Instead, she’s in an old wheelchair. Tendrils of mold grow around her. Something burns in her veins. She’s crying. Is she crying? Black mold is tearing out of her eyes. She blinks and coughs, trying to clear it, and she looks up and sees—

“Rose!”

Rose shoots up in bed, breathing hard. She scrabbles at her chest, half-expecting to meet the horrible mold but instead she just feels her pajama shirt. She blinks. She wipes at her face. Clear tears shine from her shaking fingers. She falls forward in relief and exhaustion both.

“Shit.”

A tiny sparkle out of the corner of her eye and she gets out to bed to turn on the fairy lights. It takes less than a second for her dad’s words to appear.

rose?

“Nightmare,” she grits out, “sorry.”

The words swirl.

don’t apologize, it’s ok

She just nods, clenching and unclenching her fists in the blankets. The smell is still stinging her nostrils and she scrubs a hand under her nose to get rid of it. She looks down at her hand again.

“Were you—could you see it?” She pulls her knees to her chest. “My nightmare?”

could tell you were upset, couldn’t see

“Oh.”

why?

Rose chews on her lip. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to tell her dad about her nightmare, but it feels…weird, somehow. Like she’s revealing something she shouldn’t. Out of habit more than anything else, she glances up at the camera in the corner of the room.

“I heard you,” she says finally, “I heard you say my name. Then I was able to wake up.”

Her dad’s familiar bittersweet feeling tugs in her gut and she fumbles for a pillow, hugging it to her chest. The scrawl of his words comes a moment later, resting warmly against her stomach. She glances over to the lights and sees his i love you rose gleaming on the wall.

“I love you too.”

do you think you can go back to sleep?

She lies back down, still hugging the pillow to her chest. “Will you stay with me?”

always, sweetie

She does manage to fall back to sleep, but the image of that dining room doesn’t leave her mind.

***

2.

She lurches through a dank, cold hallway, if it can even be called a hallway anymore. Mold has long since claimed the walls and ceiling, the floor scarcely more than wet mud and squishing wood. Above her, she can hear muffled voices: one saying something about dinner, something about the storm, something about Mommy, Daddy, brother, sister. A bug flies in her mouth and dies there.

She has to keep moving. She just has to keep moving.

There’s a door in here. She stumbles through the mouth of the room and to the wooden wall across it—no, no, there was a door here. There was a door here! She pounds against the wood, why won’t they let her out? Why can’t they set her free?

Mommy? Mommy, where are you going? Daddy’s here.

She turns around and through the dark hallway, she sees him. The murkiness in her vision clears and she can see him. He’s here, he’s really here.

He turns towards her, seeing her, and as she lurches toward him, he—

She’s falling through the bottom of the house into deep swamp water. It fills her nose and her ears and she hears someone crying Mommy, Daddy, why do you hate me?

A hand grabs her collar and she turns and sees nothing but golden sparkles.

Her eyes open and she’s staring at the ceiling of her room, breathing heavily again. She gets out of bed and turns on the fairy lights, slumping against the wall just to feel her dad’s words. Her fingers start to glow a pale silvery light as the golden sparkles appear.

another one?

“Yeah,” she mumbles, “I was—it was the same one. Kind of.”

The words swirl for a little longer than normal: he’s thinking.

do you want to talk about it?

Rose opens her mouth, but that same hesitation is back. It’s not the same tug she gets when she’s picking up Dad’s emotions, nor when the mold is trying to get her to sort out what she’s feeling, but it’s…something. Something that’s enough to still her tongue. She reaches under her shirt to pull out the ring, running her fingers over the smooth metal. She touches the engraved words.

The feeling she’d had in the dream, of seeing Dad and needing to move towards him, flickers through her chest.

“Do you think if I asked Chris to let me look at the Baker family files, he’d let me?”

Surprise ripples through their connection before the next words appear.

maybe, depending on why you ask

She fiddles with the ring. Dad’s smart. He can figure out why she’s asking. Sure enough, new words appear a moment later.

be careful, rose

“I know.” No one calls her Eveline to her face anymore, but she’d be an idiot not to notice the looks some of them give her when they think she can’t see. “I’ll be careful. I just…have a feeling.”

if it gets worse, will you tell chris or mom?

At seeing the word ‘Mom,’ the sting in her nostrils returns. She scrubs a hand under her nose. “Yeah, I will.”

thank you

“Mhm.”

wish i could do more

She smiles and holds out her hand, her fingertips glowing. His words glow stronger in return. “You’re doing enough already.”

When she falls back asleep that night, it’s with her dad’s ring clutched in her hand and his words under her head, right along her pillow. But she can still hear faint cries of Mommy and Daddy in her ears, and smell the stench of rotting wood.

She makes a note the next morning to ask Mom about buying a scented candle or something.

***

3.

“Focus, Rose. Try again.”

Rose gives herself a shake and squares up. Across the mat, so does Chris. He lowers his shoulder and invites her to charge. She tries to get low, under his guard, but he kicks her back and nearly sends her off-balance.

“Plant your weight more, make it harder for me to shove you. Again.”

”Easy for you to say when you’re built like a brick shit house.”

He cracks a smile and she swears he lets her ram into him just to prove she can’t knock him over. “Again.”

But no matter what she tries, she just can’t do it. Instead, about two minutes later, she’s on her back with Chris’s arm pinning her down by her shoulders. her breath catches in her throat a little bit and the tug in her gut reappears, but she forces herself to breathe slowly and it gradually goes away.

It’s just sparring. I’m in the compound. I’m with Chris. Chris won’t hurt me.

Chris is frowning at her by the time she gets herself together. He stands up, offering her a hand. She wobbles a bit when she stands up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He frowns harder when she wobbles again, one hand out to steady her as he does a not-so-subtle wellness check. She bites back a curse. She knows she’s been off all day, it’s a miracle it’s taken him this long to notice.

Normally, he’d tell her to shake it off and go again, or he’d do his manly-I’m-going-to-take-care-of-you-without-acknowledging-any-emotions thing, but lately he’s actually been…a human? Sort of? So he looks at her tell him she’s fine and grabs their water bottles.

The first sip she takes, the metallic taste of water that’s been sitting in a bottle too long almost makes her retch. Suddenly the room feels claustrophobic, the air getting too hot and oppressive, and she swallows the film of something thick and gelatinous forming on her tongue.

“Can we go outside?”

“Sure.”

Chris leads the way out to one of the smaller courtyards in between the compound’s larger buildings. Rose sags onto one of the benches and tips her head back, breathing in the fresh, cool air. Some part of her brain mentions that it’s too dry and cold here for mold to grow like that, and she can drink her water without gagging on it. She can see Chris watching her out of the corner of her eye, but he doesn’t say anything.

With her dad’s warning ringing in her ears, she steels herself.

“Chris?”

“Mm?”

“Will you tell me about the Baker family?”

He lowers his water bottle slowly, turning to look at her. Despite the bundle of nerves in her stomach, she manages to hold his gaze.

“That’s classified information, Rose,” he says lowly, “why do you want to know?”

She looks down at her hands. Her dream from the night before plays out again before her eyes: running over rickety docks to the sound of laughing clowns and snapping gators, of coughing from the acrid smoke of burning buildings and a crashed car, and then hearing her dad’s voice call out for her again before she woke up.

And at the edge of the fire, the four figures from the dining room just standing there, watching.

“Rose?”

Right. “I’ve…been having these dreams. I think they’re about what happened in Louisiana, and I just…I want to know.”

By the way Chris shifts next to her, she can tell his mind is racing with all the possibilities of what that could mean, how much danger she’s in, how much danger they’re in by proxy, and what the hell he’s supposed to tell her. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

”The E-type mutamycete infected a family in rural Louisiana. The contagious spread to the nearby swamp. Many people were killed before we were able to contain it.”

”Who were they?”

“The people who died?”

“The family.”

Chris takes another deep breath. “The father was Jack Baker. Mother was Marguerite. Kids were Lucas and Zoe.”

Jack, Marguerite, Lucas, Zoe. “What happened to them?”

“Rose, I—“

“Please,” she says before she can stop herself, “please, I…I need to know.”

Chris looks at her a little strangely but he nods. “Marguerite was dead by the time we got there. Jack…took a little longer. Lucas escaped into the salt mines near the Baker estate before we managed to track him down. Zoe was the only survivor. Without…”

He sighs, looking off into the distance.

“Without Ethan or Joe, I don’t think she would’ve made it.”

“Joe?”

“Joe Baker. Jack’s brother. He lived near them but not near enough that he got caught up in everything. He’s the one who ended up killing Jack and getting the cure for Zoe.” There’s a pause, then he huffs a laugh. “That man took on a whole swap full of bioweapons with nothing but his fists and a few tree branches.”

“Wait, he didn’t have a gun or anything?”

“He got his hands on a prototype gauntlet near the end of it, but for the most part?” Chris shook his head. “He punched his way through.”

She laughs. “Sounds like you two must’ve gotten along great. Did you tell him about the time you punched a boulder?”

“There wasn’t a lot of time for small talk. And who told you that story?”

“Which time?”

Chris groans, putting his head in his hands. Rose laughs. “They haven’t been telling you any other stories, have they?”

“None that were nearly as interesting.”

“Small victories,” he mutters before looking at her. “Does that answer your questions?”

Rose taps her fingers against her water bottle. She can put the names to the figures now; Jack and his ever-shifting body, Marguerite and the crawling bugs, Lucas and the clown, and Zoe with her still crystalline form. But underneath it all, the mold and the voice crying out for her Mommy and Daddy…

Well, there’s only one option for who that could be.

“What do you think Eveline was doing there?”

Chris leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. For a moment, neither of them says anything. Then he sighs. “They said she just wanted a family.”

“A family?”

“Aside from being an incredibly dangerous bioweapon, she was for all intents and purposes a ten-year old kid. From what the reports said, she was trying to lure people to the estate to be a part of her family. hence why the Bakers referred to her as their kid, and why…”

“Why she took Mom and used her to get Dad to come,” Rose finishes.

“Yeah.” Chris scrubs a hand over his face. “And I shouldn’t be talking about any of this with you.”

“Thank you, Chris. Really.”

He hums, turning to look at her. “You said you’ve been having nightmares?”

“…I mean technically, I said dreams, but…”

“But they’re nightmares.”

She fiddles with the cap of her water bottle. “Yeah.”

“Are…uh…should we be telling Dr. Porter?”

Rose makes a face. “He’d just put me on meds or tell the guards to keep a closer eye on me.”

“He’s supposed to be there to help you, Rose.”

“Yeah, but he’s like the other scientists. He’s not like an actual therapist. He cares more about securing the bioweapon, not actually helping me.”

Chris is quiet for a moment and only then does she realize how acidic her voice got. She winces, getting ready to apologize, only for Chris to say: “Do you want to talk to someone else?”

“Is there someone else?”

“Some of the members of the Hound Wolf Squad talk to a psychiatrist. He would probably see you too.”

“What’s he like?”

“The others say he’s—“

“Wait, you’ve never been?”

“Only once or twice.” Rose narrows her eyes at him and to her surprise, Chris nearly chokes on his sip of water. “Damnit, Rose.”

“What? What did I do?”

“That’s exactly the face Ethan made when I told him the same thing.”

“Well, then you should go to therapy.”

“Let’s see about getting you an appointment before we worry about me, okay?”

They sit there in the quiet for a few more moments.

“In all seriousness,” Chris says lowly, “if you really want to know more about Eveline? Ask Mia. She probably knows the most out of any of us.”

“Okay.”

“And if the nightmares—you know you can call me if you need anything, right?”

Rose takes another drink of water. “Michael helps.”

“That’s good.”

“…and yeah, thanks, Chris.”

He rubs her shoulder. “Tell you what, you take me down today and I’ll take you out for ice cream, how’s that?”

“Can it be burgers instead?”

“Oh, that’s gonna need to be a two out of three.”

“You’re on.”

***

4.

She doesn’t ask Mom about it the next time she meets up to go shopping. Nor the next time. Nor the next time. Every time she thinks about it, every time she almost does, but then she gets a horrible aching feeling in her gut and she changes her mind.

Then she has a dream about a boat, twisting and turning in a violent storm, choked with mold and filled with screams, and she knows she has to at least try.

They get smoothies—Chinatown has the best smoothies, Rose won’t hear any arguments—and go to sit in a nearby park. The weather still isn’t warm enough to go without some sort of jacket, but it’s warm enough when they sit in the sun to have her coat open. Mom’s telling her about some annoying client at work that won’t shut up about due process and they just finished laughing about some stupid paperwork thing.

She takes a deep breath.

”Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I want to ask you about Eveline.”

Mom freezes. Her hands shudder for a second. Then she forces a laugh and shakes her head. “Why would you want to ask me about that?”

“I’ve been having these nightmares and I talked to Chris—he said that if I had questions about Eveline, I should ask you.”

Something flickers across Mom’s face. Then she smiles her big smile again. “They’re just nightmares, Rosie. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

Rose frowns. “I know that, Mom.”

Mom nods and turns away like that’s the end of the conversation. “So, I was saying to Lila—“

“Why did she want a family so bad?”

Mom’s mouth twitches. “Rose, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But you were with her before the boat crashed. You knew her before she went crazy and infected all those people. If you know something, then—“

“Rose!” The sharpness of Mom’s voice makes her stop. Mom glances around and leans closer, words a hiss. “I left that life a long time ago, before you were even born. I don’t know what Chris told you, but I’m not discussing this with you. End of story.”

”She called you ‘Mommy.’”

Mom’s face goes pale. Her eyes widen. Her knuckles turn white around the smoothie cup. “Who told you that?”

“I—uh—I just—“

Mom’s eyes narrow. Suddenly, she’s not looking at her mom asking about her nightmares. She’s looking at the face of the researcher who worked for a criminal organization developing a bioweapon. Her throat runs dry and she curls up a little.

“How long have you been having these nightmares?”

“…not that long, Mom—“

“Does Chris know about them?” Without waiting for an answer she pulls out her phone and starts typing. “Maybe they can get you in a neural scan while you’re having one, see what—“

Anger flares up. “I don’t need to be experimented on, Mom—“

“If you’re accessing Eveline’s memories, then maybe you should.”

“What happened to them just being nightmares?”

“These aren’t ordinary nightmares.” Mom doesn’t even look up from her phone. “Considering what you are, I’m not—“

“What I am? What I am? I’m not your daughter anymore, I’m just some crazy bioweapon?” Mom still won’t look up. Rose reaches out and grabs her arm “Mom—“

”Don’t touch me!”

The force of Mom’s shout draws the attention of a nearby dog. It barks at the once, curious. Then it turns and runs back to its owner.

Rose feels cold. Pulling her hand back seems more like an afterthought. She curls up on the bench. Her smoothie is burning ice in her hand. Mom is breathing hard next to her. She looks pointedly at the ground and doesn’t move until she hears Mom’s breaths slow.

Neither of them says anything else until Paul comes to bring Rose back to the compound.

Rose doesn’t hug Mom goodbye. She doesn’t even say goodbye. She just gets in the car and doesn’t pay attention to anything Paul says until she’s back in her room and she can curl up into a ball of her bed and try to sort out which feeling of being abandoned is hers and which is Eveline’s.

Some time after the sun goes down, she sees Dad’s golden sparkle out of the corner of her eye coming from the floor on the far side of the bed. She rolls over. It comes from the wall too. She gets out of bed and turns on the lights.

what happened?

“I tried to ask Mom about Eveline.”

The words swirl around and around and around. Almost like Dad can’t work out what it is he wants to say. Eventually it settles.

did she hurt you?

“Who, Mom?” Rose scoffs. “I’m the big bad bioweapon, shouldn’t you be asking if I hurt her?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wants to claw them back. But it’s too late and Dad’s already writing again,

so she did hurt you

Rose sticks her nose into her pillow. She’s not going to cry about this. She’s not.

“…she told me not to touch her,” she sniffles.

she didn’t mean it, rosie

“She did. She thinks that I’m—that I’m getting her memories and she’s trying to come back through me.”

memories are hard, that’s not your fault

She sniffles again, wrapping the jacket over her nose. She didn’t ask for the nightmares. She didn’t ask to see the Baker family in their rotting house in the infected swamp. She didn't ask to have Eveline’s emotions running through her veins, even though Eveline herself has been dead since before she was born.

She didn’t mean to make Mom so upset.

Her hand moves to her pocket. She takes out her phone. She opens her texts. She clicks on the one at the top.

She types sorry and hits send.

When she falls asleep that night, she’s in an endless swamp of mold. Cold wind blows mercilessly through every dying tree and the water burns when it laps greedily at her sprawled legs. Dead and rotting molded creatures wail in pain as part of them crystallize and shatter, other parts staying fleshy and sodden as the swamp absorbs them. She’s on her knees. She’s crying.

She just wanted Mom.

***

5.

Chris picks up on the first ring. “Rose?”

She chokes out a sob behind her hand. Shuffling from Chris’s end.

“Are you still in your room?” She can hear him throwing on his coat.

“Y-yeah.”

“I’m on my way. Are you hurt?”

“N-no.” She sniffles. His voice gentles just a little.

“I’m coming, Rose. I’ll be right there,”

Rose just sniffles again, burying her face in the pillow. Dad writes on it again and again, i love you, you’re safe, i'm here, i love you, but it’s not enough. Through the phone, she can hear Chris cursing the elevator for being so slow and the thud of his footsteps as he moves through the compound.

“Chris?” She hiccups a sob. “Chris?”

“I’m almost there, Rose, I swear.”

Sure enough, it’s barely a few minutes later when there's a jingle behind the door and Chris is bursting in, phone still in one hand, coat thrown haphazardly over his fatigues. Rose drops the phone, not bothering to hang up, reaching for him and he hurries over to take her in his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he says lowly, gruff voice no longer distorted by the phone, “hey, Rose, it’s okay. You’re okay, it’s over now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She just buries her face in the crook of his neck and sobs. He adjusts his grip to hold both her and the Dad-pillow. Distantly, she registers him asking what happened.

“Nightmare again? How bad?” A pause. “Do you know what it was about?”

Rose squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to go back there. She doesn’t want those things in her head anymore.

Chainsaws—knives—fire burning and the smell of charred flesh—bugs and grubs and darkness and filth and pain pain pain—cold steel and screaming mold and trip wires and explosions and laughing laughing laughing clowns and bugs and swamp water like quicksand and gleaming needles and it’s so dark, it’s so dark, it’s so cold, it hurt, it hurt, it hurts it hurts it hurts—

“Rose! Rose!”

Golden sparks and she’s staring up at Chris’s face, gasping for breath with tears on her cheeks. His eyes roam her face and find…something, because then he’s softening and cupping her cheek with his hand and brushing a tear from her jaw.

“Hey,” he says, gentler than she would have thought his capable of, “stay with me, Rose. Can you do that for me? Just stay with me, in this room?”

She nods, still gasping. Chris rubs her back, taking deep slow breaths himself. Her chest just won’t stop aching like it’s going to explode.

“Eyes here. Eyes on me.” She looks. “Good. I’m gonna count for you, okay? I want you to try and follow the counting.”

“O-okay.”

“In for one, two, three, four, good, now out for one, two, three, four, five, six—that’s alright,” he says when she can’t get it, “just try again, ready, in for one, two, three, four…”

It takes her six more tries to get it so she’s no longer about to pass out. Chris won’t hear any of her mumbling and stuttering apologies, ruffling her hair and telling her he’s happy she called him. She’s still sobbing a bit when he asks her if she wants something to drink and when he tries to move away, she won’t let him.

“It’s right over there, Rose, you’ll be able to see me the whole time.” She just clings to him. “Rose…”

Dad’s sparkles almost sound like he’s laughing.

she’s stubborn

“Yeah, wonder where she gets that from,” Chris mutters.

i ever tell you about pink shirt?

“Pink shirt? What pink shirt?”

wore it holding rose, she loved it, slept on floor next to her crib

Chris’s chest rumbles under her ear as he laughs. The words swirl as Dad laughs too before reforming.

you got in bed first

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris grumbles, before arms slide around Rose and lift her up like she doesn’t weigh anything, “my back can’t take sleeping on the floor anymore.”

Rose sniffles, still holding onto his shoulders. “Old man.”

“Shut up or I’ll drop you,” he says, like a liar, as he carefully lays her down in the middle of the bed and lets her pull him to lie down too. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Now that the worst of the panic has passed, she feels a bit embarrassed at how she basically fell apart all over him. “Sorry.”

“What? No, Rose—look at me.” She does. “I’m happy you called me. I told you, anything, okay?”

“…thanks, Chris.”

He nods. “What did the doc say?”

“I have trauma, apparently—“ Chris stifles a snort— “which is making the nightmares worse, but as for the rest of it…he’s not sure how much of it’s just me being part of the Megemycete and how much is…”

Chris hums as she trails off. Rose’s gaze drifts toward the wall where the golden sparkles are still drifting around. As she turns fully, they consolidate.

i’m so proud of you, sweetie, i love you

“I love you too—“ but the ache is back. She’s choking on her tears again and Chris is reaching out for her— “c-can you call M—?”

The word ‘mom’ dies in her mouth.

Chris frowns, but he’s already reaching for his phone. Rose shuffles as close to him as she dares, burying her face in his shoulder. She grabs the pillow for support as the phone starts to ring.

“Mia? It’s late, I know. No, no, everything’s fine, it’s just…” He looks down at her. She can’t meet his eyes. “Rose had a nightmare. She wants to talk to you.”

A moment later, the phone is gently pushed into her hand. She’s shaking as she holds it up to her ear.

“M—hi?”

“Hey, honey,” comes the voice and some part of Rose is screaming, “I’m sorry you had a nightmare, are you okay?”

She sniffles. Her tongue hurts. Her stomach is twisted into thick black knots. She hears Dad write something and then Chris’s arm is around her and she’s choking a sob into the phone before she can stop herself.

“Oh, Rosie,” she hears, “I’m so sorry. I’m here now, okay? I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“Shh, shh, honey, it’s okay. Let’s not worry about that right now. Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

Her hands are shaking so badly she almost drops the phone. Chris takes it from her and taps a button, setting it between them.

“You’re on speaker now, Mia,” he says, “hey, come on, Rose. Do you need me to count again?”

She shakes her head, grabbing a pillow and burying her face in it. Chris’s arm stays around her and gold glows out of the corner of her eye.

“Rose? Rosie, honey, are you still there?”

“E—uh, Michael says to give her a minute.”

“Is…is he there too?”

“Yeah.”

They’re all here. All three of them. Chris is here, holding her, Dad is here in her arms, and M—

“M—M—Mo—“ The words won’t come out of her mouth. “C-can you talk about your work again?”

There’s a pause, but only a small one.

“Did I tell you that someone wanted to redo all of the paperwork just so it would fit the printer margins automatically?”

Rose sniffles and puts her chin on the pillow. ”They what?”

She listens to the story about incompetent people not knowing how use computers and trying to staple with staplers that weren’t filled with the right staples. Chris huffs in a few places, still rubbing Rose’s back. Slowly, she starts to calm down again, properly this time, just as the story winds down to an incident involving a pitcher of iced tea, a dish towel, and a fight over a dry cleaning bill.

“Why would you wear something that has to be specially cleaned to an office?”

“It’s called a sense of style, Chris.”

“Hey! I’ve got style!” To which both of them make disbelieving noises and even Dad writes a sardonic sure, buddy across the pillow. “You’re all just jealous.”

For the first time all night, Rose manages to laugh. The tension visibly goes out of Chris as he hears it and over the phone, she hears a sigh of relief.

“You feeling better, honey?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” She toys with the frayed seam on the blanket. “Can…can I see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, honey, I’d like that. As long as Chris says it’s okay.”

“I’ll get O'Shaughnessey to sign off on it. It’ll be fine.”

“Can we get smoothies?”

A laugh. “Sure. It’s a plan.”

“I…I love you.”

“I love you too, honey. You try and get some sleep now, okay?”

“Okay.”

Chris reaches out and hangs up the call, beginning to type a message to the psychiatrist. Rose cuddles the pillow to her chest, feeling the familiar words write themselves across it. The enormity of how exhausted she is suddenly crashed onto her shoulders and keeping her eyes open a second longer feels like trying to lift up a building.

Chris must feel her start to sag because there are hands coaxing her under the blanket, plugging her phone back in to charge. She fumbles blindly for him and he takes her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, okay?” She hums. “Get some rest, Rose. We’ll go see Mia tomorrow.”

Luckily, she doesn't have any more dreams that night and Dr. O'Shaughnessey lets her and Chris have the day to go off base. She's not too proud to admit she hides behind Chris a little bit when they first get out of the car, but he none-to-gently pushes her forward.

"Hey, honey," M—she gets asked, "how are you doing?"

"I'm okay."

"Did you manage to get some sleep?" Rose nods. "Good. Well, come on. Smoothies this way."

They get the smoothies. They go sit in the park. M—Chris and her make small talk. Rose doesn't say anything. She nods when they ask her questions and fiddles with the edge of the label until it comes off the cup. She notices the two of them go quiet and looks up to see them both looking at her.

"Rose, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Chris looks at her and then looks at M—looks at her and she sighs. "Can I drive you back to my house? There's…some things we have to talk about."

Part of her wants to ask if she can ride with Chris, but the gross mess of feelings in her gut doesn't let her do anything other than nod and get in the car. The ride is…difficult, especially because she keeps trying to start a conversation but Rose won't—can't—say anything other than one-word answers. When they finally get to her house, she silently accepts the glass of water and curls as much into the other side of the couch as she can.

Somewhere, she knows she's being ridiculous. She shouldn't be reacting this way—how many teenagers fought with their parents? How many times has she had a fight with her m—

But not every teenager was a mold person. Not every parent used to work for a bioterrorist organization. Not every family was haunted by terrible trauma around the concept of family.

"Rose?"

She blinks. She looks up. M—Mia is staring at her. She shakes her head. "Sorry. Zoned out."

"That's okay. I…I'm sorry." She looks down at her hands wrapped around her own glass. "I shouldn't have shouted at you."

"It's okay."

"No, Rose, it's not. You…" She sighs. "I was expecting you to get curious about Eveline at some point. I just…wasn't expecting it that day."

Rose shuffles. "I'm sorry. I should've been more careful."

"Rose? Can you look at me?" Rose looks up. "What did you want to know about Eveline?"

Rose glances at Chris. Chris nods. She looks back. "Why did she want a family so bad?"

M—Mia sighs. "I think it was a side effect of her being a little girl growing up quarantined in a facility by herself, for the most part. Me and the other person who were overseeing her transport, they had us masquerading as her parents. She was always obsessed with being a real family."

"So…you were just there?" Mia looks confused. "She wanted you to be her m—she wanted to be your daughter, it wasn't—she didn't find you, or something, you were just the person assigned to be her m—her family?"

She gets a silent nod, but now both of them are looking at her strangely. She looks back at her glass of water. It feels…odd to know that Eveline wasn't trying to find Mia on purpose, not outside of the fact that she'd been assigned to be her family. Part of her is angry that it could've been someone else and her family could've been spared this, part of her is relieved that it was mostly chance, that there wasn't something unique about Mia or her dad that made Eveline want to go for them specifically, and part of her…

Part of her knows what it's like to have a mother voluntarily leave.

While she's been pondering, though, she's missed the silent conversation that Mia and Chris are having that ends with a gentle touch on her arm.

"Rosie," Mia says, "Rosie, look at me."

She does. Mia hesitates for a moment, before she reaches out and takes her face. "What?"

"You are my daughter. Not Eveline, not anybody else. You, Rosemary Winters. I'm your mom."

Everything in Rose freezes.

She takes a shaky breath.

She looks at Mia's—at her mom's face.

"M…Mom?"

"Yeah, honey," Mom says, scooting closer on the couch, "I'm here. I'm right here, okay? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

And suddenly she can't stop it. She's rambling about her nightmares, about how scared she is, about Eveline, about being sorry, sorry, so sorry, everything, everything, everything, because her mom is here and that's what moms do, they listen and they help and they love and Rose is so tired, so scared, so lonely and she just wants her mom to know how much she needs her sometimes, is that so wrong?

Mom holds her. Mom just holds her. She cries with the relief of it.

***

+1.

Rose is falling.

Or, well, she’s moving downward through something, passing by flashes of the swamp, the burning house, the moldy ship, built it’s like she’s outside of them somehow now. She falls toward an image of a desecrated trailer and its doors open. She falls through and hits the ground, shivering from the sudden cold.

She looks around. She’s in a vast, barren plain that’s half frozen, half covered in mud and mold. She pulls her jacket closer around her and walks forward. It’s weirdly similar to where she and Dad fought Miranda, only this time there aren’t any of the weird mold trees or…much of anything at all. It’s just…flat.

She becomes startlingly aware that this doesn’t feel like a dream. She knows somehow it must be, there’s no way she would be here otherwise, but she feels like…herself. She’s Rose in this moment, she’s not some weird amalgamation of herself and Eveline, she’s not just passively experiencing the things that the dreams do to her, she’s…she’s here.

And she’s walking.

Just to check that she really can control what’s going on right now, she stops. She turns around. She walks in the other direction for a few seconds. She stops again. She looks down at her hands. She reaches for her powers and her fingertips glow.

Something in the ground glows too. Gold.

“Dad?”

The ground gives way underneath her and she tumbles into darkness.

She lands on her hands and knees in the cold snow. Standing, she brushes it off and looks up to see the house Dad had showed her in the Megamycete in the distance. Snow falls around it. Three figures stand at the base of its steps.

Mom. Dad. Chris.

A crackling sound makes her turn and she sees the Baker house rising up out of the earth, surrounded by still-burning brambles and rotting wood. The four Bakers still stand outside: Jack, Marguerite, Lucas, Zoe.

Silhouetted in the fog, far, far away, she sees the shadow of the massive castle she’d run through in the first stratum.

”No wonder no one loves me.”

Rose whirls around. She definitely heard Eveline’s voice, but she’s nowhere to be seen. She turns again, trying to figure out where that might have come from, only to see her.

Eveline is on the ground in front of her, on her knees, her shoulders shaking.

Rose slowly walks over to her. Eveline doesn’t even notice. She looks around for something to do, some sort of sign for what she’s supposed to do, but there’s nothing. And as she looks, the houses begin to fade. The figures disappear into the smoke. They’re alone on the flat moldy ground.

Eveline is still crying.

Rose’s fingertips glow again and she remembers how her dad had been able to conjure guns, ammo, healing stuff, and white sage while she was in the Megamycete. Closing her eyes, she reaches out and concentrates, willing something to take shape in her hands.

When she opens them again, she’s holding a soft blanket with a brown and white square pattern. Holding it carefully, she approaches Eveline. Eveline doesn’t seem to hear her over the sounds of her own crying, and Rose holds her breath as she crouches next to her.

Slowly, carefully, she drapes the blanket around Eveline.

The sobs slowly taper off. Eveline’s hands move to touch the blanket. She holds it between trembling fingers like it’s the first time she’s ever felt something soft before. Rose’s breath stays lodged in her throat as Eveline slowly looks up.

She looks like every other scared and crying kid.

“It’s okay,” Rose says quietly, “it’s okay. It’s over now.”

Eveline keeps staring at her, the blanket tugged closer around her shoulders. Slowly, the world starts to get brighter and brighter, until it hurts to keep her eyes open. The last thing she registers is a small hand carefully taking hers.

Rose wakes up with tears on her cheeks. She wipes at them, looking at her hand. The tug in her gut is quiet. The weight in her chest no longer crushes her lungs, it’s just pleasantly heavy. She fumbles for the ring around her neck and runs her thumb over the engraving.

She falls back asleep with a smile on her face.

#resident evil #resident evil 7 #resident evil biohazard #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #shadows of rose #rosemary winters #ethan winters #mia winters #chris redfield #eveline #dragonbabbles #fic

[downydig]

Hiya Huck! I love very much your puppets you've been making as well as your amazingly cute animations and art! It's all very much an inspiration to me while I'm working on my own project! I was wondering because I am on the search for some groovesational puppet foam, where do you get yours? Do you have any recommendations for what to look for and, if possible, where to get it? Apologies if this has been answered before, and Thank you so much for your time! :o)

This makes me small, thank you so much for the niceys! <: - )c

This also makes me sound silly but I’ve been using upholstery foam! Someone gave me some old couch foam because they had to take it apart, and that’s what I’ve been using…

If I had money though, I would get reticulated foam! It’s great for its texture and lightness! It can be pricey however! But upholstery foam works fine as well, you just need to cover it, and it’s much heavier and denser… so carving the foam is the only way to get a proper shape rather than creating a form from a pattern 👍

#thanks for the ask! #puppet stuff! #I’m a silly billy I use stuff from Joann’s

[salomasretired]

Okay yeah here are some disabling skin conditions not widely understood for visibility & disability pride.

I am making this post primarily because I had no inkling of having these disorders and just thought it had something to do with poor personal hygiene. This was a huge hit to my self esteem and affected the way I view self care. Hopefully other people who have these issues can better receive treatment and realize they’re not alone, nor do these conditions make them unclean or unloved.

I will be including images below these disorders.

Confluent and Reticulated Papillomatosis (CARP, Gougerot-Carteud Syndrome)

Thought to be caused by defects in the K-15 gene and simultaneous skin infection, this causes keratin to build up in these little patches that grow in a winding pattern around the truck of teens and young adults, giving the skin a rough texture and hyperpigmented appearance. It’s not particularly painful, but it does have an effect on appearance.

Dyshidrotic Eczema (Dyshidrosis, pompholyx)

Although this is named eczema, it’s pretty distinct from it. This disorder causes pin-head sized blisters to congregate under the skin on the palms and feet, causing drying, peeling, and itching. It’s not well understood but thought to be exacerbated by allergies and stress. I personally found that removing some foods that contain nickel from my diet, wet wrapping, ignoring the itch and using baking soda based handsoap keeps it roughly under control. This condition can be extremely painful during a bad flare up, where I would avoid using my hands or certain fingers when doing tasks, even unable to bend my fingers due to the tight skin sometimes.

Hidradenitis Suppurativa (HS, acne inversa)

This causes bumps, sores, pimples and cysts to appear under the arms, inner thighs, groin & butt. Basically anywhere where skin touches skin, which is unfortunately why being of a larger size makes this worse. The cause is ultimately unknown but may have something to do with hormones and disorders with the second layer of skin, the dermis. It primarily affects women, but men with the disorder may have sores along the back of their neck as well. In severe cases, it may cause scarring, hyperpigmentation, and severe pain, that makes walking and doing basic tasks difficult to impossible.

I hope this informs & helps people, especially those that aren’t even aware they might have these symptoms. If you have these conditions, feel free to add your own experiences in the replies, reblogs or tags. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and happy disability pride.

#disability pride #disability visibility #hidradenitis suppurativa #confluent and reticulated papillomatosis #dyshidrotic eczema #long post

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and To Fight

Part 2

Summary: Reader is fascinated by her “swashbuckler”

Notes: This runs long. It is a cute as the build up of the relationship between Enjolras and Reader. Be nice! Feedback is welcome! Want to be tagged, please let me know! At the end is picture of the “swashbuckler”

Part One (can be found here!)

brasserie - a bar, pub

assignats - form of money during this time period.

“He is not far.” Your swashbuckler said, with a small smile. “In this rain however, it feels far.” He pulled on one of his cuffs.

You nodded. “Especially, from where I was coming from.”

“You had walked far?” You saw something flicker across his face once again.

“Far enough in this rain.”

“You are a brave girl.” He gave you a half smile.

His words warmed you, despite the rain that slipped and slid down your scarf. “My mama needs her medicine. That makes me brave.”

“You are a good daughter.”

Finally, outside the door of his domicile, you both stopped. He glanced at you. “I shall wait for you here.”

“Oh. Umm.” You chewed your cheek, you remembered the scene you had walked in on. “I wouldn’t want to tear you away from anything important.”

He chuckled. “A lady’s safe is far greater then that.”

You flushed at his words. “If you insist.” Your tongue lingered but trailed off. You were certain you had heard what you believed to be his name to be. Yet, you were unsure if you should say it.

“My name is Enjolras.” He said softly. “And may I know yours?”

“Of course, it is Y/N.”

He smiled, placing a hand over his heart. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You gave nod, hoping he didn’t see the flush on your cheeks deepen as your name passed his lips.

******

“Y/N, my dear it is late.” You watched the older man, tottered around grabbing at his bottles. The bottles clanked and jangled. They were all shapes and sizes.

“I know and I am terribly sorry.” You looked down at your feet. Nervously, you eyed your gloves. “But with the rumors of unrest.” Your voice trailed off.

You wondered if your swashbuckler was actually a revolutionary. You pushed the idea away. Not your place to imagine things despite what you walked in on.

Though, you could not keep yourself from glancing towards where Enjolras stood under the overhang. All that concerned you was that he was kind man, what else he did was none of your concern.

Chewing your bottom lip, you watched the doctor. “I am worried.” You finally admitted. “That it will only become harder and harder to see you.” Stepping back, you made sure to not get in his way.

He nodded. “Yes. I heard of such things as well.” In the lantern’s light you noticed worry crease his brow. “This is an old city. We will be alright.” He glanced your way as he grabbed an empty vile.

“I certainly hope so.”

The doctor, had known you and your family for some years. You were still pleased, he answered his call.

“I have to repay you. What can I give you?” You loosened the strings on your reticules.

“None sense child, you need all you have to stay in good standing.” He had been saddened when you closed the doors on your father’s shop.

You stepped forward. “Please sir.”

“Send word when Greta is making her cherry glazed pheasant and that will be all I need.” He gave you a warm smile.

“I can do that.” You replied with your own smile. It pleased you that he was a good man. Many grew cold and distant during these times.

“Tell me dear child.” He slid a cork into the bottle of medicine. “Is this someone, who has promised to give you the life you finally deserve? Or shall I hush since no promises have been made as thus.” He looked at you from under his bushy white eyebrows.

You shook your head. “Sadly, no.” Not able to resist, you did glance at Enjolras.

The realization came that he could have possibly noticed all your glances. You hoped he had not. “I had to take a shorter way in this rain.” You sighed. “A few men along with him were playing a card game of sorts. Seeing I was alone, at this time of night, he offered to be my escort.”

“Oh, and he is so young. How very grand of him.”

“He is not a child.” You spoke suddenly, not even knowing where that had come from and you covered your mouth. “I am sorry.”

The doctor chuckled. “Compared to me, he is.”

You gave a short giggle and nodded. “I suppose that would be true.”

“Yes. Though, I am sure he has an age on you.”

You felt warmth fill your cheeks. “I would not be surprised.”

He looked so incredibly strapping, you suddenly wondered if he had ever fenced. He would look very pleasing with a sword.

“My dear girl.” The doctor’s voice came into your thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I can practically see dreams, hopping around in your heart.”

“Oh.” You let yourself grow serious.

“It is alright, sweet Y/N we all need to stay with our dreams.” Grabbing a scrap of cloth, he wrapped up the bottle. “You haven’t had any in a while. You deserve a few.”

You nodded softly. They were mostly gone. “Thank you.”

“Don’t let them all disappear, child.” He sighed. “It would have made your father’s heartbreak to see you lose them.”

“I suppose you are right.” You grimaced.

“And here you go, it’s stronger. Only two, drops at a time. Should last longer.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Now remember one of Greta’s famous pheasants.” He gave you a smile.

“Yes, I won’t forget. Thank you so much.” You slipped the bottle into your reticules, easily making it safe by tightening the strings once again.

******

He stopped, turning to you. “Tis, a good thing the rain has stopped.” Remarked, Enjolras.

You smiled up at him, letting the scarf drift down so it was wrapped around your shoulders. “Yes. It had been dreadful.” Were struck with the idea that he may not walk with you the rest of the way. You became grieved at the idea.

“You truly walked this entire way?”

You nodded.

He chuckled, it came out stifled. “I am terribly sorry to ask again. Just taken with your bravery.” He gave you a small smile.

“My father, had always told me of the importance of being brave and true.”

He smiled at that. “He sounded like a good man.”

“He was.”

Your heart calmed as the two of you kept on your journey back to your house. Passing under a pylon of gas lamps, you glanced up at him. You grew antsy wanting to know more about your kind stranger. But questions hung heavy in your mouth.

Walking as close as you did the fineness of his profile truly captured you. It was when he slipped on his long coat and scarlet scarf was startling, incredibly dapper and sophisticated. Before he resembled a mere swashbuckler and now looked like a proper gentlemen. It had your insides fluttering.

You tried to push these feelings away, it was probably due to being incredibly exhausted and the memories of your father had made you sentimental.

Though soon more questions blossomed in you. You’d probably never see him again, you reasoned and you did not wish to look like a fool.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Is there something that worries you? I promise, I am honorable.”

You laughed behind your gloved hand, meeting his eyes. “It is truly not that. You have proven that.”

He tilted his head. “Then what seems to be hopping around in you like a baby bird or rabbit?”

You rose an eyebrow. “You are quite poetic.”

“It is was a subject I favored.” He mouth twitched upward on the one side. “So what then do you wish to ask ?”

“I think I already have my answer.” Knowing he was a student answered several of the questions that made made their way to your head.

“Oh?”

“Safe to assume you have fenced, since you were a student.”

Soon he stopped and with a wide smile splashed across his face; he turned and moved elegantly in his boots. Watching him, caused a pang in your heart that only grew when he drew closer to you. “I have, not to sound like a braggart I am quite good.”

“Poetic leanings and a good fencer. It is nice to know, that is what makes up my brave escort.” You smiled up at him.

“A young girl as yourself, inspired me to do what was right by you. Bravery is something that comes at needed moments.”

“I agree.”

His manner of speaking reminded you of your father and the friends he kept. Your heart warmed despite this all being over soon. The two of were close to your house.

“Here we are.” You finally said, a short time later.

He looked beyond you at the house. “You are safe here?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I bid you a good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Enjolras.”

******

Closing the door, you leaned against it. Tears fell from your eyes. Was it wrong, you wondered, that part of you wished if times were different you’d want him to court you.

You had no idea if he was a truly a good man. He did have someone tied up. But he was a good man to you, and you found him fascinating. His kindness pulled on you, almost as much as his warm eyes had or the wild curls that crowned his head. You had longed to reach up and tame one of those wild locks. If only the two of you could have met during a different time.

Coughing, from above reached your ears down below. You frowned. Turning, you latched the door before hurrying up to your mama’s room. Despite knowing, she probably wouldn’t see them, you wiped away the tears that had fallen.

Opening her door, you crept in. Her deep, ragged breathing greeted you. You were very grateful she was fast asleep. How she slept and coughed was beyond you, but so did the illness. Seeing that the blanket slipped off her shoulders, you pulled back into place. Sleep mama, you made a wish. Let your body heal.

Grabbing the pitcher, you refreshed her cup. Loosening the strings once again on your reticules, you took out the small bottle, unwrapping it you only allowed for the two drops.

Before leaving her room, you snuffed out the candle that you had lit before leaving. You wrinkled your nose when the smoke reached you, you hoped it would not start a coughing fit. She didn’t need another.

And now it was time for you to retire as well.

******

Waking you felt more tired then rested. That evening excursion, had left you with sleep still clinging to you. It was worth it. You had woken yourself and not to the sound of her coughing.

You went over to where you laid out your dress. You were pleased to see it had dried. Going to your window, you peaked between the opening of the heavy curtains. It was lovely, from what you could see.

Turning, seeing your blue scarf you paused. You closed your eyes at the memory of Enjolras. In your minds eye, you remembered how he looked when he bent down to retrieve your scarf, how his brown eyes met yours as he handed it back to you or how you were able to you hear the timber of his voice.

Opening your eyes, you decided that you would go to the park. You desperately needed to get your mind off of him and your mama being sick. Seeing the ducks and flowers would do you well.

“Mi belle petite fille.” Came a soft voice just beyond your door. You smiled, it was Greta.

“Come in dear woman.” You practically hopped back into bed. No need in worrying her that you had already arisen and despite being sleepy, ready for a very small adventure to the park. It had been far too many days since you went to one.

Her face was warm and happy. “Your mother is better this morning.” She happily announced but then her face dropped when she saw your dress on a chair. “My belle, what is this?”

“Last night mama finished the last of her medicine. I dressed and visited the doctor.” You braced yourself, she would not be pleased at all.

“Why didn’t you awaken me?” You could feel the worried edge of her voice as she glanced back at you. She gave the curtains a shake before pulling them aside.

“It was terribly late. I wasn’t going to disturb your sleep. You needed it more then I do.”

She shook her head. “It is my duty to make sure you are safe, I could have helped.”Light flooded your room, it was if the sun itself was there.

If she had, you would have never met Enjolras. The idea of that never having happened, made your heart squeeze.

You smiled, it was as clear that your mere peak had promised a lovely day, and it truly was.

*****

“Greta?” You asked after finishing your porridge and fruit.

“Yes?”

“I wish to go to the park for some air, I will need you help me with blue dress?“

She rose an eyebrow. “The powder blue one?“

You nodded.

“It is a lovely day for it.” She paused.

Your eyes met. You made a face. “We need a few days of her not coughing for her to join me.”

She sighed and nodded.

*****

After slipping on the dress, you fretted. Greta came up behind. “Ma belle, sit and let me work with these strands.”

“Ok, Greta.”

It was not long before she swept up your hair and entwined a light blue ribbon. You glanced and smiled. “It is lovely.”

“Don’t forget these.” She gave one of your prettier set of gloves.

“Do you think I should?“

She nodded. “Of course.”

You slipped them on and were rather pleased with how pretty they were. They made you feel dainty and pretty.

Grabbing, your blue scarf you wrapped it around your shoulders and headed out.

******

You were filled with such a delight, the park was exactly what you needed. Maybe next time, you’d bring a book. It wasn’t as if you were afraid of scaring anyone away.

The pond was as lovely as ever. Oh, how you wished you could draw. The lily pads were in full bloom, the rest of the park was as well. It was so delightful. Such an array of color and sweet scents in the air. This was really nice. Mama, would love to see it like this. If the medicine kept on working perhaps you could bring her here soon.

*******

Finding a bench, you made your way over to it and sat down. You inhaled deeply and smiled. There was no mud, you were relieved. It had not even dawn on you to think of mud, so you were grateful your dress was saved for another day.

You really grateful for this time. It was nice to have to worry about the household. If good tidings were finally on your side, maybe mama would finally get better with the stronger medicine. With your hands in your lap, you smiled. Wearing your nicer gloves had been a nice choice. They truly made you feel pretty.

“What is this? Luck has shined down on me.“

Everything in you stilled. Could it really be the voice that had intrigued you the night before. Holding your breath, turning to the voice a smile spread across your face.

“I suppose it has shined down on both of us.” You replied, your heart picked up speed.

He glanced around. “May I sit beside you?”

“Yes, please.”

“Thank you.” With a smooth stride, he came around and sat beside you.

For a moment all that could be heard between the two of you, was the honking and quaking of the ducks as they waddled to and fro from the pond.

“It’s nice to see you in the light of day.” He finally spoke.

Smiling, you felt as your cheeks warmed. “Yes, and at least it’s not raining.”

He met your eyes before gesturing to you. “I see you have your blue scarf with you once again.”

“It’s a favorite of mine.” Nervousness washed over you, stealing away your ability to speak. Biting the inside of your cheek, you felt that you sounded so stupid. Your favorite, seriously.

“Have you given your mother the medicine you retrieved last night?”

“Yes. I started right after returning last night.”

“Oh, that is good.”

“This was the first morning where I was not awoken by her coughing.” You smiled at him broadly.

His smiled matched yours. “It pleases me to hear this.” He reached up and adjusted his scarf. “I was on my way to The Aviary, would you care to join me?”

For a moment, you tried to figure out why he would be going to a bird sanctuary.

“Have you not been to the brasserie known as The Aviary?”

“Oh?” You covered your mouth to hide some of your surprise. You shook your head. “I’ve never been to a pub.” You quietly admit.

“Seriously?”

You had always read stories where girls got butterflies in their tummies when around a boy, or in Enjolras’s case a man who made them happy. He certainly made you happy.

“I’ve never been in one. Father had promised me that I would have that kind of adventure upon his return. Since girls, should never go to one, alone.” You added remembering that as much as he wanted you to know a lot of different things, he was terribly concerned about your dignity.

He pressed his lips and nodded before, he practically leapt up then. “Then yes, more then ever before. You need to come with me to The Aviary and have this adventure.” He smiled broadly and offered you his arm.

Your heart skipped, seeing him smile like this in the light of sun, he did indeed look much younger. Carefully and as gracefully as possibly, you stood.

“And I promise if any my comrades show up, I’ll keep them in line.”

“I’m not worried, I know that I’ll be safe with you.”

Was that pink dusting his cheeks, you mused.

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Despite, being as lovely as a fresh flower, I don’t want anyone questioning your dignity.”

With your heart skipping a beat, you finally took his arm. You couldn’t look at him, as you felt yourself flushing even harder.

“I hope I haven’t made you feel uncomfortable with my words.” You caught his eyes before he looked away.

“You haven’t.” You stumbled, over the words so you chose honesty. “It’s, it’s just I’ve never been courted, so I am not used to hearing such sweet words.”

He put a hand over your gloved one. “What?” His eyes grew. “That is truly a shame.”

“I don’t have time now anyways.” You shrug. “I’ve resigned myself.”

“You are an interesting girl, Y/N.” You could feel as his eyes moved on you. “Right now all that is important is you enjoy this adventure.”

“I would like that.”

******

Last night as he was questioning the inspector, you came tumbling in. You were a breath of fresh air or as pleasing to the senses as your blue scarf. There was a delicacy to you, yet a strength that was fascinating.

You had the sensibility of an educated person and you were as gentle as a girl. The fire he saw in your eyes, kept him to you.

Last night, with all his comrades before you or even seeing the inspector tied up, you could have swooned. You did not.

Instead, you were steadfast, and there was no getting between you and getting the medicine for your mother. The fact you walked all the way from your house to the doctor’s truly amazed him.

As you walked to The Aviary, he was pleased to have another moment with you. These were not good times. But he could not stop himself from walking up to you. He needed to see more of you then he had last night.

*****

“Right in here.” He pushed open the heavy door ushered you into the shadowy pub.

Glancing, just past you he’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t relieved to see the table he usually shared with his comrades was empty.

A hush fell over open room the further you walked in. You truly were a flower among all the dusty and murkiness of the place. The fabrics of your dress, scarf and even your gloves has long since grown soft and worn in spots but they were far more refined then most of everyone else wore.

As he swept his eyes over the room, the hush that had fallen was faded. Easily, he guided you the table.

“Y/N,” He gestured to the chair he usually sat in, it stood in the corner. “Please sit here.”

If he was going to be here with you, he wanted you tucked away beside him. He did not want to risk any unwanted touches or brushings with some of the patrons, that didn’t know how to treat a lady.

******

Your nose twitched as you followed Enjolras to the table. The way was a touch on the rank side. If only there were windows or maybe more flowers and it would be better.

Though seeing how people sat or reclined they wouldn’t possibly be seen like this, maybe they were indifferent. Distantly, you wondered. Regardless, you were prickled with excitement, before you had read about these kind places. Now you were in one.

“Y/N.” Though, hearing him say your name and being in this kind of place was practically making you breathless. “Please sit here.”

You nodded. Once seated, he stood near by and he shed his long coat. Not long after he pulled himself free of his red scarf. He placed both near you on a free chair. Once again he resembled a swashbuckler and your heart continued to flutter.

A woman swished over, in a very immodest brown dress. Her eyes raked over you. It made you shift. Occasionally, on the way the market or when your father’s store had been open, on occasion you’d see women dressed like that. You couldn’t imagine how she’d be comfortable.

She quickly turned her attention to your swashbuckler. You were completely at a loss at what to do.

He turned you, unbelievably close. Your heart slammed against your chest. His breath was warm, “Do you care if I order for the two of us?”

You shook your head. “No, please do.” A smile appeared on his face, as you gave him a sidelong glance. You placed your hands in your lap before tugging ever so at your gloves. You had learned not to fidget a long time ago, but around him you forgot yourself.

Smoothly, he ordered. He spoke and handled it. Sure it was probably an everyday thing for him but was very exciting and different.

******

Soon two drinks swirled in your stomach, a warmth had come over you that made your scarf slid down and come to rest at your waist.

He had turned towards you as you spoke. Intensity, came over him as he spoke to you, even if were merely about nature or birds.

He took a deep sip of his drink. “Y/N, I want you to know.” He put his cup down and made a dismissive gesture. “That man you saw he was an Inspector Javert. One of my men handled him, he had infiltrated our ranks. What he did I can not be sure, but I didn’t deal with him since your arrival.”

Your stomach churned. “Your ranks?” So said before you tried to disappear into your cup.

“My friends and I are desperately trying to make France better. Not everyone agrees.” He looked far off momentarily before glancing back at you.

You nodded. “Life has only gotten worse, people are angry, cold.” You say thinking of how they treated you at your father’s store before you finally closed it or simply walking around the market.

“Yes, they have.” His cup banged when he lowered onto the table again. “That is why we are trying to change things for the better.”

You nodded. “Good. Do what you must. Father said actions are needed at times to accomplish great things.”

“He was a smart man. I think I would have been fond of him.”

“He was.” You finished your cup.

Lifting a hand, he gestured and your cups were soon replaced.

“Oh!” You lifted a hand. “I probably shouldn’t. I have all my assignats at home.” Worry crossed your brow.

He smiled, leaning in close. “I invited you. I had planned to take care of you.”

You flushed hard. “If you truly insist.”

“I do.”

Sure, your father had always felt it was a man’s place to do so. But the two of you were not courting and well, you well were a touch dizzy with all the emotions running through you.

“You had best be careful with this.” Soon you felt as he took your blue scarf from around your waist. “You could drop it again.”

“But if I have you around, I’ll never lose it.” You said lightly smiling at him.

He replied with his own. “Yes!” He gave a roar of laughter. “I shall never let that happen.” He wrapped it around his throat. “I will make sure its always safe.” You giggled behind one of your hands.

“Let me see you.” He suddenly said, gently he moved your hand from in front of your mouth. “A laughter from you is like a smile exploding, I wish to see it.”

You felt as your cheeks flush at his words and you allowed yourself to giggle.

He smiled. “There you go.” His voice gentle. “Was that so bad?”

“No.” You shook your head.

“Good.” Gently, he pulled your scarf from his throat. Some curls fell forward as he looked down at it. He made a soft sound, he looked at you. “It is truly lovely.”

You swallowed. “Was the last present from my father.” You wished you could reach out to one of his errant curls.

“Very nice.” He placed it along side his coat. “It shall be safe with my coat.” Grabbing his own scarf, he soon wrapped it around his throat again.

*****

“Enjolras!” A loud booming voice crashed and washed over the place. “Yes, of course.” The big, burly man took some lit candles from the woman who had swishing around with drinks.

“Have we been here that long?” You whispered.

“Time has certainly passed on a bird’s wing.”

You smiled. “And just as pleasant.”

With a clatter, the man placed the candles in front of the two of you. He had a huge grin slashed across his broad face. He rose an eyebrow as he saw you.

“Have you finally found yourself angel, Enjolras?”

You heard a sigh come from Enjolras.

This is Errol Flynn..old time actor who used to play rogues..pirates (swashbucklers…and Robin Hood)

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn #joe quinn imagine #joe quinn fanfiction #bbc!enjolras #enjolras x y/n #enjolras x you #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras imagine #enjolras fanfiction #a time to love and to fight #part 2 #bbc les mis #les miserables

[yeah-yeah-beebiss-1]

early impressions from the first 2 hours or so of pokemon scarlet: an ambitious, would-be phenomenal game held back by being released way too early

graphics are dogshit as expected, still looks like a late PS2 game

performance is rough - a lot of random frame drops and choppy animations, pop-in is somehow worse than PLA; there were several early cutscenes in the school classroom where all your schoolmates were moving at like 6fps that were extremely distracting

-koraidon’s jumping physics are super fucked up; in general the game has strong Bethesda energy with weird clipping and frame drops and general jank (for example, the only buildings you can enter are stores, and by “enter” i mean “the camera zooms in on the door until the whole screen is taken up by the door texture which is then used as a background for the shop UI”)

speedrunners are going to have a blast breaking this game wide open, which is to say the general quality control is very poor

pokemon variety is enormous, i nearly had a full PC box by the 2 hour mark just grabbing one of everything i saw

i can already tell that difficulty/level balancing is going to be a concern - exp share is always on and there are a lot of opportunities for experience, the only way you’ll be able to get through the game without being grotesquely overleveled for two of the three story paths is to box your whole team after completing one and starting over with low-level critters

overworld/catching mechanics don’t feel as polished as PLA’s; overworld catching is gone, there’s no reticule for aiming pokeballs to ambush wild pokemon, camera controls aren’t as flexible

you can set destination markers on the map, but they only show up on the minimap - playing this after finishing xenoblade 3 (which lets you see the markers in the world and even toggle guide paths) just makes me feel like it’s going to be a substantial learning curve for people not used to/fond of open-world games

terastallizing doesn’t feel like as much of a game breaker as dynamax or mega evolution

the gym leader implementation of terastallizing is boring as hell - rather than changing their ace to something that’ll counter whatever you brought to counter the gym type, they use it to change a pokemon that isn’t their gym type to match their gym type (the bug-type gym leader, for example, has a teddiursa that she terastallizes into bug type)

the soundtrack varies from respectable to absolutely amazing from what i’ve heard so far, the wild pokemon battle theme is dynamic based on area and the team star and tera raid battle themes go way harder than they have any right to - it’ll be interesting to see exactly how much influence toby fox had over the soundtrack, because some of these tracks definitely have his vibes all over them

in all fairness, i’m playing a leaked dump of a retail cartridge so there’s the possibility of a day-one patch fixing some of these issues, but the lack of polish runs so deep that i don’t think a single patch could address it

overall, i’m still having a decent time with the game because the pokemon formula is inherently pretty watertight and the exploration is pretty fun, but the game just feels blatantly unfinished so i couldn’t in good conscience recommend people drop $60 on it

i have a feeling there’s going to be more than a few instances of people getting buyer’s remorse and unloading their copies for cheap by early december, so i’d strongly recommend just waiting for that to happen so you can get it secondhand for $40-45

#pokemon spoilers #not really but i figure someone's gonna get mad if i don't tag it as such

[bashfulcookies]

I’ve decided to create a post with all my resources on them since the one I currently have is outdated. That way everything is on this blog. This took a longer time that I would have thought, so I hope it helps someone other than myself. Enjoy! Everything is linked below the cut.🙂

DEFAULTS

1. Moonstone Eyes by @chiefwhiskers 

2. EA Teeth Begone! by @pyxiidis

3. BG Override Tights by @maushasims

4. Vanilla Skin by @luumia

SKINBLENDS

1.  Rosewater | Butterish | Strudel | Fresco by @lamatisse

2.  Spark Shine | Motive | Smoothe by @andersimblr

3. Aeonium | Lunaria | Calluna by @nesurii

4.  Ringo | Squish | Squin by @squeamishsims 

5. More Skinblends: Honey | Idle | Billy | Penguin | Pearl | Daisies | Chronos | Sigrύn | Tinsel | Venus | Kitten | Hazel | Chamomile | Folie a Deux | Underwater | Heihu | Collection | Soft Peach

SKIN DETAILS

1.  About Face by @pyxiidis

2. Skin Details Set by @thepeachyfaerie

3. 3D Eyelashes: Kijiko | Plumbobjuice | @twistedcat: 1 2 | @miikocc: 1 2 3 4 5

4. Eyebrows: LightDeficient | @stretchskeleton: 1 2 | Nesurii | Rheallsim | Caesarsims | WMS | @twisted-cat: 1 2 3 4 5 6 | @thepeachyfaerie: 1 2 3 4

5. Eyes: DFJ | Reticulates | @aveirasims: 1 2 3

6. Teeth: @redearcat: 1 2 3 | Wyattssims

7. Freckles & Moles: RemusSirion | Sagittariahx | Ratboysims | Softerhaze | Joviean | Caesarsims | Glossari | Motherplants | Thepeachyfaerie 

8. More Skin Details: | Dimples | Lips: 1 2 | Eyebags: 1 2 | Hairline | Vitiligo | Nails: 1 2 3

PRESETS

1. Nose | Mouth: 1 2 by @stretchskeleton

2. Nose & Mouth Sets: 1 2 3 4 by @chewybutterfly

3. More CAS Presets by @zerbu 

4. Nose: 1 2 by @mystelise

5. Nose by @squeamishsims

6. Lips by @obscurus-sims

CAS MODS

1. More Trait Slots by Thepancake1

2. Minimalistic CC Icon by @rheallsim

3. Tidy Details by @sparrowcc 

4. Stand Still by Mizore Yuki

5. NoGlo V2 by @luumia

6. More Columns by Weerbesu

7. Unlock CAS Parts by Rebel Creators

GAMEPLAY MODS

1. UI Cheats Extensions by Weerbesu

2. MC Command Center by Deaderpool

3. Wonderful Whims by Turbodriver

4. Realistic Life & Pregnancy by Persea

5. Loading Screen (Lights Out) by 20th Century Plumbob

6. Slice of Life by Kawaii Stacie

7. Dine Out Reloaded by Carl’s Guide

7. More Careers by @midnitetech

8. More Recipes: 1 2 3​

9. Build Mode FreeCam by @twistedmexi

#bashfulcookie #resources #as of January 16th 2023

[reticulating-splines]

Chez Cromwell: Redux - Pt. 1

Magical Victorian Cat Mansion. Redone.

Part I: Exteriors | Part II

So after the long-awaited addition of Infants and Ceilings to the game, I realized I should probably update my one furnished build (so far) for these features. Unfortunately I got carried away again and just ended up revamping the whole build from the exterior, to each individual room + some new ones! This version has also been more extensively play-tested over time with all age groups and pets, with some extra fire hazard and accessibility issues addressed.

It still has all the original Lot Features:

Victorian era historical build, fully playtested

Off-the-grid compatible

9 Bed / 6 bath

Library Greenhouse

Spellcaster's room

Outdoor smokehouse

Pleasure + kitchen gardens

Portal to the magic realm

Hidden cat room, litterroom, + catway system for Familiars

Staff/Servant's lounge w/ private stairs

Bedrooms for Butler, Nanny/Governess, and Maids

Lot size 30x40, fully landscaped

Cat Hangout, Peace and Quiet

Spooky lot challenge

As well as an extensive Changelog and list of New Features:

Revamped exteriors + interiors, roofs, and gardens

Ceilings for all rooms

Added even more windows somehow

Skylights for 3rd floor and wraparound verandah

Rooftop meditation-garden-yoga-summoning-circle

Portals! Small library located off the spell-room has been converted into the Portal Room with 3 portals leading throughout the house: one to the tower on the roof, one to the greenhouse in the back, and one to the third floor hall.

Moved Magic Realm Portal to rooftop garden

Put more cat doors everywhere, they enjoy using the catdoors and portals for zoomies

Sprinklers, alarms, and fire resistant flooring have been added around fireplaces.

Fireplace in the tower was removed for it's propensity to set the roof on fire and become unreachable and inextinguishable

Tower room has been converted into a Collections display room instead, a la sims 3

Portal in the tower/Collections room also makes potential burglaries more threatening, but if you’re an occult you’re expected to employ practical DADA techniques to avert this

Updated Nursery and Playroom for Infants

Redid terrain paint. Twice. Why tf does it just vanish randomly sometimes

NEW Magic Bean Hunt! Stump is located where the magic realm portal used to be and beans are strategically hidden around the lot. I'd love to see how long it takes for you to catch them all!

Washbasins for rooms without bathrooms now look like washbasins and are actually useable, both on and off grid

Added privacy hedges and lattices to backyard and fenced in chicken run

Potions Crafting Table added to Spell-room

Crafters Supply Cabinet added to Kitchen

Pocketed pocket doors

Secret Cat Room color scheme updated and cat-approved artwork added

Another Cat room added to 3rd floor

Magic Well has been shrunk

Rooftop area outside 3rd floor Study converted into rooftop Pavilion with chessboard and painting easel

Jack-and-Jill bathroom added for two of the third floor bedrooms

Toilet room removed and bath added for staff washrooms, for an equal 2-toilet/2-bath arrangement, which means the build now has a total of 7 full baths, and 8 toilets.

More crafting tables (fizz machine and candle maker) added to Staff Lounge

Yoga/Meditation Balcony for staff above greenhouse

Small telescope added to rooftop outside tower room’s new 2nd door

Garden lights around yard configured for power + off grid lighting

‘Bike racks’ added by front gate

New Library shelves seem to allow sims to retrieve books but not put them back. However this is actually a feature, not a bug, since now you can put the books back yourself on on the right shelves and keep things organized 🙃

Should now be consistently able to feed and be eaten by the Cowplant

Homey trait replaced by Gnome lot trait since there is a proliferation of gnomes

Requirements

Lot: 40x30, $752,005, 9 bed 8 bath, Cat Hangout, Gnome, Peace and Quiet, Spooky Lot Challenge

Packs - packs in bold are essential:

EPs - Cottage Living, University, Island Living, Get Together, Get Famous, Seasons, Cats&Dogs, Eco Living, City Living, Get to Work

GPs - Realm Of Magic, Jungle Adventure, Parenthood, Vampires. Strangerville, Spa Day, Outdoor Retreat

SPs - Paranormal, Laundry Day, Romantic Garden. Nifty Knitting, Vintage Glamour

Kits - Blooming Rooms, Desert Luxe

Patreon Download

Public: Available Dec 15th!

#chez cromwell #chez cromwell redux #ts4 exterior #ts4 build #reticulated builds #ts4 cc free #ts4 mansion #ts4 maxis match #ts4 lots #furnished build #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 1900s #ts4 1800s #ts4 occult #ts4 infants #ts4 #the sims 4 #early access

[radiantsims]

Albert Hertz

Everyday CC List: Hair / Remove EA Eyelashes / Teeth / Eyes (Edited) / Freckles / Midi Beard / Watch / Feet /

1 = Everyday Outfit / 2 = Formal Outfit /

- Eyelashes - MidRightRing_Male /

- Glasses - Domino_V1 /

- Top: 1 - Top / 2 - Top /

- Bottom: 1 - Pants / 2 - Pants /

- Shoes: 1 - Sneakers / 2 - DerbyShoes01-Male

- Skin Overlay: Sammi_xox_Tulip_SkinBlend_Merged_Fixed /

- Skin: Shattered Skinblend (Edited) /

Download Sim

@mmoutfitters @sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld Thank you!!

Poses by @remaron

Thanks to all the cc creators! @saurussims @ladysimmercc @greenllamas @utopya-cc @notegain @pralinesims @joliebean @belaloallure3 @wyattssims @caio-cc @jius-sims @sammi-xox @lamatisse @kijiko-sims @reticulates @pickypikachu @dallasgirl79 @madmonodls

Hello tumblr! I made Albert for my story / world I’m building. If you would like to see how I created him or support my content, feel free to check my video out:

#sims 4 #sims 4 male #sims 4 maxis match #radiant sims #project_cascade #Youtube

[archergrid]

<< Chapters 1-5 Chapters 6-10

Chapter 6

The brewery was an unassuming stucco building a few blocks from the university. One of Lear’s murals covered the east wall—a massive, dynamic figure carved with intricate geometric textures. An article once described his work as Klimpt meets Basquiat, but Lear’s murals were mathier—frenetic, for sure, but playing more with geometry and dimension. He used clay and wood to give the paint and figures a kinetic, blocky depth, painted gold and carved with reticulated patterns. Even amidst Valpo’s cacophony of street art, it stood out. 

I checked my phone. 2:04 PM. Lear’s been to jail, I thought. I could ask him what it’s like. If the gang does have something nefarious planned, I could just offer to turn myself in. I’d get swept off to the US federal prison system, and they’d never see or hear from me again, as good as dead. After a few more shaky breaths, I marched my badass black boots through the graffitied steel door.

The brewery proper was a maze of stainless steel metal vessels, lined up like redwoods on either side of the cavernous back room. It was like walking into a grand estate, or a prison. Squat windows near the ceiling drained light in, casting the brewery in sleepy, afternoon blue. Every step echoed. I was almost at the opposite end of the building when Lear popped out from behind a brew kettle. I nearly shot out of my shoes.

Lear looked like an arrow—rail-thin, sharp features, long gray hair puffing out from under his beanie. The wrinkles of his drawn face pointed up towards his high forehead, so he always looked like he was pitying you. “Whoa, whoa!” He checked his watch, then spread his balsa-wood arms, snapping his fingers like jabs. “Don’t be so jumpy-y-y.”

There was a dark spot under his linen shirt where he kept his gun. A deep breath balmed my frazzled nerves. “H-hey, Lear. The crew around?”

“Might be. You got your computer?”

I hugged my laptop bag and nodded.

“Cool. Let’s jam.” Lear swaggered into the shadow between the back 2 brew kettles, checking his wrist and whistling Ennio Morricone. 

I didn’t follow. “Lear, p-please tell me what this is about.”

Lear’s tight shoulders slumped. He pursed his heart-shaped lips. “Come on, now, don’t make this hard on me.” His voice was flat. Panic reached up from my stomach and choked me. I backed up, but bumped something solid and warm. I spun, twitchy as prey. Cat raised her wooly-bear-caterpillar eyebrows at me.

Cat was the muscle in the crew, a big woman with a strong jaw, long silky hair, and a manslaughter rap Lear helped her out of. Her grease-stained tank top showed off meaty arms holding a tall baking dish with a lid on it. “Hey, Dom.” 

“You’re late!” Lear scolded, jutting his knobby chin out at her. “Jig’s up, I guess.” Throwing an arm around my shoulders, Lear pulled me with him around the corner towards a black shadow between cylinders. My heart hammered my ribs. The dark alcove in front of me, Cat behind me blocking the exit. There was nowhere to go. 

“Lear, please, just wait. You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I think I do.” Lear clapped his hands once, the sound shuddering against the stainless-steel kettles.

“No, really, I promise, I’ll leave and you’ll never-”

Overhead fluorescents blinked to life over the picnic table we used to look over blueprints, count money, and eat greasy takeout. It was Jackson-Pollucked with every color of sticky acrylic paint. Unfamiliar paper cones were stacked on it. Inscrutable chalk-scrawls covered an ancient, wheeled blackboard situated beside an equally antique television, also on wheels. Paper streamers hung haphazardly off pipes and valves. A few feet back, U.H. stood beside the fuse box in skinny jeans and a pornhub hoodie, their phone in one hand. “Um. Surprise?”

Behind me, Lear crackled out a raucous chorus of cumpleaños feliz. I twisted around in time to see him elbow Cat, who grudgingly joined in. U.H. pointed their fingers at me as they ran up, hooked an arm around my neck, shouting the song in my face.

“Wh-what?”

“Well, you wouldn’t tell us when your birthday is, so I thought we’d pick one for you,” Lear said. “September 18th. One hell of a surprise party, right?” One hell of a surprise party was right. September 18th wasn’t my birthday of course, it was… January, definitely January. The 27th, maybe? The 23rd? “Look at her face, Cat! Told you she’d never see it coming.” 

“Yeah, Boss, you made up a birthday for her,” Cat said flatly, bumping past Lear to set her ice-white dish down on the picnic table.

“Why did you tell me to bring my computer if you were just throwing a party?”

“You’re so paranoid, I had to pretend it was for work. Plus, I want to talk over your idea.”

“It’s not an idea, Lear, I’m just curious.”

Cat lifted the lid of her baking dish. The cake was a puffy cloud of chantilly cream drizzled with caramel. A rum-colored puddle covered the bottom of the plate. U.H. sat down across from us, smoking weed from an electric-green vape pen.

U.H. was an adrenaline-junky from a young age. By the time their rich parents gave up on them, the teenager had accrued 10 charges for driving without a license, 8 for reckless endangerment, 13 for destruction of property, 6 for grand theft auto, 24 for drug possession, and 1 for public nudity. U.H. was a gearhead with an obscene knowledge of cars and no slouch when it came to gadgets either. They once escaped from a Hyundai they crashed by fashioning a high-powered laser cutter out of the CD player, but beyond working Tinder, they weren’t very good with the software side. 

Cat slid a slice of cake my way. The yellow sponge glistened with rum, bifurcated by a layer of icing and dulce de leche in the center. U.H. promptly reached across the table, dragging the plate towards them with a single finger. Cat flicked them behind the ear. “That’s for Dom, you gremlin.” U.H. flinched but took a bite anyway. 

Lear passed us 4 unlabeled beer bottles, each one foaming at the mouth. “You tell her about the bike?” 

“Oh yeah,” U.H. said, hopping to their feet as they licked their plastic fork clean. “Cat ’n me stole you a bike. It’s out back, wanna see?”

Still gobsmacked by my fake birthday party, I followed Cat and U.H. in a daze, unable to process this new piece of information. We took 2 lefts through brew kettles and mash tuns to the loading bay doors that led to the brewery’s gravel back lot. Cat slid the garage-style door up.

When U.H. said they stole me a bike, I assumed they meant something with a basket and some tassels. I didn’t expect the sleek-black paint job, angry headlamps and chunky engine. I should have—Cat and U.H. didn’t run a chop-shop for bicycles, after all. 

“I know the 400 is baby’s first bike, but I didn’t know how much experience you had with motorcycles,” U.H. said (none was how much experience I had with motorcycles). “They had this moronic turbo setup—because, y’know, let’s strap a rocket to a tricycle—but I fixed it for you. We figured you don’t come out much because you must live real far away, right?”

It was less than 2 miles, but I didn’t have the heart to tell them that. I couldn’t explain why it wasn’t safe to be around me; that if I get caught, the crew will too. Besides, trying to drive a motorcycle through the roller-coaster hills of Valpo sounded like the definition of a death wish. 

“Anyway,” U.H. went on as we walked back inside, “buy a helmet, not a shitty one, spend half a mil at least, otherwise your head’ll be-” U.H. made a wet noise as they scraped the palm of their hand across their skull. “Can’t let you die until we kill your new job.”

“It’s not a job,” I said as we walked back to Lear at the table. “Is that really why you called me down here?”

“Nah, nah nah,” Lear protested. “It’s about the party, a rowdy row wrapped in ribbons. Job’s just the bow on top. After what you said about the campaign I confabbed with a few folks around town who might be in the know. You weren’t kidding about this law and order angle.”

“The kids are out of control!” U.H. mocked. “They’re delinquents, they’re violent, they stole my 1984 Pontiac Firebird and crashed it into a Starbucks!”

“So, I took your advice and sent Cat and U.H. in. Told ’em to push the mayhem angle.”

“Yeah. I threw a brick through a window,” U.H. bragged. 

“That was you?”

“Oh yeah. Didn’t even get yelled at. I might quit boosting cars and just do this now.”

“You got in no trouble at all?”

“No,” Cat said. “They said to keep up the good work.”

“My god… He’s really doing it, he’s paying people to be violent to validate his message.” 

“And when U.H. is already validating his message so well already,” Lear japed. 

“Fuck yeah I am!”

Chile had seen fascism. The right-wing dictator installed by the CIA in the ‘70s “disappeared” thousands of Chilean citizens for protesting his “presidency.” If Godoy played dirty like this, he could go full Pinochet once elected. What would happen to Valparaíso, Chile’s bastion of bohemian revolt? “You’ve sent all this to Teresa, right?”

“Nope,” Lear said, checking his watch. “In fact, it’s imperative she doesn’t find out.”

“Lear, there’s no score.”

“Oh, but there is,” he said, walking to the ancient TV. “See, I did send Teresa one tidbit from the whisper mill. It was just a rumor to me, but she did her multiple sources thing. She said it’d break at 2:30.” Lear switched the TV on.

There was Teresa’s scolding gaze and severe haircut. She leaned over a glass desk, oversized and gleaming with studio lights. A picture-in-picture of the Ek building was up on the screen beside her. “In an unexpected move,” Teresa told the camera, “presidential candidate and television personality Adalberto Godoy is holding his campaign fundraiser in the city of Valparaíso instead of Chile’s capital, Santiago. Ek Inc., the tech company best known for its Ekko mobile phones, plans to host Godoy’s gala in its newly-constructed and controversial office building in Valparaíso’s historic district. Godoy’s pro-business agenda is expected to attract corporate donors from across the globe who use Chilean copper and lithium in a broad range of electronics. Sources close to the campaign report they expect up to $20 billion pesos in donations the night of the gala.”

Lear whistled, muting the TV. “I’ve been to plenty of charity blowouts. Small donations go into envelopes on the tables, but the big stuff gets entered into a tablet.”

My job. $20 billion Chilean pesos—about $20 million USD—donated through a piece of technology. “You want to rob the fundraiser,” I realized aloud. 

Lear grinned, all graveyard teeth. “No, you want to rob the fundraiser. This was your call, D-zero, and you called it. It’s only right that you manage it.”

“Me? I-I just wanted to see what Godoy was up to.”

Lear lowered his voice as U.H. chatted to Cat. “Exactly. You’re in it for the right reasons, D-zero, just like I am. The money isn’t what you’re after, that’s just icing.” Lear dipped a knobby finger into his slice of cake, popping the wad of chantilly cream in his mouth. “We want to even the odds. We want these bastards out of Valpo. What do you say?”

What a stupid, sloppy idea, I thought. The last time I went up against Ek directly, he ended up acquitted and I ended up here. I’d be risking detection, capture, federal prison, or worse: another 4000 white-knuckle miles of static. Yet, how could I sit back and watch Ek and Godoy take over Valparaíso, the town that had sheltered me for 4 terrified years? How many more times would I let Julian run me from my own home? Lear, as off-kilter as he was, took care of me when I arrived in Valpo in a broken down car, delicate as an exposed wire. Paula too, who gave me a dark and quiet place where I felt safe. I loved Valparaíso, with its crooked streets you couldn’t help but get lost in; never be found in. I felt safe cradled between the mountains and the sea, holding me in cupped hands with paint-stained fingers. 

He can’t just get away with it. Not this time; not your thumb; not this scale. If the law can’t stop Julian Ek, I’ll black his eye for them. “I’ll do it. I’m in.”

“Good,” Lear said. “I’ll take care of staffing, you just figure logistics. U.H. and Cat will keep looking for limits on hell-raising. I’ll drag for contractors.”

“We should get someone in the campaign staff.”

“See? You’re bossing me around already.” Lear’s smile went soft around the edges. “You’re a peach, Ms. Mysterio. Sorry to do this on your birthday.”

“It’s OK. It’s not my birthday.”

“Oh, you about to tell me when it really is?”

“No.”

“Then far as I’m concerned, it’s September 18th, baby.”

“Don’t call me ’baby’,” I said, rolling my eyes while trying to decide between 1/23 or 1/27. Lear set an occupied brown paper bag on the table. Whatever was inside was the mass, volume, and density of a textbook. “What’s this?”

“What’d I just say? Sept-tem-ber 18th, baby.” Lear tapped the bag with each syllable.

“And what did I just say?” Reaching inside, my fingers found something solid and poly-smooth. It was heavy, and I needed both hands to pull it up and out of the bag. The sturdy frame had hinges drilled into one side, attaching a small, squat door. A dollar-store lock held the door shut, covering whatever painting the frame was framing. With a bit of digging I fished the small, notched key from the bottom of the bag. The lock clicked open with spring-loaded satisfaction. I unhooked it from the latch, then opened the door like a book.

It was me. Bands of butter yellow and daubs of ultraviolet chiseled me out from the black canvas. Gold geometric patterns marched along the seams of my jacket and zigzagged through my textured hair. It still smelled like turpentine. In the painting, I was laughing, my sunglasses in my hand and my eyes wet with molten gold. Looking at it was uncomfortable. The girl in that painting wasn’t a big, bad cyber-revolutionary. She was small and jagged, laughing through her tears. That girl couldn’t do what I’m about to. That girl was an open wound. “It’s beautiful, Lear,” I said, and meant it. “How is it meant to be displayed? With the door open or closed?”

“Suppose that’s up to you, D-zero.” Lear smiled, but barely. “That’s not my name, y’know.” He tapped 4 sweeping, capital letters in the bottom-right corner. L-E-A-R. “It’s Reyes. But you knew that already, right?”

Yes. You were arrested by Pinochet’s military police after one too many avant-garde acts of vandalism. After that, the Universidad de Chile’s art program revoked your admission.

“Why do you think they call me that?”

“Seems obvious. You’re the king, and…”

“And?”

“And you’re a little crazy.”

Lear nearly fell off his seat, howling with laughter. “Nah, that ain’t why. It’s because I let little girls like you push me around.”

You treated jail like the university you couldn’t go to. You learned; networked, and not just with the other political prisoners. You graduated from avant-garde to direct action. “I’m not a princess,” I said.

“Don’t I know it. So? I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

You have a real daughter in Santiago that refuses to see you. I know what kind of soap you use, what kind of porn you watch, what kind of emails you write but never send. I know everything about you, and you don’t even know my name. “I think it’s better if you call me Domino,” I said as I shut the door on the painting, “and I call you Lear.”

“4 years and you still don’t trust me.” With a heavy sigh, Lear stood up from the table. “Guess that makes you a good criminal.” 

I couldn’t process any kind of answer to that. Had 4 years turned me into a criminal, or did my chemical makeup fundamentally change the moment I opened that video? It seemed like a lifetime since I’d gone on the run, that 2-month road-trip panic-attack, screaming south until no one knew my name. 

A strange revelation hit me then—a bug in my code. What was my real name again? I hadn’t used it since I left, and the news only referred to me as “Former Ek Inc. Employee.” It was on the tip of my tongue. My brows pressed together, as though the information could be folded back into my brain. My thumb was running down the stained wood of the painting’s closed door when the syllables floated up from a dusty corner of my mind, like a piece of trivia. 

Lia. My name is Lia.

<< Chapters 1-5 Chapters 6-10

#lesfic #ff romance #lesbian fiction #lesbian #lesbian romance #lgbt reads #sapphic #sapphic romance #wlw #bisexual #wlw romance #contemporary romance #crime #heist #lgbtq #lgbtq books #lgbt romance #queer #queer reads #queer fiction #queer lit #queer books

[remesrobotics]

Heavy Woman 

DHN.004 - ヘビーウーマン “Good for you.”

Good Point - Protective Bad Point - Thin Skin Like - Large Meals, Hugging Dislike - Competition

8’1” (246.38 cm)

A non-combat robot built for construction and repair by Dr. Harp. She is modeled after a reticulated python (Malayopython reticulatus).

Like Gutter Woman, Heavy Woman is built on Snake Man’s specs reverse-engineered, with a small amount of Hard Man thrown in for good measure. Unlike her sisters, she is definitely designed to be a more traditional heavyweight construction robot, with a side of demolition.

She has the greatest lifting capacity of most Earth robots, outdoing even Guts Man, but still being outdone by Uranus. She also has relatively weak armor compared to others, to compensate for her core chassis’ immense weight. In fact, many of her other internal components are composed of lighter materials so that she's not wasting as much energy just to move.

She hates it when people try to ‘one-up’ each other, or her, feeling it’s pointless and only leads to injuries (either physical, or to pride). Anything she does in extremes, she just does because it is her nature, not because she is trying to outdo anybody. This sometimes gives others the impression that she is stuck-up, as she rarely congratulates people on ‘doing better’ than someone else, but it’s just because she doesn’t want to reinforce competitive behavior with praise.

Heavy Woman’s build and physical strength requires an immense amount of energy, though her systems for distributing it are amazingly efficient. As a result, she does not eat very often, but when she does she will eat an incredible amount (though she despises being called a glutton; she’s not always hungry). This doesn’t stop her from going out for a drink with her construction buddies. Her ‘collar’ splits down the middle and slides back to allow her to eat and drink.

When driven to fight she prefers not to attack, instead punching the ground with enough impact to drive up debris into a wall of (somewhat sharp) shielding rubble (Crush Shield). The force of the shield deployment, though, is enough to cause serious damage to anyone caught in its wake. Despite her ineffective armor, she will usually try to use her size and strength to protect smaller robots.

She likes hugs, but has a tendency to overdo it a bit due to her raw strength.

Like her sisters, Heavy Woman’s name is a pun on the Japanese pronunciation of her name (Hebii), but it is not as layered; “hebi” simply means “snake” in Japanese.

#oc heavy woman #fancharacter #mega man #remes data cd #big baby girl #heavy and gutter basically came from the line of thought that inspired my hognose snakeman pic on main #but i liked them so much that i wanted to make them into their own characters #and then decided to make them related to reach #and thus the harp numbers were born

[zartoon]

FINAL STAGES

So, building on my sister's suggestion, i decided to click close-ups of me performing these superstitions at home. i really wanted the colour of the lino prints to stand out so i edited the photographs to be b&w. I also added a bit of reticulation on Adobe Photoshop to emulate texture.

I bought some crisp ass paper (sorry i will get better at describing paper guys😭😭) and printed these 10x10 cm images. I did fuck up towards the end of printing the series where I USED A STAFF PRINTER AND ACCIDENTALLY CANCELLED THEIR PRINT JOB BECAUSE THEY WERENT AT THE PRINTER BUT THEN I CONVINCED MYSELF IT WAS OK CUZ THEY WERENT THERE BUT THEN I DIDNT EVEN KNOW IT WAS A STAFF PRINTER UNTIL I READ THE SIGN.

sorry. anyways,

I WENT TO ANOTHER PRINTER BUT IT WASNT ACCEPTING MY CRISP ASS PAPER AND PRINTED ON BORING ASS PAPER LIKE THRICE BEFORE I DECIDED TO UNLEASH THE MECHANIC IN ME AND CHANGED THE SETTINGS SO THAT IT PRINTED ON MY PAPER.

rollercoaster ride right? but yeah i will upload the final outcome soon cuz im caught up with project 02 :)))

[escape-from-twinkov]

You may not accept it but this is by far the GREATEST build for early to mid wipe, this gun literally slaps and carries me every wipe. suppressor optional.

Firstly it’s chambered in 7.62 which is a great round overall good balance of raw damage and pen. Put PS in this bad boy early wipe and you will absolutely decimate and obliterate all the little paca gremlins running around customs. As the wipe goes on and said gremlins adapt via natural selection (they realize class 2 armor isn’t ideal) just start firing BP and it’ll do the trick.

Pretty much everything but the suppressor (optional) can be bought at lvl 1 traders and it’s cheap as fuck you can literally mass produce these things on scales that even the Soviets would envy like fr the whole thing only costs 53k you can literally make that back in 5 nanoseconds. Added benefit of it being so cheap is that you get guaranteed insurance cause who would fucking take this piece of shit /aff over other guns it’s literally worth nothing to resell.

The pilad scope is a mixed bag, unfortunately said mix is 90% shit and 10% slightly less shit. The eye relief really fucks with it like the shadows casted near the outer ring of the reticle is very extremely incredibly annoying. There are some good aspects however, its cheap, its the only lvl 1 magnified scope available for rails and the reticule itself is pretty clean. You can pretty much outrange all the early game goblins using smgs and ironsights so it’s pretty easy pickings

lastly, the pièce de résistance, the dong grip. made of the finest Romanian pine the dong grip offers increased ergonomics and decreased recoil all for the low price of 4k. While useful its true purpose should be classified as psychological warfare. By putting this on the gun you essentially tell the lobby that you are the SHIT, you tell the lobby that you aren’t afraid of anything or anyone, your hand firmly gripping it’s shaft floods you with a sense of comfort and confidence. Others see the grip and realize that you’re a person of pride, integrity and excellence they won’t even take it out of respect. It also looks kinda funny hehe.

that concludes my ted talk you can not change my mind i have already gaslit myself into believing it /lh

#tarkov #escape from tarkov #ramblings

[frankchurchillsaysrelax]

i might lose everything if i lose the pain

part two of two

It was exceedingly rare for a person to never receive a soulmark, but it did happen on occasion. Penelope had always been grossly fascinated by the grim tales of heartbreak and loneliness, reading the stories from far away lands of people destined for a life lived only for themselves. Now, for all intents and purposes, she was one of the misfortunate ones. 

“What do you mean you don’t have a soulmate?” Eloise all but bellows. The room goes eerily quiet in the wake of her words, everyone’s eyes turned toward Penelope. Her face burns at the attention and she makes sure to only keep her eyes on her friend. 

She licks her lips nervously. “I mean precisely what I say, Eloise, and I would ask you to please keep your voice lowered.” She can feel Colin only a few feet away staring at her most likely with pity along with the rest of his family.

“Well that is unacceptable,” Eloise continues at a normal volume, crossing her arms like a child whose toy has just been taken away. “If anyone deserves a soulmate it is you. Are you quite sure you have checked everywhere?” She begins to circle Penelope as a bird stalks its prey, her eager hands brushing her careful curls aside for a view of her neck. Penelope steps to the side, bumping into the table in her efforts to escape her friend’s wandering hands. 

“I am completely sure,” she grumbles most un-ladylike, pressing down on her skirts and rearranging her hair. The others are still watching. Penelope feels like an actress on the stage who does not remember her lines. “The idea is antiquated and ridiculous yet I am most deserving?” She cannot keep the anger from her voice. 

“You deserve love, Penelope.” Eloise grabs her hand and swings it gently between them. Her voice holds nothing but honesty but when Penelope looks her in the eye she sees something she never thought she would receive from Eloise. She sees pity. 

A fire sparks inside of her growing with each angry breath she takes, lighting a forge that builds a layer of armour over her skin. “A soulmate does not always come hand in hand with love,” she practically sneers, her eyes itching with the threat of tears. 

She wrenches her hand away and takes a step back directly into Colin. Too quickly he grasps her shoulders to steady her, her own hand raising to meet his. The lace of her glove does little to protect her from his warmth that puts the first crack in the delicate steel protecting her. His hands lower but hers stays in place for too long. 

“Pen, are you hurt?” Colin asks. She turns to look at him reluctantly. In his eyes, she sees no pity, only concern and something else that she cannot discern. His soulful eyes trap her in his gaze.

“N-no,” she stutters, licking her lips nervously. Her hand finally falls and clasps the other toying with the strings of her reticule. How had everything gone so wrong so fast? 

“You do have a mark,” Eloise’s voice cuts through the air piercing her metaphorical armour and leaving it in shambles at her feet. She now stands before them exposed and raw, only the thin layer of her dress hiding the ugly truth from the people she loves most in this world. Eloise makes a move to grab her arm and Penelope flinches. 

“Eloise Bridgerton, that is enough!” Lady Bridgerton finally steps in to break up the scene and Penelope has never been more grateful for the older woman’s soothing presence. She walks over to her daughter, nudging her to stand straight. “Apologize for your behavior at once.”

“Mother!”

“Now, Eloise,” Lady Bridgerton says through a tight-lipped smile. 

Eloise offers a, mostly, sincere apology, and Penelope accepts it with only a nod of her head. The room stays quiet in the aftermath. It is Anthony who breaks the tension. “Let us all have some tea, shall we?”

“I beg your pardon, but I am afraid I must decline. I feel rather tired and I think it best that I return home.” She keeps her eyes on the floor as she feels the first signs of moisture. 

“Of course, my dear,” Lady Bridgerton accepts. Penelope gives a small curtsey to the room at large and turns to leave ready for this terrible turn of events to be over. 

“Allow me to escort you home.” It is Benedict who rises from his place on the sofa and crosses the room to offer his arm. She takes it and follows him down the hall, out the door, down the stairs, and across the square to her own house. If he notices her shaking he does not comment. 

“Penelope,” he starts, lets his mouth hang open for a moment as words do not come to him. “Happy birthday.” He briefly squeezes her hand before letting his arm fall from hers. With a final awkward smile, he leaves. 

She spends the rest of the day in bed, even forgoing the evening meal and accepting the passive aggressive remarks from her mother about skipping meals. She cries and when she has no more tears to give she writes. She writes until her fingers are ink-stained and cramping. She writes until she has no more words. She writes as Lady Whistledown but she also writes as Penelope, the heartbroken, lonely, and confused young woman who was perfectly content only yesterday. She has always found solace in the written word, her thoughts making more sense once she got them out of her head, but no amount of ink on parchment would clear up the mess of emotions inside of her now.

When she wakes in the morning she vows to not wallow in her misery any longer. She gets up ready to face the day and the new normal her life has taken. When Mrs. Varley informs her she has a visitor she expects it to be Eloise. Entering the drawing room and finding Colin standing near the window, she suddenly wishes she had not left her bed after all.

“Good morning, Pen,” he greets with a delayed bow. He does not offer the usual charming smile that so often rests on his face, instead looking most serious. 

“Good morning,” she replies, minding her manners, almost forgetting herself. “Should I call for tea?” She turns, expecting Mrs. Varley or another chaperone to be lurking nearby but finds only shadows.

“That can wait.” Colin gestures toward the sofas and she abides his request, crossing the room to take a seat. She startles when instead of occupying the sofa across from her, he sits next to her, only a few inches separating them. “How are you feeling?”

In her surprise, it takes a moment to recall the day before and her abrupt exit from his house. “I am well, thank you,” she says. 

“I am glad to hear it.” An unprecedented uncomfortable silence befalls them. “Pen, I hope you do not think me too forward, I wish to speak with you about yesterday.” She goes to interrupt but he barrels on. “I spent most of last night going over what happened. I wondered what could make you so secretive, what would cause you to lie about something so important, and I have come to a conclusion.”

“Oh,” she breathes. Her face feels too warm, her corset too tight, the room too small. She wills her feet to flee, to take her to safety, but she does not move. “What conclusion is that?”

“Am I correct in assuming that you have a mark on your shoulder?” He stares at the spot so intensely that she worries his sharp gaze will burn through her dress. She can only nod in response. “Mine is in the same place.” His eyes travel up to meet hers and in their deep blue, she sees the world, galaxies, the whole universe. “It’s you.” 

To her horror, she begins to cry. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Everything is out of her control leaving her untethered to her own body. She thinks a part of her will haunt this moment for eternity.

“Why?” He takes her hands in his and she knows she should let go but his comfort offers her a tenuous connection to reality. 

“I know you do not care for me in that way Colin.” 

“How can you know my feelings when I have never spoken to you of them?” His thumb begins a soothing path across her knuckles. 

She screws her eyes shut, the memory of that day playing out behind her eyelids. She tells him what she heard, what she remembers him saying. She does not tell him how it made her feel but the tears marking her cheeks reveal that truth for her.

“That was two years ago.” He takes her chin between his fingers, urging her to look at him. She stubbornly keeps her eyes closed. “A lot can happen in two years, Penelope.” It’s his tone, warm and deep, that gets her to meet his gaze. He looks almost amused. “A boy can become a man. He can wake up and see what has always been right in front of him.” His finger moves to caress her cheek following the path of her tears.

The world snaps back into focus and she feels solid. She searches his eyes for insincerity and finds none. “What are you saying?”

“I love you, Pen,” he whispers, the words living in the space between them, electrifying the air around them. “If you do not feel the same way, I understand, but-”

“I love you too,” she interrupts his foolish statement. How could he not know her feelings for him? Well, as he said, she had not spoken of them before. She would have to rectify that now. “I have always loved you, only I thought you could never feel the same. That is why I lied yesterday, I would never wish to make you uncomfortable or to force you into any unwanted situation. Not that I expect anything from you now, either, if you-”

It is his turn to cut her ramblings off and he does so with his mouth on hers. It’s a soft press of lips at first but then his begin to move. Reciprocating is as easy as breathing. He retreats before the kiss can deepen and rests his forehead against hers, their damp breaths mingling between them, caressing each other’s faces. 

“Can I see it?” It takes a moment for her mind to understand what he is saying but when she does she blushes, turning her arm in his direction and allowing him the opportunity to roll up her sleeve. He does so with a soft touch that leaves gooseflesh on her skin. His fingers press into her arm and slowly he leans down, kissing the sun so sweetly it doesn’t even burn. The smile on his face when he looks at her again lights him up from the inside. 

She wants to be bold and ask to see his too but that would require the removal of many layers and she doesn’t think Mrs. Varley would stay hidden if Colin began undressing in the middle of the drawing room. Penelope doesn’t think she would survive it either. 

They remain sitting side by side, two halves of one whole, their future looking bright.

#my fic #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton fic #bridgerton #unread and unedited #please do not hate this please