Strangetown, Here We Come: Chapter Forty (Part Two)

[strangetomato]

Continuing from Chapter Forty (part one). The rest of the story can be found HERE (I'm currently restoring the images - it's a WIP).

Warnings: language, sexual situations, bodily fluids, violence, reference to murder


Chapter Forty

Part Two
















"Would you like to at least make an effort at a parting line?"

"Stay... away... from... my... sons."

"Is that what you're afraid of? Well, don't worry, Buzz. I have no interest in your pathetic offspring."






"Well, whatever happened to him, I'll bet he fucking deserved it."






"If anyone deserved anything, it was you."










“I've gotten worse things on this couch."

"I'm going to choose to ignore that."

"If you're lucky, maybe you'll be dirtying up a couch of your own before too long."












"So you're The Shifting Paradymes. I've been hearing a lot of good things about you, and we just loved the demo you sent us."




"Nice to meet you, finally! I'm such a huge fan. I might not have survived high school if I didn't have your music to get me through it."






"About time you got yourself a woman! So when do we get to meet her, already? We're sick of waiting."

...

"He's right over there."




"Please, I have to go now! Are you with me, or not?"

"Oh, I'm with you."




"You just came out to an entire WEDDING... You're my HERO."






"She looks good both coming and going, if you know what I'm sayin'."

"Heh. Yeah, sure."




"You need to move on, Tank. It's not fucking worth it... If you waste your time with her, you might miss out on the woman of your dreams. You know?"






"You were flirting with him! What the hell!"

"Oh, get a grip. No I wasn't."






But everyone's into something, right? Even that Grilled Cheese sim I hooked up with that one time…

… We mostly got really, really high on bubble, got naked, and ate a bunch of grilled cheese. Oh, and I think we took some pictures of it or something.












“I can’t believe Tank let us borrow his van.”








“Well he did look somewhat alarmed when he realised that you’d be the one driving it.”

“I have my license! And I'm a really good driver, you know that I am!”

“To him, you seem like a child driving a vehicle.”




“Tank needs to loosen up, Fran. He’s going to get ulcers at this rate. Yeah, or high blood pressure, or something! Something bad, anyway. What are we going to do with him?”

“He has a lot on his mind.”

“Well, then T needs something to distract from all that. Hey! Maybe we should hook him up on a date.”

“A date?”

“Yeah, you know those things where you get dressed up and go out, maybe send them flowers afterwards?”




“I’ve heard of them, yes.”

“Hey, maybe we could go on one again sometime! I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“I know. How tragic. It’s practically a long distance relationship, all the way from LFT to Strangetown."

“It's far enough! You’ve been out here in the desert too long! Your sense of perspective and distance is all out of whack!”

Frances smiled. “I live in Strangetown now,” he said, dramatically. “Oh, what will become of me...”

"Oh, nice! I love this song!” Beau cranked the volume on the radio.




I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar… when I met you.

“Hey, that was almost like us, right! But it was a coffee shop. And I could work at a bar. Not that I ever drink alcohol, but that’d be fun, probably.”

“Yes, I’m sure you could.” Frances smiled. He figured that Beau could do just about anything if he set his mind to it. He'd jump right into the thick of it and figure it out in no time.

“Sing along now!"

Frances did not, but he watched as Beau cheerfully sang.

“So you really love The Shifting Paradymes..."

"Of course!"

"They seem sort of different from the music you're usually drawn to. Like this song, for example."




"I like all sorts of music! Most people who really appreciate music can enjoy different types. Yeah, I even like those same five sad boy songs you listen to over and over while lying on your bed and astral projecting yourself back through every upsetting moment in your life thus far!"

"Okay, you really didn't need to go in that deep."

"And honestly, that's a perfect soundtrack for it, but you could maybe broaden your horizons just a little... like maybe the Paradymes...?"

Frances raised an eyebrow.

“Frances, they are amazing! What’s not to like? Mark my words, they will be famous one day! Jaxy Rai’s a total badass. Just flawless! And Zoe is so painfully cool she doesn't even have to try. Even Ripp, yeah say what you want, but he can absolutely rip that guitar to shreds."




He turned to Frances and grinned. "But you should know, you're practically a groupie! How far did you guys go, anyway? You're always so coy about it! I want to know.”

“I'm not going to kiss and tell, Beau.”

“No, of course not. You're far too classy for that. So like second base?? …Third???”

“I'm not falling for that. I know all of your tactics. And I'm not telling. Because I'm a gentleman."

"Okay, third, got it. But say Tank hadn't showed up. Then what?"

"I think it's lucky for all concerned that he did."




"So what if Ripp had showed up the next day with a bouquet of flowers… then what?

“Like flowers... from Ophelia? The woman he loves?”

“Yeah, but what if!”

“Beau, do you think this is something that had even the slightest chance–”

“What if he showed up tomorrow!”

“That's–”

“What if he showed up outside your bedroom window with a boombox!”




“Beau.”

“You're probably sleeping in his bed! What if he sleepwalked and wandered back in there on autopilot and crawled into bed with you!"

“No, it was previously Buck's room.”

“Yes... and you know that because…”

“Because Buck decorated the room and painted it a lovely lavender hue."

"Aaaaaaand..."

Frances sighed. "... And I made a point not to pick Ripp's room."

“Hah! Caught you.”




“Doing what, exactly?”

“You like him. You still do. I knew it.”

"If that were the case, wouldn't I have chosen his room?"

"No, no, no. I know what you're all about. You'd avoid it. Therefore, you like him."

“I assure you, I'm over it. There was never even an 'it' to be over, and I guarantee that he hasn't thought about me once since. And if he did show up, well then that's just too bad because I already have a boyfriend whom I happen to be quite fond of.”

Beau beamed.

“And anyway, you're the one that is a fan of his, apparently.”




“Yeah, and I'd go for it in a heartbeat!” Beau tossed his head back and laughed heartily.




“Are you honestly kidding me?




“Yeah, I'd ride away into the sunset on his broad Grunt shoulders." Beau continued howling laughter without much regard to steering the vehicle.

"I can't believe I thought you were being serious. You are a ridiculous person."

"I truly am."

"And anyway, being attracted to someone isn't the same thing as wanting to be their boyfriend. Ophelia is a braver soul than I. I'll leave it at that."

Beau returned his hands to the steering wheel, though most of the Road to Nowhere was so monotonously straight that it hardly even mattered.




"Yeah, he's a disaster even for a Romance sim. Like, the whole Sugar Tits incident? AMAZING. And he was in a polyamorous relationship with Tank's arch nemesis?? Yeah, BANGING your brother's NEMESIS??? The Grunts are seriously unhinged in a way that is both highly entertaining and oddly endearing. I just love them. I'm obsessed."

“Well, join the club, I guess?”

Beau laughed. "You know, I'm glad you decided to eventually move on from your Grunt obsession, though it's understandable, honestly. They're collectively very hot. The noses! The jawlines! Those blue eyes! But yeah, I'm glad you got over it and that you ended up with little ol’ me. Yeah, not so tall or robust or generally Grunt-y, but I'm CUTE, though, right? I guess I'm just so adorable that I override your type.”




“You certainly are.” Frances smiled. "And I would argue that you also have beautiful blue eyes, a cute nose, and a great jawline."

"I noticed you didn't mention my naturally muscular physique, Frances!!!"

"My mistake..."

“But anywaaaaay, as I was saying… the Paradymes are amazing! You should give them another listen. Come on. Here! I have a recording. This isn't official or anything, but you know... I have my sources. I have my ways."




"You do realize that I lived right next to them at LFT, right? They played on the roof. Loudly. I've heard them, and then some."

"But listen to this!"

The electric guitar blasted from the speakers, brazen and decisive. Ah, yes. Like old times, thought Frances. All that was missing was Jasmine Rai noticing him looking up at the roof and flipping him the bird. "Hey, rich boy! You like that?!!!" Were they really going to meet up with them later? Frances frowned.

Beau looked at him, expectantly.

Frances considered. "It's... heavy? Rough? Generally intimidating? There's what I would categorize as an excessive amount of cowbell? An inexplicable amount of cowbell."




"Come on, Frances! They're great! Listen to that guitar. Just listen to Jaxy's voice... It's just incredible."

“How does a voice like that come out of a woman of her stature?"

“Now, now, Fran. Size doesn't matter! She's small, but undeniably powerful. Also, some of that is Ripp. They're both singing."

“I can't tell the difference.”

“I know! It's great, right? They sort of blend together. I love that. But generally, I'd say Jaxy's the one that sounds like she's scolding you for sleeping on the job, while Ripp sounds like he just woke up from a nap."

"I see."

"But the guitars. The guitars! That's another thing entirely. Nothing sleepy about that! Yeah, I don't know, I just love it. I just FEEL something. Don't you?"




Frances stared back at him, then turned away and considered. “Well, I suppose I do feel something, and that something isn't indifference.”

Beau laughed. “You truly have a way with words. Yeah, what a vague and polite-sounding way to say you hate them.”

“I don't hate them.”

“Sure.”

“This type of rock music is not exactly in my wheelhouse, but as a musician I can see what they're doing. It's chaotic, but it's far from random. There is a sophistication underpinning it all. But just... an obscene amount of cowbell. It's mesmerizing. Who is playing that? Why is it so high in the mix?"




“Uhuh uhuh… hey, you ARE a musician, aren't you? How about that. Heeeeyyyy, maybe you should join their band! They don't have a piano player. You'd fit right in! You could be their soft underbelly."

“Yes, I’m sure they would just love that.”

Beau grinned back at him. “Aww, but who wouldn’t love you?”

Frances made a face.




“If they got to know you, I'm sure they would. You gotta put yourself out there more! Everyone's missing out.”

“Maybe so.”

"Listen! You are just perfect, and I will not stand for anyone saying otherwise... and that includes you, okay? Stop speaking ill of my boyfriend."

"I can't make any promises, but I'll try my best."

"That's the spirit! You know, if I were so inclined, I would 100% have a crush on Jaxy Rai."

"I'll be honest with you. You sound like you already do."




"But Frances... she's a girl."

"I think, with a voice like that, 'girl' is perhaps a bit diminutive."

"Well 'woman' sounds even less like someone I would be attracted to."

Frances smiled.

"Frances, I don't have a crush on her! Are you kidding me? Yeah, don't be ridiculous. Who do you think you're talking to?"

"I will trust your judgement."




"Yeah, if I were even the teeniest, minuscule amount... if I were infinitesimally attracted to women, you know I would have knocked Lucy up when we were teenagers and we'd be married and poor and jobless and living in the trailer park by now. Obviously!"

"I didn't think it was possible to get pregnant as a teen."

"Frances, Frances, Frances... Have you SEEN Lucy? My Lucy-Goosey is hot, okay! Yeah, I don't care, I would've found a way. That's just how it is."




Frances tried to imagine this alternate reality Beau, but found it impossible, especially the part where he didn't have a job. Beau always had at least two jobs, plus several business ideas in the works.

"I'm sure that Beau loves all 10 of his children and he's very happy. He's married to Lucy for Wright's sake! But alas I am cursed to become a self-made millionaire instead. Or was that because I don't have a dad? Well, either way I end up with you, so all the rest of it is moot. I win. I win at life." He smiled beatifically at Frances.

"I didn't realize I was in some sort of pan-reality competition with Lucy."

"Oh! And speaking of... Yeah, circling back to Tank needing to get some... do you think he would be interested in Lucy?"




"Oh. Well, I hadn't considered it. He did talk to her, when she came over to our place with you. Tank isn't really a man of many words. Hmm... He played that snowboarding video game with her as well. But you know I have historically been very bad at this, especially where Tank is concerned."

"Well Lucy is quite taken by him. Yeah, she's got that Grunt fever that's been going around. Maybe she caught it from you?"

"And you think Tank is worthy of your Lucy?"




"Of course! You know, I haven't been torturing T just for fun this past year. I've been auditioning him as Lucy's boyfriend! And well, maybe a bit of light torturing. Just some jostling around, you know. He's good for it! Anyway... he passes the test. Tank is a-okay in my books. Yeah, just his journey with you alone has been enough for me to see that he's worth my time. And he's accepted me into his life quite admirably. That's key. Because where you and Lucy are both concerned, I am a given. I'm an inevitability."

They emerged from the mountain pass to see the valley below.




“Well, here we are! Welcome to Bluewater! Gorgeous, right?"

"Yes, it's quite the view."






“What a beautiful day! How could anyone be unhappy on a day like this? Just look at those suns!”




“I see you’ve taken the scenic route…”




“What? Oh, haha! Frances, you’re awful! But yeah, he is very easy on the eyes, hey? He has an amazing accent, too!”




"Isn't that the woman from the flower shop where Ripp and Ophelia work? Where we bought the phallic plant?"

“Yeah, Florence Delarosa. And the hot guy is Gilbert Jaquet. He's Florence's lover. Owns the bakery, along with his mother, Denise.

“How do you manage to remember all of this? Or even know it to begin with? I could never...”




“Easy! You just pay attention, Fran. When someone says their name, I try to come up with something to remember it. Most sim names are puns, haven’t you noticed? Hahaha! And as you know, I make it my business to know about business. It’s not that hard.“

“If you say so.” Frances often marveled at Beau's way with people, winning them over, but also in his genuine interest in them, in easily becoming friends with them. Frances found it hard to connect, to put himself out there. But also... he forgot to pay attention? With his head in the clouds.

"Like, think of Tank. Name matches the person! And Grunt. They're grunts, get it? Military..."




As if to illustrate his own observation of himself, Frances's mind wandered.

He thought of Tank.

Like himself, Tank wasn't exactly an easy person to make friends with, but Frances had managed it. They were a lot alike that way. If it hadn’t been for the roommate ad, what would his and Tank’s interaction have looked like? Frances would have admired him from afar, on a purely physical level. If they had bumped into each other, they’d likely have said excuse me and that would’ve been it. It was only the proximity, the excuse to have them marinate together long enough for a friendship to eventually emerge.

He tried to imagine his life if that hadn’t happened. Where would he be right now, if not for Tank’s place? On Edie’s couch? Would he even have met Beau, or followed up on it, had it not been for all the events that had followed Tank’s arrival into his life?

And then there was the idea of not having Tank around anymore. Here he was planning to look at apartments, but then what? He would live by himself again? He’d live without Tank, which seemed unthinkable to him now. And he’d leave Tank there alone, with the weight of the world on his shoulders?

Beau turned to him, and smiled. “Well, here we are.”






Frances didn’t move.




“Ruminating again?”

“You know it.”




“All that thinking is bad for you!" Beau declared. "I personally never do it myself.”

Frances couldn’t help but smile. "You're smarter than any of us."

"Yeah, I know." Beau grinned, “more modest, too.” He reached over and held Frances's hand. “It will all be just fine, Fran. Good luck! You can do it!"

“Thank you," he said. "I hope so. Have fun visiting with your friend.” He leaned in to kiss him, and found Beau already swooping in.






“I love you," said Frances.

“Love you more!”

“How could you possibly?”

“I have a hugely oversized heart.”

“You might want to get that checked out, Boo.”






Suddenly, when faced with the front door, Frances felt unmoored. Without Beau there to buoy him up, he no longer felt he had the nerve to do this.




The door opened, and instead of the butler, Frances found his sister herself standing before him.




“Charlotte, I’m sorry…,” he said, lowering himself before her. “I ruined your wedding. I was asked to make a toast to the groom and I stepped up on that podium and well, look what happened. And it was a scandal. All over the tabloids. And I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but--”








“Aaaauuurrgh!”




“What the hell! You punched me!”




“Oh, don’t be silly, Frances. I slapped you. Harlots punch. Ladies slap.”




“That was a fist! That was not a slap.”






“I told you it was a slap, so that’s what it was. Now let’s go inside and have a nice little visit, and never speak of this again, shall we?”




“So that’s it? We’re okay now?”

“It’s so common to hold a grudge, Frances.”

Frances blinked.

“And the next time you want to come out and steal all the attention, plan your own damn party!”

“Like a debutante?”

“Like a considerate sim being, Frances!”

“Well you need not worry. You only come out of the closet once, especially when you garner that amount of media coverage.”




“I wouldn’t put anything past you! You, you... wedding wrecker!” Charlotte wagged her pointer finger in Frances’s direction. He flinched.

“I really am sorry, Charlotte. I didn't intend...”

“It’s quite alright,” she said with a huff. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Perhaps don’t get married again?”

“That isn’t funny, Frances.”

Charlotte turned and headed for the den, with Frances following behind her, still a little dazed.






As they entered the room, Lillian started clapping. “Here he is now! The man of the hour. Frances, I must say that watching you grow a pair in real time was the highlight of Charlotte’s wedding for me.”

“What?!” exclaimed Charlotte. “Lillian!”




“You dominated the media cycle for a good month there. I, of course, was able to take good advantage of my closeness to the story… to get the story out there first, to get a good photo and such. You’ve probably seen it on the cover of Rat Race magazine.”




“That was you?!”

“Of course it was me, Frances. I’m a journalist.”

"How could you?"

"It would have made the headlines anyway. Why not capitalize on it? And honestly, good on you. I'm being serious. Now the three of us can drop the ridiculous façade. Who have we really been fooling, anyway?"




Edie emerged from the washroom. “Frances!” She threw her arms open in welcome, and he walked further into the room to hug her.






“Oh my god, Frances!” Lillian exclaimed, taking a closer look. The bruise was now blossoming to its full potential. “What happened to your eye?”

“I...” Frances glanced over at Charlotte, hoping she might help him out. “... walked into a door?”

Lillian and Edie exchanged glances.

“Very careless of him, wasn’t it?” said Charlotte.

“Yes, I’m sure…” said Edie.




“Look,” said Lillian, “we all know you punched him, so there’s really no need for this extremely obvious, frankly offensive, and very clichéd domestic violence cover up.”

“I slapped him,” insisted Charlotte.

“Sure you did,” said Lillian.

"Okay, so I did! You'd do the same in my place. Of all the days and places you could do that, you chose mine. It was my day! My day, Frances! The one day where you don’t get to be the centre of attention and somehow you still managed to make it all about you!”




All three sisters stared him down. “What, do you think I wanted the attention on me?" Frances bristled. "I was backed into a corner! I've never even thought of it that way."

Lillian snorted. “Of course you haven’t thought of it that way. You’re the golden child. The almighty boy!”

Frances glanced over at Edie, hoping she’d come to his defense.

“Sorry, Frances. They’re right.”




“But it’s awful being me!” Frances felt himself turning red with embarrassment and anger. “You can’t imagine the expectations--”

“Oh BOO HOOOOO!” said Lillian. “It’s sooooooo hard being Frances J. Worthington the third! Have you ever thought for a moment how privileged you are? Yes, all of the expectations! How awful! That’s so much worse than having no expectation on you at all. Than being irrelevant!”

Frances bristled. "I'd hardly say that any of you are considered--"

"Of course you wouldn't!"

Frances found himself, as he often did, silent in the face of Lillian's onslaught. This time, however, neither of his other sisters came to offer any support.




Lillian continued in a more thoughtful manner. "And since we've brought it up, we may as well address the elephant in the room: the inheritance."

“Yes, that’s something I… I haven’t spoken to Mother or Father since.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Lillian.

“You don’t think he’ll disinherit me?”

“Oh no, he definitely will. Are you kidding? You get nothing.”

Frances frowned. “Well, it’s only what I would’ve expected.” Frances had made his choice. He knew full well what would happen, but the future was now so uncertain.




“But then the question remains: who?” said Lillian. “Obviously I know who I think it should be.”

“It’s too late for them to have another child,” said Edie. “they’re staring down their elder transitions.”

There's no way Father will let it go back to Uncle Franklin,” offered Charlotte.

“Yes, and he has no children. That's unlikely to change,” said Edie.

“We need to get with the times,” said Lillian. “Even the royal family allows female heirs now!”

“Like the Worthingtons would change their ways because the royals have,” said Edie. “That’s small potatoes.”

Charlotte huffed. “Well, that’s the way things are! How they’ve always been. I don’t know why you all insist on trampling all over tradition. If we toss everything aside, what would we have left?”

All three of her siblings stared back at her with annoyed expressions.




“Well excuse me for having an opinion!”

“You’re entitled to your opinion, Char,” said Lillian. “But you’re still wrong.”

“CharLOTTE! It’s Charlotte. It has always been Charlotte, and it always will be Charlotte!” She breathed an exasperated breath. “You and Edith are always doing that.”

“Nobody on Sim Earth calls me Edith,” Edie said.

“Mother and Father do! It's your given name! You and Lillian just think you can call me any old thing you like!”




Frances placed his hand on her arm. ”They do it to me, too,” he said, hoping to find commonality. “I understand.”

“What are you talking about?” exclaimed Lillian. “Everyone always calls you Frances. Frances this, and Frances that! Blah blah blah…”

“Yeah,” said Edie “Lil’s right.”

“Frances Jules?”

“Hmm, well you’ve got me there.”




“God, could they have given you softer names?” said Lillian. “That's even the feminine spelling of Frances! Goodness knows they didn’t help to butch you up any.”

“You think the name would make a difference?” said Edie.

“No, you're right. Can you imagine if he was named something super masculine and aggressive?"

"Like Tank?" Frances suggested.




Edie smiled in Frances's direction.

"Exactly! Imagine if that was your name. How ridiculous."




"Well, Frances didn't get to have his own name," said Charlotte. "Just the family heirloom. I wonder what Mother would have chosen for you, if she'd had any say in it?"

"How is Mother, anyway?" he asked.




"She's still off on her 'retreat'," said Edie. All four of them knew that this meant the expensive rehabilitation centre that the Worthington's favoured. "I hear she's doing okay."

Lilian noticed Frances's face and added. "I wouldn't feel responsible, Frances. She'd end up back there eventually anyway. We all know that she would."

Frances nodded, appreciating this rare kindness from his oldest sister. “Well then, what should we do now? About the inheritance?”

“Well, if the three of you care for me at all I think you should support my claim. Stand up to Mother and Father and tell them to get with the times.”




Frances looked like a deer in the headlights. Mostly in response to the standing up to them part, but Lilian jumped right in.

“Just get a damn job, Frances! It’s not hard. You studied Economics, for Wright’s sake! They basically give away jobs at the graduation ceremony.”

“I... uhhh... may have switched my major.”

Lillian and Charlotte stared at him aghast, while Edie smiled a bemused smile.

“... to Literature.”




“Oh my GOD, Frances! Nobody finds work in that field!"

"Isn't that what you did?" asked Charlotte.

"Yes, but that's me! Frances isn't going into journalism! What are you going to do, Frances, become a professor? Ick! And like you could even get up in front of a class!"

“Let’s dial it back a little, Lil,” suggested Edie.

“But really!” she continued. “What did you intend to do? Become the next Walt Witsim?”

“I… don’t even really write that much myself.”

“I am appalled, Frances! Appalled!”

“I was thinking that I might... play the piano? I did spend decades of my life studying it.”




“That would be interesting,” said Edie.

Lillian scoffed. “That’s one way of putting it.”




“Hey, Lil. Why don’t you shut the hell up?” said Edie. “Some of us do play instruments for a living.”




“I don’t mean it like that. You actually have a band and all that. Who hires a solo pianist?”




Frances wished he had an answer for her, but he hadn't turned up a lot of answers for that question. But even if he had, he’d still would have been unable to answer to Lillian when she was staring him down and demanding an answer from him like that. She’d likely jump on anything he said and tear it to pieces.

“Well, you need to do something,” she continued. “That’s what sims do, Frances. They work. They make money. Even Charlotte has a job.”




“Thank you, Lillian,” Charlotte snarled. “That’s very respectful of you.”

“No, I’m proud of you! I really am. It's just that you obviously don't need to keep working now that you've married Malcolm. You choose to work. I respect that!”

“When are you re-opening the gallery, by the way?” asked Edie.




Charlotte had recently purchased the NewSim Art Gallery, overlooking Bluewater Bay.




“We’re opening with a Natasha Una retrospective,” said Charlotte, her face transformed by sincere enthusiasm, all stuffiness melted away.

“Is she that old?” asked Lillian.




“No but she already has an extensive body of work.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “She’ll even be performing her seminal performance work, “Eat 200 Grilled Cheese Sandwiches”.

Frances snorted slightly, imagining what Beau would have said in response to “seminal”.

“You’re not a fan, Frances?”

“No, no, I was just thinking of something funny. It sounds… interesting.”




“It’s a groundbreaking piece,” said Charlotte. “reflecting on the body, and consumption, and the nature of the aspirations themselves.”

“A very feminist piece,” added Edie.

“Well, it certainly caused a huge media sensation," said Lillian. "And I think you’re right, Edie. A large part of that is not just seeing a sim eat so much, but that she’s a woman defying gendered expectations. That contrast of her femininity with the visceral act of unbridled consumption. It’s very transgressive. I wouldn't have taken you for a fan, Charlotte.”




“Well, there’s much more to all of us than meets the eye, don’t you think?” Charlotte said. All took a moment to reflect.

“I certainly didn’t expect you to have such a vicious right hook,” said Frances.

Charlotte glared at him.

“And I wouldn’t have thought Frances knew what a right hook was,” added Lillian.

Frances smiled slightly and bowed his head in Lilian's direction.




“Didn’t they once consider the Grilled Cheese aspiration to be a mental illness?” asked Edie. “Something that could be the fallout of attempting to tinker with your wiring?”

“Yes, but they’ve since reclassified it,” said Lillian. “Natasha Una is currently the only sim on record to have that aspiration, and it is clear that she chose it for herself naturally when she transitioned.”




“How fascinating.”






Beau pulled up to the familiar old house, stately and a little foreboding. He tried to imagine seeing it for the first time. Surely the impact was lost on him, he who had grown up with it and its oddness. Then again, he was open to it. For someone so young, who came from such limited means, he figured he’d seen enough. Sims might be surprised what they’d see if they just opened themselves up to the world, to life, to experiencing it.












And sometimes the weird things came to you, whether you wanted them or not.




His mind continued to turn over those thoughts, then skipped off to consider what that date with Frances might look like. Then detouring to think of a joke and laughing to himself about it. And then he was approaching the front door of the Goth manor.




He knocked on the door with the door knocker.




“Hello Beau, you’re right on time, of course. Come on in…”

Beau stepped in and hugged Alexander. “I'm so sorry about your father.”

"Thank you."

“How have you been?”

"I've been okay. Thank you for asking. Yourself?"




“Oh, you know… work-work-work, busy-busy-busy! And schoolwork, too, of course. Yeah, I'm flat out.”

Typical Beau, thought Alexander.

"So, how about you?" Beau asked, "are you seeing anyone now?"

Alexander observed how quickly Beau had asked that question. There was that slight feeling in the air that always surrounded the topic. They didn't speak about it, but it was always there.

That night in the graveyard.




On the list of uncomfortable moments in Alexander's life that one was at the very top of the list. He had grimaced as Beau's face had swooped towards his and their teeth had clinked together. Thus began a painful and awkward conversation, trying not to crush his best friend's heart any more than he had to.

He'd obviously failed in that regard. Beau had fled the scene, crying. The indignity, far too great.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone. Like you, I'm engrossed in my studies. And I'm not really interested in anything like that, as you know."

"I see." The consistency was at least some comfort to Beau.

"How about you?" Alexander saw Beau's face light up immediately. So that was why he'd brought it up. That made sense.




"Yeah, I have a boyfriend now. His name is Frances. Frances Worthington. He just graduated from LFT."

"Frances Worthington? You're dating the golden boy of the Worthington family?"

"Yeah. Pretty cool, huh? I'm just that good." Beau puffed out his chest, stood up a little taller. He pulled a well-worn magazine out of his pocket. “This is us, right here, on the cover of Rat Race.”




“Yes it certainly is.” Alexander did smile at the ridiculously over the top gesture and how extremely Beau it all was.

"So, do you know him? Your families would be connected in some ways, I guess, huh?"

"I went to the same summer camp as him."

Beau laughed. "You didn't happen to spend any time in the bathroom stalls with him, did you?"

Alexander was not amused. "What do you think?"

"Just checking."




"He was quite a bit older, of course." Alexander glanced at Beau somewhat pointedly, but Beau's smile deflected it as if it were nothing. "But actually, even if I had been interested... I found him to be a pretty insufferable snob. It was like he was too good to make friends with anyone."

"Yeah," Beau smiled, "He is a bit of a snot at times, huh? I can see how he might have come off badly if you don't know him very well. He’s just a bit reserved. He's different when you know him. He's quite funny, actually.”

"I'll have to take your word for it," Alexander said, "but it's nice to see you happy."




"So how are you doing, after everything..." Beau asked.

Alexander frowned. "Not well. I mean, I was ready for Father to go, after he became ill. It was a shock, but after I got over that, I had accepted it. But the inheritance issue, and goddamn Dina Caliente... that's getting to me."

"The ‘wicked witch’." Beau repeated Alexander's own words back to him, from back when she first started coming around to see Mortimer.

"You've got that right. She's pure evil. Nobody will believe me, but she is."

“I always thought she was really nice.”

“When have you ever had any interaction with her?”




“She’s friends with Mom. She used to babysit me. I don’t know, I think she’s really fun. She played ‘bathtub pirates’ with me.”

Alexander stared at Beau, saying nothing for a moment. “That… is not the person I know.”

“Heh,” remarked Beau. “Funny, that.”

“What?”

“Sims are funny. More to us than meets the eye, isn’t there? Yeah, there's probably as much or more complexity within each of us than there are differences between us, when you really think about it. Don't you think?"




Beau had been aiming to lighten the mood, but Alexander's face was grave. "The legal proceedings are not quite as fun as 'bathtub pirates'. Let's leave it at that."

Beau nodded.

Alexander paused, considering what he was about to say, then continued, "You know, there's something about his death that doesn't quite sit right with me. My father's research... Well, he was sort of searching for the fountain of youth."




Beau's face registered his shock, but he said nothing.

"He was developing a serum that prevented aging. He was close to finishing it. It wasn't highly publicized, but there were some rumours out there in the scientific community. I'm pretty sure he had tested some of it, over the years... on my mother."

It had been a long time since Alexander had referred to Bella, even indirectly.




"I always just assumed she was much younger than him." Beau perfectly replicated the glance Alex had previously given him, with an added raised eyebrow that he hoped underlined the obvious double standard.

"Oh, she was. She was quite a bit younger, just not by as much as she seemed, especially in later years. She owed her youthfulness to the serum, almost certainly."

"So you think your father also used it on himself?"




"He could have," Alexander gazed thoughtfully out the window, "or maybe after Mother disappeared... you know, I don't think he had a whole lot of will to live after that. What if he used it in the opposite way?”

"You think he would have..."

"I'm not sure. Father was always a pessimist, always looking at the glass half empty. They sort of balanced each other out that way. I don't know if he'd have chosen to end it all, exactly, but I can understand how he'd be less interested in eternal life if he didn't have her to live it with him."




"That's probably the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

"They were so in love, even after all those years. They were a testament to romance, my parents. No two people were ever truly meant for each other as much as they were."

"Oh, I don't know… Frances and I are pretty inseparable."




Alexander resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The idea of Frances Worthington caring about anything other than himself was nothing but a joke to him. He didn't care how much he'd supposedly changed. "So you think you'd choose death over eternal life without him?"

"Absolutely."




"You didn't really think that through."

"Yeah, I did. I've thought about it before. If he vanished like that, I think I'd have to drop everything to go find him. If he died... well, maybe I'd pull an Orpheus and go bust him out of the underworld."




It wasn't hard for Alexander to picture that, as ridiculous as he thought it to be. He could imagine Beau's sandy blond bird's nest of hair being blown wildly by the winds of the underworld. His face shining brightly enough to light the way through the darkness.



"Yes, but would he do the same for you?" His voice betrayed his doubt. He couldn't help it.

"Of course he would."

Alexander shot him a withering glance. "I'd be careful what you wish for, or else you might get it. You shouldn't say these things lightly. Death is a very cruel entity."

Beau paused, his smile gone. He reached up and removed his glasses, folded them, and put them in his pocket.






"Listen, Alex. I think I know something about death."

It wasn't often that Beau was harsh with him, but there it was. His eyes were dark, like a cold and bottomless pool of water.




"I'm sorry," he said, and he was. For a moment or so, they stood in silence, staring anywhere but at each other.

In an effort to change the subject, Alexander finally said, "Would you like something to eat?"




The old familiar Beau returned almost instantly.

"Do you even have to ask? Yeah, I could eat the legs off the table."

Alexander smiled and introduced Beau to the contents of his fridge, just like old times.






Jenny was sweating as she topped the hill of Cover Up Road, the home of her brothers coming into view. As always, she admired the towers which seemingly defied gravity. From up there, you could see all of Strangetown and the desert extending as far as the eye could see. At night, you could see her husband’s former planet.

Once retired, P.T. hadn't been interested in stargazing, so they hadn’t kept a telescope. She figured he'd had enough of that for many a lifetime, which was understandable. But now, she could get one for herself, if she wanted to. She observed the ones her brothers kept set up at all times.




She’d always enjoyed looking through her father’s telescope as a child, even though her mother had warned them off looking for too long. She liked looking things up, making discoveries. She could have gone further into that sort of study, much like her brothers. She did have the inclination, and the ability, but then her interests had drawn her elsewhere, to nursing and obstetrics, to bringing babies into the world. She was very well suited to it.

She could still pick it up as a hobby, buy a telescope and once again look at the wonders of the night sky. She could look up and find the planet where the new colony was located, and imagine her son up there, doing meaningful, personally fulfilling things.






She could imagine him happy.




Jolene and Jordan had walked alongside her, speaking their special twin language that all twins seemed to share. She hadn’t known Lola and Chloe as children, but even as adults, they still had an unspoken dynamic that went well beyond words.




Once they'd neared the top of the hill, they'd ran ahead of her, to meet their cousins as they rushed out to join them.

Jenny smiled and left her children to their play.




She rang the doorbell. Vidcund opened the door promptly, but then, she’d expect no less from him.

“Jenny,” he said, brusquely. Not quite gruff, but verging on it.

“Good afternoon,” she said with a smile. She knew better than to take Vidcund’s manner personally. At the best of times, he was a bit sullen, taken to existing in his own head.

“They’ve been eagerly awaiting their cousins,” he said, gesturing to where they were already playing to illustrate his point.




“You’re sure you don’t mind them, all by yourself?”

Vidcund huffed at that, throwing up his hand. “What’s one more? It’s a zoo already. Isn’t that a thing that people say? After a while they begin to take care of themselves.”

She gave him a look, but she knew that her brother would not, in fact, leave them to take care of themselves. Despite his manner, Vidcund was quite good with children. And like most of the Curious family, he had a lot of experience.




“What’s for dinner?” she asked. “Pizza, I suppose?”

“Children love pizza.”

“Grown men do as well, I've noticed.”

“It has greens on it, and mushrooms. Plenty of nutrients. And appropriately alien-friendly, of course.”




“I’m sure they’ll love it.” Jenny smiled. After a moment or two, she ventured, “I was talking to Chloe today.”

“That must have been fun,” he said, turning back in the direction of the house, shutting her down completely. Then he stopped, and turned back to Jenny. “Do you want a glass of water? To come in for a minute?”

“Thank you, but I’d better get back. I need to shower before they come." She quickly added, "Vidcund, you really need to clear the air with Chloe."

"God, Jenny! Just drop it, would you?"

"Okay, okay." Jenny sighed. She looked at her brother, hoping he might come around.




Vidcund changed the subject instead.

“Pregnant, I hear,” he said, gesturing down over the side of the hill. “Ophelia.”

“She is, yes.”

“With the General’s boy,” he said, not bothering to specify which one.

Jenny wondered if he even knew them one from the other, even bothered to know their names. Beyond surface similarities, they couldn’t possibly be more distinct from each other, but then this was Vidcund.




"Ripp," she offered. "He's been Johnny's best friend since the Grunts first moved out here. Johnny spent nearly all of his time with him. With both of them."

“Sort of unusual,” he observed. “For those two to get together. So soon after Johnny...”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” she countered. “These things have their way of happening. Mysteries of the heart...” Jenny knew that there had been many mysteries at play. Many hearts. Far more than she'd be sharing with Vidcund. Though perhaps he could do with hearing it.




Vidcund “hmmff”ed at that, clearly illustrating his thoughts on those things and their way of happening.

Jenny decided not to pursue it any further. A sore spot, she knew. Instead she looped back around to the topic of their sister again. “You should call Chloe. It might be easier to speak to her over the phone.”

“Yes, I’m sure that would go over very well. Not setting myself up for her to tear into me at all.”

“Do it for me?" pleaded Jenny. "Please?”

He frowned, and after a moment or two it was nearly a pout. He huffed. “I’ll give it some consideration.”




She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. First, wait and see if either of us is still alive afterwards.”




“And thanks again for taking the twins. Good luck with everything!”

“You, too. I hope you have a nice dinner.”

Another nod and a smile and they turned and parted ways.




Edie and Frances looked out over the Landgraab gardens.

"So she really got you in the eye, huh?"

"Did she? I hadn't noticed."

"Well, you look like shit. Just a heads up." They both laughed. “Are you still planning to look at apartments? I'm sorry I've been so busy recording for the new album. I would've helped you out by now."

“Beau and I are hoping to look at some later today. With… Tank's brother's friends.”

“This is the brother you made out with?”




Frances sighed, but smiled. “Yes, Edie.”

"The one in the band, right? Cammie and Deb and I met them."

“Yes, its actually the band that we're meeting up with. The rest of the band: Jasmine and Zoe.”

“They're really good. Very talented.”

“They're just a little terrifying.”

“I think you might be surprised…”

“If you say so.”




“Don't you think that you also project a certain front that might be making you seem unapproachable to others?”

Frances frowned. Of course he knew that.

"I know you well, so I know better. It's like those women in the band. They have a tough exterior, but when we met with them I could see their earnestness, their enthusiasm and passion for what they do.” She smiled. “Some sims put up walls to protect themselves. Some wear a certain attitude like an armour.”




“Thankfully, Beau will be there with me. There's no person in existence with defenses strong enough to keep him from blasting straight through them instantly.”

Edie smiled. “A good match for you, then.”

Frances returned her smile. “Good doesn't even begin to cover it.”

“I'm really happy for you. He seems really nice. Like 'dip kiss you in front of hundreds of crusty old rich people' nice. That's a keeper!"

Frances hugged her. “Thank you.”

"It's about time you found someone who can appreciate how wonderful you are."

“Let me know when things aren't quite so busy for you. We'll come and visit you and Val.”




“I'd love that.” she smiled. "Also, if you're serious about playing the piano, having some musician friends would be good for you, even if their style is different.”

“Perhaps.”

“Give them a chance.”

He sighed. "You are usually right."

"It's one of my more annoying qualities, I know."

Frances smiled. "How goes the recording?

"Oh, very well! I think it will be one of our best to date..."

France listened as Edie went into more details about their experiences in the studio. "Oh here! It's a rough cut. See what you think of it."

"I will. Thank you."






After Frances had left with Beau, Tank wandered about the house, a little lost.

He’d grown so used to having Frances there that he found himself feeling very alone without him. It's not like Frances was even all that noticeable half the time. Tank kept expecting to hear him playing piano upstairs, but was then met with only silence.




Frances would move out. He was heading out to look at places that very day. What would Tank do then?

Maybe he should ask Frances to stay. Would Frances want to? But no, Tank couldn't do that. Frances was moving on with his life. Tank couldn't stand in his way. But without him...?

Frances would still be his friend, but would they always be friends in the same way? As a Popularity sim, Tank had always felt like the biggest loser in the known universe. Friends, yeah he had none.

But now he did. He had Frances.




Frances had listened to Tank, without hesitation, and taken on some of his burden. He now knew what Tank was going through. Tank reflected on the way that Frances had always been just off to the side when he was going through something. He had always been offering to listen. Tank had pushed him away time and again.

It was so easy to take something for granted.






It felt weird to be there in that house on his own. That house, that had once been their house. The one they’d all lived in. All of them, all five. It seemed like another lifetime, belonging to some other person.

If he thought back far enough, the memories were happy. He could play them out in order and watch as that peace dissolved, developed into a battle ground. In this house here in Strangetown, that had already begun. This standard-issue military housing, which differed little from others like it in the various locations from their past, identical to the one next door. Sometimes they were duplexes, mirror images of each other. Completely opposite, but shaped the exact same way.

Like him and Ripp.

He went to the bathroom to wash his hands, splash some water on his face. Then he looked into the mirror.






General Buzz Grunt's son. It was obvious at just a glance, if you knew what you were looking for. And that continued to define him, in many ways, just as it had all his life.

His father. Had the revelation of the General's plan really changed all that much? It had been what his father had always believed. But at the same time, it changed everything.

Mr. Smith… Johnny and Jill… had that been part of his father's plan the entire time? Tank didn't want to believe it. He wished it wasn't true. He felt sick in his heart when he acknowledged the truth. It might have been. It really might have.

Maybe Ripp had been right. Whatever had happened to him...

Maybe Buzz really had deserved it.




Tank stared back at his reflection.

Who am I?

It was a question he often asked himself, perhaps now more than ever. Did anyone really know? Least of all himself?

Tank wasn't his father. It had felt that way, but he wasn't simply a copy of Buzz, someone moulded into the same shape. Tank had changed his mind about a lot of things. Once out from under the hard thumb of his father, Tank had started to think for himself. Slowly, yes, but also surely.

Tank was his own person.

He went upstairs to clear his head the best way he knew how. A date with his punching bag.






Just as he was getting in the zone, he was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Who could that be, he wondered. Frances and Beau had left. Ripp wouldn’t ring the bell. Buck was at LFT. Who else?

Tank felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He went to answer it.






He opened the door.

The sinking feeling quickly shifted to a punch directly to his heart. Maybe an invisible slap across the face for good measure.

Here was Lucy, the woman of his all too literal dreams.




“Oh, uh… Lucy.”

He was suddenly very aware of how sweaty he looked, how he smelled... how awkward he was… just everything about himself.





“Hey, Tank. I thought Beau might be here.”




“You… came all the way… ” Don’t be an idiot! Ask her in. “Uhh, come in!”




“Yeah,” she said, “I was hoping to catch him before they left. Oh well…”

"Heh."

“May I use your washroom?”

"Yeah, of course."






Lucy Burb is in my house right now.




Sugar Tits came around the corner. “Ooooh! Who was that? She's hot."




"She looks good coming and going, if you know what I'm--






--SAYING!"




“NO!” Tank growled. “No! Just… get the fuck out of here!!”

“What? Geez, Tank. I was just asking.”

“No! Just no! Please… Just this once. Don’t sweep in and… do what you do.”




Tits made what could be best described as a sad robot noise. “What? I never…”

“Oh shit,” said Tank. “No, of course not. You didn’t do anything.”




She sputtered.

“Are you going to cry? Can you cry?” Why would they program these things to do something that could short them out? Tank couldn’t imagine, but then the Servo was hardly the most elegantly designed machine, no offense to Kendall. He was sure that building a sentient robot must be hard.




Tits was also strongly drawn to the hot tub and to having a bubble bath, which, like the tears and the horniness, Tank could clearly link back to his brother. Ripp really did make a piss poor robot.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t pre-judge you like that. Judge you based on your…”

“Initializer.”




That sounded so formal for what Ripp had done.

“Yeah, that.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“What?!” Tank once again found recognition of his brother in this robot. This time, the bits that weren’t really so bad. The part that had tried his best to help Tank hook up with a girl at the sorority party. The part that had tried to give him relationship advice that day in the city.

“You should ask her out,” Tits suggested.

“I can’t.”

"Why not?"




Tank stared at her. Unlike Ripp, Tits didn't yet know the obvious answer to that question.

“You’re a very attractive man, Tank. Surely, you must realize that.”

“Okay, this is starting to feel weird.”

They heard the bathroom door open.




“I'll leave you to it,” said Tits. “Go on and work that Grunt magic!"

As he watched her skip out of the room, Tank wished he had asked her how exactly one went about doing that. In a way that didn't end in embarrassment, failure, and feeling like the world's biggest loser. As usual, he had stood there awkwardly instead.

This supposed Grunt magic had not been doled out evenly. The robot had infinitely more of it than he did.




Lucy came around the corner. “I guess I better head out again.”

“Yeah, I guess.” His heart was beating so hard in his chest he was sure she could hear it. Don’t fuck this up. For once, I beg you. Don’t be an awkward asshole.

“Have you heard from Buck lately? He hasn’t been to class in a while.”

“Uh, no…” Tank realized it had been a while since he'd called Buck, and he suddenly felt very guilty. He would have to remedy that.

“Maybe he just has a cold.”




Tank stared at her for what had to be too long, trying to will himself to act like an actual person would in this situation. “Well, I’d offer you a ride, but the guys took my van.”

“That was sweet of you.”

“Heh. I guess so.”

“Beau speaks very highly of you. He says you're a really good friend to Frances.”




"Well, Frances is a good friend to me," Tank said, "He’s my best friend.”

He’s the only friend I’ve ever had.

“That makes us sort of like friends-in-laws…"

“Heh. I guess so.”

"If they got married, we'd most likely stand to them. I'd be the maid of honour and you'd be the best man."

"... Right."

"They most likely will, eventually. Don't you think?"

"Heh. Yeah, probably."




There was a lull in the conversation. Tank felt the full weight of the pause, but Lucy didn’t seem bothered by it. For a moment, he didn't feel so panicked. He wished he had some pretense for having her stay longer. Just to talk to her. To have her standing nearby.

“Uh… so can I get you a cab instead? On me.”

“Oh, no that’s--”

“You’re a university student. Please...”






They waited until the cab pulled up.

“Well I guess this is bye, Tank. I miss seeing you at LFT.”

“You do?”

“Yes, of course. We’d end up over at your place all the time. It seems strange not to go there anymore.”

“Frances’s place.”

“Huh?”




“It was… I was just…” Nothing. No, don’t say that. “I said it was Frances’s place. Not mine.”

“And this is your place.”

“Yeah.” He realized her meaning. “I supposed it’s all the same really, isn’t it?”

“Well, the cab is here.” She turned to leave.




He wanted to grab her arm, and turn her around and tell her. Just go right ahead and say it, and ask her out, and be this charming, suave, outgoing man of action. Someone worth saying yes to. He didn’t do it. He was frozen in place, held back by some unseen arm. A weight, sitting on his chest.

He was afraid it would come out all wrong, like so many of his social attempts did. Like Johnny's birthday party. Like the time he’d kissed Ophelia, thinking she felt the same way. How she’d been kind, but ultimately he’d felt like he’d been so very, very stupid.

The moments before, and between, and after those events. Every new school they'd transferred to, every new room he walked into. Just every... fucking... thing.




“Take care, Luce.”

Oh god.

He hadn’t meant to say it that way. The y had stuck in his mouth, making it all the more intimate and familiar. Like a nickname. Like she was already his girlfriend. He felt himself freezing into total shell shock. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But when she turned around, she was smiling. Looking at his stupid, awkward face. But her eyes were kind.

“Take care, Tank.”

She turned to leave once more.

Wait. No. Just… What… What would Ripp do? Oh god, I can't believe I'm–but what? What would my brother do? What the fuck would he do?? What? What? What would he tell me to do???




“Just fucking tell her, Tank! That's it. That's all you have to do. Tell her! Open your mouth and make words come out of it! Just TELL HER! Do it! It's really not that hard.”




“Or wait wait wait--better yet! Tell her that you're HARD, hahaah!”






What a fucking dumbass.




“Just tell her, asshole!!! Oh my god!"




“Wait!” he yelled.




She turned around again. “Yes, Tank?”




“Do you want to... stay a while instead?” he said, “I, uhhh, wouldn't mind the company.”

She smiled.




“Especially not yours.”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

“You were?”




“I thought it might have been obvious… I've had a crush on you since the day we met.”

“Oh.”

His words failed him, but his body did not. He walked closer to her. He reached out for her.




He kissed her.








Lucy was so much better in real life. In his mind, she'd been perfect, idealized, but here, but here… Lucy was here. Now. In this moment. He was touching her and she was touching him. His heart soared and his pulse raced. He was overcome by a heady, almost giddy feeling. Lucy was there, kissing him back. Lucy wanted him. She had wanted him all along.

How had he not noticed that?




Tank couldn't quite comprehend that something could go so right for him. If it had to be just one thing in his entire life, he was so very very grateful that it might be this.




Lucy Burb was the best thing that had ever happened to him.




The cab started honking aggressively. Tank raised an arm and casually waved it away. He felt like he was watching himself in the third person, and was surprised by what he saw.




In one deft move, he scooped Lucy up and carried her inside.








"The phone again..."

"Fuck the phone."




“It’s ringing again. Maybe you better get it, hon.”

"Nah, I'm busy here... Got my hands full."

"Come here."








The phone kept ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing...




Jaxy snapped upright and huffed in frustration. “Fucking Ripp! Why doesn’t he just leave a message like a normal person?!”

“I think you answered your own question," said Zoe, "But you know, what if it's a band-related emergency? Like what if he has the hook to end all hooks? And if you don't answer him, poor lil' Rippy will be so distraught he'll cry and cry and then forget it.”




Jaxy snerked. "Not a chance. Are you kidding me? Ripp would never forget a hook. You know that his head's completely empty aside from the hooks, riffs, solos, and lyrics pinging around in there. Plus he knows I will unceremoniously end his life if he doesn't write that shit down."

"Well, whatever it is must be important, because he doesn't seem to be giving up any time soon."




"This better be fucking good!"

Jaxy got to her feet, grabbed her phone from her pants pocket, and answered with a fake voice.




“Hi, you’ve reached Red’s Famous ‘50s Diner. How may I help you?”




Ripp missed not even a fraction of a beat. “Yes, I’d like to order two dozen hotdogs. Hold the buns. That's right, just the wieners. Yeah, 24 greasy wieners--You got that? I need at least 24 for what I'm planning to do with them."






Jaxy cracked immediately, and couldn't help but laugh. “Oh god! I'll bet you do, you fucking dingleberry."

"And make sure it COMES with loads and LOADS of mayo. Or wait--donair sauce. Which do you think looks more like--?"




"RIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPP!!! Why are you so disgusting?"

He chuckled. "Too far?"

She snerked. "That's vile. You're the absolute worst, you know that."

“I love you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”




"And how the hell would I know what it looks like? I don't deal in that shit, remember. Unlike someone I know, knocking up bitches left and right! You have some fucking nerve. You really do."




"Please do not refer to Ophelia as "bitches". And there is only one of her, and one pregnancy, I promise."

"There better be!! What the hell you think you're doing, anyway, having a kid straight out of university? It's madness! Insanity! Absolute fucking buffoonery! I can't have this shit interfering with the band! I swear I will keep the Paradymes together or die trying. I've made it this far! Do you want to mess with me, Ripp? Face my wrath?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."




"Good. Glad we're on the same page."

"I am in a committed monogamous relationship, I'll have you know."

Jaxy nearly buckled over in laughter. "Yes, yes of course you are."

"Hey! And I'm really good at it, too, okay!! Don't laugh at me, Jax! I'm serious."

"I wonder who everyone at LFT is fucking these days? Now that you've parked the campus bicycle... taken your greasy meat off the market. Can't be that much left to go around. You had to make up at least 70% of the campus sexual ecosystem all on your own."




"I guess it was sort of like when you shacked up with Zoe. Someone else rises to the challenge, moves in to fill the opening. You know, nature finds a way..."

"Can't imagine what you'd be like now that you've finally realized you're queer as hell. Which, by the way, we told you so, didn't we? We clocked that Johnny shit."

"Yeah, you might have suggested it once or twice."

"But I guess we don't all burst out of the womb in a big Sapphic cloud like I did. I get it. Zoe didn't know she was bi right away either. When you're also into the default mode, it might take longer to figure out. She certainly never had any shortage of men pursuing her, for obvious reasons. And you go over very well with the ladies… for some reason."




He produced a deep, rumbly laugh. "Haaaaaah! Ah, thanks, Jax. Thank you for acknowledging my undeniable mass appeal."

“Oh gawwd! Don't get used to it, alright! But you know these things are not lost on me, and I'm very intentional in how I engineer this band. If something will work in our favour, I'm gonna exploit it, you best believe. Obviously musical talent is paramount. You know you wouldn't have lasted five minutes with me if you couldn't actually play. But anyway, remember what I said about the hair. You know I'm right. I'm always right."

"I'm considering it."

Great! Now are you planning on telling me why you called me so many times or are you just going to blather on endlessly like a damn fool?

“Oh yeah, right! It's about the apartments. Tank said Frances and Beau will be out that way later today, and I wanted to make sure I caught you before you met up with them."




“Yeah, that's right, my little honey, Beau. I love that kid.”

“I can’t believe I’m like hooking you guys up with them,” he said. “Fucking terrifying…”

“Awww, poor baby. We’re going to hang out without you. Don’t worry, you won’t be left out. Too much, anyway.” She cackled.

“Aw thanks, Jax. That really puts my mind at ease.”

“No problem.”

"Alright. Well, uhh…” He paused for a moment. “Listen, go easy on him, okay? Don't give him a hard time.”

“Who, Beau? Why would I--””




“No, uh... Frances.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I… It’s hard to explain. I’ve done enough damage, you know? He doesn’t deserve it.”

“So basically, you were a dick to him and now you feel bad.”

“Yeah, basically. And would prefer there not be any more of that happening... or like, happening on my behalf?”

“Don’t worry, I won't eat him alive. I know not everyone is ready for the full Jaxy Rai experience. Not like you. Pretty sure I could curb stomp you and you'd just laugh it off."

"Please don't."




"William H. Wright, Ripp!! I'm not gonna do it! When have I ever laid a finger on you?! You know I'm all bark. Violence, actual violence, is fucking bullshit! I'm not about that shit. I don't need to resort to violence like some goddamn loser! I exert my power with my wits and my guitar!"

"Damn right you do."

"And I've had to earn everything, unlike some people!! But yeah, sure, I'll dial it back a bit for Mr. Fancy Pants and his delicate upperclass sensibilities. And I'll avoid the topic of you two groping each other on the couch. But if it does come up, I'll make sure the jokes are all at your expense."




“Wonderful. Lovely. Thanks, Jax. I can always count on you.”

“I’ll be the perfectly nice to that spoiled little rich bitch rich boy... little Lord Fauntleroy!... Mr. fucking Moneybags!!... goddamn Richie Rich!!!”

“That’s right, get it all out of your system. That’s perrrrfect."

"Anyway, Zo and I were just about to fuck, so let's clue this up already, okay?

"Ohhh... why didn't you say so? I’ll let you get right back at it then. Shit, the last thing I want to do is keep you ladies from rockin' that puss! Go forth and get it! Tell Zoe I said hi."




"Don't forget! We need to jam soon!"

"Yes, we will! We will. We'll make it happen. Buh-bye! Have fun! Have lots of orgasms!”

“Oh you better believe it, son.”




She climbed back onto the bed with Zoe. "Ripp says hi."

Zoe laughed. "Oh don't worry, I could hear him just fine from here. So I'm guessing our evil plans to completely obliterate Frances have been foiled.”

“Yeah, what was that? Too funny. Like we give that much of a shit."

“Poor baby has a bit of a crush, too, I'm thinking."

"Oh yeah, that tracks. One hundred percent. Especially now that they're both taken. Classic Ripp move."




"On that note... want to tell me more about this Beau fellow?" Zoe raised an eyebrow.




"Oh yeah... He came over to chat with me at one of our last gigs at the Wayside Lounge. Big fan of the band. I don't know, he's just this ray of fucking sunshine. I like him."

"And he's your 'little honey'?"




“In a purely platonic way.”








Zoe smiled. “Well, you were starting to worry me there.”






“Oh, you have nooooo worries from me.”




"No worries at all..."




“Come on, let’s go." said Ophelia. "We’ll be late.”

“Buck’s still not answering.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he hasn't been, lately. It's not like him to not take my calls.” Brow furrowed, he turned to her. “What if he's… not doing well."




“After everything he’s been through,” she agreed. “Your father, P.T., and everything with Jill.”

“Yeah,” he said, thinking back. “And now she's all the way at Academie La Tour.”

“Right. Was that… a break up?”

Ripp frowned, thinking of his little brother that day he had taken him to the hospital. Poor Buck. And then Jill had to go and break his heart on top of it all. “It was a ‘we’re taking a break’. Maybe a break up would have been cleaner, for all concerned. Maybe I’m thinking too much like a Romance sim, but like what’s the good of a commitment without any actual… anything?”




“So I take it that means there’ll be no long distance relationship for us?”

“I would have to go somewhere first. You do realize you’re stuck with me forever, right?”

She smiled.

"I'm permanent."




"Is that so? Well, then that doesn't sound very Romance sim of you at all..."

"Weren't you here earlier? I'd say I'm doing alright."

"Oh I was here... very much so. You're doing quite alright, I would say. I know that I am."

He smiled, pleased with himself. Ophelia knew that receiving a gold star for a job well done went a long way with Ripp.

“And as for long distance," she said, "we still love Johnny. And he’s on a whole other planet."

"Yeah..." He smiled at that as well, but she watched as his former concern returned to his face.




"... but then, we still have each other, don't we? Poor Buck. He's so good and so softhearted. He's a good kid. And now he's there in that apartment all by himself. I worry about him."

"I know you do." She placed her hand on his arm.

"Of the three of us, he's always been the one to try to make sure we were okay. Me and Tank... Buck would corner us and make us deal with it."

"That's not an easy task."




"God no. You know what we're like! Without Buck, we'd be dead by now, probably. Like some crazy Shakespearean double murder, with us just crying while we stabbed each other in the heart at the exact same second."

Well, that's... incredibly dramatic. But honestly, I can see it." They'd already gotten about halfway there, hadn't they?

"But thankfully, we do have Buck, our sweet little brother who takes absolutely none of our shit. Tank and I actually talk to each other now! By choice! We've spent time together. Do you know how long I've wished we could do that? He has even asked me for dating advice, which is just completely insane when you think about it, but damn if that's not progress! Tank just calling me up to check in? That would have seemed impossible even just a year ago. And none of that would be happening without Buck."

"Sometimes Tank even calls at... inconvenient times." She smirked, thinking of their earlier activities.

"If my brother is calling, I answer it."




Ophelia nodded. She understood this about Ripp, about the Grunt brothers in general. One never knew what news awaited on the other end of the phone.

"We all do," he said. "It's not like Buck to not answer."

She placed her arm around his back, moving her hand against him softly. “We’ll try Buck again later, okay.”

“Yeah.”




“And if he's still not answering by tomorrow, maybe we'll head out there. We’ll look out for him.”

Ripp nodded, silent.

They stood there a moment.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your call with Tank."

The beginnings of a smile returned to his face. "Ah, Phi... you know you don't ever need to apologize for wanting to head downtown."

She smiled.






“Is Nervous behind us right now?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I’m getting a bit better at detecting him.”




They turned to see him. Ophelia thought he looked like he had something to say, but as was often the case with her cousin, the words never quite made it to his lips.






“There are leftovers in the fridge, Nervous," she said, "I have it all set out for you. Just microwave it when you’re ready.”

“Fire extinguisher’s in the corner, remember” added Ripp. “Just in case.”

“We shouldn’t be too late.”

“And hey, house to yourself, you can drum as loudly as you want.”




They’d picked up the drums for Nervous after Ripped noticed that he seemed to have an affinity for percussion. With the drumkit set up upstairs in the attic, he was able to sneak up there any time he felt like it. Ripp would sometimes join him with his guitar.




But the attic was not soundproof, as Ophelia could attest. She didn’t mind it. In fact, she liked hearing the music projecting from the attic to any room in their home, even to her garden outside. She often went up there when they played, to have the sound wash over her, physically moving her body with the force of it.




She’d always liked listening to Ripp play his guitar, even when it bordered on pure noise. She loved hearing him working on something, so intent on it. Doing what he did best. She loved watching him improve as a musician over the years, and she loved how powerful he was with that guitar in his hands. Cranking the distortion pedal and sending out a wall of sound.

They might need some soundproofing before the baby came, however.




With Nervous, the drums had become something like the knitting. Where knitting was a calming repetitive focus for his fidgetiness, almost meditative, the drums were something that required a lot of concentration and integration in the brain, and it let him release some of those things held inside him.




Good for his excess of energy.

And his anger.






Nervous nodded. “Have a good evening.”

“Thanks, man. You too. Call my cell if you need us. The number is there on the board.”

"Take care," said Ophelia.

Then, in a twitch and a blink, he was gone.




“I hope he eats that,” she said, “and he's not just stuffing his face out of the fridge all night. I warned him about cockroaches, and I know he’s pretty freaked out by them. With good reason. They’re just chock full of disease.”

"Don’t worry, I will personally clean up the kitchen when we get back." Her frown lessened at that. "No need to worry at all. I'm on it. Worrying totally optional, totally not necessary."




"Plus, if any roaches ever do show up, I will stomp the living shit out of them for you. I'll stomp every roach in Strangetown if I have to. I know where we can borrow some combat boots. Great for stomping. For stepping on things. If, you know, you’re into that sort of thing… hmmm?” He waggled his eyebrows.

She smiled.




"Come here and let me see you..." she said, looking him over. “I haven’t had a chance to.”

“Do I pass inspection?” He puffed his chest out. "This is my newest, cleanest shirt. Not a Wheezie hair in sight. And I scrubbed myself up to a shine. Used soap and everything! Apparently, you just rub it on your body and then rinse it off. Who knew?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but could not hide her amusement. He grinned, happy to amuse her and successfully distract her from their almost certain death by cockroach diseases.

She adjusted his collar.




"You know, you clean up pretty nicely, Grunt."




"But I thought you liked me dirrrrrrty," he purred.

She squealed as he gnawed on her neck, tickling her with his stubble. "Shhh, don't tell! It's a secret."

"Mmmm, you smell nice."






"Come on, silly. Let's go."




“You look lovely, by the way” said Ripp. “But then again, you always do."

She smiled.

"Don't see you in a dress that often. It reminds me of that one you wore in high school... with the creepy dolls? Or babies, or whatever. The purple one."

"I loved that dress."

"Well, you looked great in it. I can tell you for a fact that teenaged Ripp and Johnny were both big fans of that dress. Even if the print was a bit... unsettling. You do have a knack for, uh, interesting patterns. What are those? Skulls?"

"Snapdragon seed pods. They look like skulls."

"Ah yes. Of course. Very appropriate for a nature witch."

"Ripp."






"What? I didn't say it was a bad thing! A good witch, obviously."

"People used to think Olive was a witch."

"Yeah, well maybe you're the anti-Olive. Just look at this place now! It's barely recognizable. All these plants. It's so full of life. So green. You just have this thing with nature, you know? Like the flowers... you grow and nurture them, and there's a cycle to it. Death is still a part of it, but with you... It's like the flowers that you place on the grave, not the grave itself. It's more about life. It's the living, despite all that.

She looked at him. She had intended to protest, but he'd obviously given this more than a little thought. And it made her sound like...

Is that what she was, through his eyes?

Someone who lives.




"Okay, but I don't see how that makes me a witch."

"Phi, you know I've been here the entire time with your flowers, right? Sitting on your bed back at LFT, watching you arrange flowers for hours on end? And I'm also the one who sells them for you! I see those pink clouds and I feel the soothing, restorative, and ever-so-slightly euphoric effects. They're a bit like a drug, and I'm the pusher. But they don't seem to have a downside. They help people. They put them at ease. You've been using them to help Nervous. It's not exactly a secret, is it?"




"So you think that's coming from me?"

"Well, why not? I'm just saying I haven't seen any other suitable explanation, that's all."

"Don't be silly."

"Phi, I swear they puff out sometimes for emphasis when you're making a point." He leaned in closer with a ridiculously loud stage whisper. "I'm honestly starting to think they might be synchronized to go off every time you come."

"Oh dear god. Okay, seriously... that has not happened. Have you been hitting the bubble blower?"




"Well, it was awfully pink in there earlier." He smiled at her, undeterred. "They were happy about something. Just you and me and your magical flowers, my wonderful witchy little woman..."

She sighed. "Okay, sure. The snapdragons are... unusual. I won't deny that, and I haven't been able to figure out why. But that isn't coming from me. That's just ridiculous."




"Maybe you don't see how magical you are, but I do."




"Okay, but if I had magic powers, don't you think I would use them to, say, 'encourage' you to clean the toilet? I can't seem to convince you to do it otherwise."

"Hey, I did clean the toilet!"

"Yes, I know, but you have to keep doing it. Not just once. That's the thing about cleaning. I wish it were as easy as waving a magic wand..." She looked pointedly over at him and he sheepishly smiled back.

"I will keep that in mind." He reached for her hand. "I'm trying, I am."

"I know."

"But I'll try harder."

"Thank you."




“Hey, I’ve been thinking...,” he said.

“That sounds dangerous.”

”Do you think I should grow out my hair again?”

“Oh. Really? Well, I don’t know. I like it like that.”

“But if I’m going to be like a rock star, wouldn’t it be better if I had long hair?”

“Are you going to be ‘like a rock star’?”




“Yeah, I will be if Jaxy has any say in it." He laughed. "She's been molding me into her version of that since day one, and like, who better?"

Ophelia smiled. If she was a different sort of person, perhaps she'd feel threatened by Ripp's absolute devotion to Jaxy Rai, but that hardly seemed necessary. She was secure in her position, and she quite liked Ripp's bandmates. The girls had been very nice about wanting to ensure that the baby and the band could happily coexist.

All the same, Ms. Rai did seem to occupy a position in Ripp's life somewhere between best friend, role model, and minor deity.

"So you're growing your hair out for Jaxy?"

"What? No! ... Well, she gave me the idea, yeah. But she's right, I think. I'll look more the part. I’ll start with the hair, and see how that goes. And also...," he paused for a moment, thinking, then turned to face her.




"Maybe it's silly, but I felt a lot of emotions around my hair. I grew it so long mostly out of spite, if I'm being honest. Every strand was formed out of resentment and defiance. He had forced me to cut it, you know. All of it. It wasn't long after my teen transition, and I didn't want to cut my hair, but it wasn't a question, was it? I resisted. Maybe I'd resisted him one too many times. He'd had it. He pinned me down and buzzed it all off. This was after Mom had... she wasn't there to..."

She reached over and placed her hand on his arm, gave it a little squeeze, but said nothing. She let him continue.

"I felt so hopeless. Just destroyed. And he knew. He knew what he'd done. Maybe he felt bad, felt regret. It's not like he'd say so or apologise, even acknowledge it. But he backed off, and that felt like... something. My hair grew back, and just kept on growing. It was this one thing I had control over, and I knew he wouldn't touch it. He barely even mentioned it."




"I knew I would never, ever, get his approval, so I leaned into that. I made sure of it. I did that a lot really... But yeah, the hair was a 'fuck you’ to Buzz, and I know he felt it every single time he looked at me. Much like the rejection I felt every time I looked at him."

He paused a moment before continuing.

"But then... then the day came when it was time to let that go. For better or worse, it was over. He was gone. So I had Buck cut it for me, just like that. And I felt lighter, freer... uncomplicated. I'm not carrying that with me anymore."




"But that was also just after the three of us had started on our journey together. I came home and was like, "ta-DA!" It was so much fun to see your reactions, and it really felt like turning over a new leaf. It felt like showing Johnny I was serious. It felt like revealing a different side to you, so you could see me in a new light. It was a turning point, and I wanted to show that on the outside, too. It was about change. Embracing change. A good change...




... I was falling in love. Hopelessly. With both of you."




He smiled at her and she smiled back. It was a good memory. Despite all that would eventually happen, those memories would always be that. Their last year of university. Their trip to Three Lakes.

"I'm glad I did it. In that moment, cutting it all off felt right. It felt necessary. But at the same time...

... I liked having long hair. I miss it. And it looked good on me, right? I could grow it out just for me this time. Because I want to. Because it suits me. I'll look more the part... of myself."




“That sounds like a perfect reason to do it. And yeah, I always did like your mop. Even when it got a little unruly. It was sort of your thing. A return to form. You know I like how you look now, and I liked how you looked then. I'm sure you would even look good bald.”

“Phi, you know it’s not okay to make reference to balding in my presence.”

She reached up to run her hands through his hair, and they continued walking.




“Yeah, go for it. Might as well use it while you’ve got it, right?”

Staaaaahhhhpppp it.”

“Your hairline's not receding… that much.”

"Ophelia! Please... you know I'm fragile."




"It's okay. I'll still like you when you're old and wrinkly and bald. I'll be old, too, you know.

"... Well, then I guess that's okay."




"I'll still saddle you up and take you for a ride."




"Phiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii..."

"Yes?"

"... THANK YOU."




"So didn't Jaxy also cut her hair just before you did?"

"What?!"

"Yeah, it was earlier in the same week, wasn't it?"

"Okay, I'm going to pretend you aren't trying to call me out like that. I just gave you several very good reasons why I did it, okay?"

"MmmHmmmm..."




"Look, do I sometimes end up buying and wearing the exact same shirt as Jaxy? Yes. Did I style my hair exactly like hers to make her laugh when she was in the hospital? Also yes. Has Jax put her signature eyeliner on me to see how I would look, like I was some sort of large doll? Yes, she has. Would I borrow a pair of her underwear if I for some reason shit my pants while I was over there? Yeah, absolutely. But I wasn't copying her with the hair, okay? Not this time, anyway."

"Okay, I believe you." She laughed. "Did you often shit your pants when you we're over there?"




"Phi, I said IF! Oh my god. And if I survived a pre-sober Jaxy with my bodily functions intact, then I'm probably in the clear. That woman could decimate a bottle of whiskey. I could barely keep up and I'm almost two of her. In fact, that's exactly what was happening when she cut her hair. More accurately, I did. I was the one who cut her hair."

"Oh, really? Is that so... I did not know that. Wow, she's brave."

"She's fucking fearless is what she is." He beamed with a pride that was almost maternal. "Having me come at her with scissors barely even registers."




"... And what was I going to do, anyway?... kill her? With scissors? How would one even do that?"

"I'm sure you were very careful." This was, afterall, Jaxy Rai they were talking about.

"Of course! Being entrusted with something like that? I take that shit very seriously. And I did a great job, even though I may have been just a little inebriated at the time. I didn't cut even a single one of her ears off. My fine motor skills are... top notch."






Ophelia watched as he mimed playing the guitar and, predictably, demonstrated a few of the other more suggestive things he could do proficiently with his hands. She produced a few of her own and he laughed in appreciation.






"Yes, please."

"You just keep on walking, mister."

He leaned in to kiss her cheek, then skipped ahead and opened the gate with a flourish.












She reached out and took his hands.

“I bet your eyes were really pretty with the eyeliner."

“Oh yeah." He grinned. "With these orbs? Just gorgeous.”




"Like your mother." There weren't many photos of Lyla remaining, but most that existed were in Ripp's possession. The resemblance was easy for Ophelia to see. All three of the brothers had her eye colour, but Ripp's were the same size and shape, had the same lashes. "You have her eyes."

"Yeah." He smiled, clearly quite proud of this fact.




"You look like your mother, too. She was a beautiful woman." He'd always thought that Willow seemed to have the same presence that Ophelia had. The same warm, grounded, nurturing quality. Her grace. "She had that same eye colour you do, that beautiful light green, which seems sometimes to glow next to your skin. I remember being quite taken by your eyes when I first met you, how striking they are. I still am."

She smiled. She liked knowing that he'd felt that way, even back then.




She glanced towards the house and looked back. He did the same. There they were, at that familiar yellow house. The one that had always welcomed them in. The place where Johnny Smith had lived. They took another moment before heading in.

"Is she making spaghetti?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. A Jenny classic. Wednesdays, right? We'd both be there..."

"Oh hell yeah."

Ophelia smiled. “It sort of feels like I’m taking you to meet my parents. Or like you're taking me to meet yours? I suppose it’s much the same.”




“Either way, it’s not something we’ve had to worry about so far.”

"No. We really haven't." She squeezed his hands tight. He squeezed back.

"Well then, shall we go on in and see if 'Mom' approves?"

She nodded. "Let's go."












































Brandi was hugging him before he even had a chance to contemplate whether he should or not. He tried to recall the last time he'd hugged his own mother, but of course he couldn't.

“So you’re Frances! It’s good to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Broke."

"Oh, you're so formal! But I suppose that makes sense. Please, Brandi is fine..." She turned to go into the trailer. “Come in, come in!”




Frances was immediately struck by the size of it. The smallest room in his parent's mansion would be bigger than the entire thing. Perhaps even the closets would be. Even the pantry. The cutlery drawer.




But it was warm and welcoming. It had more personality than his home ever did, with an aesthetic that was ready to be photographed for the cover of a home design magazine. The work of a single, famous designer. Not the hodge-podge, homemade, secondhand collection of items now before him.

He suddenly felt he understood Beau a little better. His hunger and drive, but also his confidence and positive outlook on life. This was where he came from. It was a place that made the most of what it had. A place that was cheerful despite limitations. There was a warmth to it. An openness. Authenticity.

It was like stepping inside Beau's mind, or at least his memories of his childhood. Beau had gone without a lot of things, surely, but he had never lacked love.








He wondered what the old Frances would have thought of this place.

Probably not much.

His former self wouldn't have done a lot of the things that he'd now done, and Frances knew he'd go on to do things that he never would have dreamed of. If he were still that person, he'd be sitting alone in his room, afraid, and waiting in vain for his life to begin.








It was becoming harder and harder for him to imagine that person.




Tank was having a similar revelation.

He was comparing the person he'd been even moments before he'd kissed Lucy to the person he was now.

Though he still wondered who he truly was, he felt like that person was coming a little more into focus.




That person was talking to Lucy. He was talking more than he ever had in his entire life. Sure, he might still be awkward. He was almost certainly awkward. But Lucy seemed to like him just fine the way he was.




Tank confessed his feelings to her, how he'd felt about her all this time. He was sitting there with her, with a big stupid grin on his face. Tank could scarcely recognize himself.

He was also... laughing?

That can't be right.






That person used as much restraint as he possibly could, but still even the slightest touch was thrilling.





That person was laying her back on his couch and touching her with such confidence.




That person was him.

Tank Grunt.






He had never felt more alive.

---

Notes:

Well, folks, I found my Resurrect-O-Nomitron and used it on this story. It is hard to believe I'm finally posting this update, parts of which were written a decade or more ago (looking at the Worthington sibling scene for sure). Thank you to everyone for your support and words of encouragement in every form they have taken. I greatly, greatly appreciate it. Thank you especially to Thrillainvanilla for beta reading the final version and to Meetme and W for looking at various drafts.

Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear what you think. That’s always been one of the things I enjoy most about making this story.

One note: I rewrote how Tank and Lucy got together. She wasn't initially supposed to stay at the end of that scene, but as I went back over this part, I saw that Tank had to be the one to initiate it. This just felt so much more correct. So anyway, now there's an alternate reality where they go on a blind date instead (I even left the remnant of it in Beau and Frances's conversation). I liked that version, too, but I love Tank finally getting up the nerve to ask her himself.

I had some other comments on characters and story stuff, but I want to try to keep it brief. I may choose to chat a bit about some of it later on.

I'll link to this post on tumblr where I talk about how I will be narrowing my focus to tell the heart of this story. This does mean some things will likely not get resolved, unless I am suddenly inspired to do so.

Comments

[fireflys_locket]

I want to say a lot of things. First, thank you. This is honestly one of my favorite stories in any form, and I am so happy to see it continue. But also, as someone who has worked on some of her own stories for more than twenty years, off and on, seeing you take the time off when you've needed it and still return many years later is very inspiring to me. My mental health has been a constant struggle my whole life, and I've never been able to work anywhere near as consistently as my peers. Even on writing the stories I love. After self-publishing two novels, I have battled with motivation and energy level issues. And after a pretty upsetting life event, I basically stopped working on any of my projects for over a year. I've been slowly reconnecting with my writing over the past month or so. I really was scared it would never come back. That my depression had finally swallowed up my will to create. I don't know what will happen from here. And maybe you feel the same sometimes. I'm glad you've found your way back to Strangetown. What will come, will come. But I hope to see more.

On that note... I loved it. Was having a very stressful day, finding it hard to concentrate on anything for long. The update popped up. (You are one of the only blogs I choose to get alerts for. Haha.) And I dove in. I loved seeing Frances happy. I loved seeing Tank open up, reach out, and finally get his dream-girl! And Ripp and Ophelia with Johnny's photo in the background... beautiful and kind of heartbreaking. You took some great shots in this! And Jaxy. Oh, I missed her! Like, you made me love her sim some years ago. And I just love seeing her and everyone again. But where is Buck?! I am very nervous about this! 😅

No matter how long it takes, I will be here to read this story! ❤️

[katatty]

I am so so happy you returned to this story! Reading it felt like catching up with old friends in the best way. Reading it again is such a treat, your storytelling has been such a big influence on my own.

I thought the addition of the old 4:3 pictures as flashbacks was a nice touch (and useful for jogging my memory! I remembered most of it but I had forgoten about Ripp's encounter with Natasha Una entirely, haha.)


I really loved seeing Tank and Lucy finally get together! Their smiling expressions in those final shots are just beautiful. I think having him make the first move was the right choice - you can really see how much he's grown. (And it was so funny having him get advice from the imaginary Ripp, haha!) It was really nice having the focus on him in this chapter and seeing some of his own thoughts (interesting how he has come to see his dad in a more villianous light with those military relevations!)

Also great to see Zoe & Jaxxy again, and of course Jax's banter with Ripp! It was funny hearing Ophelia's thoughts on Ripp's "hero worship" of her, I had never thought about their friendship from that angle but it makes total sense! Ripp & Ophelia's relationship is beautiful as always, I liked Ripp teasing her about her "witchy ways".

My favourite line is Frances: "“This type of rock music is not exactly in my wheelhouse, but as a musician I can see what they're doing. It's chaotic, but it's far from random. There is a sophistication underpinning it all. But just... an obscene amount of cowbell. It's mesmerizing. Who is playing that? Why is it so high in the mix?"" - I hang out with a lot of musicians and the conversation felt very familiar and funny!

Of course, I am so so so excited for the dinner with Jenny, and her reaction when she finally finds out the baby is Johnnys! I have so been looking forward to that scene :D