Welcome to my tumblr. I write stories using the sims to illustrate them. I started writing with Sims 3 but have mostly been using Sims 4. I do intend to go back to my Sims 3 characters but I follow where my inspiration is and it's been with my Lil Reagans. I post my stories here and on Wordpress. If you want to read them on WP you can find them here and here.
My Reagan Saga began as gameplay with Dominick Reagan. I played mostly two generations just gameplay until Jonah and Jayden were born. I fell in love with them. I received twins from @justasimthing and I began to wonder how different the twins lives would be if they married twins. And that's how my stories began and I love them so so much!
If you want to read from the beginning (it is long and I'll love anyone who takes the time to read it all. But I don't expect it) I combined all the stories in what is mostly chronolgical order. i'll add the end of Imposter to it then I'll link future stories separately.
Beginning (Darkest Before Dawn) / Most Recent (Imposter)
Raelyn Reagan is the younger sister of Jonah and Jayden. She has a story all her own follown her BC. I'll let you decide if you lover her or hate her. I'm going to reblog her stories before I post her newest story.
The other shoe was dropping. Ben knows as soon as he inhales a breath. At its core, magic was a turbulent storm. It wanted to whip things into a frenzy and then soak up the still quiet that only came after everything had been torn down.
Later, there would be the acrid scent of death and destruction. But for now, the air smelled sweet, the potential for chaos delicious and tempting. Even creatures with the barest hint of magic would feel hunger curling their bellies.
But something massive had to be in the works because if Titania was around, then so too was Akira.
Making his way to a quieter corner of the bar, Ben dials a number on his phone. Magic liked a conduit, and sometimes it worked better in a tangible form. “I know this was you,” he says, by way of greeting.
The Kibo siblings were generally seen as egotistical little maniacs who stabbed first and sometimes didn’t even bother to ask a question. And that was true. They were a menace in every timeline they had ever existed in.
But Titania was brilliant; the fae had endured not because of their creators but because of her.
And Akira wasn’t arrogant so much as he was singularly focused. A thousand years alone on a corpse of a timeline that the Divine couldn't fully cull had carved everything else out of him.
All he wanted was to get back to the two creatures he pledged his heart to—to fulfill his promise to take care of them. Fae as he was, the errant demigod would not go back on his word. Ben had only ever seen that level of resolve in one other creature.
“Good evening to you, too, Ferryman,” the Devil’s drawl is slow, almost playful. “Or should I say Head of Security? Director of Investments? It’s hard to keep up with your various career changes.”
“A witch don’t need a wand to remember things.”
“I’m not clear on what that has to do with me,” Jacques replies. The Devil didn’t lie. He and the God of Sleep were bound to the same laws they made for their creations. Still, they were both adept at dodging the truth when it suited them.
“Come on, mate, you of all creatures is clear on your on your role. You running a side plot while the world is ending? Maybe I can help.”
The Devil senses the offer for what it is—a lie. “Very cute, Ferryman. Help with what?”
“Don’t be coy!” Ben laughs, but it comes out hollow. “Level with me. I know about the Wand of the Forgotten. There’s no bloody reason for witches to give a shit about a thing like that.”
Jacques chuckles in that way only a primeval creature, a Premade, could ever laugh. Ben was old, yes, but the Devil was ancient. “What an odd declaration to make.”
“I know a scheme when I see one. Come on, you've got to be involved! Can't give me one little piece of information?” His voice cracks. Immediately, Ben knows he’s overplayed his hand.
Defeated, he sets the phone down on the table and contemplates ordering a shot. He can’t help but picture tossing that shot in the Devil’s face.
“I can feel that, you know.” Jacques’s tone is mildly disapproving. “Such violent thoughts, and here I was believing you held me in high esteem.”
It's enough to force Ben to crack a smile. If anyone understood what it was to have your magic go from barely tolerated to high demand, it was him.
“I still do. But I’m not a fool. A drunk, maybe, but not stupid. Melisandre loves a trinket, but she’d never bother running down a wand like that for herself. Not unless she was going to use it as payment.”
“I don’t hear a question," the Devil replies, nonchalantly.
“I’m asking you why you want it!” Ben growls. “What do you remember that we all forgot? Akira is here, and that’s not by accident. Don’t piss on my boots, Atropos, and tell me it's raining.”
Jacques scoffs at the use of his true name. But when he speaks, his voice isn’t unkind. “You know as well as I do, apocalypses are never just one thing.”
Ben swipes at his cheeks, surprised to find tears. Gods, it was always like this with the Devil. Your desires came pouring out. Your truths, too. “We are shadows and shells, old friend, a diminishing proposition. We just want quiet and a chance to pretend to live. This world barely believes in gods, and maybe they shouldn’t.”
“Not all of us,” Jacques says, but it offers little comfort. Alice was an exception. No other god had passed on the mantle. Something was coming for her, and it would end this timeline well before anyone was ready.
“At least tell me you have a plan.”
The Devil scoffs, but doesn’t answer.
“A plan that is more than just hoping Akira found his fate. You can’t leave it all on him!” Ben’s tone is caustic. It’s not clear whether he’s accusing himself or Jacques, because they both knew the truth:
Alice was a marvel, but her power was ten thousand screams when what you needed was a whisper. And most creatures wouldn’t set foot near Vladislaus, not willingly, at least. He'd devoured whole worlds on a whim, and there was no telling what belief had twisted him into now. Even the fae spoke of him like a boogeyman, calling him by his works and not his title, like he and his ilk did not belong to them.
It had to be left to Akira. For all his flaws, he was an unstoppable force of sheer will, stubborn in a way that the old gods were too tired for—that Ben was too tired for.
“We like this world,” he says softly, “But I worry we can’t be bothered to fight to keep it.”
“You’re too young to be so jaded.” Jacques’s admonishment is gentle. “I’ve followed my thread, B’Ollithiranon, son of Nyx and Erebus. It’ll work out. Now, if you don’t mind, I have an appointment. Enjoy the apocalypse while it lasts.”
When the line goes dead, Ben tries very hard not to think about his mother, whom he ignores, or the other name Jacques gave for a god that he no longer remembers.
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BTW, these gorgeous animated decos by @siminadee really made this bar scene come to life and saved me so much headache with posing sims 💖
Unrelated but I read 70GB as 700GB and went HOW- anyways I have two different CC folders!
My main folder is 152GB without deco sims (much larger when added) but it takes about ten minutes ;_; </3 (I'm planning on purging A LOT soon...... in three to one-hundred business days.....)
And my steampunk occult folder is 115GB and that takes about five minutes which is AWESOME! bb is so easy to use, however cas is challenging bc of how limited the clothing options are
i tag: @thebramblewood @sponchsims @allfrogsmatter @changingplumbob @moonlitfalls :3
Okay 45.9GB, putting the timer on... Alright 8 and a half minutes! But normally it's longer because I switch saves which means it has to load to world select before getting to in-game. But generally 5 minutes to reach the main menu screen and then 3 to 5 to get in the save.
We're doing it for science team! @simmerbeans @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants @matchalovertrait @abbysimsfun @sleepyselkiesims @mdshh @sim-berry
43.7 GBs in my mods folder, 48+ GBs in total. I have sub folders for cc I don't use regularly, such as medieval era and Alpha, and only put them back when I'm using them to create a sim for someone else.
It took me 4:58 minutes to get into a save file with the EA app online, and 4:08 offline (normally I swear it's less than four minutes). The difference is that the ads always freeze my game, so unless I plan on using the gallery, I play offline.
Overall I think the reason why my game loads relatively quickly is that I try not to go overboard with build clutter, use smaller sized lots with my active households and I don't use any build&buy cc. Also I'm on a gaming laptop. Load times were much much slower when I was completely vanilla on a laptop I'd had since 2019.
I tag @zelenxa @invisiblequeen @honeysylvan @opalescence-sim @bakersimmer and @seyvia, if you haven't already done this! And if you want to, of course.
My mods folder is 46 GB. It took me 2 minutes and 42 seconds to load the Miller file, and that one has some legacy behind it. But I know my game loads fresh and smaller saves faster.
I tag @perolesims @zosa95 @rebouks @jasminesilk @pitunjas @mariapaulaaah @elipsaa [feel free to ignore!]
oowee ok so my mods folder is 32.8GB atm and my game took 4.07 minutes to load! not as bad as i thought it'd be tbh but not great? constantly tempted to get rid of a load of build cc since i think that's a big culprit but i love the lots i've made and then i'd have to mess with them and uuuhghjgkjdkj
i shall tag the last few folk in my notifs :)
@moonlilli @basma-sama @nimzywilder @dandylion240 @acidheaddd
120 GB and it takes 20 minutes to load the first time but if I have to come out for some reason (like forgetting deco sims) then when I reload it takes 14 minutes. I always load the game then go make coffee or heat up food.
I tag @willowcreektownie @jayveesim @moonwoodhollow @budgie2budgie
My mods folder is 55GB and it takes my game less than a minute to load and open a save file 🙂↕️ The EA app itself is slow to launch the game but idk if that's a mod issue or not. The game itself is fast.
My Mods folder is about 120-ish GB? I haven't checked in a while. I shall not lie it does take a while for my game to open but once I'm actually in my save I have zero issues 😂
Okay, this is making me feel better about my failing in all my attempts to shrink my mods folder LOL. I have about 27GB and my game takes about a minute to load. Maybe a minute and a half? But I have a beast of a PC 😬
I’m tagging @sirianasims (you know why lol), @ruthplaysthesims, and @dandylion240
Thanks for tagging me @feroshgirlsims I've been meaning to overhaul my mods folder for a long a time. I currently have 51.4 GB and I have no idea how long it takes my game to load. I've never timed it. I think after all the years of playing Sims 3 has numbed me to loading times XD
Avery: Are you sure you don’t want me to help with these books? They look heavy.
Nico: It’s okay. I’m just glad Dr. Nobrowski - ahh - I mean, Alexander, allowed me to borrow them.
Rebecca: Dr. McFarnō, good afternoon! I just heard from Dr. Storm. He’s still stuck in a meeting.
Rebecca: He suggested we start with the examination, and he’ll join the call as soon as possible. Most of Thursday’s results should be uploaded to the database by now.
Avery: Let’s see… Most biomarkers came back as expected. He’s a little low on vitamin D, but that could easily be due to the season…
Nico: Uhh… I think… Finn is… crying?
[15 minutes later]
Finn: It wasn't necessary for you to cancel the meeting. You'll have to repeat it anyway.
Avery: Hmm~ technically, that's correct. But you were visibly uncomfortable.
Finn: ... I'm not weak!
Avery: I never said that, did I?
(...)
Avery: Sunny, come on. How many times have I told you? No wandering around the office.
Avery: Okay, okay. We'll go for a walk. Finn, give me a second to grab you some proper outerwear.
Finn: ... I'm coning too?
author's note: A bit of a longer post, but I didn't want to split it up. Sunny is the cutest, and I love when I get the chance to include her in my screenshots. I just wish pets would be easier to pose haha.
The kitchen was obviously not an ideal location for a corpse, but Amos Gibbons had been paranoid. Anytime he was in the same room as Ben, his soul refused to shut up, prattling on about everything from the problems with the drinking water to a conspiracy about aliens and some military base.
With barely a wisp of magic, Ben flicks him out of the way. Amos's body careens into the wall, barely missing the television and jostling the microwave.
Instantly, the neighbor, Mrs. Hobson, bangs on the wall. “For the love of llamas, Amos! This is the last time you pull this shit! I’m calling the cops!”
Ben sighs. Partly because the fridge is empty of alcohol, and partly because of the yelling. This was definitely a sign that it was time to find another apartment. Preferably, one large enough that he and the dead could co-exist peacefully, driven by the shared goal of Ben avoiding rent and them getting a few final tasks done while hiding from the reapers.
Although Amos’s task list was extensive. Ben had long given up any pretense of working on it. Maybe that’s why the man didn’t even try to avoid making a sound.
Ignoring the insistent tug of his ex-roommate’s soul—Amos was not yet a ghost—Ben manages to dress quickly. He avoids the cops with something the fae would call glamour, but he simply calls a mortal aversion to anything with a whiff of the uncanny.
It’s obvious from their less-than-enthusiastic knock that the only reason they responded so quickly was to stop Mrs. Hobson from calling every five minutes. Lucky for them, they were about to get their wish.
Her doctor told her all that yelling was going to give her a heart attack, and he was right.
The ripple over his skin from Patricia L. Hobson’s untimely passing is enough to get Ben moving, winding through the streets of Evergreen Harbor.
As he walks, he wonders if Alice has been to the Netherworld and if it feels like home yet. Realms were a loophole the Devil negotiated. They lay adjacent to the flow of time, which made them exempt from culling and the Divine’s influence. He’d built the Netherworld lovingly. It was a hodgepodge, sure, and there were some (many) unfinished bits. But it was a respite from an ever-changing world.
Oh, but what if she hated the Netherworld?
This Alice was not the same as the last Alice, or even the first Alice he knew. Her every incarnation was a shadow of her first self until now, so many timelines later, she was a muted version of that girl from Strangerville who shared a body with a god and got a never-ending loop of reincarnation for her trouble.
Ben hadn’t meant to pass on his godhood. At first, her body was simply a hiding place. The target on his back, combined with his (allegedly) annoying personality, made lying low a necessity.
But they got along, and he didn’t want her to die when he left, so he asked for help. The Devil worked out a way around the divine laws. A few whispered vows and quick bursts of dark magic later, and Ben had a new job, and Alice was the god who took his place.
—A living god, who could still technically die (Ben had sort of failed on that part), but at least when she did, she belonged to herself, and so she came back.
Actually, it was sort of great. Alice’s rebirth never appeared until sometime in the 20th century. It usually took her decades to even figure out that something was going on, and by that time, Vladislaus had usually found her, so staying alive wasn’t a problem.
It was true that she and Vlad were usually at the center of the apocalypse. It had been that way since Akira disappeared. But gods understood that she was the key to even the barest amount of stability, so they intervened to protect her.
Okay, yes, sometimes they had tried to kill her, but that hadn’t happened for many timelines. These days, they tended to get along by completely ignoring each other and eking out some approximation of “living.” Did that mean he had been effectively getting divorced for the equivalent of an eon? Sure. But Ben was still pretty attached to his ex-wife.
He was a mess, but he loved Elmyra. Not despite her being the Goddess of War, but because of it.
And yes, he slept with Omar’s husband, but a man had needs, and everyone knew they were on the verge of falling out anyway. They’d been living separately for ages, and frankly, Bromios (Bro, as he preferred to be called now) was objectively gorgeous and, as the God of Revelry, a lot more fun than Omar. It might sound like the God of the Sun would have a friendly disposition, but he does not.
And anyway, Omar was definitely having an affair with some mortal—Calvin or Cameron or whatever.
Listen, Ben knows he did a shitty thing, okay? But he spent most of his experience desperately trying to find his footing. He couldn’t settle into a world anymore unless he was numb, and while he had experimented with a drug habit in a few timelines, he really was trying to give that up.
For whatever reason, he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, even though he knew that nothing truly earth-shattering was ever going to—
Wait.
He glances down at his drink but surreptitiously slides his gaze over to a group of sims watching the TV and placing bets. Why were they betting on a game that already happened?
Just as he’s trying to figure that out, a woman bursts into the bar. That alone isn’t odd, but the tiny motes of time magic slipping from her shoulders are.
“Is Titania here?” Her voice is panicked.
“Kibo?” the bartender laughs as he continues pouring drinks. “Small thing? Perky tits. Bad attitude? She dances at Desire on the weekends. Better tips.”
The woman falters. “Y-your…your ears.”
“Uh, yeah, obviously, you’ve seen a fae if you know Titania. What is your problem?”
"Besides, you objectifying her for literally no reason? For your information, I know her from the library," she snaps.
"Yeah, and she is also a dancer with great tits. If I had great tits, I'd work at Desire too. Money is gross but necessary, and you really can't replicate the party atmosphere anywhere else. It's good eating." He shakes his head. "Mortals are such prudes."
The woman mumbles to herself—something Ben can't quite make out. She seems to be handling the information about her friend well, but then she turns and sees him.
He lowers the bottle from his mouth. “Don’t scream. You’ve just seen a time loop, so now you can see—”
She screams.
“—Everything,” he finishes as she runs out the door.
Barbara Stephens sat behind the front desk at the Britechester Public Library. Not to be confused with the giant University Library on campus. No, this one was much smaller and filled with young families and teens rather than the hundreds of stressed-out college students she was usually surrounded by.
It was her job, yes, and a boring, monotonous one at that. But in some ways, it was also an escape.
While some people may prefer a day at the spa, or lying on the beach near the ocean, or hiking in the mountains, there were only two places where Barbara felt truly at peace.
The first was in her tiny garden surrounded by fragrant flowers and the gentle hum of bees.
And the second was here at the library. There was a particular quality to the quietness of a library, broken only by whispers, muffled footsteps, and the pleasant crinkle of plastic that protected the hardcover books. It was soothing. Though, perhaps a little too soothing.
Barbara’s head slumped down for the third time in as many minutes. She jerked it back up with a sigh and tried to refocus on her textbook. History had never been her favorite subject, but this was the first time her solid ‘A’ average had been threatened. She had never got a ‘B’ in her life, and she wasn’t going to start now. It was a slippery slope.
With a shake of her head, she looked up at the clock to check the time.
4:17
She smiled to herself.
Gabriel would be there soon. The realization filled her with renewed energy, and she returned to her textbook, refusing to look toward the entrance.
If she was caught watching the doors when he walked in, he may think she was waiting for him, and that would be far too embarrassing.
Because she wasn’t waiting for him.
Not really.
Not like that.
She just appreciated the consistency of his routine. She’d grown to anticipate the moment he walked through the door. The way he would stop at the same shelf to pull the same books that he returned the evening before and sit at the desk by the far window to continue working on… whatever it was he was working on. She’d never had the courage to ask. Or to speak to him at all, for that matter. He didn’t seem the type that wanted to be bothered.
The only reason Barbara knew Gabriel’s name, and the fact that he went to her school, was because she happened to mention him to Imogen, her friend and former roommate, who somehow found his student profile within minutes of Barbara describing him.
One minute Barbara was going on about his dark hair and eyes, and the way he tended to cover his mouth with his hand—gripping it tight with his brow furrowed, or scraping his thumbnail along his lower lip as he stared off with unfocused eyes—and the next minute, those eyes were staring back at her from Imogen’s screen.
“That him?” she had asked.
“Yes. How did you do that?”
“It’s a gift,” Imogen shrugged like it was nothing, “His name is Gabriel Russo. He’s a grad student, majoring in Microbiology.”
When Barbara caught herself daydreaming yet again, she stretched and chanced another glance at the clock.
4:21
Apparently, this day was never going to end. Giving up, she pushed her textbook aside and decided to start scanning the books from the return bin instead. Might as well work while, you know, at work.
The doors opened a minute later, briefly letting in a draft of cool air and the smell of wet concrete. It was raining again. Not a heavy rain, just a quiet drizzle. Barbara smiled to herself, waiting for Gabriel to walk by before she would allow herself to glance up and watch him navigate his now familiar path through the shelves. But he didn’t walk by. Instead, soft footsteps walked closer and stopped behind her.
She was about to turn around and ask if the person needed help when they knocked on the counter.
Three knocks, to be precise, in quick succession.
Followed by two slow knocks. Left then right.
Michael.
Mikey, to her.
Her twin brother.
And the last person she wanted to deal with right now.
She turned to him, her face going from customer-service-smile to you’re-dead-to-me-glower so fast that she wasn’t sure if she was successful. For good measure, she added a succinct, “Fuck off,” and turned her chair back around.
“B,” he said, sounding more exasperated than he had any right to.
“I’m sorry,” he tried again when she didn’t respond.
Barbara went back to scanning the books, one by one, “I’m working.”
“If you’d answer my calls, I wouldn’t have to bug you at work.”
Now that pissed her off.
She whirled around on him, no doubt she was giving him the full force of her glower this time, “We live together, asshole. You could come home some time.”
He took a deep breath as if he needed to gather strength before saying, “Can we just talk, please?”
“I’m working,” she said again through gritted teeth.
“Can we meet for lunch tomorrow?”
“Depends. Is Katie going to be there?” She infused all the bitterness she felt into the name. It was rare these days for her brother to be without his girlfriend. Barbara wouldn’t be surprised if she was waiting for him outside, and the thought made her tense.
He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, exasperated all over again, “No, Catherine will not be there. Just you and me.”
Barbara was going to dig in deeper, but was distracted when the doors opened and Gabriel walked in. She stared for a beat longer than she intended and he glanced at her.
Not just glanced.
He smiled.
Okay, more like the smallest quirk of one corner of his mouth, but it felt like the sun bursting through her cloud-covered day and made her heart trip over itself.
She looked back at Mikey, but he was looking curiously at Gabriel as he walked away, and she wanted nothing more in that moment than for Mikey to leave.
“Fine,” she said, pulling his attention back to her. “Lunch. Tomorrow.”
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“He’s no one.”
“Liar.”
“He’s none of your business.”
“That’s how it’s going to be now?”
“Yep.”
He sighed yet again in that way of his. As if talking to her had depleted all his energy stores and then some. “Noon. Our usual spot.”
“Can’t wait,” Barbara said without an ounce of sincerity.
Prev // Next
A/N: We've gone back in time about 40 years, give or take. And while I have an incredible amount of respect and admiration to those who make their stories decade-accurate in regards to aesthetic, fashion, music, technology, etc... I am not that person. And this year has been hard, so I'm not going to put added pressure on myself when it comes to something that is supposed to be fun, y'know.
(I know most of you probably wouldn't get hung up on that, but I got in my head about it lol)
Ben (he hadn’t been B’Ollithiranon in a very long time) tosses the phone down and slides back on the bed. He lied to Parker, not about Sulani—the end for his friend was coming, but they still had time to travel. He lied about Melisandre. She might’ve been the worst creature he’d known in all his long life.
Although “life” was kind of a misnomer. Ben wasn’t alive because he couldn’t die.
No god could.
He lets out a dry laugh at the thought. The gods petitioned the Divine for the chance once. The Creators, though, were adamantly against it. The dead belonged to the God of Death, and no god could belong to another god. The imbalance of power would unmake the world.
They did not mention the imbalance of power that already existed by their own action.
They were so eager to make sims, so enamored of their mortal creation that they did not hesitate to let the oldest of the gods create more beings. Spellcasters, werewolves, vampires, fae, mermaids, and everything in between wreaked havoc at first. In searching for the right tool to force the gods to rein in their progeny, the Divine Creators landed upon death.
Every living thing dies, they decreed. Even supernatural creatures with their long life spans or immortality could be welcomed into Death’s embrace, could belong to it. But gods did not live. If they faded, if they were culled or forgotten, then gods did not get death.
Gods got nothing.
The message was clear: control your spawn, or they will go where you cannot follow. The message the gods absorbed was to paint a target on Ben’s back.
The most egregious part was that necromancy was a near-useless power when Ben was young. Death was for clearing out the harvest, and resurrection was for bringing it back. He had been a gardener, not a god.
Although no one was a god at first. Sims and Supernaturals came up with that. When there were only a few beings with enough power to do the impossible, it made sense to call them gods. But in the old tongue, the dead one that no one speaks anymore, the word for “god” didn’t even exist.
In that language of Ben’s youth, when there weren’t just a couple like him, there were hundreds of thousands; they were called Made. Premade, if they were very old.
Existence wasn’t a curse then. That came because of the war.
Ben was a child when it happened; he’s sure of that. He can remember Somnus, the God of Sleep, snatching him up and fleeing a burning tower. But even Diego, as Somnus now called himself, couldn’t recall what the tower looked like or what the war was even about.
The Divine Creators had broken apart the very essence of time and space and wove a new set of circumstances. As a result, the Made and the Premade like him—the ones that endured—were left with memories that functioned like half-finished autobiographies written by someone who was largely incoherent.
The Divine called it culling, but that was a pretty set of syllables to hide the horror. In the new timeline, the world was similar but also different in ways the Made and Premade could not articulate. If there were less of them, if there were buildings missing, or rituals gone, no one could confirm it. The loss they felt was an unnamed placeholder.
Now, it had been ages since that first timeline—that first world. It was hard to know how many he’d been through. Hundreds? Thousands?
Once the world was full of gods, and now there were just under twelve, with a few demigods and aberrations thrown in for good measure. Some timelines, they avoided each other completely. In other timelines, they were so driven by rage or ennui that they created any number of horrors. Hence, the plagues and the Dark Ages and their most recent monstrous achievement, Operation Eternal Flame.
What a mess this existence was.
Ben lets the dark thoughts wash over him a little while longer before he hauls himself out of bed. He heads for the kitchen to grab a barley bale or six.
Sober was no way to endure an endless existence.
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Shout out to @surely-sims and her fabulous story, The Plott Legacy (it is so good, you should read it). I am in the midst of my catch-up and LOVED the way they weaved all this meta stuff about the game into their worldbuilding, it was such an inspiration for me for this chapter. Also, we are coming down the home stretch of this arc. Only a few chapters left to save Evan before I go on summer break and start working on the final arc of Monster Date Night 😈😈😈
[low chatter and the occasional hissing of the espresso machine filling the room]
Grace: So~ what are your plans for your birthday? It's next Friday, isn't it?
Nasja: Probably nothing, considering Darren is still stuck in Strangerville.
Grace: What?! No way! Alex, please tell me you aren't as boring as your sister!
Alexander: Huh? Oh, sorry… What did you just ask?
Grace: Your plans? For your birthday? Next Friday?
Alexander: Nothing in particular. I might take the day off, depending on my schedule.
Grace: How can both of you be so boring? It's the last birthday in your thirties! How about… I throw you a party? Nothing too fancy. Just us and a few others going out for drinks. I could ask Tom and Koji to join. Oh - and (…)
Grace: So~ what do you say? Wouldn't that be fun?
Alexander: If you insist…
(…)
Alexander: Nasja, can you pick Tao up? I promise I'll join you in a minute. I just need to make a quick call.
author's note: I'm on a business trip this week so if responses are slower than usual, you know why. :D Also yay~ birthday party coming soon(ish)!
Yoga instructor: Alright everyone, find a comfortable place on your mat.
Yoga instructor: Take a slow inhale through the nose… and exhale fully.
Yoga instructor: Close your eyes for a moment and settle into the room.
Yoga instructor: Thank yourself for showing up and taking this time for yourself today.
(…)
Alexander: Nasja asked if we want to grab lunch together.
Avery: Sounds lovely, but I’ll have to pass. I scheduled a meeting with Darren to go over Finn’s case. I just hope he has some idea what to do about it…
author's note: Ahh, yes~ Let's just hope Darren pulls an ace out of his sleeve, because you can bet they need any input they can get on that case. :'D
(The vampires are walking out of the cemetery, carrying an unconscious Morgan and Darling. Behind them, zombies swarm part of the Harper-Strange Family)
[JONATHAN]: Worthless fledglings. We got two at least.
[AMIYRA]: Yes, it’s better than nothing.
[JONATHAN]: The witches can fight their own battle. Zombies weren’t in our contract.
[AMIYRA]: Mouthy mortals weren’t in it either.
(Aileen pulls Gracie back as she tries to chase after the vampires. Meanwhile, Kason and Darien are fending off the zombies with magic)
[GRACIE]: We should help them!
[AILEEN]: No way, that is not our ministry. Come on!
[ZOMBIES]: BRAINSSSS!!!!!!
[DARIAN]: Zip Zap!
[KASON]: CHILLIO!
[AILEEN]: Darian, look out!!!
[DARIAN]: INFERNIATE!!!
(They make it into the church where Sabrina, Alec, and Parker are already waiting. Sabrina has just checked the box and found it empty)
[KASON]: It’s a mess out there! Do you think the Sages know? Will they send out the battle mages?
[SABRINA]: It's…it’s gone!
[ALEC]: Maybe there’s an explanation. I mean, this isn’t a bad thing, right? That box had to be cursed.
[SABRINA]: It’s not the box. It’s what’s in the box. And Melisandre will lose her mind if she finds out we don’t have it!
[PARKER]: Lose her mind and kill us all. Take five and bar the doors. I gotta make a call.
(Parker ducks into the restroom and makes a phone call)
[PARKER]: (mumbling to self) Come on, pick up!
(The phone rings in an apartment in Evergreen Harbor)
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: Shit! What day is it? Saturday?
(B’Ollithiranon fumbles before answering the phone)
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: (clears throat) Lowkey Security: We Protect your Living Assets
[PARKER]: It’s me, idiot. Also, what the hell kind of tagline is that?
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: Oh, thank gods, mate. I didn’t even look at the screen before I answered. Got a massive hangover.
[PARKER]: Yeah, yeah, drink some water. Listen, you still got a way in and out of the Netherworld?
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: Are you asking me to show up at my job? Because I don’t plan on that, my man, got things to do on my end: investments, side jobs—
[PARKER]: You mean scams. And I’m not asking you to go to work. Toni’s dead.
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: What? Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?
[PARKER]: Melisandre Starks.
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: Meli-who? I…uh…nope. Don’t ring a bell, but I’m sorry to hear. She really helped me out of a tight spot with Omar. Enraging the God of the Sun can have some unpleasant effects, if you know what I mean.
[PARKER]: Sleeping with a man’s husband can have some unpleasant side effects. Anyway, that’s why I’m calling. I need that favor on Toni’s behalf. We’re in danger.
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: What kind of danger?
[PARKER]: Toni had an aunt. Esther Mudget. She was…well, it don’t matter now. She’s dead. She was fond of the fairies, and they shared lots of secrets with her.
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: Makes sense, fairies are gossips.
[PARKER]: Yeah, well, that gossip has us in trouble. Apparently, they gifted her The Wand of the Forgotten. Melisandre wanted it, but Esther refused. Then the wand went to Toni, and she refused, too. Now Toni’s dead and there ain’t no reason to keep fighting.
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: But you love a fight. W-we love a fight.
[PARKER]: What’s wrong with you? I’m old now, in case you hadn’t noticed. Joints hurt. Body aches. Can’t be galivanting around the world with you running schemes no more.
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: But—
[PARKER]: But nothing. I want my kids safe. Toni must’ve taken the wand with her to the Netherworld. Just find her and explain, she’ll give it back.
[PARKER]: Listen, this is some spellcaster bullshit. A witch as powerful as Melisandre don’t need no wand to make her remember something. She can just cast a spell. She just wants it because she hates Esther.
[PARKER]: That’s the problem with witches. They live too long! Fighting over something that went down a century ago at college. It's…it’s just… (gets choked up) it’s stupid.
[B’OLLITHIRANON]: Course, mate. Couldn’t have said it better myself. Petty, nonsense, I’m sure. Hang tight. I’ll get her the message. And then maybe you and I take a trip, hey? Somewhere warm. I hear it’s great for arthritis.
Wolfgang had a migraine, which was usually what happened after he had his nightmares. But now, it was like he was stuck in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.
And he’d brought his brother with him.
And lost his best friends.
This whole thing was a disaster.
He didn’t know why he was standing in some long-abandoned office or what the hell he was supposed to do with the wand he had hidden in his jacket or—
“It's an old transportation map,” Gunther says with wonder.
Wolfgang stares at his brother. Leave it to him to set aside the horrors of this whole situation to marvel at some piece of technical history.
“Maybe that’s not important,” Wolfgang says, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth, a splitting pain hits his head. Names of stations and locations flip by so quickly that he can hardly make sense of them until his mind lands on one location: Central Processing.
“Wolfy? Are you okay?” Gunther cries out.
“I was wrong,” he pants. “The map matters.” Just saying the words takes all his energy. He starts to drop to his knees.
“Magic is real. Monsters are real. And…and I’m like an oracle? My bosses are really scary, and they told me to get the box. And I don’t know if I was supposed to open it, but I couldn’t stop myself!” He sucks in a breath as he hits the ground. “I think I’m here to stop the God of Death from unleashing an apocalypse. I know it sounds crazy,” he rasps, “But I swear it's the truth."
"I’m scared. Gunther, this is like the stuff that happens in books, only I don't know what I'm doing. What if I fail? What if…” he can’t bring himself to finish the statement.
The light in his head is so blinding it hurts. But then suddenly, it lessens.
He can feel his brother propping him up, shielding him. "Gunther," he gasps, his throat tight. His brother probably can't even see the thing he's protecting him from, and yet, he does it without hesitation.
“Don’t stress about it, Wolfy. Let me take the weight.”
Their dad used to say that all the time. First, it was a joke about how heavy their backpacks were, and then it just became a thing he said whenever he didn't want them to worry. Even when he was sick, he never wanted the boys to feel like they had to grow up too fast or take on too much.
Exhausted, Wolfgang blinks back tears. “You’re a really good brother, you know that?”
“The best older brother you’ve got,” Gunther jokes.
Even though the situation they’ve found themselves in is horrific, Wolfgang laughs. “Yeah, that’s true. Hey, have you talked to Lucas? Is he—”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Gunther assures him. “Just rest. I’m going to figure out this map.”
---
Gunther makes sense of everything pretty quickly. Apparently, the Netherworld measures time in spiderwebs, which...what? And if you thought you could catch the train by waiting patiently on the platform like a normal sim—
Think again.
The weirdest part was that they weren’t alone: an old woman, a young man, and a skeleton were also riding along. Or maybe "weird" was the wrong word. It was kind of terrifying.
Gunther, though, didn’t miss a beat. With business-like efficiency, his brother facilitated introductions and gathered baseline information from everyone about what they were even doing here.
The woman wouldn’t stop staring at Wolfgang. Surreptitiously, he pats his jacket. The wand is snug inside a hidden pocket. Glaring, he tries to channel some of the closed-off, sullen-teenager behavior he adopted after his father died. He grunts and sneers his answers while trying to soak up all the details he can about Death herself.
“I don’t understand why the God of Death can’t just bring my husband back on her own,” Evan says, “Why do we have to do some sort of court case?”
“Ritual,” Bryan corrects, “Although yes, it is for all intents and purposes a court. Death is required to do it.”
“How’s that?” Toni demands. “Gods are all-powerful. They can’t be bound.”
“The Divine Creators rule even the gods,” Bryan huffs.
Yeah, that sounded about right.
“The god before Alice had a very loose relationship with the requirements of the job. The Divine got so fed up with B’Ollithiranon and his haphazard approach to bringing the dead back to life that they decided to force a more rigorous process. One he had to participate in.”
Evan looks rightly horrified. “Jayden is already dead?”
The skeleton appears to consider that. “I mean, yes? But also no. He’s in between, not to be confused with The In-Between, which is sort of an unregulated area of the Netherworld. The God of Death hasn’t taken his soul yet, so it could go either way. Hence, the need for the ritual.”
“Tell us more about the court,” Toni demands, “What should Evan prepare for?”
At this question, Bryan looks distinctly uncomfortable. “It’s a judgment. You plead your case, with the help of counsel if you have one. The Erinyes interrogate you, and any denizens present in the Netherworld are welcome to observe and act as a jury. It’s up to The Determined to sway them if they want even a hope of swaying Death herself.”
“Well, that sounds straightforward,” Gunther replies. “I’m sure there are good lawyers here who manage that sort of thing. When was the last judgment? Maybe you can get whoever won that case.”
“It’s been an age,” Bryan replies solemnly. “And no one has ever won a case. The Erinyes always get their meal.”
“So that’s what they meant by 'eat,'” Evan looks devastated. “They’ll eat my Jayden if I lose.”
“Oh no,” Bryan shakes his head, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “Even the Erinyes don’t get to eat what belongs to the God of Death. She’ll devour your husband’s soul if she wants. The Erinyes eat you.”
The train ride is silent after that. Wolfgang tries to steel himself, but he has no idea how to face a god fond of devouring souls. He worries about the meaning of the wand. He worries about how receptive she’ll be to his request not to cause an apocalypse. Or at least, to pull back the apocalypse she already started. The Divine Creators weren’t very specific about what she was going to do, but Wolfgang had to assume that letting loose an army of zombies was probably it.
He tries not to get too close to Evan, since it seemed like he wasn’t long for this world. Wolfgang's heart skitters at the thought of leaving his fellow sim to face Death on his own and deal with a ritual that was almost certainly going to kill him. But no vision shows up to give him a glimpse of a solution.
Nothing, though, could have prepared him for meeting the actual God of Death.
“Alice?” Gunther blinks, “W-what are you doing here?”
“That’s the God of Death you’re talking to,” a skeleton in a knit cap crosses her arms and jerks her chin in Bryan’s direction. “And what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
Nervously, Bryan twists his bony fingers. “I am working. But then I ran into The Determined, and so I had to bring him here.”
Alice’s mouth drops open. She stares at Evan. “You’re The Determined? Sorry, I just…I thought you’d be way different. Everyone made you sound so bad.”
“He is bad,” says the skeleton in the knit cap. “And no one would blame you if you killed him.”
This is it.
This is Wolfgang’s moment.
He didn’t expect Death to be wearing blue jeans and a werewolf sweater, or to be someone that Gunther was apparently friends with. But it was his job to steer her from her evil path.
"STOP!!!!" he shouts.
“Sorry, I…I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not trying to be rude, but Evan isn’t important right now. I mean, I don’t think you should kill him,” Wolfgang winces. He was already getting off track. “What I mean is that I don’t think the court case is what you should be concerned with. You need to pull back the apocalypse.”
He braces himself for some kind of attack, but when he peeks open one eye, Alice is just staring at him.
“Uh…court case?” she scratches her head and frowns. “Also…what apocalypse?”
Vayda had their first vet appointment today. He’s healthy and about 4 weeks old. He was tested for feline leukemia and that came back negative. He’s being dewormed just in case.
