#type: ask

Obviously, I can answer most questions about the first Our Life, but that's situational since that requires being sent asks. I feel like I've dug into a lot of the bigger things people care about with the code as well, such as the mechanics behind Cove changing, so anything further would have to be something wild like "here is literally every single variation/possibility in [insert moment here]."

I have my MC, but probably 0% of my audience actually followed me to hear about Cho (/not derogatory, just an observation), and I'm entirely neutral on whether I make stuff about her privately or publicly. I just like to post content that makes people happy, so it's dependent on that~ c:

Then last but not least is obviously my personal modifications extending beyond my patched version; not quality of life stuff, not fixes, just actual additions to the game that I've either always wanted or thought made sense. Definitely if I were to drop anything first, it'd probably be Shopping since I more than doubled the length of that script and think it'd be a hypothetically "worthy" choice. I'm still a little shy at the idea, but I get closer to wanting to release my stuff the more I hear people wanting it.

Anyway, since you mentioned other characters, here are screenshots from my version of Shopping!

clothing sharing

thanks to his time in polmont, ruben Does Not Share his things. his food, his clothing, cigarettes or gum or a fucking passing glance. gotta project, yeah? unflappable, untouchable, get you through. or at least he didn’t until the smell in their bedroom solidified from just-niall to niall-and-ruben, lingering smoke and good-sour skin and ruben's pilfered aftershave and the remnants of niall's most recent tea left to evaporate or go science project on the desk.

he comes home from something or other one night to find niall sitting atop his bed, hair stringy and damp from his shower, absolutely drowning in one of ruben's too big for him, let alone niall, jumpers. the kneejerk reaction would be to nash his teeth, ask him who the fuck he thinks he is rifling through ruben's belongings - but it's not there, ruben's tried and true survival instincts curiously off kilter where this big headed, brown eyed, scrawny little dweeb is concerned. like when a predator finds too young prey and fucks up the order of things caring for it instead'a fixing its jaws the way nature intended and squeezing. something in him is so fucking warm there might as well he steam escaping his pores. there's a tightness in his lungs and sweat on his palms and a thrumming in his veins that's set up shop in his skull and rendered him deaf. he manages to keep from stumbling by leaning heavily against the door jam, posted up like that was what he meant to do all along. manages to recover himself quick enough that he's spared from niall seeing how affected he is. it's just a fucking jumper, really. not even one of ruben's favorites. but he knows he put it back without washing it; knows it smells of smoke and chip grease and ruben; knows niall had to've smelt it pulling it over his head and still decided to do it anyway, clean skin be damned. ruben's teeth itch when they lock eyes, desperate to set somewhere and rend. there's so much white showing in those big fucking eyes; niall clearly didn't expect him back tonight, had planned to divest himself of the jumper before ruben returned. probably close to pissing himself, poor bastard. ruben's always the one marching them forward, but even he hadn’t considered this. stupid, really.

what's niall's is ruben's is ruben's is niall's.

the thought of a little fear sweat working its way into the weave, burrowing into the fibers and blending seamlessly with ruben's own dried sweat and smell, has him grinning, probably looking deranged. tempers the madness so bambi doesn't bolt by offering his acceptance. "finally giving the men's section a go, huh, bambers? s'a fucking dress now but you'll fill'er out."

if he starts leaving gently - and sometimes not so gently - worn items on niall's bed for his consideration, usually jumpers or long sleeve shirts, that's ruben's fucking business. he can leave stuff where he pleases. they're brothers, niall doesn't mind. kid never remembers his outerwear anyway, ruben's gotta do fucking everything around here, really.

first kiss

i'm a big believer in ruben being distressingly physically demonstrative with niall 24/7, but unless he's blitzed or out his gourd there was always a carefully constructed final safeguard keeping anything more from occurring. velvet rope, maybe, crushed beneath ruben's sweaty grip, but effective enough. lets him remain king of gay chicken, scotland, for all of the 80s and 90s.

the first time their lips touch, they've been doing something stupid and're having to flee before the consequences of their actions can catch up. slicing tires, maybe. smashing post boxes. a flaming bag of dog shit on someone's porch. some hairbrained macho bullshit ruben ropes niall into with a smile and a not so gentle elbow. knows in niall's squirrely brain this kinda stuff tickles him fuckin pink even if he's always trying to act like he's above it all. it doesn’t even take much to talk him into it - ruben could get him to jump off a bridge with him so long as he did it alongside him. and of course ruben would - who the fuck else could show niall his ass from a hole in the ground?

he always goes the extra mile, too, a little flare ruben wouldn't've thought to bring to the table. complimentary in a way that has emotion flooding through ruben's veins. he chooses to name it all pride because it's easier.

both of them cackling like idiots running off into the darkness as someone hurls swears at them, maybe a gardening spade. drunk enough you'd probably be able to trail them on scent alone. niall in the front, surprisingly fast with his hollow bird bones. one hand on ruben's wrist urging him along - as if there’s anywhere else he'd rather fuckin be - while the other cradles a still-open bottle of liquor ruben'd pinched from his weekly conquest's family liquor cabinet. they run far further than necessary, run for the thrill of it, the adrenaline pairing sweetly with the alcohol.

finally come to a stop in some rusty, dinky little playground. no time to catch their breaths before ruben's launching niall into the air and spinning him around. burrowing his face into niall's soft belly to hide how overwhelming his grin is.

niall wriggling out of his grip a few moments later, shimmying down in the cage of ruben's arms. laughing pressed cheek to cheek, swaying, still wrapped up in each other. he turns to say something and ruben just - smacks him one, mostly on the corner of his mouth. he does it again, proper dead on, before he realizes what he's done.

he course corrects by popping niall's cheek, once twice thrice, then just - opens his gob and let's whatever pour out of it until there’s enough distance between the warm and sweet-salt taste of niall's mouth, and ruben's wrinkled and stained perception of himself. it was friendly, masculine. fuckin familial. it was just the adrenaline, it didn't mean anything untoward.

niall's a smart boy, he doesn't bring it up. but it happens again. and again. cover of darkness and cozied up in alcohol or hash. ruben's joy and love just - runneth over and he cannot contain it. just for a moment, the reins go slack.

it's never more than a peck or two, and always from ruben to niall.

the first and only time it's more than that, niall's body is cooling and the reins ruben's clutched his entire life are fat with blood beside him.

first play ruben goes to

it's not macbeth. ruben catches lori talking to niall on the phone, informing him she won't be able to make this showing tonight, either, sorry, love. he hadn’t been invited to it, doesn’t know what it's about or who niall's playing; hadn’t heard from niall much since - anyway. not important. he knows nothing about that fag shit but that's his fucking brother, even if they're not speaking. even if niall isn't speaking to him, can't believe he'd just - over that fucking poof - christ almighty. anyway. not important! that's his brother and someone's going to watch him perform some gay ass theatre bit and if it has to be ruben himself well! here goes fuckin nothing.

he grabs his keys and goes, weaving his bike through traffic with a finger raised. can't they see he's got somewhere to be?

niall plays a few small character bits, background characters mostly though one does speak like. four fuckin words. he doesn’t see ruben the first or second time he's on stage but the third - oh, the third, their eyes meet even with the light shining in niall's eyes and ruben's chest fucking hurts so fucking bad watching niall's fuzzy little brows furrow and his mouth tremble before he schools his face. alarmed ruben's there but someone's there! to see him and support him, there for literally no other reason in the world. ruben wants to tell the daft bastard that of course it's ruben, it'll always be ruben, he just needs to get his head out of his ass and let him. let him let him let him let him let him let him.

the play is stupid. ruben can't hardly hear what's going on, he's so far in the back in the nose bleeds. he doesn’t need to follow along, though. he watches and keeps an eye out for his boy, the only times he really perks up.

afterwards ruben manages to drag him out for a pint. it's awkward, conversation stilted like it's never been for them. he wants to shake niall in hopes of dislodging whatever he's erected between them. settles for ripping open a bag of crisps and needling niall into eating the bulk of them. tells him he's doing the opposite of what freshers are supposed to do and looks like he's losing weight instead.

Finn didn’t know that he would ever get tired of looking at Evie.  She was beautiful, he’d always considered her the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.  

Maybe if he’d told her that more, they wouldn’t be here.

In the fucking Ostroff Centre, Nolan and Theo next door with Eric, and Evie asleep in a small, uncomfortable hospital bed, not able to stay awake for more than a few minutes.  God, she looked so small in that bed.  She always looked small, she was small, five foot nothing and barely seventy pounds next to Finn’s six foot frame.  But she was smaller, like this.  Part of it was the severe weight loss, he knew that, but not all of it.  With her blond hair and light pink pyjamas, her sickly pallor and hollow cheeks, the starch white bedding and the disgustingly white room washed her out.  

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.  They were supposed to be having the best possible summer with Tinsley and Theo before starting high school, visiting Tinsley’s family hotels all over the country, going to Europe where he would roll his eyes at Evie’s sightseeing but still go wherever she wanted.  They were supposed to be taking beach photos that Tinsley would carefully curate for each of them to post, bribing poolside bars into ignoring their age, ending every night squished into one bed because none of them wanted to stop talking until they couldn’t stay awake any longer.

He wasn’t supposed to answer the phone, expecting Evie to be asking to meet up, only to hear her choked sobs as soon as he accepted the call.  He wasn’t supposed to ever know what it sounded like to listen to his best friend dying, begging him to pass along her final words.  Between he and Nolan, they’d been able to get her help in time, but he wasn’t supposed to come that close to losing her.

Fuck, this room was making him morbid.  If it was this depressing for him, only fifteen minutes into his visit, he couldn’t imagine how it felt for Evie after a month.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a small noise, watching as Evie startled awake.  Her blue eyes were impossibly wide, panicked, pushing herself upright as she tried desperately to catch her breath.

He moved fast, sitting at the top of the bed.  He helped her upright, guiding her to lean on her chest.

He wished Theo or Tinsley were there, they had always been better than him at knowing what to say, how to comfort her.  But he remembered what Nolan had showed him, exaggerating his breathing and rubbing her back until her sobs turned into hiccups, her breaths unsteady but matching his rhythm.

“Hello, sleeping beauty,” he drawled, “you fell asleep on me there.”

Evie blinked at him.

“Finn?  You’re… you’re still here?”

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for the padded cell decor.”

Evie laughed dryly, a perfect replica of her mother’s most judgemental glare as she looked around the room.

“Apparently Eric has a real room,” she said. “A real bed, blue walls, curtains… he gets to have real clothes.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but what makes you so special?”

“I stole my mom’s pills, I guess.  I mean fuck, we both tried to kill ourselves but I don’t eat and wasted Lily fucking van der Woodsen’s overpriced drugs and liquor so Eric gets a hotel room and I get an asylum.”

Finn pulled her in closer at the reminder of what had become, by far, the worst day of his life.

“About that… what happened?”

“I think you know what happened.  You were there, remember?”

“Not going to forget that anytime soon.  Also not letting you avoid the question, you know what I meant.  We spent the entire day together.  Did all the tourist things you usually never ask for, you ate more than half of your dinner, we saw Legally Blonde.  It was the happiest I’d seen you in so long, Eves.  Less than twelve hours later, you’re calling me, dying on your bathroom floor.”

“Oh.  Do we need to do this?”

“Yeah, Evie, we really do.  You know how much I hate serious, emotional shit; I wouldn’t be bringing it up if we didn’t need to.”

Evie sighed, twisting until she was properly curled up in his lap, leaning her head against his chest.

“Things… haven’t been good in a while.  I don’t know…”

“Try.  I know you don’t eat, I assume most of that can be blamed on your mom and Eleanor Waldorf, we don’t need to talk about that right now.  But not eating doesn’t suddenly turn into overdosing in a hotel bathroom. Is it–" exhale. "Is it because of the appointment?”

The Appointment. Two months ago, when Evie had texted him an address and asked him to meet her there, he'd been expecting a cute brunch spot. He hadn't been expecting Planned Parenthood, one of the worst conversations of his life, or a hysterical Evie asking to hold his hand "until it's over." She had stayed with him after that, her not wanting to be alone and him not trusting Lily to actually take care of her. She'd stayed curled up in his bed for a week – thank god his father had been travelling and there'd been no questions to answer – but by the time she'd left, she seemed mostly back to her usual self. Apparently not.

“I just lost control, Finn!  It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal, and you don’t lose control.  Try again.”

“Mom was out on a date when you got dropped me off.  When I woke up, she was just coming back, said she was going out for brunch but wanted to change her clothes first, and that her date was just going to wait in the living room.”

“And then?”

“Geoffrey walked in.”

He didn’t know when Evie had started crying, but he could feel her tears seeping through his shirt.  Understandably, really.  If just hearing Geoffrey’s name sent a chill down his spine, he couldn’t imagine how it had felt for Evie to actually see the man.

“He didn’t–“

“He didn’t try anything,” Evie told him, and Finn let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  “I hid in Nolan’s room until they left.  Then he and Eric left too and… I don’t know.  I haven’t been okay in a long time and I panicked, I guess?  It wasn’t, like, a plan.  If it was a plan, I would have written a note instead of calling you.  I don’t really remember it, but then I was in my bathroom with about a dozen pill bottles and a few bottles of alcohol.  I wasn’t scared to die, but then I started thinking about the day before and how perfect it was and I didn’t want you to think anything was your fault or that you did something wrong or… I don’t know, I just needed to call you and tell you that.  You know the rest.”

He did.  In excruciating detail.

“And now, here I am.  For… I don’t know, they haven’t actually said how long but I listened to them talk to mom and they said probably a year.”

“A year?  The fuck do you mean you’re going to be here for a year?”

Evie opened her mouth, but Finn cut her off.

“Don’t tell me you’re not sure, Eves.  I know you want to act like nothing happened, but they don’t keep you here for a year for nothing.”

“I’ve been here for a month and I’m still losing weight.  I’m not trying to, they monitor everything I eat, I’m not allowed to work out, I can’t even go to a bathroom alone, but I’m still losing weight.  I don’t – I really don’t know, Finn, no one tells me anything and I only hear bits and pieces – but… I heard that, and then the next day I heard them saying I might not be able to leave.  At least a year, they said, maybe longer.”

“Evie, I–“

“I’m scared, Finn.  I hate it here.  This place makes me want to die, even more than seeing Geoffrey did.  I can’t get better here, but if I don’t get better, they won’t let me leave.”

Her tears had turned to sobs, gasping breaths, shaking in his arms.  He still didn’t know what to do, and tears still scared the shit out of him, but this was Evie.  He had to try.  He was rocking slightly, the way he’d seen Nolan do a hundred times over.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.  It’s going to be okay.”

He kissed her forehead, repeating the mantra for his sake as much as hers.

“How?”

“We’re going to get you better, together.”

“Finn.  Be serious.”

“I am serious.  We’re going to make a plan, right now, and we’re going to get you out of here.  Soon, you’re not spending a year in this hellhole.”

“Right.  You can figure out something that none of these doctors can?”

“These doctors care more about hiding your problems than actually taking care of you.  How’s the food here?”

“Disgusting.  Bland, always tastes kind of fishy even if it isn’t fish, makes Ruby Tuesday seem like the Capital Grille.”

“Which explains a lot.  You deserve better, and your body knows it.  Princesses don’t eat hospital food.”

“Wonderful speech, is there a point?”

“You’re so mean to me,” he teased, and Evie giggled.  “My point is that these so-called doctors don’t know how to feed you.  Now that you’re finally allowed visitors, I’m going to be here every day, and I’m bringing you food.  I’ll see if Nolan can do the same in the mornings, Theo will help, and you know that Tinsley will too once she’s back.”

“Finn, I don’t want to be fat.  Your idea is sweet but…”

“You could gain fifty pounds and still not be fat.  Besides, isn’t gaining a bit of weight still better than being stuck here until you turn eighteen?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

Fuck.  Look, he’d known that Evie wasn’t doing well, okay?  But maybe he hadn’t realized that it was quite this bad.

“Then I’ll make you a deal.  How much weight do you need to gain before they let you leave?”

“Fifteen pounds.” She looked nauseous at the thought.  “Minimum, and the number could go up if I keep losing weight.”

“So you don’t lose anymore weight.”

“You say that like it’s easy.  What’s your deal?”

“I’ll come here every day.  Nolan can bring you those smoothies you like for breakfast, I’ll bring you something healthy for dinner and a treat for after, and I will sit here on this disgustingly lumpy bed with you while you eat, and keep you distracted until your purging window passes.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know how you plan to take over your father’s company if you think that qualifies as a deal.”

He smirked, she was starting to sound like his Evie again.

“You’re such a brat, Evelyn van der Woodsen.  That wasn’t the deal, that’s happening either way.  The deal is that if you put on enough wait to be out of here before the masquerade ball, I’ll take you to Disney World for spring break.”

“What?  You hate Disney!  You once said that it was a gauche money trap for middle class failures to feel like they’d accomplished something with their lives and that if anyone ever saw you there, you would have to leave civilization forever.”

“I did say that.  But you love Disney movies, and you’ve wanted to go there since you were five.  Don’t get me wrong, we’ll be doing it my way, but that’s my first deal.”

“First?”

“Here’s the second: if you keep that fifteen pounds on for the entire school year, you get to plan our entire Europe trip next summer.  Where we go, what we do, what order we do it in.  I’ll go to whatever tourist traps you want, and I won’t complain when you would rather go read every single label in a museum instead of drinking on a beach.  And I’ll carry all of your shopping bags, for the entire trip.”

“Tinsley’s too.”

He should have seen that coming.

“Fine, Tinsley’s too.”

Evie beamed.  “Deal.” Then, softer, “I’ll try, at least.  And Finn?”

He tilted his head, nodding for her to continue.

“Thank you for caring.  I love you.”

Every instinct screamed for him to brush it off.  He had far surpassed his emotional quota for the day, it would have been easy to dismiss her sincerity with a cocky “I know” or “Who doesn’t?”, but he couldn’t.

That was the deal he’d made in the hospital.  When it was just he and Nolan and Eric, waiting desperately for any update.  He’d skipped past denial and anger entirely, latching onto bargaining with the faith of a man far more religious than he’d ever been.  Offering his deal to any deity, any force in the universe that could bring Evie back to him.  If she wakes up, I’ll tell her I love her every day.  I’ll make sure she never doubts how important she is to me, how much I care about her.

And, well, she had woken up.