Lakeside Heights - a Sim-Illustrated Story

on the safe side, part 4

2012-01-29T23:58:00.071-05:00

January 15, 2084 - Summer Phoenix is 19, Sophie is 61.

Soundtrack: "Because of You," by Kelly Clarkson.

Summer doesn't dream most of the time. Between school and work and family, there isn't time to dream. Or when she does, they're those short, nonsensical dreams - like the one where she's being chased by police dogs for the dimebag of weed she stuffed in her bra.

They have her backed up against a chain-link fence with barbed wire across the top, and on the other side of it, there is a wide open field. Freedom (except, upon waking, she would realize once the police caught up to her, they could clearly just shoot her through the fence). But she can't climb it...

Because she happens to be wearing roller blades. So instead the toothy and snarling animals just creep up to her, as she tries to hold steady her trembling, rolling legs.

Summer wakes most mornings to the busy voices of students getting ready for their morning classes, snapping towels at each other in the hallways, slamming doors, microwaving their packaged breakfasts - beeeep. Her roommate is still asleep, running her fan for white noise to drown out the noise. The girl sleeps like a rock. And has the luxury of late classes.

Summer takes early classes so she can get out to Bluewater by 11:00 to open the shop.

She's hired as much help as she can manage. Money isn't the problem. With the business grant she won, she can afford a stock girl, an extra cashier, and Elijah making the toys. Her grandma even comes in to help manage things some days. She's lucky, Grandma Sophie tells her. Without that grant, who knows how they'd ever cover all the bases.

Summer never saw herself selling toys when she was a girl. Her mother was young and healthy, and Summer would guess her mom didn't even know what would happen to the shop when she was gone, seeing that day must have been so far off still. Summer's done the best she could to lighten the load on all of them - she hired a bookkeeper to keep their taxes straight, but she pays the bills herself. She runs the hiring and the firing, placing the orders, and even covers the hour gap left when their morning cashier leaves and the night cashier arrives. She's given up trying to make the toys herself now - she just delegates that work to Elijah and washes her hands of it.

If her mother was watching from wherever she is, would she be saddened that Summer hadn't learned to make the toys herself? That she just parcels out the job, piece by piece, and still can't even manage to give enough of it away?

They talk softly in between customers, and sometimes when they have a lull, Summer will wait at the cash register with an accounting textbook, or her stats homework. She hates most of her classes. She actually hates being a business major in general. It just hadn't made much sense to study music or art or physical therapy, or any of the thousands of things she's actually interested when it's already set in stone what she's going to be when she's done with it.

Sometimes she wonders if her grandmother knows just how much she doesn't want to be here. Her grandmother knows more than she lets on - with this family full of secrets like it is, she carries them all. From this angle, looking out the big picture windows, they can both see the lake where her mother drowned.

"He hasn't been back here yet, has he?" Summer says. "Not once."

"Now's not the time," Sophie says.

It's never the right time. Summer mumbles, "When is?"

"Your Aunt Nessa," Sophie says. One phrase that carries the weight to explain anything - meaning, "not now", or "not as important". After all, what could be as important as that? "You know your sister will be old enough to help you here soon," Sophie offers.

"I won't do that to her," Summer says. "She's just a little girl. She should get to be a little girl."

"It's your mother's store. Your father thought it would help you girls remember her."

Summer blurts out a laugh. "No, that's not what he thought."

Summer doesn't know if anyone else remembers. She remembers clearly the reason he'd given her this place - not for her own good, but so he could wash his hands of it. I can't go there, he'd said. I don't want anything to do with it.

"Don't you know what this means to him? That you're taking care of it for her?"

"Sure," Summer says with a sigh. As long as he's happy. Everyone runs circles around him, holds him in delicate hands, walks on eggshells. Is he really that fragile anymore?

Her grandmother lets off an irritated huff. "I don't know what you expected us to do. Didn't we do all we could? Didn't we try? Nobody knew what to do."

"I wasn't blaming you," Summer says. Though she isn't sure if that's the truth - or who should be to blame, if anyone at all. Summer knows all about blame, how it never fixes anything. It won't change wrongs or repair mistakes. It doesn't bring people back, or keep them safe, or promise their return. It doesn't change the fact that she drove Tyler away, and now she can't take it back.

***

The nights she stops by her dad's house to see Ryanne, she has just enough time to finish her homework and get in bed for a few hours of sleep. The nights are full of voices - college kids, laughing and goofing off in the hallways, stumbling home drunk from house parties they're not even old enough to be attending. The sound of people being young, starting their own lives, shaping their futures, even if it is in between drunken parties. They make her angry, jealous, and annoyed all at once. She's thankful her roommate runs that fan all night for the white noise.

She never used to dream, but they've been coming more often lately. The dreams never make sense - those weird nonsensical dreams that say one thing and mean another.

She's on base. Or it's what she imagines must be the base from what Tyler told her of it. She doesn't remember how she got there, but she's vaguely aware that it doesn't matter because she's only dreaming. This is a dream, yet the room feels so visceral, with its cold gray tile and its blinding white walls. Her eyes hurt. There are no windows here and the air is cold. He told her that on the phone once - they keep the air cold because of all the soldiers in their thick radiation jackets.

When she finds him, she's only half aware that she'd been looking for him at all. He stands in an empty hallway. They're alone.

He's been gone eight months, and she still remembers sending him off like it was yesterday. Here he looks older, stronger, thicker at the shoulders and even taller than the last time she saw him. He's been through training. And besides that, he's just a young man still, growing the way young men do. He was only nineteen the last time she saw him, just a boy - a little boy going off to do a man's work.

He's twenty now. She wasn't even able to call him for his birthday.

She touches him, his body solid under her fingers. She leans her face to his shoulder, but she can't smell him, and then she realizes she can't actually smell anything here. She puts her lips to his jacket, the thick and heavy material, and she can't feel any heat from it. She moves around to face him and looks up into his eyes to see if he's real.

"Are you alive?"

He blinks, he exhales, he smiles gently and then the smile fades.

"Yes," he says. "But you don't need me anymore."

His voice is sad, but he doesn't accuse or berate. He isn't even asking her a question.

"No, it's not true, why are you saying that?" He's too calm. He's so resigned when he should be angry - he should be furious. She doesn't understand. "Why are you giving up so easy?"

"I'm not the one who gave up."

"I'm sorry," she pleads. "I didn't give up, that wasn't it. It wasn't you, I was just..."

It isn't that he stops her from talking, but the words stop anyway. He leans his face to her cheek. He whispers, "Didn't we always kind of know?"

"What did we know?"

He doesn't answer. She rests her face on his shoulder, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat in his skin that gives no heat.

Then he moves to step past her.

When she turns, he's already gone. Not like he left, or even that he'd run away, but like he'd just vanished from her hands. Like he'd vanished from the whole world.

She takes off running along the white corridors, shouting his name, "Tyler!" The halls seem to stretch out forever, and she can't see him - can't see his shadow shifting around the corners. There is only the sound of footsteps running and she chases after it, though they might actually be her own footsteps echoing against the narrow walls.

She reaches the end of the corridor and shoves open the doors.

Outside the hallways, there is open sky and fresh air. She winces hard at the sun, even brighter than the blinding white walls and fluorescent lights.

She isn't on the moon, or even in space. She's on Earth. Some part of Earth, somewhere she doesn't know.

She turns back for the room, the long white corridors, the blank walls, but they're gone too. Vanished. Like they were never there at all.

All she can do is pick a direction and run.

She runs faster, but finds nothing but fields and fog and trees.

She runs, sprinting, panting and pumping her legs, faster and faster. Until she can't run any harder, until she can't run any more.

She collapses to the ground, planting her fingers in the dirt, lying her face on her hands.

She breathes, the air warm and thick with fog. Tyler isn't here.

When she finally raises her body from the ground, afraid to stand on her legs, she finds that she's come to the edge of the land. An open expanse of water crashes around her and she can't see where he could have gone. Where was there for him to go?

Or was she the one who was lost?

When she opens her eyes, she's in her bed, in her dark room in Frosh Hall with her roommate's fan whirring its white noise through the night. She knows where she is, and she knows that where she was wasn't real, but it lingers in that visceral way that dreams sometimes do. She can still feel the cold pulse from his neck against her lips.

Summer never used to dream, but now that she does, they're only nights full of twisted and mysterious nightmares.

*******

(footnotes: what Tyler said // what Vicky said // other lives she could have had)

on the safe side, part 3

2011-12-04T00:45:00.006-05:00

January 15, 2084 - Hayden Phoenix is 34, Piper Wilson is 29, Ryanne is 13.

Soundtrack: "Because of You," by Kelly Clarkson.

Hayden has been through this two times before; there won't be anything there to see for a few months still. But Piper swears there's a bulge, a small one, a bloating. He only smiles and lets her believe it, lets her stand there in front of the mirror, holding her belly, their little bean. Her boobs are bigger already, she says, she's never had big boobs in her life.

She'll hardly even be showing by the time they're married this spring. Piper has plenty of nieces and nephews, and he knows she knows this too, but still she stands there every morning, cradling her still flat belly, as if she might see it start to grow before her eyes.

The first time he'd been through this, he was fifteen years old. There was little magic about that pregnancy. It was mostly panic, indecision, and the transforming end of two childhoods before they were ready for it. This time feels like a fresh start. Mostly.

"Do you want to be there when I tell Ryanne?"

"No," Piper says quickly, masking the fret in her face with a smile. Lines begin to form around her eyes at just the mention of his daughter. Of course they expected there might be friction. Of course they weren't so naive to think Piper might come into a family with two teenage girls with no problems at all. Or maybe they had been that naive, because they did hope. "No," Piper says again. "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Hayden says, though he isn't sure what to call it. It's something. He knows Piper isn't making that up. He's seen the way Ryanne looks at her, at them both, with her eyes like daggers sometimes. "It's not hate," he says.

It's early still for a weekend morning, and Ryanne hasn't come out of her room for the day yet. Hayden and Piper have already spent their morning making quick, quiet love under their bedsheets, having breakfast and coffee, and then showers. They saved Ryanne some pancakes. Inside her room, the music is loud, but not loud enough that he'd make a fuss over it. Some battles are just not worth fighting.

"Trespassers will be PROSECUTED!," her door reads. In the fine print, it insists, "By Federal Law." It's just a thin aluminum sign she stole from somewhere, but for an instant he imagines her taking him to court for entering, with a lawyer pleading her case. Possible jail time. He turns for the extra bedroom across the hall instead.

The empty, unfinished spare bedroom is slightly smaller than Ryanne's room. When he steps inside, he is vaguely aware that he's circumventing the conversation he knows he needs to have. It's a happy one - Ryanne's going to be a big sister. Shouldn't she love that? For as much as she loves her own big sister, now she'll have the chance to be one herself.

Yet Hayden knows it won't go over so smoothly as that. He isn't that naive.

So he'll start the carpeting job instead. For now. There's really no time limit on this conversation. It could happen today. It could happen next week. It has to happen eventually; that's all he knows.

They're doing the nursery in yellow for now - they'll add pink or blue accents later, when they know if they're having a boy or a girl. There are boxes of baby things still in the closet, things he kept from Summer and Ryanne. It will be easier if they have another girl - with all the pink dresses and purple knitted hats - though beyond what makes sense, part of him is actually hoping for a boy.

Over his staple gun, he doesn't hear Ryanne's music stop, or hear her bedroom door open. He just turns once to find her standing there, and he isn't sure how long it's been. He can also see across the hallway into her bedroom, which he hasn't seen for weeks. It's cleaner than he thought it would be.

"I don't have carpet in my room," she says.

"Do you want carpet? You can have carpet if you want, what color do you like?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I don't want carpet. Why do you want carpet in here?"

There, an opening. Now could be the time. He looks at her, puzzled and unsure of how to proceed. He just doesn't know how to say it. "Just thinking about the future, I guess."

"The rooms were fine at the old place," Ryanne says. "It was fine, it was next to Grandpa and Grandma. They have a pool. We don't have room for a pool here."

"But the house is bigger," he says. "That's the thing, the old house, the condo - there wouldn't be enough room."

"But Summer went to college" she says. "There was plenty of room."

He stands, wavering on his feet. He feels like such a kid sometimes, not like a man. Like a brother rather than a dad, a guardian, a babysitter. Rhianna always had a better handle of this than he did.

"Piper and I are getting married," he says.

"Duh," she says.

"And well, how would you feel about getting a little brother or sister?"

For a split second, her eyes go wide with panic, before morphing into a grimace. "Eeew," she says.

This must be what Piper feels with her, these little daggers. They do hurt.

"Well, I mean, whatever," Ryanne adds.

She moves quickly from the room and closes herself inside her bedroom again. The music starts - hard, screeching, wailing music. It makes him think she's crying in there.

He sits down, not carpeting, not even trying to. Piper keeps asking him to dig out those boxes of old baby things - she wants to rewash the clothes and sort through everything, to see what's still usable, what they have to start with before her sisters spoil her with new baby things. But he hasn't done it. He doesn't want to. Somehow, it all makes him feel sad. It reminds him of when Summer and Ryanne were little, just tiny little babies. Even if it doesn't always seem like it, even if he wasn't well equipped for the job, they were his baby girls once, his responsibility. And how many ways has he failed them?

He comes back downstairs. Piper is dressed and ready to start their weekend. "Did you talk to her? How did it go?"

Hayden sighs. "It didn't."

*******

notes: the one in which we'll pretend the fabric rolls on the floor are actually rolls of carpet, lol!

Thank you all for your patience in these past few (several?) months. It feels good to be working on this story again! :)

ETA: oh! Forgot to mention Piper's due date is September 16th (and we have a TON of babies due in September of 2084!). According to the preggy calculator, she and Hayden conceived on Christmas day, lol!

on the safe side, part 2

2011-09-05T22:53:00.001-04:00

January 10, 2084 - Ryanne Phoenix is 13, Summer is 19.

Soundtrack: "Because of You," by Kelly Clarkson.

After dinner - before her father can pull Ryanne aside to chastise her for her disappointing attitude, before Piper could sulk away from the table, acting all sorrowful like Ryanne could actually hurt her feelings, like she actually had that power - Ryanne gets up first. She grabs her sister by the arm, and quickly tugs them from the dining room and upstairs to her bedroom.

"I wanna show you something," Ryanne says.

It's just a few albums, mostly, with their cases wide open and lyrics inserts sprawled across the floor. But she found some posters too. Summer introduced her to these bands, all of her own favorite music. This was stuff Ryanne had never heard of before - ska punk, reggae, psychedelic, vintage funk, thrash metal. None of that bubblegum pop the other girls listen to at school. Nothing so sickeningly complacent.

Summer laughs out loud. "You would like this music theory class I'm taking at school. We have to learn an instrument." Summer pauses. "I'm a percussionist."

"What does that mean?"

Summer grins. "It means drums."

"Really?" Ryanne's eyes light up. "That's the coolest thing ever. Are you gonna be in a band?"

"Maybe in some other life," Summer says. "I'm not that good. I'm okay, but it takes years of practice. You should do something though, learn an instrument while you're still young." Summer takes a sharp breath at the word "young". "So you're grounded for life, I hear. What did you do?"

"Did they send you to spy on me?"

"No, they didn't send me at all. I just wanna know."

Dark utility closets flash to mind, and Angelo Shaw. She feels like such an idiot that she believed him, that they wouldn't get caught. "I only did it once."

"What did you do?"

"He said you can't get pregnant like that."

"Who said?"

"Angelo," Ryanne says. "But it was just one time, and we got caught. But it's not a big deal - you can't get pregnant like that. You can't."

"But you can get herpes," Summer says, an edge of panic in her voice. And then a bit softer. "It won't make him love you."

"You used to do it to Tyler, and he loved you."

Her sister's mouth hangs open. "How do you-...?"

An ear to the wall, an eye at the crack beside the door, the soft sounds of young love drifting through her open window on a warm summer breeze. How else does a motherless girl learn anything about the world? Summer stalls, then she speaks. "That's... different. And hell, not when I was thirteen!"

Ryanne huffs, pulling her knees to her chest. "I don't want him to love me anyway."

The two of them are quiet. So quiet they can hear the muffled sounds of their father and Piper downstairs, cooing and cuddling each other. Or whatever it is they do. Just as fast as the lecture had started, Summer changes the topic again. "Hey, you wanna see something?"

Summer leaps up from the floor, whipping her dress high, tucking it up under her armpits to expose her back.

It's an angry sunburst in red, still a little swollen and puffy around the edges. Ryanne has never seen a real and actual tattoo with her own eyes. Especially not this close.

"Wow, did it hurt?"

"Yeah, like a bitch," Summer says.

"It's so cool," Ryanne says. "I want one."

"When you're older," Summer says, moving her dress back down. "What would you get?" Ryanne starts to think, images filling her head. So many ideas. So many possibilities. But before Ryanne can answer, Summer's gaze has drifted to the corner and she moves quickly to whatever it is she's found.

A dollhouse.

"I can't believe you still have this," Summer says. It's their old dollhouse, shaped like a tree. Summer pics up a doll in her hands, turning it from side to side, inspecting the moving arms and legs, the torn shirts and missing shoes, smiling at it sadly.

"Yeah," Ryanne says. "We found it in the attic when we moved again. I mean, they had to put it somewhere, I'll probably throw it out or something."

"No, don't." Summer picks up the furniture, the plastic tiny dinnerware. She finds a strewn shoe and returns it to its needy foot.

Ryanne lowers herself along the wall beside the dollhouse.

"It's weird here," Ryanne says. "It's like, normal. But not."

Summer turns her head then, away from the dolls in her hands. "Nobody wants to talk about it," Summer says. "How Dad tried to kill himself."

Ryanne looks at her sister, wide eyes gaping, trying to take it all in. Yes, she nods, in big, hungry gulps of agreement. That is it exactly, living in this family where everyone tiptoes around everything that's ever happened, a dead mom, an almost dead dad, an aunt with breast cancer. Ryanne nods her head furiously, holding her breath at the sheer truth of it all.

Summer finally adds, "Because I think nobody knows what to say about it."

Ryanne doesn't know what to say either. Especially not right now. Maybe later she would, but not now. Instead she says, "You should stay over, like a sleepover. You can sleep in my bed and I'll sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor. Do you remember when we lived in that little condo, and we had to share a room for a while? Do you remember when we had camp-outs in our sleeping bags on the floor?"

Summer tilts her head, lips curling into so slight a smile. It felt like an apology. "Yeah, I remember," she says. "But I have class in the morning, and some homework to finish up tonight. I actually need to get going. Maybe on the weekend?"

She stands, and Ryanne does too. Summer hugs her. "Love you, Squirt."

"Love you too," Ryanne says.

Ryanne can always hear when her sister has finally gone. The rumble of a cracked muffler sounding down the street, louder than anything she's ever heard.

*******

footnotes: (Ryanne wants to remember (and is also nosy) // the utility closet // part 1)

on the safe side, part 1

2011-08-19T23:46:00.005-04:00

January 10, 2084 - Ryanne Phoenix is 13, Summer is 19, Hayden is 34, Piper Wilson is 29.

Soundtrack: "Because of You," by Kelly Clarkson.

It's boring being grounded. It's the middle of winter, but there's no deep snow on the ground, not that she'd be so childish to go sledding, or skating with her sister the way they used to, the way they'd find some frozen puddle in the field, no matter how small, and get their skates out. Most of the time, the thin ice just cracked under their weight, breaking through to one inch of water and soggy winter grass. It was fun for a minute. Back when they still lived in Bluewater, back when their mom was still alive.

But otherwise, there's nothing to do here in the winter, and Ryanne was bored. So she stopped at the CVS on the way home from the bus stop and she did this. It turned out mostly pink, and a little bit green too. It wasn't a statement. It wasn't a rebellion, or revenge, or hatred for anyone. It was just something to do.

Her dad didn't get too angry, he didn't shout or pull out his hair, the way her grandmother would have, the way parents on movies do, the way she thought he would. He just stared at the hair, stammering and wringing his hands. "Uh, you're grounded," he said.

"I'm already grounded," she spit back. The utility closet, didn't he remember? Didn't anyone in this family remember a goddamn thing?

"You're grounded more," he said, pointing up the stairs to her bedroom. He had no ferocity in his face, but she knew he meant business when he stepped toward her, to lift her off the ground and carry her to her room, the way he did when she was a child, her rigid and tense as a plank, him strong and sturdy, like he was trying to lift a bug.

Would he now? Could he still lift her? She wanted to be a child again, but the stubbornness in her wouldn't have it, so she reached out to smack his forearm. She was bigger than she used to be. Where her smacks used to roll off his arm, now he drew back, wincing at the sting on his skin, damage in his eyes, sadness for their weird and broken family.

"Don't go to your room then," he said.

"Fine," she said.

But when all was said and done, her room was the only place there was to go. So she went anyway.

Before long, she hears a thump on the wall, her dad banging that her music is too loud.

She stands to turn it down.

She leaves her room to watch TV downstairs. After all, he did say, Fine, don't go to your room.

But sometimes she wonders if she'd be better of in her room anyway.

Their sweetness together is vulgar. The house is tense and uneasy. Piper has been living with them for a year now, and Ryanne didn't know what it would be like. She hadn't known what to expect. She wondered at first if they might have fun together, but they don't. She wondered if they might be friends, but they aren't.

Sometimes it's like she isn't even here with them. Everything is becoming so different. Summer is in college now, and they barely see her. Her dad is getting married in four months. And it's no mystery that those extra bedrooms they wanted in this house are going to be for babies some day. It's not just disgust, or unease. It's more like panic. More like being erased.

There's a rumble outside, the sound of her sister's truck announcing itself before Summer has even pulled it into their driveway. It's even louder since she crashed it, hairline cracks in the muffler casing, not serious enough to replace.

Ryanne feels saved when her sister comes. She rushes to the front door to meet her.

Summer steps inside, and of course the hair is the first thing she sees. A smirk spreads across her face. "Nice haircut, squirt."

"I got in trouble," Ryanne says, though it hadn't really been the hair her father was maddest about.

"Are they making you dye it back?"

"Tried," Ryanne says. "It won't come out." Summer steps inside, sliding her coat off her shoulders. "I did it myself," Ryanne adds.

"It's not bad," Summer says. "It brings out your eyes."

Summer laughs and asks, "What's for dinner?"

Summer goes happily into the kitchen to help Piper with the dishes as she makes dinner. She shouldn't, Ryanne thinks. She's an accomplice to the crime. The two of them talk, like they're friends, and it just isn't right. How can Piper just slot into their mother's place? Like her dad could just lose one wife and pick up a new one, like shopping for a new car because the last one got totaled.

It made her angry. And it made her angrier that she was starting to forget her. What did she used to smell like? How did her voice sound? She has pictures, but none of them are close-ups. She can't make out the color of her own mother's eyes. What color were her eyes? Not Ryanne's color - she has her grandmother's eyes. Not gray like her dad or her sister. They might have been kind of blue.

That's what her mother has become now, a foggy memory, some vague shade of blue.

At dinner, Piper's pork chops look like charred ruins.

Ryanne sits back in her chair, scooted back from the table still like she has no intention of touching the food. "My science teacher says eating burnt food causes cancer."

Their mouths drop, simultaneously. "Ryanne," Summer shrieks.

Oh right, they don't say the c-word around here. Double-whammy, they don't talk about Piper's bad cooking either. But her dad, with his mouth full of burnt food just covers his face to hide a laugh - see, he knows. He turns to Piper then. "It's not bad," he says with a hand on her arm.

But no, it's bad. It's awful.

Piper never talks back, never defends herself, she only stares at Ryanne like she was something foreign, something to be figured out. The concept was simple here though. Doesn't anyone remember before this, when things were normal. Doesn't anyone remember anything?

Hayden clears his throat loudly, hushing their giggles. "Summer," he says, "How's school?"

"Fine," she says shortly.

"There's a housewarming party this weekend," Hayden adds. "Can you be here?"

"Sure, after I close up the shop, I guess."

"Good," Hayden says. "Everyone missed you at New Year's."

Summer swallows her food, having no answer back for that. It was true, she was missed. Maybe Ryanne had missed her most of all. Especially with everything going on with Aunt Nessa, the whole family is on edge, especially their dad and grandma Sophie.

But nobody really talks about that out in the open.

This family is full of things that nobody talks about.

*******

footnotes: (Hayden takes a step forward // Ryanne wants to remember // Summer // Ryanne is grounded, and Aunt Nessa)

profile: Summer

2011-08-14T21:57:00.002-04:00

Summer Phoenix

Summer was a surprise baby for her parents, who were barely sixteen years-old when she was born. So that her parents could finish high school, Summer was mostly raised by her grandmother, Sophie. Her grandmother provided her a stable home and relatively normal childhood. Summer grew up knowing that Hayden and Rhianna were her parents, though in relation to each other, they acted more like siblings.

When Summer was nine, her parents married and made a home of their own, along with her new baby sister, Ryanne. Rhianna established a toy store, and named it after her, Summer's Place. In her early teen years, Summer also started a young romance with her childhood friend, Tyler.

For that short time, which Summer remembers as their glory years, the young family did fine on their own. Until tragedy struck. When Summer was fifteen, her mother was killed in a car crash that sent her father spiraling into a deep depression. The girls were taken in by their grandmother once again, as they all tried to struggle through the chaos to put their lives back together and find their way forward.

character tag: summer

name means: Summer
birthdate: June 21
age: 19 as of June 21, 2083
zodiac: Gemini
MBTI: ENTP - the visionary
character traits: amusing, friendly, flirty, impatient, spirited

appearance:
- height: 5'7"
- hair: currently, brown with pink tips
- eyes: gray
- body: stocky and athletic, solid curves
- dress: feminine with a punky edge
- distinguishing features: commitment issues with her hairstyles, piercings, light freckles across her nose

romantic history:
- first kiss: Tyler Jackson, age 13
- v-card goes to: Tyler Jackson, age 16
- notable relationships: Tyler Jackson (age 13-present, tentatively broke up when she was 17).
- number of partners: 1

romantic present:
- currently: kind of single

family:
- parents: Rhianna and Hayden Phoenix
- siblings: Ryanne Phoenix
- children: none
- BFF: Lucy Harris

lifestyle:
- TS2 aspiration: popularity/romance
- TS3 traits: friendly, flirty, charismatic, athletic, good sense of humor
- hobbies: listening to music, working out, driving, hanging out
- job: owner of Summer's Place (toy store)
- education: currently a Freshman at LCU
- drugs?: sure, if there's someone to share them with
- sex?: likes to tease (but sometimes doesn't mean what she projects), bold on the outside, deeply tender on the inside
- god?: maybe, she isn't sure how it matters
- her parents?: weren't there when she needed them

loves: peppy music with a heavy beat // boots // piercings and tattoos // punching annoying twits in the head (you know, if she's gonna be honest) // working out // driving // camping // sunshine // making jokes // sarcasm // drinking beer at a bonfire // laying out on the beach // summertime // and winter too // looking out for her friends // her family

hates: people who disrespect her friends // death

theme song: "Who Knew?" by Pink

(click for large size)

1. name: Summer
2. grew up: the best she knew how
3. favorite food: ice cream
4. favorite color: pink and black
5. favorite weather: bonfire nights
6. favorite drink: whatever, she's not picky
7. currently reading: song lyrics
8. most important job: big sister
9. if he/she had one wish: to rewind
10. thing he/she loves most in the world: the moments in between
11. one word to describe her: misguided
12. something else: collateral damage

mosaic credits: [1. a new leaf, 2. This is Where the Rich Kids Come to Die, 3. Ice Cream Sundae, 4. Black & pink, 5. 241.365 ~ End of Summer, 6. la vie boheme., 7. It was all just Yellow.., 8. day threehundredtwo: we can always dream., 9. which way to go?, 10. twirl, 11. New Direktions, 12. Petit Lapin with a broken heart]

end of days party...

2011-07-29T15:16:00.000-04:00

Please stay tuned while we reconfigure the universe.

There are only two full updates left for TS2 (one of which is mostly shot already, and I have one more left to do), so it's almost time, people! I'm excited, lol! I'm not sure if I'm prepared for the switch-over, but I'm totally going to wing it! I have shot one future update in TS3 already, and while it was tricky, and I know I have a lot of things to learn and get used to, I had a lot of fun doing it!

I'm doing a couple of finishing fixes to my LH-test terrain, and then I'm going to start moving some real families in! It's not "finished", and likely won't be really finished for many more months, but I am ready to play it and build on it for real. I'm sure I won't really know what I want from it for sure until I've played on it anyway, which is sort of backwards, but I've always been a build-as-you-go kind of girl! ;)

Over at the babble blog, we'll be having a sort of "end of days" party for TS2, where there will be games and downloads! You can also follow my TS2 to TS3 Sim conversions from the interdimensional shift tag.

Planned events:
- guess the kids grown up game (already posted!)
- more TS2 to TS3 Sim conversions
- going out of business sale: TS2 lot downloads!!! Everything sold as-is! ;)
- new TS3 Samantha Bradshaw and Anjali Shaw for download!
- more TS3 gameplay notes
- download of the TS3 LH terrain/map... when it's finished ;)

Also note, it's going to take me many months to complete all of this stuff! But I just wanted to let you all know what I had in store. This is a party that will last many, many months! The shenanigans will all take place over on the babble blog, and stories here will run straight through the transition and on forward, which I hope will go as seamlessly as possible!

So there are two more full TS2 stories ("on the safe side, part 3 and 4" and then part 5 will be TS2 and TS3 mixed. And from there, it'll all be TS3!

And also note, as soon as I get these last couple TS2 stories finished, the story should begin to move a little bit faster again. Right now, even though it's true I do have very little Simming time, I'm also having to split that little time between getting story pics in TS2 and doing my conversion work in TS3. So once I'm done with TS2 story pics, it'll be a lot easier for me to get my TS3 story pics while I'm already in the game ;)

So, we shall carry on!

"Welcome," Dakota says. "We've been waiting for you."

(Man, TS3 makes alien twins even creepier, lol!)

soundtrack: "Apocalypse Please" by Muse

quote:
"Declare this an emergency
come on and spread a sense of urgency,
and pull us through.
And pull us through.
And this is the end,
this is the end of the world."

(Okay, so I'm being a little dramatic too, lol! But you know, it's fun!)

this is kind of like a break-up...

2011-07-28T17:00:00.012-04:00

This is the last bit of decorating that I'll ever do for Sims 2. It's Ryanne's bedroom. I thought I'd share those pics here, because I'm not sure how much of her room will make it into the story shots, or from which angles, and well, you won't ever see it again.

I did have a lot of fun putting a couch through the wall like that, like a little window nook, where a teenage girl might sit and daydream - or in Ryanne's case, angst at the world! They can't actually sit on it though - I tried. I have no idea if I tried the same trick in TS3, if they would be able to sit on it.

Hayden and Piper's new house was one of my favorites, so I'll probably try to recreate it for the new version of LH. I never even got to play Bella in her new house, which is a bummer. I won't be recreating all of the houses - I'll download most of them. But I'll try to match their decorating styles and personalities.

It doesn't help that every time I make new TS3 versions of my characters, I just want to tell their stories in TS3 all that much more! And it makes going back to pose them in TS2 all the more like pulling teeth. In TS3, I can just hold down the "alt" key and slide them right alongside each other. No need to go find the right OMSP in my catalog, spend 10 minutes trying to click it because the damn #1 size blends flat into the floor.

There's no freezer clock in TS3, and that is a tragedy. But really, it must be coming soon, right? I would commission it, I'm telling you!

My LH world, while happily coming along, is nowhere even near ready to use. I don't have the best system or graphics card yet - in TS3, my grass looks like pea soup. I don't have nearly all the right CC or mods. I'm finding new things by the day, and there's a lot more awesome stuff out there that I can't wait to find!

But then it also dawned on me that that doesn't mean I can't tell interior stories with TS3!!! And it just so happens that I've got a good bunch of stories set inside the houses, or in generic outdoor settings, for a little while ;)

TS3 sims can be transported between neighborhoods in their houses! (I haven't heard that this is unsafe, the way it was in TS2, am I right?) So I could begin telling their stories now, in the fake LH world, and then when my real world is done, I could transport them all over, link up their family ties again (which is super-easy to do with the master controller!), and have most of my household work done already!

And it might be nice to alternate work on the world with work on the houses and Sims. World-building is exhausting and tedious, even if sometimes fun.

I would love to wait for the right time, wait until everything is ready and finished, wait until I might have a better computer or crisper graphics, or when I might know more tricks in posing the Sims than I do now. But then, I never waited when I jumped in on TS2 either, I built and finished things as I went along.

This next story set (4 pieces, I think) will be our last stories illustrated with Sims 2. That's a lot faster than I said it was going to be, and really, I'm only giving it that much time because I've already gotten about a third of the shots in Sims 2. There will be a small blip of Sims 3 shots in one of the pieces, and I suppose it will be a test run. Will it work? Can I get their expressions and poses right? Will they pass off for the real deal?

I had intended to finish out the rest of the season on TS2, so that the transition to TS3 illustrations would start with a new story, and might not be so shocking, but I'm not sure I'll make it that far. The simple fact is, I just don't *want* to work with TS2 anymore. And when I have so little free time to work on this as it is, the last thing I want to do is spend that little bit of time working with something that's not fun.

It's kind of like dating... You know, when you already know you're going to dump your boyfriend, but you say, maybe let's just make it through the holidays, nobody wants to break up with someone right before the holidays. Definitely by spring, because you want to be single for the summer, but not right smack dab in the middle of the holidays. But when it comes down to it, when it's over, you know it's over. And he knows it's over, because it feels like it's over, and everybody can see that it's over because it's written all over your face. And maybe sometimes it's just best to let things be over.

I never thought I'd say it, but here I am, and here it is - my dear TS2, I am SO over you! :\

I don't know what I'm saying exactly, except that I hope you'll all understand if my pictures are boring or fewer for a little while, or if I don't have much cool CC yet, or if all the shots are indoors to mask the fact that my world isn't finished yet, or if they do manage to be outside, if my grass looks like pea soup. I'm sure the shots will seem bland for a little while, compared to what I've been able to do in TS2, at least until I learn some new tricks. And though I'll try to make the transition as seamless as possible, there may still be a couple bumps in the path.

I know breaking up is always hard to do, and I know it's especially hard when it comes sooner than you expected. So I'm sorry about that! But I also know we're all grown-ups here, so I hope we can be kind about it.

Somebody think of the children! ;)

happy birthday, dear Ryanne...

2011-07-03T09:44:00.000-04:00

January 6, 2084 - Ryanne Phoenix is 13. (Sam Harris is 12.)

Ryanne hates her birthday this year. Because for Ryanne's thirteenth birthday, she's grounded. It's not just that she has - or had - a boyfriend. It wasn't like her dad had forbidden her to date or anything. In fact, she isn't even really sure Angelo Shaw was her boyfriend. They just held hands in school, and used to kiss a little in the utility closet at school, until she got caught doing something else to him in the utility closet, and now she's pretty sure, even if he was in fact her boyfriend, that he wouldn't be allowed to be anymore.

It seems like all the other kids at this bus stop have known each other for years. They've all grown up together on this street, and she's only just moved in. She didn't really want to move - she thought they were fine enough where they were, in the little condo near her grandparents, where Summer used to live with them before she went off to college. Now they're in this big suburban house, with all its empty rooms. She's too old to appreciate the yard, which doesn't even have a pool. Her dad said he might install one this summer. And there's this new bus stop, which is nicer than her last one. It's all nicer, but that doesn't mean she has to like it.

Ryanne keeps to herself here. She knows some of the kids on this street from school, but she doesn't want to make friends with them. She doesn't need any new friends, and especially not these kids. These cheesy suburban kids with their smiley happy families - this street, the street her dad just moved them to, this is the kind of street where people move to be smiley and happy. It's like a prerequisite. And these are the cheesiest kids who ever lived.

Like Lucy Harris, her big sister's best friend, and the undisputed cheesiest person alive. Lucy stops, next to that big ugly yellow car, a hunk of sun-shiney cheddar cheese itself, and she shouts, "Happy Birthday Ryanne!"

Ryanne immediately cringes. She could die. She could die, come back to life, and die all over again.

Summer must have told Lucy it was her birthday. And Ryanne hates her sister right now for having such a cheesy best friend. She hates her dad for moving them to this cheesy neighborhood, and for wanting to marry at bubble-gum cheesy woman who is now going to be her step-mother, and she hates the idea of having a step-mother. And she hates this place, being grounded in this place, just look at all the damned picket fences - the only good thing about this neighborhood is the graveyard. And she hates that she got grounded, she hates that they got caught, and she hates Angelo Shaw because he said it wouldn't be much different than kissing with tongues, and no, it was way grosser than kissing with tongues.

And she hates that Sam Harris was coming out of his house too when Lucy shouted, and he heard it too.

Sam moves past her to sit down on the bench. "Happy birthday," he says, grinning wide with a cheesy smile.

She can't really avoid Sam anymore, now that she lives three houses down. She broke up with him, though she was never really going out with him - she just used to kiss him a little in the utility closet, before she started kissing Angelo in the utility closet. Sam never asked her to do anything else though. Except be his girlfriend.

Her birthday. "Yeah," she says. "I guess it is."

"I'm gonna be thirteen next month too," Sam says.

"Yeah? Well it sucks."

The wide grin on his face deflates. "It might not suck."

"It probably will," she says, puffing out a breath into the cold air. "So why don't you ride with your sisters anyway?"

He glances over to the spot where his sister's beastly yellow car just left. "Oh," he says, grin lit up again. "Because there're girls on the bus. Girls who aren't my sisters."

"Ha," Ryanne laughs out loud, hard, short, and stunted. She's not laughing with him, but at him. It's so lame how funny he thinks he is, she could die laughing.

Though he doesn't seem to mind which kind of laugh it is, only that she laughs at all.

***

Other January Birthdays:

January 21: Jeremiah Day is 27
January 22: Liza Hathe is 15
January 24: Madison Riley is 61
January 26: Tosha Harris is 74
January 29: Orlando Centowski is 69
January 31: Meadow Lind is 69

*******

notes: just a little one to hold y'all over while I get the next story set in order.

So sorry for the delay. I'm happily coming to the end of the current phase of my novel work, so I hope to have a (reasonably) more steady stream of updates for you soon! Let's try to get some momentum going on this story again, shall we? ;)

Thank you all for your patience, and thank you all for reading!

happy new year, 2084!

2011-05-12T18:16:00.019-04:00

New Year's Eve, 2084 - Stephanie Day is 24, Justin Kim is 23, Sophie Phoenix is 61.

Soundtrack: "Drown," by Smashing Pumpkins.

Plenty of people are hosting New Year's parties this year, every year, all over the world. Aunt Sophie is hosting the usual party, and Stephanie's parents will be there, but instead Stephanie is here with Justin's parents. Because Justin's mom makes regular platters of food, sausage rolls in biscuits from the grocery store, nothing imported, nothing strange and gourmet like her Aunt Sophie serves. Stephanie is here because Aunt Sophie's house is always too crowded and noisy, because Corbin has a date which left Justin alone, and she considered spending New Year's in the quiet of her own empty house, but she decided against it. Alone has grown on her, grown into her bones. But not tonight. She knows Justin doesn't like the quiet.

Stephanie wonders how they're celebrating on base, or if they're even celebrating at all. Out there, tonight is just another date, a point on a calendar that's only significant to us because we make it so. Outside the Earth's spinning clock, a year means nothing. Out there, their ships whiz through the blackness and time is irrelevant except to their little electronic clocks, keeping home time like nostalgia.

Justin's mother brushes past her. "Can I get you anything, sweetie?"

"No, this is good," Stephanie says. The wine is tart and has made her head light. She starts to smile, still a little embarrassed sometimes to be holding a glass of wine in front of a real grown up.

"We can make some more snacks," Cindy says. "Just let me know if you want anything."

The girls are asleep upstairs. They didn't make it to midnight; they didn't even make it to ten. This time of night, the streets are quiet. People have finally arrived to the parties they'll be at for the night. Stephanie doesn't know where she wants to be. Here, but there too with her parents, and out there where Jeremiah is, everywhere at once. She could be a supernova, explode like a star, send pieces of herself to all corners of the universe.

She laughs at the idea. She was born Stephanie Nova. "Stephanie Nova, get it?"

But Justin isn't smiling. "I only teased you about that since we were seven."

His parents talk in the kitchen, their voices soft among clinking dishes and running water. She remembers what it used to be like, before all of this. She remembers staying over for dinner at his house in high school, how his parents would clear the dinner table so he could pretend to teach her trigonometry, when really he hardly knew it himself. Did he remember freshman year at LCU? Palmolive in the courtyard fountain? Dancing at Club Lulu and that stupid techno sphere that always spilled her out on her face on the floor? Does he remember, that things weren't always so somber as they are right now?

She promised her dad she'd stop over at her Aunt Sophie's party before the night was over.

"Are you coming back for midnight?" Justin asks. "How much time is there?"

"Forty-five minutes," she says. "I'll come back."

She'd only go for a minute. Just to show her face. Just to check in. Justin leans heavy on the table. "Do you ever feel mad at him for going?"

"Mad? No, not really." Stephanie watches him for a response, but he doesn't give any. "But it wasn't really a choice on his part. Do you, get mad?"

He doesn't look at her. He doesn't answer the question either.

Before she gets her coat, Stephanie tiptoes upstairs to look at the girls, the two of them sharing Lily's crib, still and peaceful in the dark. Stephanie watches their chests rise and fall.

And then footsteps behind her. Justin's mom.

"I was just going to see my dad for a minute," Stephanie says.

"You've been drinking?"

"It's okay, I'll walk," she says. "It's only a few houses down."

"Leave her sleep here," Cindy says. "It's fine."

Fine, everything is fine. There's a lightness in her head, not to the point of swirling, not even to the point of being tipsy. That everything is fine, for the first time in forever, there's no objection in her head that it's a lie.

"Don't worry about it," Cindy says. "She's an angel."

Stephanie wonders sometimes if it's wrong that she likes Justin's mom better than her own? Maybe it even makes sense, because Willow must love anyone's mom better than her own. Maybe it runs in the family. Can you mess up a kid? Can you do it so wrong that no matter how much you change direction, it might be too late?

Stephanie goes, only because she promised she would. The night is cold and quiet by now. The snow had been light, only an inch on the ground and already stopped falling, the clouds dispersed leaving the sky clear. Aunt Sophie's front kitchen windows have fogged up from all the warm bodies inside. Stephanie stops there, seeing the room lit up, the whole family with their banter. They're an overwhelming bunch. Somehow she can't manage the will to actually approach the door.

***

Sophie received a phone call from the middle school one afternoon while Hayden was working. Ryanne had been caught making out with a boy in a utility closet. "Making out is the kinder version of the story," the school secretary had told her, with a tone that brought a blush to Sophie's cheeks. "Let's just say, Mrs. Phoenix, there may be a reason your granddaughter favors knee socks."

Another boy? The same boy? A different one? The boys all bleed one into the next by now. Sophie won't pretend she was never thirteen years old, but this girl and her big sister are as different as they come.

"How come Summer doesn't have to be here?"

"Summer's in college," Sophie says.

Ryanne stomps off into the living room and Sophie reaches back to knead the ache at her neck. "Is she like this with you?" She doesn't look at Hayden, but both he and Piper turn their heads anyway. "I never had so much trouble with Summer," Sophie says. "Summer got straight A's. Summer dated the same boy for six years."

There's nothing to say. Sophie never expected any answers from anyone. She knows the answer already. Summer had a mother still at that age.

Sophie makes another snack tray, imported cheeses, some soft spreads, some firm and potent. "Not for the baby," she tells her son, Jack. "The Roquefort is unpasteurized."

None of them would eat the cheese anyway, but you couldn't say she didn't try. They come in and out of the room, taking soda from the fridge and snacking on the potato chips instead.

"Well don't just stand there, eat something," she says.

Jack just stands there. It's Nessa and Aaron he's looking at, sitting on the floor together. She rarely lets go of him these days. Sophie grabs another plate for Jack herself.

Her son, a grown man now, looks up at her with the caution he had as a teenager. He finally speaks, "What she's worried about, is that she won't be able to get pregnant again."

Sophie sighs. "Let her worry about what she wants to worry about."

"It's not the biggest thing to worry about," he says.

"We know that," Sophie whispers, hushing him with a soft pat on his arm. Nessa is headed into the room with Aaron on her hip.

"He's up so late," Nessa says. She laughs, short but hopeful. "He's gonna be a bear tomorrow, let me tell you. It'll be his first New Year awake."

Jack nods then, confirming the fact. Nessa coos near the boy's cheek. "It's good luck, huh? It's gonna be a better year."

She holds the child close to her cheek. "It's gonna be the best year we ever had."

***

Stephanie doesn't go inside, but instead crosses the street to her own house, closed up and empty. Willow isn't there. Justin and Lily aren't there. She walks the length of her soccer pitch, the netting still up through the winter. She's surprised it hadn't already started to rust.

Right now, it's the darkest time of the year. Fifteen hours of darkness. Again Stephanie finds herself looking up to the sky, vivid dark blue, so empty, as if she could stare straight out into space, as if she might see one of their ships whizzing past. She hasn't seen one yet. Some people say they have, but they're likely only seeing shooting stars.

She wonders where Jeremiah is right now, what he's doing, if he's safe, if he ever feel this alone? She isn't mad. She just misses him. September was the last time she spoke to him, before they shipped out. He told her it would be a while. He told her it wouldn't mean anything was wrong. It would be him and a couple other guys, in a ship, for the next few months. That close of quarters and he's probably begging to be alone by now.

It's quiet out here, he had said, You wouldn't believe how quiet.

Where he is, the only sounds come from the ship, and when they power down to conserve energy, when they coast, there's nothing but their own voices, their own heartbeats in their ears. The space around them is void of sound, and when they rest, when they sleep, there's only deafening quiet, and lightyears worth of black space in all directions.

And she gets it.

Midnight. Happy voices count down the seconds, muffled by glass, a muted chorus. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six-

Her phone rings. It's Justin. "Happy New Year, Steph," he says. "What are you doing?"

What is she doing? She sees herself, her own feet in the snow as if they weren't part of her body and she didn't know how she ended up here. Lighted windows dot the neighborhood like stars dot the black sky, so many voices in that light, so much celebration. And in her ear, Justin still breathes through the phone static. "Steph, you there?'

"I can still hear you," she whispers, the phone hanging loose from her ear.

Over the marina, the first large explosion of light fills the sky. Green, then pink, then blue, lighting the town in color, no place untouched. Loud, so very loud, the boom steals breath out of her chest.

Willow. Her baby. She might be scared. "Wait," Stephanie says. "I'm coming back."

She starts to run, her feet kicking up a dusting of snow behind her, her legs carrying her faster. She sprints the last few houses back to where they are.

Justin is already outside, standing on the sidewalk, his cell phone in one hand and the baby monitor in another. Stephanie comes to a stop, panting. "She wasn't scared?"

"No," he says. "They didn't even wake up."

Stephanie wants to be there next to her, to touch her hair, to see the flutter behind her eyelids as she dreams. She starts for the front door.

"Stay here," he says.

She stops, turns back to him.

"For a minute," he says.

The girls are sleeping, the breathing of two babies on the monitor, in unison, a song she's never been more glad to hear. "Okay," she says, and settles into the space beside him.

They both turn their faces to the sky, bright lights filling the night. Out there, looking down from above, it must all seem so small, dots of pink flashing over the planet like wildflowers.

And so begins another crazy year in Lakeside Heights. Happy New Year, 2084!

*******

(footnotes: Steph and Justin // what's wrong with Nessa?)

notes: and lol, the last New Year's post I wrote was almost two real-life years ago! Oh, what a long story-year it's been! :o

Outtakes and assorted chatter for this post are here.

prequel stories #10: wedding pictures

2011-04-26T11:20:00.000-04:00

I actually don't know why I had this post saved up in my drafts for so long. But I'm kind of under the weather this weekend, so I think I'll post this up to pacify you all so I can slack off on the next update for a couple/few more days ;)

Be warned, these are very old pictures. And this was long before I learned to download much proper CC, so some of these outfits are truly terrible, lol!

Most of the older generation of couples you saw wedding pictures for in this prequel story #3: young loves. So this are mostly generation 2 weddings. And wow, it's kind of shocking how many of these poor couples ended up divorced or otherwise broken up! Bad luck generation? lol!

Orion and Violet Deppiesse: around Winter 2062

Surely Claire wasn't the only one there, lol!

This is the one I made into a portrait for their wall.

Alana and Sheldon Fortney: Fall 2064

Just sayin', she wore black to their wedding... lol!

Toby and April Harris: Fall 2064

Don't mind Alana there, in her own wedding gown at her brother's wedding, lol! Good thing she didn't curse them too.

April made a lovely bride though.

Brooke and Phoenix McCullough: Spring 2066

And yet another wedding at the old Riley Hall, velvet room, which was very popular back then (because it was the only one I had, lol!)

Cabe and Ashlee Deppiesse: Fall 2066

Just an small and intimate back-yard wedding, which got rained out, lol!

And they came inside for the reception.

Max and Valerie Shaw: Spring 2068

Berjes and Hailey Monif: Summer 2070

Berjes and Hailey were actually the first to use my beach destination wedding resort on Twikki Island. I spent forever building that resort, and I've had hardly any of my Sims visit it again since. (Justin and Keri had their honeymoon there, and I think they're the only ones, lol!)

Hayden and Rhianna Phoenix: Summer 2071

A simple backyard wedding, which Summer attended, she must have been four or five here?

Chad and Riley Hathe: Fall 2072

A shotgun courthouse wedding, just a few weeks before Liza was born.

Blake and Clarice Miller: Fall 2072

This was at the old Riley Hall, before the whole place was made over for Keri's wedding. But this garden wedding patio much inspired how I made over the new patio where Bella and Cameron were married.

Aurora and Joel Harris: Spring 2073

LOL, I almost didn't want to include this one because of the ridiculous outfit I put him in, lol!

Yes, there are some things I wish I could take back. I was trying to pull off the whole military wedding thing, and back in the day, I hadn't yet figured out how (or maybe we weren't even able to) do weddings under the arch without changing into proper formal wear.

And Aurora looks oddly stunned as she poses for their wedding pictures - she's like, "What, did I just marry a toy soldier or something?" lol!

But they're a lovely couple, and she looked beautiful, and you know, it's not the wedding but the marriage that counts, and they have a great one! ;) So let's not scoff at his terrible outfit, lol!

Matt and Leila were actually married just before the start of the blog, but I included their wedding pictures in their first update.

And then the blog picks up with Nathan and Ally Lind's wedding.

commence babble!

2011-04-17T10:56:00.004-04:00

I should be ready to start work on the next update sometime in the next few days, but for now, I wanted to announce my new babble blog! For those who followed the VSS LH Babble thread, this blog will replace that thread. Babble will continue as usual, just in a different place ;)

And I wanted to say a huge THANK YOU to Blackcat (who writes the brilliant Richmond story) for showing me how to import all of my archives over there!

And thank you to everyone who's listened to my nonsense chatter over the years! I hope it was interesting enough, lol! :)

experiments in social media...

2011-04-10T18:05:00.000-04:00

I'm going to call this practice in using social media in a professional light, and I could use your help.

You can now "like" Lakeside Heights on Facebook!

If at least twenty-five of you lovely people decide to "like" it, then I can pick a custom domain for the page *wink-wink* ;)

So, much like the Twitter feed, you'll get behind-the-scenes babble, and story update notices through your Facebook feed. There will be a little more space there for discussion than there is on Twitter though, so bonus! You can post questions on the wall, or just lurk there, or whatever, lol! And because this is all still a big experiment, feel free to let me know what kinds of things you might like to see on a story's Facebook page.

And in case you missed it before, you can also follow Lakeside Heights on twitter, for bite-sized babble and updates!

author's note: fish and the bird

2011-04-09T22:46:00.015-04:00

*warning: this is a final author's note on the ending of the "fish and the bird" storyline, and is meant to be read after you've read the whole story. This will contain BIG HONKING spoilers! ;) *

I wasn't sure if I should write something for this or not. Haven't I said enough already? But there were a couple more things I wanted to talk about. And then I got going and it turned out there were a lot of things I wanted to talk about.

if anyone's the real home-wrecker:

It would be me, right? I mean, all of this is happening in my head, lol!

I know nobody wanted to see her actually leave Matt (oh, you guys, I do know it!). And when I first started writing this, I never thought she would actually do it either. I honestly thought she and Corbin would have a nice friendship, maybe they'd eventually sleep together or maybe they wouldn't, and eventually she'd find there was nothing there and end it.

But that isn't what ended up happening.

And when they actually fell in love with each other (and I don't mean a silly love heart in the game - but when their characters fell in love, for real), believe me, I was like OMG, WTF, you guys CAN'T DO THAT!!!!! I yelled at them, STOP, Do not pass GO! Do not collect $200!!!!!

Because do you realize what a mess of a story that would cause?!?

And they were like, "Meh, too late. It's already done."

But to be honest, that's often the feeling I have when I've hit upon a story that's going to be hard and messy and challenging to write. And at the same time, those hard and challenging stories usually turn out to be the most interesting ones.

on the twists and turns:

So I asked her, Do you realize, this thing with Corbin might not work out, and you can't go back to Matt in the end if it doesn't? And she told me that she understood. And that she would rather live alone than live in a dead marriage, however it worked out.

A lot of questions I asked these characters turned out to be huge revelations in this process.

I asked Leila, Why didn't you go to college? And in that same piece, I also asked Matt, Why do you love her? And the told me, he didn't know.

I asked Leila, What is it that Corbin does for you that Matt can't?

I asked Matt, Why did you ask her to marry you in the first place?

And each of these questions I didn't know would be so important, but they were, and so revealing! The truth was laid out in their history the whole time, and all I had to do was ask the right questions and it came popping right out at me.

I'm sorry I couldn't figure out how to ask the right questions sooner.

Because that's the thing about first drafting (or let me rephrase that, the thing about *my* first drafting) is that I never know what story I'm writing until I'm well into it. When I first started this, early on in this, I had no idea what kind of story it would be. And because of that, in these first-draft blog stories, they sort of take on a life of their own. You and I and these characters, we're all learning and discovering all of this at the same time. (Okay, well maybe I get to be a few steps ahead of the game, lol!) But in general, I don't know how the story might end when I first start it, and that ending changes a few dozen times along the way, and I'm sure that must be maddening to read and experience.

on what it actually was:

But in another dimension, these characters could have told one of several dozen different stories. Maybe the one where a woman falls in love with another man and *doesn't* leave her husband, only to suffer in bitter silence? Or it could have been the one where a woman meets a mysterious crush, doesn't quite fall in love with him, but instead finds herself falling back in love with her husband? I thought it might be either of those stories, at one point or another, but instead, I started to see this story for what it really was.

It was quite an ordinary love story, actually. A woman falls in love with the second great love of her life.

You know, probably most of us don't marry our first love. The guy you were in love with in high school, at seventeen, or eighteen, did you marry him? I didn't marry mine. Most of the people I know didn't marry theirs. And that doesn't mean that first love wasn't real love, and it doesn't mean it wasn't special for what it was - it just maybe wasn't cut out to last. Of course, some people do marry that first love, and sometimes it works. I've written some of those stories too (Claire and Andy Bradshaw, Violet and Orion Deppiesse, and I know you all are hoping Dallas and Lucy might end up in this category, lol!).

The more time she and Corbin spent together, instead of finding it was just a surface-level infatuation, instead of finding it was just a crush, they actually found substance to hold on to. And a lot of it. They matched. They suited each other, and not just well, but almost perfectly. And it brought to light for her all the ways Matt didn't suit her, all the things she was missing in her life with him.

So then I saw this story for the glorious train wreck of a story it really was. What if a woman did marry that first love, the practice love? And what if in her case, he wasn't the one she was meant to grow old with? Then what if she still met her soul mate when she was older, the one she was meant to be with? What would she do? What would she do about those obligations and promises? About her family, her children, the future she promised that first love? Would it just be tough shit, and deal with the choices she made? Or would she have to make her apologies and change course? What would it be like for Matt to have an entire future wiped clean? And what would it be like for Leila to have to shoulder having caused that mess?

A lot of things could have happened that would have changed the outcome of this story. If she hadn't actually fallen for Corbin as much as she did, or if he hadn't loved her back, or if they hadn't been so right for each other, or so good for each other, then maybe her marriage with Matt could have been salvaged in the end.

But that's the thing about first-drafting, especially in these long and open-ended stories - I might have given the mistaken impression, early on, that this was going to be a certain kind of story, but then it turned out not to be after all. There are plenty of stories out there about troubled marriages where the woman falls back in love with her husband at the end, and they live happily ever after. This isn't one of them.

And I have to say that for me at least, this story has grown on me for the glorious train-wreck that it is, rather than what I thought it was going to be, and rather than what I know some of you wanted it to be. I held it up in front of my eyes, this terrible wreck of a story, and it wasn't black, and it wasn't white, but instead, it was the most beautiful shade of gray I'd ever seen. I tried to capture some of that gray in the ending here, but a lot of it will take more space and time to tell. But that's why it captured my heart, and why I wanted to let it be this beautiful shade of gray that it's meant to be.

I said this once before (I said it about people, but it applies to stories too, I suppose), and so I'll say it again: you can only be who you are, and own it, and love it. Some people will love you for it, and some people won't. But it's all you can do.

So if a story needs to be a beautiful train-wreck of a story, you just have to let it be. Some people will love it, and some people won't. But it's all you can do.

on what I did wrong:

I can't help but feel like I did some parts of this story really wrong. For one, I skipped over almost the entire phase of Corbin and Leila's whole friendship/flirtation in the LH version. So I tried to do the whole flashback thing in later stories, to show you some of what was missed the first time around. I'm not sure if that was a success or not. Maybe it worked. But point being, it didn't work as well as I think it could have.

And then I'd hinted far too subtly and for far too long about Matt and Leila's marriage, what was missing from it, and what had gone wrong. In fact, for probably 60% of the story, I didn't even know myself. It wasn't until late in the "fish and the bird" set that I tried to hint at some of these things, like how Matt was reacting more to the loss of her as "his wife" than losing her specifically as a person. Even then it was subtle though, and I guess sometimes subtle doesn't work, lol!

And really, how was I supposed to sell you on the fact that this woman is going to leave her husband, without either explaining what when wrong with her marriage, or what she saw in Corbin that made her realize it?

So really, I don't blame you all for feeling so frustrated over this one, lol!

who was the fish and who was the bird?

I think I said this once in the comments, maybe, but for anyone who missed it. For the record, Matt was the fish, and Leila was the bird. They genuinely loved each other, and they tried to live together, but each of them ended up "drowning" the other. So instead, they'll live alongside each other (and maybe even continue to love each other, in their own way), the fish in the water, and the bird in the air. With their three adorable little penguin children? lol!

on what comes next:

What you've seen here is sort of the prequel to what the novel will be about. There is a lot left of this story still, but it's not something I want to include in this blog anymore. It's too overpowering. It needs too much emotional space. And if I want to be truthful about it, it's going to be a dark and ugly story in places, and I really don't think it belongs here on the blog that way. I miss the light and fun shenanigans these LH families used to get up to, and the continuation of this story needs to be taken more seriously than that. It needs to be given the proper room to grow.

So that's what I'll do. I'm already first-drafting pieces of it, though the end product is still a long ways off. After first and second-drafting, beta-reading and editing and the whole ordeal, I think you'll probably be able to expect it in the summer or fall of 2014.

and some extras?!?

This was just a simple refresh for Jack and Nessa's bedroom, which I kind of liked, even despite it being so monotone, lol!

Guests at the party.

Ummm, random dude caught in the bathroom with the door open?

I think the expression on his face says it all.

This was one of the first test shots I did with them, not on the right property, but it was cute, so I saved it. Sim Corbin smiled like that all on his own once I got them posed and I was like, Awww. (I'm a dork, I know.)

This is why I feel so inclined to at least try a TS3 version of this hood. What's the point of building a seamless neighborhood like I have here, if the background buildings look so crappy?

My plans are to try that out this summer, by the way. I'll build some of the neighborhood, and try out some test Sims, and we can all decide whether they pass the test or not ;)

Background problems again in this one.

But mostly, just a random pose I found funny. Corbin seems quite content there with his hands full of ass!

Too many bedroom shots to include.

Strategically placed arms ;)

The End! (You know, kind of.)

poll: how long would it be before Leila and Corbin ended up in bed together?

2011-04-04T17:44:00.005-04:00

The question was, after Leila made contact with Corbin, how long would it be before they ended up in bed together???

Only 2 votes (2%) of you thought they'd wait a year or two.

The votes for less than six months were pretty equally split, with 12 votes (13%) going to one week, 8 votes (8%) going to one month, 9 votes (10%) going to three months, and 13 votes (14%) going to six months.

Quite a lot of you pessimists didn't figure they'd ever make it happen - 18 votes (20%), lol!

But most of you, 27 votes (30%) said, "dude, who said anything about needing a bed?"

You know these stories well! But alas...

It did in fact happen in a bed. And at about one week after she called him. Granted they only have about nine days left together, so let's not hold that against them too much? ;)

***

next poll: which is the most compelling family feud??? You can judge "compelling" however you like, whether it be the one you're most interested in, or the one you feel most sympathy for, or whatever!

This poll also ties into the family feud ROS, which will take place in one of the selected stories ;)

a dozen simple truths, part 2

2011-03-24T23:58:00.000-04:00

December 28, 2083 - Leila Watts is 28, Corbin Gray is 32.

* warning: 1st person narration, Leila speaking ;) *

Soundtrack: "Sweet and Low," by Augustana.

Nessa and I served the wine. I drank half a glass, trying to soothe my nerves but it only made my face flush hot. Corbin was here still. We made our way around each other at the party, keeping a respectful distance, wanting to talk, clearly wanting to talk, but I didn't know how. He was the only one at this party I even wanted to talk to at all.

He stepped up to the tray of wine where I was standing - he didn't drink, and so he grabbed a plate of snacks instead. We brushed past each other like this, making eye contact in haste over that bowl of pretzels again and again.

I set down my wine glass, and while Jack and Nessa were still entertaining guests in the kitchen, I followed Corbin out into the living room. We weren't alone there, but we didn't know these guests either - or maybe they knew us, but I didn't care. I couldn't care. He was surprised when I took his hand and pulled him outside the front door to the street.

I led him around the side of the front stoop, but we were still in view of the large front windows. He stared at me, the streetlights in his eyes, wide and stunned. It was cold, and my breath puffed out in front of me. "Please talk to me," I said. "You're leaving? Weren't you going to tell me?"

"What was there to tell? You said it was over."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I was wrong."

He crossed his arms tight over his chest. I would have liked to say it was because of the cold, but it felt more like a barrier. "And your marriage? You said you had to try for your family."

"It didn't work," I said. "I couldn't forget you." But even that wasn't the whole truth. "I didn't want to forget you."

"I needed a breather," he said. "It's a semester. I want to see my parents. Amelia and Drew are having a baby this fall, and I told her I'd be back before September. I promised her dad I'd look out for them."

"You're coming back for Amelia?"

"Yes," he said. "I am. What do you want me to say? I heard nothing from you. All that time, and I had nothing except this letter, and you said it was over. What did I have to stay for?" He demonstrated wildly with his hands, pointing at me, pointing back to himself, raising them to the sky and letting them fall exhausted to his side. " All I knew," he said, "Was that you were the one with the husband, and the family, and you have all these choices to make. I have no choices. I just love you. I didn't know what I was supposed to do with that."

"You don't hate me?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not hate." He blushed a bit and said again, calmer this time, "I love you."

I reached out to his hand first, and he took my naked ringless hand into his own. He held it in his palm, his thumb finding the spot where my ring used to be.

"We're getting divorced," I said.

"I didn't know that."

"And you wouldn't be going, if you knew that?"

He didn't answer my question. "It's already done," he said. "The paperwork is filed. I have someone subleasing my apartment."

"How long do you have?"

"Nine days," he said.

I started to cry then. Maybe I should have cried sooner, because it seemed to soften his resolve. "But I do love you," I said. "And I feel like I haven't been able to be myself my whole life, I don't even know what that self is at all, but I feel like you know her, somehow, and when I'm with you, I can be her. And I just miss you. Every day I miss you. I miss you so much. I want to promise you something, but my promises are no good."

"You don't have to promise me anything," he said.

He folded me into his arms like he was holding a damaged bird - nothing at all like the awkward and clumsy hugs I used to steal from him after yoga class. I sniffled into his chest, breathing in the scent of him, warm lemongrass. He bent his face to my hair, and I felt him kiss the top of my head. I closed my eyes and it filled me. I let it fill me, all those voids, all the gaps, all the spaces left unreached, he filled them. He never even had to try.

My teeth chattered from the cold. Or maybe it was from the crying.

"It's okay," he said. "It's just a semester, it's just five months. It's not forever."

He looked away from me then, and I followed his gaze to the front door. By the time I'd looked, I could only see Jack's form walking away from the windows. "We should go somewhere," Corbin said. "Anywhere. Not here."

We had to go back inside to say goodnight. Our coats, and my purse and car keys were inside anyway.

Nessa was the first to see us together. Then Jack soon after. Jack wasn't so much startled at that point, but was speechless instead. I imagined he must wonder how he would tell Matt, because no doubt, he would. He looked at the two of us as the pieces came together. He stared mostly at Corbin. "It was you?"

I hadn't thought about it, what this would mean to his friendship with Jack. And as he stood next to me, in front of Jack, I didn't know what he would do. It hadn't been the scandalous affair they were all thinking, but it had been something. Would he deny it, or shrug it off? Would he say it was nothing, or that it wasn't what they all thought? All the faces in the room started to turn, one by one, and I felt like shrinking. All those eyes felt like heat.

But Corbin reached out to touch the small of my back. "Yes," he said.

There were whispers in the room. There were eyes on us, I was sure of it, but I couldn't feel their heat. I only felt his hand on my back, holding me there, rubbing with his thumb. His voice was hushed. "Get your keys, Leila."

Nessa brought over our coats and my purse. Her eyes were far kinder than they needed to be. "You don't have to go," she said.

"I'm sorry, I think we probably should," I said. "Thank you for having us."

***

Drive somewhere, I thought. Anywhere to get us out of there. He had walked to the party, so he got into the passenger side, and we drove. Really we just wanted to sit and talk, so I parked in the lot of his building.

We sat in my car and I reached over to hold his hand. I turned his palm over and traced the lines. I remembered all of their names at one point, but I'd forgotten what they all meant. "Your head line is stronger than your heart line," I said. "Do you believe that stuff?"

He picked up my hand and kissed it lightly. "What do you think it means?"

It meant I was scared. Because this, running away, is just what he did. So he said he was coming back? But a promise is only best intentions with no ground to rest on. He might intend to come back - right now, he might. He could say it and mean it, but any number of things could happen. Any number of reasons might change his mind. I knew better than anyone that people change their minds about promises all the time.

But I didn't want to think about that. So I just smiled. "Are you going to take me in there or what?"

"Are you sure?" he asked. "You know what happened the last time we were in there together?

"Yes, I know," I said, grinning wide.

He reached out a fingertip, ran it along my smiling lips. "I missed this," he said.

He leaned over to kiss me. Not like the first time we kissed, like we might have drank each other alive, but slow, like we might stretch it out forever, like we might actually stop time after all. Time could go on, if it must, and we would ignore it.

But we stopped kissing long enough to get ourselves inside his apartment, and we started kissing again.

We stood in the middle of his living room, barely able to stand. My knees felt weak - and that, I learned, wasn't just a saying after all. It really does happen.

His fingers gathered the shirt at my back, his warm hands snuck underneath. I should have been nervous, but I think I was too heartbroken to be nervous. It felt like heartbreak anyway, and I wasn't sure if it was exactly. It might have been more like so much emotion, so much ache, so much love that it hurt.

I knew now, that feeling was my heart. It was a tiny voice coming up from that place I had stuffed down so far. It was screaming at me, This is your life, and it's the only one you have.

My head had been so full of all the whys and why nots, the shoulds and the shouldn'ts, all the reasons and rules and expectations. But right here, a dozen simple truths all faded into the background. In my heart, there was only ever one truth, and around it, all the other truths just crumbled.

The way we made love was like we might actually stop time. Not like the first time we tried - in so much haste, like we were starved. This time, I didn't feel starved. I felt like if we kissed slow enough, if we took our time sliding off his shirt, if he took his time unbuttoning my pants, if we came together so slowly right now, if we could make it last, then maybe we might actually put this night on pause, and that the next nine days might never come to take him away.

But time did not stop, even as much as I tried, because after so many months of stolen touches, now we were here, together, with his hands pressed firm to my skin, my mouth on his and the ache of so much love filled us to the point of bursting.

We collapsed together, slid apart only enough to lay side by side.

He traced vague shapes with his fingertips on my hip. "How do you feel?"

I think I had made it pretty clear how he just made me feel, so I could only guess he meant, was this worth it? Was it worth all the mess and all the trouble? Could I have known that so soon? All I knew was that in that one stopped moment, I had no regrets. Not a single one.

"I feel perfect," I said.

There was a clock on his night stand behind me that I couldn't see, but I could hear its motors moving, counting the seconds. Time began ticking again. I told Matt I'd be back to take the kids before midnight. I hadn't been out like this, on my own, in so long. Maybe ever. I felt like a girl again, out on a Saturday night, counting down the minutes until curfew. Maybe I could start over, do it differently this time. Maybe I could rearrange history. Except that I wasn't a girl, and my car outside had three carseats in the back, and in nine days he would be thousands of miles away. Time doesn't count back, and it can't be rewritten. It only ticks forward, forward, forward.

I curled myself closer to him, running my fingers along the slight new stubble on his shaved chin.

I wasn't supposed to meet him yet. Sooner, maybe, if I had gone to college. Or maybe later after this was all resolved. Not when we did. I remembered the first night I met him, when he found out I was married, he looked at me like he was disappointed, like why did I have to go and do that? Like I was supposed to wait for him, and I didn't. Did I mess it all up for everyone?

"I wonder sometimes if it was all supposed to work out like this." Not just tonight, I meant, but maybe the whole of the last twelve years.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'd like to say it was more noble than it is, but it isn't. I just needed a breather is all."

"And do you still need a breather?"

"Maybe not like I first thought," he said. "But I think you need one, so this will be okay. I'm booked to teach two philosophy classes in Portland this spring, and you can take some time to heal."

I didn't cry then, but I felt the swell in my throat, the glaze over my eyes and I blinked them dry again.

"The release is good for you," he said. "There's a spot-"

He rolled my body up on top of his, reached around to touch my back. "It releases natural endorphins, they induce happiness." His fingers pressed into my skin and a tingle shot through my muscles, through my back, put goosebumps on my arms and a light shiver through my body.

For me at least, it was him that induced happiness. "Is that why they all keep coming back to you?"

His smile was humble. "I can see you again at spring break," he said. "And you can call me whenever you need to."

"And you'll answer this time?"

"Of course I will," he said. "This will be okay."

He kept saying that - it would be okay. But I knew him, and I knew the world didn't seem as big a place to him as it did to everyone else. People and hearts, he once told me, they continue to exist, whether they're in the same place or not. And hadn't we proven that much already?

But still, my world was very small, and it was here, with my kids, and the house that would be mine next month, and my friends, and my business, and my angry ex-husband. It was all right here. "I need you to come back," I said.

He didn't say it was okay this time. His smile was somber and he touched my cheek. "I will. I promise."

My promises were no good - only best intentions with no ground to rest on, but I knew he didn't make promises lightly. And at a time when I didn't know how much faith I had left in me, it felt like something to believe in.

We dressed and he walked me to my car. He kissed me goodnight there, held my hands as we stood beside the three empty car seats in the back. This mess we made, some day, it would be worth it all. I couldn't promise that, but it was something I felt in my heart. Because if my life was a series of photographs, each one so necessary and important, then I didn't want to regret a single one of them. And I didn't want to regret the ones that should have been there, but weren't, the ones left unfinished because I was too afraid, or too sorry, or because it didn't fall into somebody else's plan for what my life should look like.

The highway back to Bluewater, back to my angry soon ex-husband and our beautiful children and my messed up life, was long and impossibly dark, but it had never felt more refreshing. I didn't think I had any faith left in me, but somehow my skin, my lips, my heart was full of promise again.

So I would pray for us all, even though I didn't know if I believed in God. I would believe in promises again, even if only because I had to. And when our hearts were breaking and we didn't know if we could take it, I knew we would take it anyway. Because all the pain and the panic and the hurt, all those terrible moments that we thought felt like death - they weren't death at all. They were never death.

What we hadn't known was that we were only being reborn.

"Hold me down,
sweet and low,
and I will carry you home."
- Augustana

*******

a dozen simple truths, part 1

2011-03-15T00:43:00.004-04:00

December 28, 2083 - Leila Watts is 28, Nessa Phoenix is 33.

* warning: 1st person narration, Leila speaking ;) *

Soundtrack: "Sweet and Low," by Augustana.

Sometimes I remember my life like it was a series of photos. Each of these moments, if you laid them one next to the other, that if you scrolled through them like a film reel, could make up the whole of my time on this planet. This house, this farm, the street that ran between my home and Charlotte's, the church down the road where we both got married. At the start of all this, the photos didn't make much sense, but I could see it now, the patterns, the way they fit together, the places they seemed to fall off course.

Matt was sleeping at Charlotte and Paul's for now, on a mattress on the floor in their spare room. It would have to do. When he started up the farm work again in a couple months, I would need to be home with the kids in the days. I had a house in mind, not very far away from where we were now. Small, but it had three bedrooms and a yard. I'd spoken with a realtor the Monday after Christmas.

And I was prepared to accept that at least for now, he couldn't stand the sight of me. He couldn't stand to be in the same room. Maybe that would be my punishment, and I would live with it. The penance for my sins. I would atone them, and some day he might set me free. That day wouldn't be soon, and I understood that too.

The long drive to the city was therapeutic. I didn't get enough time alone - I hadn't had time alone since I was a girl, fifteen, my eyes bright and wide open to my own future. I never would have guessed any of this, had you asked me then. I couldn't have seen it if I tried.

We hadn't seen Jack and Nessa in too long. And now she was sick. Matt told me she was sick, and I wanted to see her. He wanted to see Jack. He said, "I don't think we could manage not to fight all night. I don't think you could put aside all that disappointment." I wasn't the disappointed one, but I didn't say it. I tried to let him have his opinions. I didn't want to fight with him; I just wanted to move on. So I would just turn my head from the anger in his eyes. "Fine, you go," he said. "I don't know what I'd do there anyway."

So I went. And I brought a quilt and a teddy bear for Aaron, whom I hadn't even met except in a birth announcement.

Jack avoided me for most of the night. He was uneasy with me here, and I knew it. He'd been friends with Matt since college, even longer than I'd known Matt myself. There are loyalties there - Matt should have been at this party and not me. The way he saw it, I shouldn't have been breaking up his friend's marriage at all.

But wasn't Nessa more important than any of that? I still remembered that she and Jack had been some of the very few people at our wedding. And that I'd been at hers. And now, if she was sick, if this party was what she wanted, not a Christmas party, not a New Year's Eve party, but a simple, no-pressure, generic holiday party, then I wanted to be here for her. I would have put aside my hostilities if he would. But he wouldn't.

Nessa took me around the crowded room and introduced me to all of their other friends. She took me by the arm, and made sure I'd met everyone. I didn't know any of them. All these people with college degrees and career jobs in the city, but I tried to blend in with them. I put on my best act. And when they asked, "What do you do?" I didn't say I was a mom, I said I was a seamstress, and they nodded. They got it. I kept up with my current events and I read more than the average working professional. I could hold a stimulating conversation. I wasn't just smart, Corbin used to tell me; I was fascinating. Matt never saw that about me.

Lara was one of their friends, a mother of two, the same ages of my own children. She knew too much. They'd all been talking about it. I figured Matt had told Jack, but somehow they all knew, that we were getting divorced, that I'd cheated on him. But that wasn't even what it was. That wasn't even what I'd done at all. Or at least it hadn't felt that scandalous.

It was so overwhelming sometimes I could have cried. I did cry, too much. It came up at the oddest times.

I left the living room, in search of a bathroom. In an empty hallway, the guest bathroom was occupied. My eyes started to burn with embarrassment, with shame. I found a bedroom, someone's bedroom, and the master bathroom inside.

I turned on the light and splashed my face with water, cool and awakening. I washed my hands, my naked ringless hand, with its deep grove worn in from ten years of wear.

I had taken off my wedding ring that morning. Four days after he'd thrown his onto the floor where I sat. He couldn't bring himself to put aside the hostility. It ate at any scrap of civility we might have had left. We were dead already, and it only picked at our bones. All the things he must have said about me to these people. I tried to tell myself that he didn't really mean all of this. I knew what this was; a man who is losing becomes a very different creature.

I steadied myself on the sink, my arms shaking lightly. There was a knock at the door. "Sorry," I said. "I'm done in here."

I'd left the door a crack open and Nessa's voice peeked through. "Can I come in?"

"Sorry, I shouldn't be in here," I said. "I just needed-" What did I need? I needed the quiet, needed to be alone, I needed a whole-life re-do?

"You okay?" Nessa handed me a clean towel from a cabinet.

I shook my head. "Oh, please don't worry about me. Nobody needs to worry about me."

We'd barely spoken many words to each other in these years, but we knew so much about each other through our husbands.

Nessa patted her hair, looking into the mirror. "It looks terrible, doesn't it? It looks fake."

"No, it's not bad," I said. It didn't look fake so much as it just didn't look like hers. Because it wasn't. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Nessa said, turning around. "Fine right now. A little tired. I just finished this round of chemo, and they'll check again in a few weeks. But this is good. It's good to see you again."

She turned around and I tried to smile for her. I was sure it didn't work.

"Jack told me," she said. "I'm so sorry. I never would have thought it'd be you guys."

I nodded. Sorry. It felt strange. I should be the sorry one. I wasn't sure what she knew, or if she knew what everyone else seemed to know. Corbin hadn't called back. First it was Christmas, so I waited, then it was a few days. I hadn't specifically asked him to call me back. Maybe he never got the message at all. Maybe he hated me to death. I wouldn't have blamed him. "I didn't mean to," I said. I felt like a child, pleading my case. I lowered my face and waited for my lecture.

"I get it," she said. Her eyes were soft, sympathetic, tilting her head again gently. "Jack was engaged when we met. We couldn't help it either. Sometimes you just can't see it coming, and the heart just knows what it wants."

She had no obligation to either of us. Jack did. Jack was Matt's friend. Nessa was a neutral party, and I appreciated it so much. I was grateful.

I hugged her lightly. I didn't know if there was a certain etiquette in hugging a sick woman. Her skin felt hot and her synthetic hair smelled like baby powder. "Thank you," I said.

Nessa led us both back out to the living room then. I would hang on her arm tonight. I would help her get snacks and serve some more wine, and meet anyone else she might want me to meet. We parted through the sea of warm bodies toward the kitchen.

Nessa stopped. "Oh, you haven't met Corbin yet."

And there he was. I stalled where I stood. But he saw me. His eyes, and mine, met with a feeling of gravity, of fear, though I didn't know exactly what we were afraid of. How was this possible, he and I, standing here, when everybody knew everything there was to know about the destruction of my marriage, and yet nobody knew what this was?

Matt had asked everything about him. Except for his name.

The two of them stopped talking as we approached. Corbin looked poised to flee, but Nessa took my arm. And Jack spoke up, "Corbin, this is my buddy's wife, Leila." Then Jack turned to me. "And Leila, Corbin teaches at the university. For now. He's transferring to Portland State next month though."

Ex-wife, I wanted to say, but instead I was only thinking, Portland. I winced, mouthing that word, not even sure if I had spoken it out loud. I was so foolish, to think he would stay just the way I left him, as if I could put him on pause, capture him a photo and keep him pinned to a cork board to take back down again later. I'd broken his heart. I'd seen the life drain from his eyes that night, and two months is a very long time. He'd even cut off his hair.

He reached out to me, his palm open, and I placed mine in his. At our contact, I gasped, and in that split second I could see his eyes, so honest and clear, fill with sadness. "Pleasure to meet you, Leila," he said.

With his hand still wrapped around mine, I tried to smile, but I only felt so much regret. He never called back. It was only days, but still, I hoped he would, and now I knew why. Four seconds, the length of time it takes for a wife to kiss her husband, he and I stood there in that room and nobody knew it, how large it had been, how important. If the photographs of my life had been laid out one next to another next to another, the ones I shared with him would have flashed through my hands brightly and far too fast.

He let go of my hand then, and I couldn't move. I was paralyzed. No, I wanted to say. Not yet. I wasn't ready to let go, but he did. My hand hung there, retreating back, a slight tremble in my fingers. Four whole seconds the two of us stood there as if we could actually stop time and stay right there in that moment.

But time didn't stop, and we couldn't either.

Jack finally started their conversation again, and before I knew it, Nessa pulled me away and whisked us off to the kitchen to serve the wine.

I could still feel his hand around mine. I tried to shake it out, but I could only hold it to my chest as if damaged. All this time I had tried so hard to shake him, but he would never shake. It was impossible. It took me too long to realize that he was never meant to be shaken at all.

*******

notes: to be continued ;)

author's note: on endings, and on the future

2011-03-14T12:13:00.000-04:00

This made me laugh. Do you guys remember that one where Lara had a crush on Leila?

Bwahahaha! And you though Leila was gonna end up with a man? lol!

Just kidding. Unfortunately for Lara, Leila doesn't swing that way ;)

I almost have the next update ready - just need a couple more pics, one of them involving a *very* specific pose that cannot be compromised, and it's kind of driving me a little crazy. But I have some other work to do as well, so maybe I'll try again tonight, or maybe tomorrow. Soon though!

on endings:

I just wanted to put up a small note about the fish and the bird storyline, and how we're coming up on the end of it here in this blog. There are two more updates (really, one story, split into two parts), and that brings us to a natural ending point.

Is it THE END? No, of course not. And I do feel badly about the few threads that will remain unanswered here. But THE END, as I imagine it, with all the loose strings tied up, probably happens a good four or five years in the future. And given the structure of LH as a whole, we just don't skip around in time like that.

But what I have here in the next story is an ending, and I hope it will be a satisfying one.

There are more stories to tell with these characters though, and that's why I'm writing a novel about them. There's more freedom that way, more room to dig deeper into the story without overwhelming the other stories here in LH. We have to admit, Leila has been a bit of a story hog as of late, lol! The same could be said of Jodie and Amelia.

There may still be cameos from time to time. Corbin will probably still show up in Justin's story. Jodie and Amelia will still show up in Piper's story. (That one is gonna boggle my mind, because novel Piper is quite different from LH Piper - I'll just have to think of them as different characters...) Nobody is moving away. And you'll still get to meet Amelia and Drew's baby when it's born!

I've also decided that I will not need to remove any of the stories already posted here on the blog, so those will remain for as long as I continue to pay my hosting bill ;)

on the future:

I wanted to thank you all for your patience during this little break, while I tried out about a million new projects and got my head screwed back on straight. I have a lot in the works, and I'm very excited about it all. I'm not quite ready to make any bold announcements yet, but check in around April time, and I might have a real announcement to make.

And now specifically on the future of Lakeside Heights. The best thing about this story is that I'm not sure if it will ever really end, in a big fat THE END kind of way. Instead, it transforms as I need it to transform. And that's what makes it so much fun for me, I think. It can always be exactly what I need it to be. It's my play story, and so I play with it. I'm not sure how you all manage to follow this glorious mess, but I'm so very happy that you do! It wouldn't be so much fun without you all! :)

So. I have the rest of this season written, and the next two seasons being drafted. I have stories coming up this spring from the whole Phoenix family, and many characters we haven't heard from in a very long time. By summertime, I should be finishing up our current season (OMG, it was long!), which includes stories from Justin and Stephanie, and Lucy and Sarah!!!

And then we're through this season and ready to start another, full of fun stories from April and Beau, Summer, Keri and the rest of the soldiers on base, Lucy and Dallas, and Melissa! Don't you guys miss Melissa!?!

I guess, what I really want to say is that Lakeside Heights has a bright future ahead of it still, even if I keep stealing off characters for my novels, lol! Believe me, I have enough novel material for at least the next five years (no joke!), so I won't be needing to steal any more any time soon.

and on the topic of TS3:

If I ever get around to buying it (which I swear, I really do intend to, lol!), I'll probably try to recreate LH and continue as is. It may be that TS4 is out by that point. But you know, whatever ;)

sneak peek: the terrarium

2011-02-28T23:09:00.000-05:00

I know this is far too lame to be considered an update, but some people wanted to see my start on the terrarium, so here it is! ;)

It's a small-ish room in the lunar base. It's meant to be like something like you'd find in a rainforest exhibit at a zoo - fully enclosed, climate controlled, humidity and rain, plants and trees, fish, frogs, birds. Sims don't have frogs, so we'll just have to use our imaginations ;)

I've only just gotten a start on it here. I need much, MUCH more vegetation still! I've only had an hour or two to spend on it so far. But there are several trees so far, a fish pond, a few birds, and a few stone benches for the soldiers to come here and hang out with nature.

There's also a small plot of garden space to grow some vegetables.

The second level is just a balcony they can walk around. There are some benches up there too.

Here's Keri with one of the birds. There are two here...

And oops! She already let one of them out.

Dammit, Keri! lol! ;)

No really, I thought I had the doors locked for pets, but I guess the birds don't count?

extras, little bit of a teaser: the observation deck

2011-02-26T16:26:00.004-05:00

This isn't exactly an update - but this was an excerpt I used for my 52 weeks project this week, and it's something you guys haven't actually seen yet, so I guess that makes it a bit of a teaser ;)

A taste of stories to come! Enjoy!

"This part is my favorite," Keri says, leading her mother up the stairs to the observation deck. The room is gray and empty apart from a single row of metal chairs, just as gray as the room itself. It's quiet here, the only sound a slow whir of ventilation banks on the wall. And there, through one large pane of protected glass, is the Earth. Home in a flat black sky. "It feels better to see it sometimes," Keri tells her mother. "Then you don't feel so far away."

There's another soldier in the room, and he's quiet too. People rarely talk when they're here - not because they're not allowed, but just because it's better that way. Keri's mother stares out into the blackness, Earth in its three-quarters view. It takes some getting used to, that this isn't the moon in the sky you're looking at. It's the other way around.

"I'll show you the terrarium next," Keri says.

But her mother is stunned by the view. She's entranced. That's normal. Everyone is like that the first time. She finally turns, her eyes full of more wonder than Keri has ever seen in them, like she was a child and not the old woman she actually is. "I didn't know there was a terrarium."

"Yeah," Keri says. "There's birds and plants there too. And even rain sometimes. It doesn't smell like real rain though. I can tell the difference."

2083, postcards from the edge, and December extras...

2011-02-21T11:58:00.006-05:00

All work and no play for me these past couple weeks. But I do happen to have some funny gems saved up in my screenshots folder, so I thought I'd appease you all with some extras, outtakes, and updates from our supporting cast! ;)

And because you know you can never have too many pictures of angry Vicky! lol!

I didn't get a chance to work it into any stories this season, but Blossom and George were also married this fall. (recap: Blossom is the ex-girlfriend of Micah Buchanan, and George is the ex-boyfriend of both Charlotte Gallagher, and Jodie Larson. They've been dating a few years now, living in Lakeside Heights.) They rented out Deppiesse's Lakefront Bistro for the evening, and held the reception there as well.

And here it strikes me that these two can't even manage to take their wedding day seriously, lol!

With their wedding party, and "foster siblings," Vicky and Blair.

Blair and Amy have been dating about nine months now, and are still pretty crazy about each other. Not too bad for a young couple who hooked themselves up in a photo book at junior prom! ;)

Awww...

And during the reception, Vicky played some pool with this smarmy (yet dangerously smoking!) dude.

This one is Emmy's boyfriend Cyrus, by the way. The one she talked about here.

So yes, rather pretty. But not Vicky's type. Or at least, not the kind of guy you want to give up your v-card to, lol!

So angry... Maybe getting the poor girl laid would help? Just not with Cyrus. We'll have to find her somebody nicer, and younger, and maybe who hasn't slept with the whole town?

Next up, a quiet winter dinner with the Phoenix family. Sophie and Micah exhibit their undying affections for each other after 35 happy years. Hayden and Piper are just trying to eat their dinner.

Also, kitchen makeover!!! I might have shown you this already, but I can't remember. Back from when I was going crazy on all my kitchens with BuggyBooz stuff. This kitchen is also part Shoukeir stuff. It's all I need, people, I'm telling you! I never need to look at another CC site in my life! *heart-farts* lol!

Hayden and Piper, sneaking off for a quiet moment.

Piper is hardcore, for a little lady, lol!

And this was one of many photos I took of Bella and her family. You know how you get all these ideas in your head, with the best intentions? Well, I was going to make some posters with them to place around my neighborhood, but then I got too busy. I shared some of the pictures in my babble thread already, but here was one more I liked that I don't think made it out of my folder.

It's likely I'll never get around to doing those posters, with as much other work as I have to do. We'll leave the CC poster-making efforts up to other Simmers, I suppose.

Drew taking the garbage out, in his underwear, and this lady likes the view!

Approve!

And LOL, I just love the look of shock on his face! What do you expect, Drew, when you bend over outside in your little boxer-briefs like that? ;)

Drew finally released his first book of poetry this season. It got rave reviews, but such a skimpy paycheck.

Realistic though. It is poetry, after all. Nobody makes money in poetry!

And now - in which my Sims will read my mind.

We all know that Sim-Amelia couldn't really be mad at him for not telling her about the poem he published. But for some reason, as the rest of his family toasted him, she refused to participate, lol!

In fact, she got straight up from the table! Yes, folks, she was that mad, lol!

Oh, but he's just too cute to be mad at for very long.

An engagement photo at his uncle's house.

A quiet Sunday morning at home.

Bookish and comfy.

And now, moving over to Corbin's place. It seemed fitting that he would have a couple of toys there, for when they visit. And she was so excited to see this boat, lol!

Boat! She neeeeeds it!

She was a very happy baby.

True event - Justin drives all the way out to Lake City to play ding-dong-ditch, at 2:00 a.m., at Corbin's apartment. Best friends, people! lol!

Gratuitous shirtless Corbin spam for Kiri! :D

While I was trying to shoot Amelia and Drew's train station scene, Amelia's mom showed up. She's like, "Oh hey, guys. Wanna get some lunch? Do some shopping? Go see a movie or something?"

Sorry, Claire. No. We're working here.

ModifyNeighborhoodTerrain FAIL! LOL!

But it's okay, I worked it out. Now Bluewater Township is happily flat! :D

I hadn't played Violet's bookstore in a while, but I had fun giving it a little refresh, and setting up this little table of books for sale.

The poor, adorable Watts kids.

In which my Sims read my mind, part 2: I had this story completely written before I sent Amelia into Leila's store to shoot the pictures for it. But Sim-Amelia read my mind, and Leila was indeed the first person to hear about her pregnancy.

Oddly, they also talked about divorce! I found that strange though because usually you don't get a divorce conversation unless one of the Sims has been divorced, or knows someone who has. Sim Leila obviously has no idea she's about to get divorced, and Sim Amelia doesn't know anyone personally who's been divorced either, so I found this speech bubble fascinating.

And finally, shall we demonstrate what poor Matt had to compete against?

Leila begs, "Can I call him now?"

"Or how about now?"

"Now?"

"Please? Just a date? Just a couple hours?"

"Pretty, pretty, please? Can I call him now?"

And we know what she wants to do with him too! ;)

"Please!" she begs. "Can I call him yet!?!"

Whoa, girl! Let's slow down a bit? At least she also realizes that this is a bad idea?

Run for the hills, Corbin! She's got an ovary with your name on it!

And is it just me, or does she always look like she's up to no good? Always that sketchy sideways glance, and smile full of trouble. See? She's thinking dirty thoughts, you just know it! ;)

***

More LH stories will be coming up in a few weeks! I may try to work in some more spammy stuff in between now and then though.

Be well everyone! :)

ghost from a wishing well, part 4

2011-02-08T23:10:00.007-05:00

December 24, 2083 - Matt Watts is 32, Leila is 28, Felicity is 5, Hunter and Flint are 2.

* box of tissues warning *

Soundtrack: "If You Could Read My Mind," as performed by Johnny Cash.

Matt always loved the fireplace. When Felicity was a baby, this is what he and Leila used to do, light a fire and spend the night sitting in front of it. He thought they both enjoyed it. She would talk, and he would listen, and now he's sorry that he never had anything to say back to her. But it was enough for him, the timbre of her voice, lyrical and clear, the crackle of the fire, the rustic smell of wood burning, as close to the earth as it gets. It was all he ever needed.

One night, in one of those first tumultuous weeks after it all came out, they were sat in front of a fire just like this. The silence between them was almost comfortable, the way a fight fades and loses momentum, the way anger dissolves into apathy. So they sat in front of the fire, trying to summon a conversation but finding so little to talk about beyond what their children did that day. He tried to reach to her, and at their contact, she jumped back like a shiver.

After a minute, he tried again. He reached out to her, and this time, she eased into it. And so did he. He pulled her close, and for a moment they settled there. Until he caught a glimpse of her eyes - behind the reflection of firelight on their glassy surface, underneath, they were lost and full of so much despair. It gutted him. He couldn't stand the sight of it, so he pulled her cheek to his shoulder and forgot it was there.

Matt isn't a stupid man. Even if he isn't as worldly or well-studied as she is, he's never felt stupid. His intelligence is a very rigid thing. When he was in college, he studied accounting. There is no exploration of ideas there. There's no abstract. There's fact and rule and process. And now what Leila wants is discussion and debate and exploration and wide open ideas. He isn't built to give her that. He never was, and he never will be.

It's not like he doesn't know what she needs. It's not like he hasn't tried to be these things before. He has tried, and it drains him. He is not a bold and opinionated man. He never wanted to be. And what he is isn't something she's looking for. What he is isn't this man she's fallen in love with.

After it all came out, Matt wanted to know every last detail about him. Who is he? What does he do? Is he tall? Is he smart? Does she find him attractive? Does he believe in God?

She told him everything. He's a teacher, passionate and well-traveled. Yes, he's attractive, fairly tall, very smart. But what on earth does God have to do with this?

"Does he love you?" Matt asked.

"I think so," she said.

"You think so? You mean, you don't actually know? All this, for you think so."

On some level, he knew it all along. She fell in love, and he watched it happen. He felt her going, and he never knew how to stop it. There was never a choice for him to make. He'd almost rather she just fucked him, because at least then he could forgive her for something.

But instead there was nothing to forgive, and no way to fix what's broken.

It's Christmas Eve, and the season's first thick snowfall covers the fields in white. The trees have gone into hibernation, the land is frozen over, sleeping for the winter and so very still. He could crack the surface of the lake to fish if he needed to, but their freezer is already stocked full of fresh vegetables and fish. They don't need anything. He's always made sure they had plenty.

And with the harvest all finished, with the excess of his crop all sold off, all there is to do is spend time with his family, play with his children in the snow, and sit with his wife in front of the fire. He's always cherished these cold and cozy months.

"Come look, Daddy," Felicity shouts, her little voice filled with excitement.

She's built a snowman with her mother, and the neighbor boy from down the street. Matt should be beaming, but instead, he can't feel anything. The falsehood of this life, for months, for years, has become maddening. But he's learned to do what his wife does. He puts on a smile for his daughter. He plays his part.

Life goes on. That's the problem.

Leila's whole life changed last summer, right in front of his eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it. Her whole life changed, and his stayed exactly the same. And now there are parts of her he can't reach - in honesty, there were parts of her he could never reach. She lived in her head, in her books, on the sidelines of his life, coming to meet him occasionally.

He could never match her in passion or intensity. How Matt loves is like a rock, and what he needs is a woman who will be as devoted to him as he is for her. And Leila can't be that for him. Maybe she couldn't be that for anyone. She lives with a passion that lights up the world. It's too much for him.

But it's also what drew him to her in the beginning. At a time when his life was dark, she burned with the heat of sunlight. And that was what he needed then.

She was the only family he had when his parents died. He can hardly remember them sometimes. He was away at college when he heard about the accident. That was the first time the whole reality of his life was wiped clean. And maybe it was his fault too they rushed into this marriage so fast. All he had of his family was gone. He was alone, and he just wanted something real and stable to hold on to. And she seemed so willing. So he took her, and he held her, and he kept her, and he took care of her. He loved her, in his own way. And in her own way, she loved him too.

He thought they could be happy. And for a time, they really were. And now it's not enough.

Were his mistakes so unforgivable that he deserves to have his whole future wiped clean?

The weight of it is unbearable, hanging over him like a guillotine, heavy and glinting in the cold winter light.

***

He pours himself a whiskey, he swallows it and pours another, his throat still burning from the first. The burn feels good. Because in reality, it's Christmas Eve, and she's in their living room, wrapping their children's presents for the morning. It's almost scenic, how the firelight glows on her skin, and the complete falsehood of this family is just too much for him to take.

When she looks at him - every time she looks at him - there's a smile on her lips but her eyes are full of so much despair. At some point, it became too late. He wonders when it was they crossed that line, or if there was ever really a line at all. He can't stand the sight of her eyes anymore; they feel like death.

He sits down on the couch, across from where she sits on the floor.

The full reality of this despair fills his mind, and the ring of silence in his ears is deafening. "Just say it."

She seems to know exactly what he's talking about. "It's Christmas Eve," she says.

"It doesn't matter," he says. "Just say it. I'm not going to sit here for six more months while you decide how to chop it apart. Just do it. I need you to say it now."

She breathes slowly. "Okay," she says. "I'm sorry. I can't be your wife anymore."

There. A whole union, the promise of a whole future, cut clean in one swipe. There's a swell in his throat. He can't speak, but he's listening.

Her voice is calm and resolved. "I never wanted to hurt anyone like I have. But I can't keep doing this. And I hope you'll believe that it wasn't your fault, you didn't do anything wrong, and you're perfect exactly the way you are."

"But not perfect for you."

She shakes her head. "I'm not perfect for you either. And you know it."

He takes and exhales a quick breath. "You'd take my kids?"

"No," she says. "I would never. We'll raise them together, I think we could still, or I hope. I'd want to be nearby. And we both still need to work, so you can see them every evening if you want, just like we've been doing. I hoped we could stay friends. Because right now, we're friends, right? For a long time we've been just friends."

"Friends," he says. His laugh is sharp, and she flinches at it. He just doesn't know how to be her friend right now. Not when every idea he ever had for his future is being wiped clean. Not when he's almost thirty-three and starting over from nothing. "You're right though," he says. "I know I already lost you. I knew it when it happened."

He stands then. Her eyes are fixed on him as he comes closer. As he stands over her, he takes off his wedding ring - this isn't the first time - and he drops it to the floor where she's sitting. "Fine, it's done," he says.

He taps one of the gifts with his toe, the toy inside giving off a chime. "You finish these. I need some air."

Really, she's starting to cry, and he doesn't want to see it. He can't stand the illusion anymore. She was never coming back to save their marriage; she only was coming back to bury it.

That first night, after it all came out, as they were sitting together in front of the fire, it was already there. That first time he tried to touch her, it was already over. There was never a chance to be had. There was nothing to be done. There was death in her eyes, and he knew it. He couldn't bear to see it, so instead, he pulled her head to his shoulder, and she cried, leaving his shirt wet, but making no sound. There was only silence, and him and her, and the cinders in the fireplace, sputtering softly before they died.

*******

(footnotes: the living ghost // the panic // the reasons)

in case any of your husbands are tricksters like mine...

2011-02-05T12:30:00.005-05:00

Check this out.

I came out of the shower, having left my game running while I was away. I kept clicking on the window, trying to make it do something... anything. I'm like, "What the hell, why is it crashing?" Tried to move the window, clicked on the close button - nothing.

I turn around and there's my hubby with a smirk on his face.

My game was minimized. He had taken a screenshot, and I was trying to click on a desktop background, lol!

Be warned, it could happen to you! ;)

this is why I've got nothing...

2011-01-30T16:49:00.005-05:00

Such a pretty hair for such a very angry girl! ;)

Vicky is wearing Carla's retextured Nouk Tommie hair, and I just love them! So if you haven't already, head over there and pick that up!

The first month of my year has been amazingly productive, full of creativity and more ideas than I know what to do with. Unfortunately, all that good work is wreaking havoc on this blog, lol! Please bear with me. I don't have Matt's story ready - I haven't even started it, to be honest, and there's a novel chapter I want to finish before I turn my focus to anything else. But there are a couple things I want to tell you about first! :)

Amelia and Jodie's stories were a lot more finished than I first thought. And looking back over them, I found them so full of literary potential that I couldn't help but see them filling out a little novella. So starting next week, and for the month of February, I'm going to be working on a little project with them. Their stories won't be deleted, but I won't be able to write about those characters in this blog until I know how the novella will end up going. It's kind of like quarantine, lol! It would be like trying to wrap my head around two dimensions of space at the same time, and that kind of hurts my brain.

(ETA: I should have known that this story would be too big for a novella, duh! It will actually end up being a smallish novel instead.)

Amelia's story was pretty much finished. Besides one tiny bit more that happens in the novella. I didn't really know how finished it was as I wrote the end of her last story set, but looking back over it, she had her closure and really, all there is for her to do from this point is get married and have a ton of babies. Jodie's story as a whole was not finished (though in that same story set, she also did gain some closure), but I'm sorry to have to say, her story for this blog will have to end. I have to steal her, and I hope you won't hate me too much for it! I have big and exciting plans for Jodie! Besides taking part in the novella, the next you'll hear from her is a few years ahead in her story, in my spin-off series! :)

There! I've been absolutely *dying* to tell you all which characters are coming over to the spin-off, so I finally get to say one out loud. Jodie is one of them!!!

Which I guess also makes the spin-off an official thing? (You see, it's over a year away, so I can be all ballsy like this and make things all big and official, lol!) It doesn't have a name yet, but the first book is slowly being first-drafted at the moment. It's tentatively planned to begin in Fall of 2012, and since I'm already drafting it, and very excited about it, you could 90% say it's a certain thing. It will be made up of about 15-ish characters you know from this story (and some new ones too), but it will not be illustrated with Sims, and it will not exist in Lakeside Heights either. It'll be a full text story, set in modern day (not 2083, lol!), with some assorted photography (hence my photo/story project this year). It'll be indie-published, just digital to start, one chapter a week. And at the end of the season, I'll also release it in book form.

I'm very excited about this project, as it combines two of my great loves - writing and photography - and I hope you'll all decide to follow along when the time comes.

So between now and Fall of 2012, my main priority will be prepping the characters coming over to the spin-off for where their stories will pick up, and finishing those storylines of the characters not coming over, since I don't want to have loose ends hanging when I pick up their stories in that other format.

Also, while I focus on giving closure to the stories I need to end here, some of our other favorites might have to hang tight in the background for a while. They're cute and everything, but some (like Melissa) I never really had any big story planned for.

I honestly can't say one way or the other what will happen to this blog, and the characters left behind in it, once I start writing the spin-off. I would like to continue writing these Sim-illustrated stories, but I really can't say how much time I'll have for it. The spin-off is going to be a very big project, and around the same time, I also hope to be pimping out my novel. At the very least, there will be a large hiatus while I get my head screwed back on straight.

In fact, I might even use that break to make the transition from TS2 to TS3. Lord knows I'll probably never stop playing my Simmies, in whatever form they take! That much is certain! And maybe some of these quiet background characters, like Melissa, might come to TS3 with us :)

Also, so sorry, I have comments I need to respond to allllll over the place. I haven't forgotten about anybody, and I'll spend a whole day responding to comments as soon as I finish this torturous chapter! And dammit, I'm gonna PLAY my game too, lol! I might decorate somebody's house. Which family do you think deserves a home makeover?

profile: Drew

2011-01-25T23:31:00.009-05:00

Andrew "Drew" Bruty

Drew was the only child of his mother's ill-fated first marriage to Garret Bruty, an acclaimed and eccentric artist. His parents divorced when he was three. His mother, Moira, was well-advised in prenuptial law, and retained most of her considerable inheritance after the divorce. It wasn't long before she remarried to Richard Dyer, who was an old college friend, when Drew was six, and the family moved to Chicago where Drew would spend his youth. His little brother Fenton was born soon after. His mother does not work, but has been involved in several charities and non-profit organizations over the years, and takes a special interest in women's rights.

Drew had a mostly ordinary childhood, a loving family life, and a lavish education. If Drew were to consider anyone his father at all, it would be Richard, though he never refers to the man as such. Drew was not often in contact with his biological father - and when he was, the visits were sporadic and confusing for everyone involved.

His romantic history was also mostly ordinary. In high school, he dated a lovely church-going girl named Eleanor, who was saving herself for marriage. (This is also where Drew learned to appreciate certain activities that don't count as technical sex.) They went to different colleges with the best intentions of keeping a long-distance relationship, but both eventually moved on. Rumor is she didn't hold out for marriage anyway, but he doesn't hold any grudges. He happily have up his virginity to the first nice girl who would have it, at the age of 19. Her name was Allie, and they dated for three years before he moved away for graduate school. He moved to Lake City after finishing his MFA, where he would soon meet and become quite smitten with Amelia Bradshaw.

character tag: drew

name means: warrior, strong, courageous (Greek)
birthdate: February 22, 2056
age: 27 as of February of 2083
zodiac: pisces
MBTI: INFJ - the protector
character traits: charming, patient, considerate, optimistic, materialistic

appearance:
- height: 5' 10"
- hair: black
- eyes: dark brown
- body: perfectly average
- dress: preppy and well-tailored, stripes on polos, designer jeans
- distinguishing features: perfect teeth

romantic history:
- first kiss: a girl named Jenny, on a bus during a school trip, at age 14
- v-card goes to: Allie Slater, at age 19
- notable relationships: Eleanor Harlow (age 16-18, tried to keep a long distance relationship after high school, but it fizzled out); Allie Slater (age 19-22, broke up with minimal hurt feelings when he moved away for graduate school); Amelia Bradshaw (age 26-present, engaged in October of 2083.)
- number of partners: 3

romantic present:
- currently: engaged to Amelia Bradshaw, 2 months

family:
- parents: Garret Bruty and Moira Dyer
- siblings: Fenton Dyer (half-brother)
- children: in about nine months! :)
- BFF: Amelia

lifestyle:
- TS2 aspiration: fortune/family
- hobbies: golf, reading, party-going
- job: poet (trust-fund-baby)
- education: undergraduate at University of Chicago (English), graduate work at Cornell University 2081 (MFA, Poetry).
- drugs?: not really, besides alcohol. He doesn't hold his liquor well.
- sex?: dedicated and committed to the task at hand, patient, he's a bit of a pleasure-delayer, likes to indulge and take his time, doesn't like to fail and never leaves a lady unsatisfied.
- god?: yes, he guesses there probably is something.
- his parents?: are both wonderful, and simultaneously the biggest unanswered question in his life.

loves: words, strung together like a song // the feel of poetry off the tip of his tongue // the romance languages // linguistics // cunnilingus // being impressive // Amelia's smile // cheeks blushing pink // freckles on full, perfect breasts // the finer things in life // having a trust fund // golf on a sunny morning // the smell of cut grass // blue open water, wide as the horizon // standing in snow flurries // his mom // feeling like he belongs

hates: admitting things aren't okay // seeing flaws // being out in public with food stuck in his teeth // facing real conflict

theme song: "Fix You" by Coldplay

1. name: Drew
2. grew up: as the odd one out
3. favorite food: raspberry chocolate torte
4. favorite color: all shades of blue
5. favorite weather: the first snow flurries
6. favorite drink: water to swallow some headache pills for his hangover
7. currently reading: The New Yorker
8. most important job: poet
9. if he had one wish: to have a family of his own
10. thing he loves most in the world: freckles on a redhead
11. one word to describe him: charming
12. something else: everything's just fine (even when it's not)

notes:
#1: couldn't find one associated with his name, so found this one - a guy, not bothered a bit by the rain as he happily carries on reading. That reminded me of Drew.
#12: was a crapshoot, lol! I could hardly put this into words much less find a picture to represent it, lol! I mean really, how do you find a picture of that? So this picture felt optimistic, yet muddy and vague at the same time. Good a picture as any!

[mosaic credits]
1. Untitled, 2. Outcast, 3. torte, 4. Katiet Mentawai, 5. Edinburgh, Scotland, 6. Day -14, 7. The New Yorker, 8. Magnetic Poetry, 9. (It's got to be) Perfect!, 10. 365.217, 11. bed of roses II, 12. Reach

poll: which character deserves "best performance" in a drama at a holiday party?

2011-01-21T23:13:00.004-05:00

I went ahead and let our poll expire, because 1.) with the new posting pace, it'll be weeks more before we get through the rest of our holiday parties, 2.) because I was kind of bored of it, and because 3.) everybody is just voting for Jodie over and over again anyway? lol!

- Corbin and Stephanie tied for third place with 5 votes and 6%.

- Amelia scored second place with 26 votes and 31%.

And, dear readers, the character you deemed deserving of "best performance" in a drama at a holiday party...

Jodie, who ransacked both her own life and several others, and then managed to find a bit of inner peace, all in the space of about thirty-five minutes! Now that, people, is talent!

***

next poll: uh-oh, Leila went and made contact! How long do you think it'll be before she and Corbin end up in bed together?

Note: of course, I already know the answer to this one - I want to see if you guys can guess. ;)

ghost from a wishing well, part 3

2011-01-18T23:26:00.008-05:00

December 23, 2083 - Leila Watts is 28, Charlotte Gallagher is 29.

* warnings: OMG, holy dialogue, Batman! (sorry!) And sort of long. And hella late (again, sorry!). *

Soundtrack: "If You Could Read My Mind," as performed by Johnny Cash.

Charlotte starts the coffee and Leila goes to lock the front door. They'll fill their mop buckets with hot soapy water and delay actually cleaning the floor with it. The trash is bagged and ready to take out, but it's cold outside, so they'll wait. The doors are locked, the front lights turned off so nobody will try to come in. They were open an extra hour, in light of Christmas, people picking up those precious last-minute gifts.

The two of them collapse exhausted behind the counter. Charlotte asks her, "You want mop or garbage?"

"I don't care," Leila says. "Just give me a few more minutes." What she means is, let her stay here so that she doesn't have to go home.

Charlotte has a lovely life to go home to. Paul has gained twenty pounds, but she never minded a thicker man. He remembers the name of that concerto she likes on violin. She could forget her own name these days, but he remembers. He remembers her favorite brand of wine, and even picks up a bottle on the way home from work. And tonight, she'll pump two bottles of milk out of her swollen boobs so she can drink some with him.

Leila though, she's never in much of a hurry to get home anymore.

If you'd known the two of them in their youth, you might have even expected something like this would happen. Isn't this just how she is, Charlotte wonders? Leila, the lusty one, with her innocent crushes and her occasional whims to give blowjobs in compromising places? If you didn't know her personally, you'd almost guarantee it.

But Charlotte knows her better than that. Charlotte was one of the few people there on her wedding day, a small country church in the heat of the summer. They were just babies then. Charlotte wouldn't have guaranteed that marriage was a risk - she wouldn't have even bet it, but she might have wondered. Didn't they all know, on some level? But Leila was in love, and nobody was going to tell her or try to stop her.

"You just need some good news," Charlotte says. "Before we go tonight, I have a check in the office for you. We did good."

"Really?"

"$10,000 each."

Leila's smile then is something like both fear and elation, all at once.

"We earned out," Charlotte says. "It's better than most businesses do in their first six months."

"But I need to buy a whole house," Leila says.

"What?"

"I'm leaving him," Leila says. "I have to leave him."

"Now?"

"Not like, tonight. After Christmas. Maybe after New Year."

"Oh," Charlotte says.

"I don't know what to do. Everything we have is tied up in the house, and in the farm."

"But he didn't sign a pre-nup. He'd have to give you something. Isn't that how it works?"

"I don't know how it works," Leila says. "And it doesn't matter. I'd never take it from him. Never."

"I take care of our kids. I'd have to take them from their home. I can't take his home, it's part of the farm. He hasn't done his own laundry in twelve years. I don't even know what to do."

"You would stay with a man just because he can't do laundry?"

"No," Leila says, looks to Charlotte's face for answers. "But maybe I should stop by, once a week, for a while?"

Charlotte shakes her head. "Are you sure about this? It just all seems so quick."

"This isn't quick," Leila says. "This is so unbelievably, excruciatingly slow. I've tried, and he's tried. When we're together, there's just nothing. I care about him like I care about my brother. It's just so platonic. It's so forced. So accommodating. I can't spend the rest of my life like this, I just can't. I feel suffocated."

"Okay, I believe you," Charlotte says.

"Do you think I don't hate the idea of what this is doing to him? He's so angry. I hate that he has to start all over, because I know he doesn't want to. I hate the thought of taking those kids and leaving him in that big empty house. God, it's two days before Christmas! How can I even say that out loud, what I'm doing to him? But I'm telling you, I can't breathe sometimes. This panic, it feels suffocating. I can't do it anymore."

"And it makes me a monster, you wanna know why? When I finally decided, for real, when I told myself it was over, when I gave myself that, the thought of my whole future, wide open and free of him, free to live my life the way I want, free to love whoever I want - I wasn't sad, not at all. I felt such unbelievable relief. I felt peace."

Charlotte feels the need to say something. "It doesn't make you a monster." It doesn't feel like enough. Seeing the despair in Leila's eyes, she can't remember how she ever expected her to just grin and bear this. When she's so happy herself, how could she demand anything less for her best friend?

"I have nothing," Leila says.

"You have $10,000 now."

"I'm not talking about just money," Leila says. "I have three kids, two of them in diapers. I have no family, they all hate me and we haven't spoken in ten years. I have no one. How am I supposed to leave my husband?"

"Do you think I wouldn't help you? If it's going to come to that?"

"No, actually, I didn't think you would. You made your stance pretty clear."

"I'm sorry," Charlotte says, wrapping an arm around her back. "What I said - I know, that wasn't fair of me." Charlotte still remembers that night Leila stopped seeing Corbin, that same night she lectured her like a reckless teenager, and she never spoke his name again. The whole time they were seeing each other, their secret conversations near the pond, their phone calls, the pie, he was all she would talk about. "You don't talk about him anymore."

Leila speaks his name in a hushed voice. "Corbin?"

Charlotte laughs. "It's not really a secret," she says. "I already know what you did."

"Yeah, and you made yourself pretty clear about that too."

"I had newborns," Charlotte says. "You can't hold that against me."

"He must hate me," Leila says. "I wrote him this letter. Who does that? One of the most important people I've ever met, and I was going to end it with a letter? I feel like such a coward. He must think I'm such a pathetic, worthless human being."

Charlotte shakes her head. "I doubt it."

"Amelia was here today," Leila says. "Were you expecting her?"

"No, what did she want?"

"I don't know. A bear? And she was asking weird questions, about kids."

Charlotte shrugs. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Leila says.

The floor isn't cleaning itself. The kitchen appliances hum, and this late at night, Bluewater's Main Street would normally be empty, but tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and people are still out, walking and shopping and celebrating not having to work in the morning.

Leila's voice is soft and nostalgic, blending into the chaos of sounds. "I married Matt because I was in love with the idea of us. I knew we didn't have enough to make it."

"Don't we all at that age? I was in love with the idea of Adam, that's why it took me so long to get over him."

"Am I in love with the idea of Corbin too? Is this what I do? How do you know the difference?"

"Ideas are perfect. People are not. Name something not perfect about him."

Leila laughs. "Believe me, there's plenty. He doesn't live on this planet, most of the time. He has all these ideas, and he thinks they're so golden. Some of them are, but most of them are just going to have him old and alone and destitute. He'll probably never make much money. He's scared of stopping for too long, because he might have to admit that he feels something. He's thirty-two years old and only started his first savings account, and that's only because someone made him. He can't dance, actually, he refuses to dance. It makes him feel silly. He takes himself too seriously. He takes himself far too seriously."

"And his nose is too big," Charlotte says.

Leila smiles. "No. His nose is perfect."

"I don't get it," Charlotte says. "Why did you stop? That night? Why didn't you just do it?"

"Because what's the point? One time? What good is that? I didn't want just one time. It's like those kisses. I never wanted to stop him. I could have, but I never did. What good is one, if I'd never get another again?"

"I thought you said you only kissed him once."

"I only kissed him once." Leila grins, full of mischief. It's been a long time since Charlotte saw that smile. "But he actually kissed me all the time. It's weird, I never really realized how much, they were so little, inconspicuous kisses. On my hand, or on my forehead, or on my cheek, or my shoulder. He actually kissed my hand the first night we met." Leila laughs out loud, as if from a dream. "Have you ever been kissed on the cheekbone before?"

"I don't know, maybe," Charlotte says.

"Oh, you would know it if you have."

"There was this one time, we were sitting in the courtyard. He told me he never dances. And I was like, what? Never? Not even a slow dance? Not even a wedding? He said he hadn't even slow danced since his senior prom. So I told him, 'Let's fix that then.'

"There wasn't any real music, only this zen trancy stuff coming through the speakers. So I pulled him up, and I said, 'It's like a hug, it's less touching than a hug, and we hug all the time.' Well that's what I thought, and so we did, but it was so lasting. And face to face. It was a bad idea maybe. I had to put my head on his shoulder to keep from looking him in the eyes, because otherwise I would have to kiss him, there was just no avoiding it."

"So I had my head on his shoulder, and he kissed me, here." She points to her cheekbone, just beside her eye. "I could feel his breath on my eyelashes. His breath on my eyelashes." Leila sighs. "That was three days before I kissed him for real. I'm telling you, if you're ever trying not to kiss someone, don't do that."

Charlotte had it half right - this is just how she is. But she doesn't just mean lusty. She means hopelessly full of heart. The girl can't help it; she never could. Leila's gaze falls light and dreamy across the room - you could almost imagine the clouds filling her head. This is just how she is - feeling her way through life, led by her heart with wild and hopeless abandon. This is just how she is when she's in love, filled with this unavoidable, unstoppable, and untouchable light.

***

They lock up when they're finished cleaning and walk to their cars together. Leila can't make this night drag on forever, as much as she might want to. At least for right now, she's still married to her husband, and she's still sharing a house with him.

The politeness wears off. Her husband's politeness and generosity are not givens. Politeness is something contingent upon respect - she doesn't figure he respects her anymore. Or not much anyway. She's broken so many promises, and he must feel her about to break more. And as these bonds break down, he doesn't even owe her his politeness anymore. As their ties fall apart, he becomes short and impatient with her.

Charlotte's family is the only family she has anymore.

Her parents told her she would regret this some day. She was so stubborn. Fine, they said, have it your way. And she did. She had it her way and now this is where she is. An eighteen year-old girl never wants to believe that her parents actually know what's best for her after all. She can't bring herself to contact them. What would she even say, that they were right? And are they right? She doesn't even know yet. As messy as things are, she isn't sure she'd take back her decisions. They are what they are, and they've made her who she is.

Her parents had all the money they could want, but no soul. They were such cold, ruthless, firm people. She never envied them for who they were. She only fought against everything they were with her whole little heart.

This is what she comes from, and she wonders what that means about her. Corbin always talked about his parents with such love and compassion. It made her want to meet them. They would have been too good for her. He was too good for her. If what her parents said was true, what Matt says is true, what everyone's ever said about her was true, then who is she anyway but a careless, troublesome, tart? Would she only ruin his life like this someday too?

Leila starts her car, and sits there long after Charlotte has pulled off in hers. This late and the kids would already be in bed. She doesn't know what she's going home to, but she has to go there anyway. She has to go somewhere. She has $10,000 in her purse - well enough for a lavish vacation somewhere tropical, sand and ocean, fruity drinks with paper umbrellas in them - but she needs to put a down payment on a house. Three bedrooms, at least. A yard. Maybe she'll buy them a dog. Maybe it's like balancing an equation - big yard with a creek, plus a tree house, multiplied by a dog, and that cancels out the value of their parents getting divorced?

So they right everything wrong in the world, and all that? Kids, I mean, they make it all worth it?

What kind of question is that? What does it mean? This afternoon had to be one of the strangest meetings of her life. The questions she asked, the look on her face. Amelia recognized her too. More than that, Amelia seemed to have come there to find her. Did he send her? Leila wonders, what did she want to say? Leila had so many questions she was dying to ask herself. Is he okay? Has he moved on, forgotten her entirely? Does he hate her?

She thinks it through with her head - Amelia wouldn't have been there, acting like she was, if he was okay. Amelia wouldn't have been there at all if he'd moved on, if he didn't care. Amelia being there at all, like she was, means something.

She's found herself in these past weeks, dialing his number, backspacing over it, hovering over the "call" button, but not pressing it.

She has so much to say, but nothing to tell him. She's leaving her husband - she has to - but that's all she knows right now. She'd be no good for Corbin right now, and she never even knew what he wanted anyway. Her whole soul aches with disappointment, with guilt, with regret, with one wrong turn after another, with failure. She feels the pain she's causing everyone - she carries it on her own shoulders.

But she misses him. Desperately.

She presses "call."

Her heart leaps instantly into her chest. She's terrified he'll answer. She doesn't even know what she'll say. What does she even have to tell him?

I think I'm leaving my husband, but I don't know when or how? I still love you but I'm not ready to be with you? Merry Christmas? Do you hate me? Oh, and that letter? Um, never mind?

But he doesn't answer.

Instead his message plays. She helped him record this, and she even set up his voice mail account for him. What kind of man can explain ancient Chinese philosophy to a hall full of college students, but can't set up a voice mail account? His voice echoes deeply through the tinny phone speaker. "Um, hi? You have reached Corbin Gray..." Hi - a question, not a statement. She smiles in the dark. She would call to hear his voice again and again.

But then it ends. Beeeeeep.

For seconds - an eternity - she breathes into the empty phone static. There's only one certain thing she's known in eight long weeks. So she says it.

"I miss you."

*******

(footnotes: what Charlotte said // Amelia // leaving Matt)

shameless self promotion?

2011-01-13T21:55:00.001-05:00

I am allowed to do that on my own blog, right? lol!

I do have a LH story in the works for you this weekend, but while you're waiting (oh so patiently!), I thought I'd mention one of my other projects to keep you entertained ;)

I'm beginning a 52-week photography project, as a sort of a year-long photo/story experiment. My theme is going to be photos inspired by excerpts of my stories, the reasoning for why I'm doing this is here, and the first entry is here. The story excerpts will be taken from a wide range of my different works, including pieces from Lakeside Heights (probably the bulk of it will be from LH, because hell, I've got a LOT of writing here, lol!), so I thought some of you might like to follow along. I'll be posting one photo every week, and you can follow over on my main blog.

Hope you enjoy it! :)

profile: Amelia

2011-01-05T23:30:00.000-05:00

Amelia Bradshaw

Amelia grew up in one of the most esteemed neighborhoods in Lakeside Heights, Michigan. She was an only child, but grew up in a large extended family, seven cousins on her mother's side, and five more on her father's side. Her mother was a family law attorney who went on to serve as County Court Justice, and her father is a commemorated military officer in the astronautics program. She excelled through school and university, earning places in the most prestigious academies and honors societies.

Amelia grew up mostly sheltered by her parents, which led to an abrupt and shocking entry into her young adulthood. She became caught up in a long and damaging romance with her first boyfriend, Alon Hutchins, in which she was treated with equal parts charm and betrayal. This "failure of judgment" on her part, paired with a weakness for second chances, would continue to color her life with mistrust for many years.

character tag: amelia

name means: to strive or excel (Latin)
birthdate: May 25, 2055
age: 28 as of May 2083
zodiac: gemini
MBTI: ESFJ - the caregiver
character traits: stubborn, sensitive, cynical, judgmental, responsible, smart, friendly

appearance:
- height: 5' 9"
- hair: golden/medium red
- eyes: brown
- body: tall and rather skinny, but not weak
- dress: professional and proper, prefers warm tones in orange, red, or purple
- distinguishing features: freckles, nose piercing, the cleavage of doom

romantic history:
- first kiss: Alon Hutchins, at age 15
- v-card goes to: Alon Hutchins, at age 15
- notable relationships: Alon Hutchins (age 15-21, ended when he cheated on her the second time, and left her for the woman.), Jason Larson (age 22-25, after a comfortable 3-year live-in relationship, he wanted to get married though neither of them really felt it was quite "right", so she broke it off.), Corbin Gray (age 27, a very brief tryst that was quickly brushed off for friendship instead. The two remain close friends to this day.); Drew Bruty (age 27-present, engaged in October of 2083.)
- number of partners: 10

romantic present:
- currently: engaged to Drew Bruty, 2 months

family:
- parents: Andy and Claire Bradshaw
- siblings: none
- children: in about nine months! :)
- BFFs: Drew, her mom, Corbin

lifestyle:
- TS2 aspiration: fortune/popularity
- hobbies: practicing yoga, cooking, shopping
- job: investment, stock broker
- education: undergraduate at LCU/Takemizu Academy, class of 2078 (Drama); graduate studies at LCU (Economics)
- drugs?: never anything illegal or unhealthy, prefers red wine and rich coffee
- sex?: she's not as independent as she seems, craves security more than she wants to admit, likes to be pampered
- god?: she doesn't think much about it, one way or the other
- her parents?: are just as flawed as she is

loves: decorating her house // pillows and blankets // clocks // cuddles on the couch // cuddles in bed, under blankets, skin to skin // hugs // when things are just perfect // being healthy // being right // the people she can trust // her parents // reading Drew's poetry (especially the ones about her) // hosting parties for all of her friends // when her friends are all getting along with each other

hates: betrayal // lies // having to admit she's wrong // crying // pet birds

theme song: "Colorblind" by Counting Crows

(click for full size)

1. name: Amelia
2. grew up: in the perfect loving suburban home
3. favorite food: eggs florentine
4. favorite color: green and gold
5. favorite weather: crunchy fall leaves
6. favorite drink: pinot noir
7. currently reading: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
8. most important job: financial planner
9. if she had one wish: that they all come home safe
10. thing she loves most in the world: cuddles on the couch with Drew
11. one word to describe her: cautious
12. something else: she sees the world through fractures

notes:
#1, I searched for her name meaning "strive" and this came up, titled "fragile" which is also very fitting of her.
#2, a little bit symbolic for this one. If you can't tell, it's actually a dollhouse ;)

[mosaic credits:]
1. Fragile, 2. 11/365 01/11/09, 3. Maui Day 6: Eggs Florentine, 4. After a Summer Shower, 5. I PUT SOME NEW SHOES ON AND SUDDENLY EVERYTHING'S RIGHT., 6. red, red, bokeh, goes to my head, 7. Eat Pray Love, 8. Stimulus Package, 9. Sunday, bloody Sunday, 10. Untitled, 11. Caution! Be Careful - S3isCaution, 12. Cracked tempered glass in the fall

one day, Amelia stirs some butterflies in the universe...

2011-01-02T23:14:00.061-05:00

December 23, 2083 - Amelia Bradshaw is 28. (Leila Watts is 28, Drew Bruty is 27.)

* warning: little bit cheesy (okay, a lot cheesy, but we could use a little cheese break around here.) *

This is a perfectly innocent visit. Drew is just so hard to shop for. And they're having a baby - she just took the test. She's known for forty-seven hours and she hasn't told a soul. She's just about bursting for someone to know. And with Christmas coming, she couldn't think of a better gift idea, a hand-made teddy bear, with a note wrapped around its neck. So maybe it wasn't entirely her idea. It's just that Corbin mentioned that Leila makes the most beautiful handmade teddy bears, and ever since she just couldn't get the idea out of her head.

Corbin absolutely did not put her up to this. In fact, he has no idea she's even here at all, and she has no plans to tell him either. All he told her, besides all the heart-wrenching stuff, was a name, Leila, and that she worked in this little country pie shop with Charlotte. That was how they met, through Charlotte. In fact, if he knew Amelia was here at all, he would probably pull out that lecture on disturbing the order of fate, about a butterfly fluttering its wings and causing ripples through the universe, or something.

It's just that he told his mom about Leila, and now he's thinking about moving back home. Amelia told him, "You can't just pick up and move any time things get sticky, that's no way to live."

"Actually, it's a fine way to live," he said.

"You haven't wanted to move home in fifteen years," she said. "And now you want to go back? Don't you know what this is really about?"

"I know what it's about," he said.

"But your job."

"I can teach anywhere."

"Your degree?"

"I've had plenty of extra time these past couple months," he said. "I turned in my dissertation early."

"But you're doing so well here."

"I don't feel very well."

"You can't," she said. "There are people here who need you." She might have blushed a little then.

"Nobody here needs me, Amelia."

She just can't understand how a person goes around the world making friends with people, then leaving like they never even mattered at all. "I mean, Justin's all alone with that baby," she said. "And you promised my dad."

He only looked at her with half a sad smile and didn't argue any further. "You're right," he said, nodding his head in one solid movement. She couldn't tell if he was resolving himself to his fate, or biding more time to get his last few duties covered.

So this is mostly an innocent visit. She really does want one of those bears. But also she just wants to see her, to see what all this fuss is about.

The air inside the store smells delicious - cakes lining one wall, and quilts lining the other. There are two women working. The elderly one must be Charlotte's mom, because she looks just like her, which means the other must be Leila.

At first, Amelia is surprised that she isn't more glamorous, with her mousy hair, with her round pink cheeks. But then considering Corbin, this girl's earthy and humble beauty makes perfect sense.

Amelia steps up through the shoppers and lifts a stuffed bear off the shelf. It truly is the most adorable thing she's ever seen.

"Oh, these are just precious," she says. Maybe she shouldn't have spoken to her, but it's too late to take it back now. Leila turns her head. But it's okay, they don't know each other. It's fine. Amelia just tries to act like a shopper. "I mean, but do you have any that are less gender-specific?"

"The green," Leila says. "That's a popular one. If you want, I could take down your name and have one ready by close tonight."

She really kind of wants the green one. "Which kind do your kids like?"

Amelia's own question dumbfounds her. She's supposed to be pretending they're strangers. How would she know this woman has kids? She'd make a terrible private investigator. Terrible! Her heart races in her chest, but luckily, Leila doesn't seem to think much of it.

"They have like twelve of them," she says. "They just beat them all up, really."

Amelia nods. "How many kids do you have?" Amelia already knows the answer - three, a girl and twin boys.

"Three," Leila says.

Amelia holds a blue bear in her hands, hugs it to her chest like a child. "This is my first," she says.

Leila looks up from her clipboard. "First teddy bear?"

Amelia laughs. "No, first baby," she says. "I'm pregnant." She's only five weeks pregnant, not even showing. It's the first time she's said it out loud to another human being, and it's exhilarating. She wants to tell the world. But she hasn't even told Drew yet.

"Oh, congratulations," Leila says.

Amelia puts the bear back on the shelf while Leila continues writing stock on her clipboard. Amelia pretends to inspect the other bears, each hand-crafted and unique in its own special way, a different pattern of fabric, oddly spaced eyes, or one leg longer than the other. She follows the seams with her fingertips. What she wants to ask is, Is this what you wanted then? Is this what makes you happy? Your kids and their teddy bears? But she can't. Instead she says, "So they right everything wrong in the world, and all that? Kids, I mean, they make it all worth it?"

A simple question from one mom to another? Moms do that kind of thing.

Leila only looks at her strangely, confused, but mostly sad, her face full of devastating gravity. "They're great," she says, nodding. "You never knew your heart could fit so much love."

Amelia doesn't know what she's doing here, or what she thought she'd find. Nothing more than he already suspected. Just a bear, and a woman she knows more about than she should. She picks up the blue one again.

"You know, if you're in a hurry, it's a fifty-fifty chance," Leila says. "Leave it up to fate?"

"No, actually, I'll wait for the green," Amelia says.

"Sure," Leila says. "Let me get your name."

"Amelia," she says. "Bradshaw."

She never thought not to.

Leila looks up, startled and scared, her mouth hanging wide open and her hand paused mid-way through the letter "e" in her first name. Dammit, Amelia is thinking, he talked about her? Really? What did he say, and how much? All of it, likely. Even her name. He probably blabbed her whole life history, and then some. Corbin wouldn't know how to keep a secret if his life depended on it.

Then they're both stunned. Amelia digs her hands in her pockets like it might actually hide her. She tries to smile, but she feels it warped into a shriveled grimace. In another dimension, they might have said, Hi, so nice to finally meet you, I've heard so much. But they don't. They just stand there speechless. That he wants to leave - Leila might like to know that, or maybe she wouldn't, but either way it isn't Amelia's business to tell. She shouldn't even be here. But she has her questions, and Leila seems to have questions of her own, but neither of them know how to break that ice.

Amelia finally starts to babble. "Eh, I'm just here for... I thought I'd... the teddy bear?"

Leila only nods once. She smiles, gap-toothed and heartbreakingly genuine, a wide open book. And in the space of that smile, she gets what all his fuss was about.

"You know what," Leila says. "Why don't you try the cherry pie, I bet I could have something whipped up by the time you're finished."

"Really?"

Leila points to a stool at the counter. "I have one already started."

"Thank you," Amelia says.

She sits down. She orders the pie. Amelia never believed in any of that hippie metaphysical bullshit before, but she swears, as shoppers open and close the door behind her, wafting crisp December air into the store, each time feels like a butterfly flapping its wings.

***

The bear comes with a blank gift tag tied around its neck, and Amelia writes her message on it before tucking it into a wrapped box. One thing is right in the world at least. The guy with more money than he knows what to do with, and she'll manage to give him something he doesn't already have.

Drew comes home then. He asks her, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Mostly," she says. "You're really hard to shop for, you know that?"

"You didn't have to."

"Of course I did," she says. "I just hope you like it."

"I'll love anything coming from you."

She grins. "Good. Because I can't really take it back."

She goes to the tree and gets the box.

She hands it to him. "You should open it now."

"Now? It's two days to Christmas still."

"I can't really wait any longer," she says. "I can't stand it."

"It looks big."

"It's definitely big."

He opens the box.

He picks up the bear, and reads the tag out loud. "For daddy," he says. "Me?" His face is still. He doesn't even blink. "A daddy?"

"Yes you." She laughs lightly, definitely the most uncomfortable silence of her day, and that's saying a lot. "I figure I'm about five weeks along."

"Wow," he says.

"You should say something else," she says.

He doesn't though. He only pulls her body to his, quickly, firmly, and kisses her without even barely a breath, the green teddy bear still dangling from his hand.

*******

(footnotes: Corbin // Leila // and what Drew wants more than anything)

notes: all my gift clutter from this story and the next few comes from the Around the Sims 2 Advent package.

Amelia's mini-adventure in super-sleuthing must be a bit inspired by Rachel's Edith Prescott series. Ed's much better at it though - I think Amelia better stick to her investing ;)

ghost from a wishing well, part 2.5

2010-12-27T21:58:00.007-05:00

December 19, 2083 - Leila Watts is 28, Matt is 32, Felicity is 5, Hunter and Flint are 2. (Charlotte Gallagher is 28.)

* note: meant to be read after this one. warning: box of tissues? *

Soundtrack: "If You Could Read My Mind," as performed by Johnny Cash.

The days go by, one and then another, and then another, and you know the feeling of something long before you ever have the words to explain it. Because feeling isn't stagnant, it isn't concrete. The spark of energy between two people, ebbing and flowing and changing like the wind warms and cools over a year. Did she change? Did he? Something changed, but at the same time, they're both the exact same people they were twelve years ago. She knows she's the same at least. She's the same girl with the bright spirit, the precocious smile, the wild and curious imagination, kissing the back of her hand in her bedroom to see what kissing might feel like. In her heart, in the depths of her soul, she's exactly the same.

She waited so long, compared to some. Living in her head, with her fantasies, she knew the feel of her own touch in her darkened bedroom before she ever knew the feel of a real boy. She was sixteen, confident and sure, she didn't need some teenage boy to tell her she was pretty - she knew it. Grown men knew it. And one day, she met him, as he was crossing the street with a crate of tomatoes in his hands. She knew how to work her hips, she knew how to flip her hair, and it worked. He stopped, admired, and dropped the whole crate of tomatoes right there in the middle of the road.

That day, that very moment, she picked him. She wrote her phone number on his arm with a black shop marker, while tomatoes rolled around the concrete near their feet. This one, he'd be the one.

But what were her criteria? She liked the way he wore his hat? She liked his smile, shy and meek. She felt a sort of power over him - her, a virgin, seducing this grown man. It made her wild. He'd be her first kiss, her first touch, her first everything. And he was.

They made a game of that, for a time. They thought it could go on forever.

But then they grew up.

***

They still bring the kids over to visit Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Paul. They leave the five of them to roll around on the floor, toddle and drool, while the grown-ups get to have an hour or two of adult conversation. The biggest shame is how with all their work, she and Charlotte hardly get to hang out together except at work. They close on Sundays, even now, in the middle of Christmas season. They have to make time to remember that they were friends first. They've been friends since they were just girls, before any of this started.

And if there's anything wrong in the world, they don't talk about it anymore. Charlotte doesn't say those things anymore - it will fade, it will pass, it's for the best. Maybe she doesn't believe it herself anymore. Or maybe she's just given up. None of it ever sounded true anyway.

Instead, they talk about other things, happier things.

They talk about the kids, and their work, and make jokes about how much breastmilk Charlotte can pump so she can imbibe in one single glass of wine. Leila remembers trying to breastfeed her own twins. She made it about six weeks. But anything is worth laughing about these days. Any small moment of joy, and she'll cling to it. The babies are happy, and the kids are happy, and there's peace.

Paul comes up behind them then, takes Charlotte's shoulder in his hand like it's the most precious thing he's ever held. Just because he wanted to. Just because he could. Because part of him needed to connect with her, in this moment, before he asked her, "Would you like some tea, darling?"

And her smile, the way she stops talking completely, the way she'd forgotten she was even talking at all. Their connection in that moment, both of them dissolving into this moment, was like they wished they could stop time.

If Leila wants to be honest with herself, she knows what love looks like. She isn't holding on to any ridiculous ideals. Yes, love fades, it becomes calm and comfortable. But she also knows that sometimes, in that comfort, love still manages to light up the room.

When the children get sleepy, they walk back home. They'll get the kids ready for bed, and he'll settle in front of the TV, and maybe she'll read a book, or write in her journal, or if she's feeling ambitious, sew something. It's what they do. That isn't the problem though, but all those spaces in between. The moments they could choose to connect with each other, if they wanted, but have nothing to grab on to.

She and Matt have their third marriage therapy session coming up on Wednesday, but she's not sure if they'll go. It's a hassle, this time of year, but their therapist encourages them to continue. Holidays are a very stressful time of year. But one week missed can't hurt. It can't do any more damage than was already done. She isn't even really sure it's working. They just answer questions and explore their feelings and leave wide open but with nothing to say. One of the questions she's supposed to ask is why did she love each of them - why does she love Corbin, why does she love Matt? She's supposed to make lists. But that isn't what she wants to know. That was never the problem. She wants to know from Matt, why does he love her?

She sits on the couch, what could be miles away from him. She feels nauseous, like the world is spinning. Her world has been spinning for about a year now, and it's about time to stop.

This question feels so big, bigger than it should be, and nauseous as it makes her, she can't help but ask it. "Why do you love me?"

He looks at her, confused. "Of course I love you. Don't you believe me?"

"I know that you love me, but why? Why me?"

"I don't know, there are tons of reasons." He grabs his neck then, he kneads it in his hand. "You're the mother of my children. You're beautiful and kind and loving. I appreciate everything you do for me."

She's thinking of Paul, with Charlotte's shoulder in his hand, like the most precious thing he's ever held. She's thinking about Corbin. When Corbin looked at her, he saw her, for everything she was and ever could be, and he understood it, and he cherished it. The way Corbin saw her was like he'd seen every woman in the world and ended up here, and she was the one. The way he looked at her, with such familiarity, was like he'd just come back home.

Doesn't a woman know when she's cherished? He doesn't have to say it, I care about you. It's not in the words at all. Because when a woman isn't cherished, she knows it. She feels crushed in the pit of her soul.

"I'm smart," she tells him. "I'm very smart, you don't even have any idea how smart."

"I love that you're smart too."

"But it doesn't matter to you," she says. "If I wasn't smart, you'd be just fine. If I wasn't smart, creative, full of passion and soul - none of those things matter to you. You don't even see me. You don't hear me. You accommodate me into your life. Me and all my silly ideas. You put up with me, allot me my quirky fixes, you endure me, but you don't need me. You might need me to raise your children and take care of your home, but you don't need me."

"What do you actually want from me?"

"I want to feel precious. I want to feel cherished. I want you to ask me about the books I'm reading and listen to my response. I want you to have read those books too. I want to travel more, I want to go places. I want to have conversations, I want you to talk back. I want you to surprise me with something I don't already know. I want you to be surprised by everything I know. I want you to have opinions, and get passionate about them. I want to talk about the war, and about politics, and about history, and debate the existence of God. Dammit, I want to feel inspired."

Matt falls back away from her. "Like he inspired you."

She doesn't know how to answer. It's true. He isn't Corbin, and he never will be. She wouldn't even want him to try. Her husband is a good man, and he's perfect just the way he is. They have a family, a whole life full of these moments of sufficiency that she hoped might some day be enough. But he doesn't see her. And if she wants to be honest with herself, the lack for what he can't see is crushing.

Who are we anyway but what we see reflected in other people's eyes? When she saw herself, the way Corbin saw her, the way he understood and adored and cherished even the places she hadn't discovered yet herself, for that short perfect time, she's never felt more alive.

And this is why she was so afraid to say it out loud. Because the answer to their problem is also the end of everything. "This isn't about him," she says. "But if you want to know the truth, he loved all those things you don't care about. When he looked at me, I felt cherished. With you, I feel invisible."

"That's not true. You think I don't love you? You're my wife, of course I love you. You and the kids, you're my whole world."

She knows he doesn't understand the lack. He feels it, but he doesn't understand it. He'd carry on just like this if she could stand it. But she can't stand it. Once you've been so cherished, how do you ever go back?

"My role is irreplaceable to you," she says. "Not me. I want you to need me. I want you to need everything that I am. Or even anything at all. You don't need me. Go on if you want, tell me it's not true."

He stalls. She can feel his eyes on her in the silence. "I don't know what you want me to say. I feel like you have some answer in mind, and I'm not guessing it right."

She could choke holding back all this panic, so she just lets it out. "That's the problem, Matt. You've had ten years. You shouldn't have to guess."

"I like our life," he says. His voice is quiet, resolved. "I never wanted anything more than this, this farm, and this family. You said you wanted it too."

"I was eighteen," she says softly. "I was barely eighteen. How could I have known? I was a baby. What did you expect?"

"I wasn't that old either, and I knew. Don't you think I've sacrificed too? I was going to be an accountant."

"You only wanted to study accounting so you could help run the farm. You know you love this farm. You never wanted to do anything else."

"Don't blame me because you didn't go to college, you could have gone. Why didn't you go? I would have waited for you."

"It wouldn't have worked. It was three hours away. We wouldn't have worked."

"I would have waited," he says again. "Wouldn't you have waited?"

She remembers visiting her big brother at college one weekend. She was seventeen, already dating Matt. She was so young, just a baby. And there were all these boys, and she felt attracted to all of them. So many boys, smart boys, interesting boys, handsome boys, a whole world full of them. It terrified her.

"I was eighteen. I was boy-crazy. If I went to college, we wouldn't have made it."

"And you knew it then? You knew we wouldn't work, but you married me anyway."

"You were my first. Don't you know what that means to a girl? I was in love. I hoped."

"For God's sake, Leila, you don't get married for hope!"

She leaps to her feet and squeezes her fists, the blood draining from her hands. "You don't ask a little girl to promise you anything!"

And then there's silence. There's the sound of their heated breaths, and nothing. After they've spewed everything out, reached the pit, the deep empty pit, there's nothing left to say, only silence.

And child sized feet on the stairs running back to bed. Felicity.

Leila goes to her. In the dark, Felicity has pulled herself back under her covers, squeezing her eyes shut tight like she's sleeping. Leila smooths out the covers, kisses her on the top of her head. It's six days before Christmas. They've got to do better. This is not okay. They'll pull it together and have a nice quiet Christmas for the kids. They should be good at quiet by now. At least for that long.

"I'm sorry, baby," Leila says. "Go back to sleep. I'm so, so sorry."

Leila has said all she has to say to Matt right now, so she slips off her boots and climbs into bed next to her daughter. Every moment of their lives is a lesson to this little girl. Every word, every movement, every feeling, and she feels it too. And it means to her, this is what it means to be a woman. This is what she's allowed, what she's entitled to, or instead, what she's not. And Leila can't help but feel responsible for what she learns.

A woman, only the sum of her promises? Bound to her choices? Obligated to her place? No, but that she has to live with the most honest of intentions, and own her own consequences. That her life is her own, and she is worthy of feeling precious. She's entitled to it. And that if she needs to, when she's tried as best she knows how, when she's tried all she can, she's even allowed to change her mind.

Leila doesn't expect her to get this right now. In fact, she knows that she won't. But some day, when she's a woman of her own, Leila hopes she'll understand.

*******

notes: This piece reveals two of those terrible teasers I'm always throwing out at you guys ;) First, Leila's secret I was babbling about, that she sort of had the feeling they were a little mismatched even before they were married. I asked her, Why didn't you go to college? Because if their love was strong enough, they could have gotten married after. She was in love, and too young to understand what the consequences of that might be. Even me though, writing the story, feeling that right along with her, I never thought it would matter so much. I guess I was in love with the idea of them too.

Second, some time ago I tweeted about something (I know, I tweet about random "somethings" all the time) that hit me like a ton of bricks, and probably included the words "holy shit!" For serious! I asked Matt, why do you love her? And he drew a complete blank. And then I asked him, why did you ask her to marry you then? And I got a very interesting answer.

I did know this before Matt's last piece though, and tried to hint at it a little there, so hopefully it wasn't too much of a surprise by now. Was this a huge surprise to anyone? He does love her though, in the grown and acquired kind of way. And the losses he's worried about are real, and valid. But losing her, as a defined and irreplaceable person, is not one of them, and that was what killed the marriage for her. Matt will have a chance to add his thoughts in part 4.

views on sex: a study on fictional nookie

2010-12-23T09:30:00.017-05:00

* warnings: pics are marginally NSFW, and plentiful discussion of a wide variety of sex ;) *

Okay, first of all, I have no idea why I was so compelled to do this study, lol! But since I couldn't think of a fictional Christmas gift to you all, I decided to give you a character study on fictional sex!!! :D

Of course, just the very reason I'm exploring my characters' views on sex at all has to be inspired by Lunar's profiles for Ruin. I've always felt (and I think she would agree) that you can tell a lot about a character based on how they approach their sexual relationships. This became even more apparent since I've been writing Matt and Leila, in their current ordeals, seeing how each of them view love and sex so differently.

The way our characters view sex is as varied as their different personalities are. Not everybody likes to get down and dirty, and not everybody is wholesome either. Even from within the same aspiration type, there can be huge differences. But it goes even beyond a simple range of promiscuity - the way people approach sex comes from all sorts of angles, and I found a lot of these angles completely unrelated to promiscuity at all.

I found thirteen different subsets of the six TS2 aspiration types, and when I went through my list of characters, there was hardly a single one who didn't fall into one of the groups. This is something I've always worked out behind the scenes myself, but as I saw the similarities between characters of the same "type" it became an interesting study. And especially how they managed to clearly fall into these different dividers. For example, all of my characters viewing sex through a "romance" lens would fall into one of three types. All of my characters viewing sex through a "family" lens would fall into one of two other types. And so on. I think of these as the color of glasses they view their sexuality through. This kind of thing is helpful to me, as a writer, so that I can remember that not everybody views their sexuality through the same color of glasses that I do. Or when I'm writing from the POV of one character, I have to remember that their partner might see their relationship very differently.

If you wanted to implement this in your writing or in your game, whether a TS2 based story or not, you could even set this up as a random character roll. Each of my characters have two aspiration types, and thus will have two influences on the way they view sex. For example, Leila will take one influence after her family aspiration, and another influence after her romance aspiration. You could choose two opposing, or complimentary types to create an interesting and dimensional character, or stir up a boring one. (Of course, in my story, their preferences are already mostly determined, but I may begin some random rolls for my younger and new characters.)

As with any aspect of a character, they are not bound by this kind of behavior, but given the freedom, this is the kind of sex they would prefer or seek out. Any character can be driven to act outside his or her own behavior norms in the right circumstances. I just think of this as the colored glasses they view their sex, love, and relationships through. They come at it from these different approaches, but it doesn't mean they don't ever do things differently.

romance types: bold sex, the lovers vs. the fuckers vs. the flirts

lovers: would opt for emotional and connected love-making over purely physical sex
Tyler Jackson
Corbin Gray
Joel Harris
Aurora Miguel

fuckers: would opt for lusty and exciting physical sex over emotional connection
Maxwell Shaw
April Hutchins
Emmy Masuko
Bella (Bradshaw) Gibson
Adrian Jackson

flirts: lusty and playful, but follow-through is an unrelated decision, likes to tease
Leila Watts
Summer Phoenix
Cameron Gibson
Berjes Monif

notes: these types are bold about their sex and/or relationships. They pretty much live for it. They can be easy to mistake for each other though. As Tyler and Corbin have proven, a lover can easily indulge in purely casual sex, especially when they don't want to (or are not able to) use their heart. Also, the fuckers usually do manage to find someone, at some point, who they can express true love-making with. The flirts though, while they might first appear a lot like both of the other two types, are distinguished by their intentions to follow-through. The actual follow-through is a separate decision, and they may or may not ever intend to deliver at all.

pleasure types: pleasure sex, the hedonists vs. the comfort lovers

hedonists: they value fun, spontaneous, rich, flavorful and indulgent sex - hates boredom
April Hutchins
Adrian Jackson
Lara Nova
Keri Riley-Kim?

comfort lovers: values comfort and ease in their sex, but also easily pleased
Beau Jackson
Stephanie Day
Hayden Phoenix
Piper Wilson
Claire Bradshaw

notes: these types approach sex from an angle of pleasure, both personal and for their partner. Comfort lovers might look a lot like the fortune spoiled ones at first glance, but the difference is in their expectations. Comfort lovers are quite easy to please, and they aren't as selfish either. The hedonists aren't necessarily selfish either though, they just want a lot out of their sex, and they have a lot to give back as well. I can't see a hedonist and a comfort lover pleasing each other for very long in the bedroom, which bodes badly for those who ship April and Beau. Who knows, anything is possible. Beau also has a bit of fortune achiever in him, so maybe he can pull out some extra effort when he feels like it, lol!

popularity types: social sex, the BFFs vs. the rock stars

BFFs: prefer a close, trusting, and lasting friendship with their sex
Amelia Bradshaw
Micah and Mariah Buchanan
Lucy Harris

rock stars: prefer new people, fresh experiences, and has a short attention-span
Maxwell Shaw
Emmy Masuko
Summer Phoenix
also, though not popularity aspirations: Angelo Shaw and April Hutchins

notes: these types approach sex from a social angle, the variant being whether they needed new, or liked the same. The BFFs, a lot like the romance lovers, when in a state of emotional turmoil can act out and look a bit like the rock star types, though they prefer to go the "friend-with-benefits" route than strictly casual sex. Amelia was a good example of this in her uncommitted phase. I've found that "rock star" types, unless under the influence of another aspiration, are a bit sketchy in relationships and hard to hold on to. (Which makes me worry about Summer quite often.)

family types: wholesome sex, the idealists vs. the traditionalists

idealists: hopelessly romantic, seek out a soul-mate kind of connection in their sex
Micah Buchanan
Tyler Jackson
Drew Bruty
Leila Watts
Hailey Monif
Dallas Deppiesse

traditionalists: steady and committed, they value integrity and stability in sex
Matt Watts
Charlotte and Paul Gallagher
Vicky Garth
Andy Bradshaw

notes: these types approach sex from the angle of marriage and/or family. It's always my more idealistic family types that end up having trouble in their relationships - they need that soul-burning passion with their love, so that when they lose it (like Hailey), or find it with someone else (like Leila), it's almost impossible to fix. But on the other hand, like with Tyler or Drew or Micah, when that soul-burning relationship is still burning but in trouble, it can be a positive thing, because they'll hang on to the bitter end... or longer (ahem... Tyler, lol!).

My traditionalists, on the other hand, end up being the ones who hurt the worst when a relationship doesn't work out, because they just don't understand how the other could simply give up. (Like Charlotte did with Adam, or like Vicky with Dallas.) Traditionalists are committed, steady, and one of the most loyal of the different types.

fortune types: lavish sex, the achievers vs. the spoiled ones

achievers: committed to doing their best, like to impress and please, they try hard (in bed, at least).
Justin Kim
Drew Bruty
Bella Gibson
Andy Bradshaw
Berjes Monif

spoiled ones: likes to be pampered and impressed, has high expectations
Keri Riley-Kim
Cameron Gibson
Jodie Larson
Mariah Buchanan
Amelia Bradshaw

notes: these types approach sex with an appreciation for the very best. They want to give the very best, or expect the very best. They're also interesting, because they're one of the few opposing subsets who actually do work well when paired together, as with Bella and Cameron, or Drew and Amelia. Though when taken too far, the achievers can end up feeling unappreciated. Though it's really a tricky balance for the spoiled types, to be pampered without taking so much that it drains the relationship. Without the right balance, they can be like vampires, lol! Most of my spoiled ones do okay since they're balanced out with one of the other more giving types, but I do worry about Keri with Justin in this aspect.

knowledge types: brainy sex, the innovators vs. the masterminds

innovators: curious and inventive, creative in relationships, seemingly "normal" on the outside but can bring some pretty "imaginative" ideas to the table
Corbin Gray
Dallas Deppiesse
Orion and Violet Deppiesse
Adam and Heather Thompson

masterminds: will use sex to their advantage if the opportunity strikes
Fiona McCullough
James Porter
Jodie Larson
Jasmine Nova
Justin Kim

notes: this was the only aspiration type that at first, the two subsets didn't seem to have anything to do with each other. Though when I dug deeper, I saw that they exist on a sort of slider of innovation, with "goodness" being the differentiating factor. The characters with less "goodness" in them might tend to use their innovation for selfish purposes and schemes, while that same innovation without any schemes will just bring a creative zest to the relationship. Masterminds are not necessarily destined to be "evil", but they can be manipulative in relationships, and like to get their way. The emo-games Justin plays with Keri is a good example of manipulation from a character who is usually a pretty nice guy.

******

further notes:

- If you want a dramatic couple to write about, pair up a bad match. Two masterminds together? I wonder what terrible and devious things they might do to each other, lol!

- Romance lovers and fuckers are probably the most promiscuous when single, though they have proven to be quite happy in relationships when paired well.

- While any type of person might be driven to cheat in relationships, some of them are more prone to it than others. Pleasure hedonists get bored easily, and popularity rock stars have trouble keeping a relationship fresh. These two types have proven to be my most cheaty. Almost any of these types would be driven to cheat if their needs weren't being met.

- Most likely to look like they're cheating when they're actually not: the romance flirts.

- Most likely to consider cheating but not actually do it: the family idealists.

- Most likely to be disappointed: the family idealists and the fortune spoiled ones.

- Most likely to pull out some kinky stuff: the pleasure hedonists and the knowledge innovators.

- Most likely to be loyal: the pleasure comfort lovers, popularity BFFs, and family traditionalists.

- Best in bed? All of them, or none of them, depending on what you're looking for ;)

- Remember, this is just a study of my own characters, based on how I interpret their character differences. So I'm not sure how much this will apply to anyone else's game or story, but I'd be interested to know if these types fit anyone else's range of characters. Let's compare notes, lol! Also, let me know if you think there are any types I've missed.

- And of course, have a safe and happy holiday season! :)

ghost from a wishing well, part 2

2010-12-20T12:22:00.019-05:00

December 19, 2083 - Leila Watts is 28, Felicity is 5.

* warning: sketchy research on rice paddies. And again, a big hornking unapologetic block of text *

Soundtrack: "If You Could Read My Mind," as performed by Johnny Cash.

Any time she leaves Bluewater, she thinks of Corbin. Which is not to say she thinks of him less any other time of the day, but especially out here. They're in Lakeside Heights, and he has friends here. He could be here, anywhere, visiting one of them. He likes books too, and she's in the only independent book store in the county. She loves it here, she always has. But he also knows she loves this store, so she doesn't expect to see him here. He's had seven weeks to try to argue with her choices, and he knows exactly where to find her if he wanted to, so he doesn't need to accidentally bump into her at some book store.

And he won't. He won't say a word. She knows him well enough to know that.

It's the week before Christmas, and they're finishing off some last-minute shopping. They probably won't buy anything here, unless Leila considers buying something for herself. Books are so particular a purchase, and hardly anyone on the planet knows what kind of books she likes to read. Instead, Felicity might help pick out some books for her brothers.

But first, she's found a Children's World Atlas. She has the book opened to a section on China. "China," she says. "C-H-I-N-A, spells China."

Leila smiles. "What do you know about China?"

Felicity points to a picture of rice. "That's where rice comes from."

"That is true," Leila says. "Did you know that rice grows in a field of water? It's called a rice paddy." Leila points to a picture in the book.

"Oh," Felicity says.

"And did you know the rice paddies are slimy? When you walk through it, the starch sticks to your legs. Kind of like that algae that grows on your daddy's lake."

"Eeew," Felicity says. "Did you ever walk through rice, Mommy?"

Leila sighs, remembering where that information came from. "No, not me," she says. "But I know someone who did." She can't help it, all these things he told her are still there, in her mind, whether she likes it or not. He wanted to meet her children, he told her once. It never happened. But this memory, he gave her this, and she gave it to her daughter. The smile of wonder on Felicity's face, he gave that to her. She wishes she could tell him so.

"Some day," Leila says to her. "You and me, we're gonna go to China."

Felicity jumps from the sofa, the atlas tucked firm under her arm. "But mommy, how are we gonna get to China? Don't you know it's on the other side of the world?"

Leila laughs. "Yes, I know, baby." How? That's a good question. Leila is still thinking about her own words. The things we tell our children, the things we want to believe. Can you really do anything? Is everything really possible? Are they all lies? "I think we can figure out a way," Leila says. "If you want something badly enough, there's a way to make anything work."

Felicity smiles. "Okay." She wanders off to look for another book.

She wants to tell him. She wants to thank him for this. For all of this. There's been so many things she wanted to tell him in these past weeks. She imagines there always will be.

One day, they were talking about ghosts. They sat in the courtyard, like they did, hiding from the eyes of the world, their private secret garden. She'd long since stopped worrying how she looked with him, that her hair was soaked in sweat and matted to her forehead, that she'd only covered up the salty smell of her sweat with another layer of deodorant. Their time was so limited, and after sharing a workout with him for so many months, they had little left to hide from each other.

She believes in ghosts. She was telling him about the newspaper she and Charlotte used to write for. "You believe in happy endings too."

She tilted her head to him. "Do I?"

"In your heart, you do," he said.

"What about you, do you believe in happy endings?"

"I don't think I believe there are endings at all," he said.

"No, you wouldn't." She grinned at him. "It's related, I think. That's why you won't pick a God either."

"Yes," he said, with enthusiasm, nodding. "That makes sense." She loved it when he looked at her like that, his face brightened with discovery, like she might have had some part in it - like she had every part in it. "Some people just believe in things, while others want to believe in everything, or one thing, or nothing. And that's also why you still believe in God."

"Do I?"

"In your heart, I think you do," he said.

He was right.

They sat side by side, her head felt heavy, like it wanted to rest there on his solid shoulder. He washed his clothes in organic detergents - he smelled of lemongrass and ginseng. This was a fresh shirt he pulled on after his workout, from the paper shopping bag he kept his clothes in. She leaned in close and inhaled. "I like the smell of lemongrass," she said. She's been washing Matt's clothes in the same detergent for ten years - he doesn't like anything different.

Corbin smiled. "I got Amelia buying it too. But she only cares that it's organic."

The other girl, he stopped seeing her. Leila hadn't remembered her name at first. But here, after they'd been talking for months, it dawned on her. "You don't see that girl anymore."

He looked to her, as if coming out of a dream. "What girl?"

"You were seeing some girl when we first met," Leila said. "You said so. You don't talk about her anymore."

He talked about them all. He would tell her anything she wanted to know. The two of them, they were friends too, beyond whatever else they were, and they had no reason not to talk about the other people in his life. This whole other life he led. She was curious about them. She'd heard so much about them, and she wanted to meet them all. His best friend Justin, and the baby Lily. Amelia, who he slept with twice, or maybe three times, and her parents. His own parents, who he talked about with such genuine love and respect. But there was another girl, once, who he was actually dating, Emmy. He didn't call it dating though. They weren't dating, just enjoying each others company.

"So why did you stop seeing her? Are you seeing someone else now?"

She could almost see him blush. "No," he said. "I'm actually not."

"Did you break up with her?"

She was teasing him a little, and he knew it. "Not really," he said. "I just got too busy to call her back."

Leila laughed. "That's not like you. Aren't you worried about your karma? Wouldn't she be mad?"

"I doubt it," he said. "She didn't like me that much. She has other company. And we never made any promises."

"Because you don't make promises?"

"Because when I do," he said. "I want to be sure I intend to keep them."

She knew what little extra time he had, between his two jobs and entertaining her phone calls and conversations. She grinned at him, coy and prodding, so he couldn't resist smiling back. It never took much to get a smile out of him. And there was never a question he didn't want to answer until she asked him this, leaning her shoulder against his. "But why? Why did you stop seeing her then?" Didn't she already know the answer, on some level?

But he would never say what this meant to him. Not out loud. He cared about all these girls - he would say so quite openly. She always wondered if he cared about her too, in that way, or in a different way? What did this mean to him? But he never said so, and she never brought herself to ask him directly. She only persisted at him, staring him in the face until he flustered that solid composure, and could do nothing other than pick up her hand and kiss it.

He didn't let go of her hand right away. He always held on just those few extra seconds, breaking past that boundary that could classify this gesture as simple chivalry. "Because my time is happily spoken for," he said. He rubbed the top of her hand in his palm before he set it down. This was not chivalry. This was something else, undefined and unspoken. Something precious.

In the background, a girl steps to the microphone. Leila didn't know there would be a reading here today, but then she scans the room and sees a small chalk board by the door. It reads, "Open-Mic."

The girl poises herself in front of an audience of two, plus some additional people shopping who might look up to listen. "I dedicate this poem to Tyler," she says.

"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear.."

The words are hypnotic, and at the same time, cutting through her mind like a siren. They scream at her, as if saying, pay attention. And she is.

Felicity bounds up from behind her. "Mommy, can I go next?"

Leila nods, absently. "A poem?" She's not fully sure of what her daughter is asking, trying to listen to the poem being read. This emotive teenage girl reciting the words of a long-dead poet, for some boy she has a crush on. And every single word cuts deep through Leila's skin.

"...here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)."

It's just a love poem. How many millions of people know this poem? How many millions have studied it, for its beauty, for it's meaning? But how many have ever really felt it? Leila has read this poem dozens of times in her life, but she's never felt it hit her so hard. She can hardly move, the panic bubbling up and welling in her throat to the point she could almost scream it out.

And at some point in the haze, Felicity has already run up to the microphone to take her turn.

As Felicity starts, Leila can't help but laugh. And her laugh feels both like joy and reprieve.

"Little Miss Muffet, sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away."

Leila moves quickly to the front of the room. She claps and Felicity smiles wide, takes a small bow, and begins another rhyme.

"Hey, diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon..."

And at her tiny voice in the microphone, Leila swallows the panic down, for a moment, for a few hours. This is reprieve, but this isn't repair. She knows it now. This panic isn't going away. It isn't meant to go away. This feeling means something. She knows if she ignores this panic, if she keeps stuffing it down, she'll only eventually grow dead inside. It's a warning, a flashing red light, a screeching alarm. This panic, it's a bright orange reflective detour sign.

*******

(footnotes: moments of panic)

notes: the poem: "i carry your heart with me" by e.e. cummings <-- one of my favorite poems ever, I couldn't resist working it in here, especially for as fitting as it is... what? I mean, from Dakota to Tyler, lol! ;)

I had to break part 2 in half, and as it goes, all the juicy stuff I know you guys want is in the second half! :p I also should note that what this actually means, at this point, is probably a lot less concrete than what I know you guys are thinking, lol!

But this piece, even without its second half, is all very important. The whole second half banks on this piece. I had actually meant both halves to be read in one sitting, but I couldn't finish that much in one weekend. So I figured maybe you guys would rather have the first half than wait a whole week for both parts?

Also note: I read it in a book that the water in a paddy field was actually sticky to walk through. If that's not actually true, then I blame it on that book, lol! I spent far too long (for play story research) trying to confirm or deny that fact, but never found any further references. So let's just pretend, for our purposes here, that it is true ;)

profile: Corbin

2010-12-17T12:03:00.007-05:00

Corbin Gray

His parents are Raymond and Juniper "June" Gray, a hippyish and quiet couple living a little ways outside of Portland, Oregon. They've been together for about 35 years, but didn't marry until Corbin was five. Corbin is an only child. If at all possible, his father is even more reserved a man than Corbin is. His mother is a large woman who wears linen skirts and bakes organic bread. She also makes wind chimes, and she sells both the bread and the wind chimes at local craft shows. His dad is a carpenter, and specializes in sunrooms. Corbin calls home about once a month, plus holidays and birthdays, which he never forgets.

The closest Corbin ever knew to heartbreak in his past was a high school girlfriend, Sophia Lamott, who was a grade older, and broke up with him when she went off to college. He cared about her a lot, and he quickly decided that he was simply not cut out for this kind of emotional turmoil, especially with all the moving around he planned to do in his future. So he devised a system of maintaining a series of friendly sex-partners rather than actual romantic relationships. He was too busy with his studies to focus on relationships anyway. But he cared about all of them deeply, and was always very honest about his intentions, though he doesn't doubt some of them hoped for more or got the wrong idea. (In honesty, he got a little attached to a couple of them as well.) He managed quite well at this game, through his twenties and early thirties, until Leila Watts smashed his whole world view into another dimension.

character tag: corbin

name means: raven (English)
birthdate: March 18, 2051
age: 32 as of March 2083
zodiac: pisces
MBTI: INFP - the idealist
character traits: honest, good, idealistic, smart, caring, reserved

appearance:
- height: 5' 11"
- hair: medium brown, longish, worn in a ponytail
- eyes: rich brown
- body: strong but lithe, very healthy
- dress: organic fibers, likes earth tones, flexible and rather sporty
- distinguishing features: a prominent nose, cleft chin, and well, the body ;)

romantic history:
- first kiss: doesn't remember her name, but she was wearing cherry lip gloss, at age 13
- v-card goes to: Sophia Lamott, at age 17
- notable relationships: Sophia Lamott (age 17, nine months, she broke up with him when she went to college), Christa Midlock (age 24-28, 4 years while they both taught at Takemizu. No plans, but she was the closest of his "casual" girlfriends. He kept in touch with her until she got married and she decided they shouldn't talk anymore.); Amelia Bradshaw (age 31, a very brief tryst that was quickly brushed off for friendship instead. The two remain close friends to this day.), Leila Watts (age 32, an intense romantic friendship/affair. He fell ridiculously in love with her, it couldn't be helped. She broke it off to reflect on the state of her marriage.)
- number of partners: He honestly doesn't keep track, but it's probably not as many as you would assume. He prefers serial familiarity over truly casual encounters. If you made him guess, more than 10, but probably less than 20.

romantic present:
- currently: kind of single
- love/not seeing each other: Leila Watts, 1 year
- dating: Emmy Masuko, 6 months, casual

family:
- parents: Raymond and June Gray
- siblings: none
- children: none
- BFFs: Justin Kim, Amelia Bradshaw

lifestyle:
- TS2 aspiration: knowledge/romance
- hobbies: traveling, reading, learning new sports or recreational activities, making love
- job: professor of history, philosophy, and health education at Lake City University // yoga and tai chi instructor, massage therapist at Lake City Lotus
- education: undergraduate at Portland State University class of 2073 (History), graduate work at Takemizu Academy 2076 (Masters, Philosophy/Eastern Medicine), PhD studies, Exercise Science/Physical Therapy at Lake City University.
- drugs?: he's tried a few things, but nothing stuck
- sex?: he's skilled and intense, prefers a mind and body connection, but is guarded with his heart
- god?: he believes in a lot of things, but doesn't feel the need to commit to any one idea
- his parents?: are some of the most genuine people he's ever known

loves: sleeping late on a rainy morning, preferably with a beautiful woman at his side // adrenaline // the feel of his heart pumping // bare skin on skin // kissing // the endlessly open and undefined experience of life // teaching what he knows // learning what he doesn't know yet // the great quest for meaning // reaching moments of epiphany // going somewhere he hasn't been before (metaphorically too) // being in love // and being loved // truth and honesty // Leila's mischievous, gap-toothed smile // and the soft breath of surprise she takes when he touches her

hates: dancing // he doesn't really hate much of anything else at all... just dancing

theme song: "Marquee" by Greg Laswell

(click for full size)

1. name: Corbin
2. grew up: in a small woodsy town outside Portland, Oregon
3. favorite food: steak and potatoes (organic)
4. favorite color: rich shades of green
5. favorite weather: crystal clear starry nights
6. favorite drink: green tea
7. currently reading: the third draft of his doctorate dissertation on physical therapy and eastern medicine
8. most important job: teacher
9. if he had one wish: to spend his life showing her everything there is to see
10. thing he loves most in the world: the soft breath of surprise Leila takes when he touches her
11. one word to describe him: limitless
12. something else: too soft for his own good

*If you can't read it, the caption on the photo for #9 reads: "now, take my hand, and we could run away." <-- I thought that suited him well, lol! [mosaic credits]1. Honesty Tattoo, 2. beckon., 3. New York Steak, 4. Reflect - Self - Reflect, 5. Walking under stars, 6. Energy Herbal Tea, 7. writing dissertation, 8. Physics !, 9. September 9, 2009 (Explore), 10. Untitled, 11. ., 12. Kittytails

profile: Matt

2010-12-16T13:40:00.005-05:00

Matthew "Matt" Watts

Matt had a very ordinary childhood, the only child of a happily married church-going couple. His father was a farmer, and Matt was always happy to do the same when he grew up. He went to college intending to study accounting to help with the farm's bookkeeping when he graduated. He finished nearly two years of his studies before his parents were killed in a boating accident while on vacation.

Matt dropped out of college after the accident, and moved back to Bluewater Township to inherit his family's farm business. He was young, but well trained for the work, and he slipped into the role easily. The community quickly came to honor him with the same respect they gave his father.

It was soon after that he met Leila, who four years younger, and only 16 years-old at the time. It was Leila who initiated the relationship. He hadn't realized how lonely he was, but having her passionate spirit around brought life back to the farm again. They fell in love quickly, and he did actually ask her father for her hand in marriage, but her parents declined to support the relationship, citing an "inappropriate" age difference (he was 22, she was 18), and that they wanted their daughter to go to college first instead.

Matt and Leila went ahead with the wedding anyway. They are not currently in contact with her family. Matt has an aunt and some cousins living out of state.

character tag: matt

name means: gift of God (English)
birthdate: February 27, 2051
age: 32 as of February 2083
zodiac: picses
MBTI: ISTJ - the duty fulfiller
character traits: loner, simple, generous, observant, dependable

appearance:
- height: 6'0"
- hair: blond
- eyes: brown
- body: tall, lanky but durable
- dress: jeans, cotton shirts in warm tones, casual and comfortable, wears a hat in the summer
- distinguishing features: a farmer's tan for half the year

romantic history:
- first kiss: a girl named Susan, summer camp, at age 15
- v-card goes to: Rebecca Miller, high school girlfriend, at age 18
- notable relationships: Rebecca Miller (age 17-18, 2 years, mutual break up, she moved away for college); Vivian Klien (age 19, 6 months, he broke up with her when his parents died); Leila Watts (age 20-present, currently married, 10 years).
- number of partners: 4

romantic present:
- currently: married, Leila Watts, summer of 2073, 10 years

family:
- parents: Henry and Beatrice Watts
- siblings: none
- children: Felicity, Hunter, and Flint Watts
- BFF: Paul Gallagher

lifestyle:
- TS2 aspiration: family/fortune
- hobbies: he's generally too busy for many hobbies, but enjoys fishing and watching sci-fi dramas
- job: owns the Watts family farm and market
- education: high school graduate, two years of college, he studied accounting
- drugs?: enjoys a nice smokey whiskey, tried weed once in college but wouldn't do it again
- sex?: he's subtle but capable, rarely ever very bold but he can be accommodating
- god?: yes, he believes in a humble and solid way
- his parents?: he finds he misses them more and more the older he gets

loves: dancing silly with his kids // making things grow // being generous with what he has // a quiet evening with his wife // the smell of firewood // his home // being a pillar of the community // tradition // ivory lace on a woman // and red lipstick // spending a long, lazy winter with his family // the first snow // relaxing into the warmth of Leila's voice when she's talking // fishing // standing in a field of pumpkins // his kids' laughter

hates: crop pests // yoga // people who think they're better than him // change // losing someone he loves

theme song: "Fire and Rain," by James Taylor

(click for full size)

1. name: Matt
2. grew up: on a farm
3. favorite food: grilled fish and fresh veggies
4. favorite color: golden orange
5. favorite weather: cool autumn harvest
6. favorite drink: whiskey, on the rocks
7. currently reading: the Cabela's catalog
8. most important job: farmer
9. if he had one wish: that his parents could meet his children
10. thing he loves most in the world: fishing at sunrise
11. one word to describe him: rock
12. something else: plays by the rules

[mosaic credits] 1. Hat In The Barn, 2. Summers Passed, 3. i like my salmon simple, 4. Golden Cornfield Tradition, 5. Loaded for harvest, 6. On the rock's., 7. Sierra Nevadas Nostalgia, 8. Autumn Corn Nuggets - Fall Nature, 9. Last Resting Place, Wymondham, Norfolk, 10. Two men in a boat, 11. Monster Walnut Found, Can you crack it? Wonders of California Geology, 12. ...or another...

profile: Leila

2010-12-14T20:32:00.012-05:00

Leila (Meyer) Watts

Leila was born in Lakeside Heights, Michigan, to a well-established couple, Nate and Callie Meyer. Her father was an attorney and her mother was a scientist. She grew up with one older brother, Dalton, though they never had much in common. Her parents remain married to this day, but they struggled through affairs on both ends, and had many tumultuous rough patches throughout Leila's youth.

Leila was a spirited, precocious, and defiant girl, but always very smart. She kept top grades through her high school career, and excelled in athletics as well. It was fully assumed that she would attend university, and she was even eligible for scholarships, but instead, she opted out at the last minute to marry her first love, Matthew Watts. The sudden marriage was a source of conflict between Leila and her family, which they have never really gotten over.

Leila married Matt the summer after she graduated high school, and she moved to Bluewater Township to live with him on his family's farm. Leila's parents moved to Seattle, and her brother lives in California.

character tag: leila

name means: black, night or dark beauty (Arabic)
birthdate: November 5, 2055
age: adult - 28 as of November 2083
zodiac: scorpio
MBTI: ISFJ - the nurturer
character traits: flirty, loving, logical, passionate, spirited

appearance:
- height: 5'6"
- hair: long, medium brown
- eyes: dark brown
- body: curvy and strong
- dress: mommy-chic, accentuates her curves, no heels, little makeup
- distinguishing features: gap between her front teeth, never been pierced

romantic history:
- first kiss: Matt Watts, at age 16
- V-card goes to: Matt Watts, at age 16
- notable relationships: Matt Watts (age 16-present, they married when she was 18), Corbin Gray (age 28, almost 1 year, an intense (romantic?) friendship that she ended (kind of?) to reflect on the state of her marriage).
- number of partners: 1

romantic present:
- currently married: Matt Watts, summer of 2073, 10 years
- love: Corbin Gray, 1 year

family:
- parents: Nate and Callie Meyer
- siblings: Dalton Meyer
- children: Felicity, Hunter, and Flint Watts
- BFF: Charlotte Gallagher

lifestyle:
- TS2 aspiration: family/romance
- hobbies: reading, journaling, practicing yoga, sewing
- job: co-owner/manager, Pies 'n Potholders
- education: high school graduate (top grades), otherwise self-educated
- drugs?: caffeine occasionally, seldom drinks
- sex?: she's spontaneous and surprising, and likes her lovemaking to be full of heart
- god?: used to believe. But she doesn't know what she believes anymore.
- her parents?: she wishes she could say or do some things differently. They're probably not as wrong as she once thought.

loves: sleeping children // losing time in an intense conversation // creating something beautiful and simultaneously useful // yoga // her own handwriting on paper // reading a story she can feel // sweat on a strong body // making love outside // dancing in the rain // making a man blush // kisses on the forehead // cuddles in the winter // fresh fruit in the summer

hates: fighting // when her kids get sick // plucking her eyebrows // the things she can't take back // making choices // making mistakes

theme song: "Winter" by Tori Amos

(click for full size)

1. name: Leila
2. grew up: near the shores of Lake Michigan
3. favorite food: watermelon
4. favorite color: muted pink
5. favorite weather: clear sky and fluffy clouds
6. favorite drink: iced tea
7. currently reading: Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, fourth time through
8. most important job: mommy
9. if she had one wish: to live without regrets
10. thing she loves most in the world: sleeping babies
11. one word to describe her: heart
12. something else: she had the best intentions

ghost from a wishing well, part 1

2010-12-12T22:33:00.008-05:00

December 17, 2083 - Leila Watts is 28, Matt is 32, Felicity is 5, Hunter and Flint are 2. (Audrey Centowski is 67.)

* warnings: heavy. Johnny Cash could make anything sadder. And large unapologetic blocks of text? *

Soundtrack: "If You Could Read My Mind," as performed by Johnny Cash.

If there's one thing Corbin taught her in their time together, it was to live a life filled with truth and honesty. So if she wants to be honest with herself, she has to know that her husband is a good man. He's a kind man. More so before all of this, but even now he's still a guarded kind of polite. He's done nothing wrong to deserve his life being torn apart and smashed into oblivion. None of them actually deserve that.

There are breaths of calm, like this, where she feels like they might just move forward, that they actually could. That this dull comfort could some day become enough.

They exist in the same space together. It's a quiet and comfortable life. She isn't miserable. He doesn't seem miserable. Maybe miserable is something different?

For the first week or two, it was rough. He was cold, he was angry, he said things he shouldn't have. But then the coldness and anger wore off and beneath it was this, the guarded polite. Her husband does not hit her, he does not neglect her, and apart from one angry morning, he's never spoken a cruel word to her in his life. They have three children together. He's a good man, and she owes him this much. She made promises. He's trying, and she's trying. And maybe some day, she might be able to live with this comfortable life.

Some people do much worse than a comfortable life. She should consider herself lucky.

***

She hadn't intended to tell him. She doesn't actually know what she had intended at all, but when he woke her up that night, drunk and shouting, she knows he already knew. On some level, he always seemed to know the truth. But then the next morning, like he had to work up the courage to say it out loud, he actually asked. They were in the kitchen when he said it. She was making pancakes as their children played in the living room. He said it quietly, but so very clear. "There's someone else. You met someone. I know you did."

It wasn't even a question, but a statement, made with such clarity that she couldn't will herself to lie. "I never slept with him."

"Does that matter?"

"It mattered to me," she said.

"Is it over?"

"I ended it," she said. "I'm trying."

His brow was taut, his jaw clenched. "But that doesn't make it over."

"Maybe some day it could be?" The words were so flimsy from her lips, best intentions with no ground to rest on.

He wouldn't yell, the kids were just in the next room. He only said, through gritted teeth, "I should have known you'd only end up being a whore. The way you act, the way you've always acted. How many times have you done this to me?"

No times? One time? She didn't know how to answer, so she just didn't. She just bit her lip and tried not to cry. She's not a whore, she told herself, it's only the anger talking. This wasn't like him. He was hurt, and she was sorry. So many times she's been sorry.

He apologized, three days later. He shouldn't have said that to her. But he didn't say he didn't mean it. And he didn't say it wasn't true.

***

They're in the midst of the holiday season, and the shop is doing well for it. Charlotte can barely make enough pies to stock the shelves with. Leila can't really help much with the cooking, because she's just as busy churning out handmade teddy bears and quilts. Everyone tells them that they're the perfect Christmas presents.

Charlotte opens the shop in the morning, and Leila takes over at night. Charlotte's mom, Audrey, helps them both in between. The three of them have a careful balance here, and it's working. Pies 'n Potholders is doing remarkably well for having only been open five months. The reviewers say it was great timing - opened in the summer, so they'd have just enough time to get on their feet for the holiday season. Business is doing better than just good, it's flourishing.

Corbin doesn't come into the shop anymore. It was always so risky, but they were good at it. Matt always gave the kids dinner while she worked, so that was when Corbin would come out. He'd have some pie, and they'd enjoy being here in the same room, even if they couldn't talk much more than the average strangers would.

He'd eat his pie slowly, reading a newspaper, talking to Audrey about the events of the week while Leila worked nearby. She'd linger close, listen, join in the conversation from time to time. She'd listen as he told Audrey about ancient history, or world philosophies and religions, these perfect nuggets of wisdom shared over bites of pie. Audrey only loved listening to his voice. Leila lingered close too, to feel the warmth of his gaze on her cheek, warm enough to make her blush sometimes. She swallowed those tiny nuggets of wisdom, she devoured them from here on the side, quietly taking what she knew was meant for her anyway.

Then when no one was looking, he would write little notes for her in the margins of his newspaper, vague and secret communications between them, a whole conversation. They never wrote emails - too much for her husband to find - but they had these instead, in between lines of news story, or on a napkin slipped under his pie plate. His handwriting was terse print, chicken scratch. Thank you. The pie was wonderful, it made my night.

She couldn't keep these, she told him. There was too much risk. She wanted to. Even a simple one - thanks for the pie - she wanted to hide in some safe place so she could have it forever.

It's fine, he wrote on the next one. Just keep them in your head.

But that was weeks ago. Nearly months ago. Too much time ago. Even Audrey eventually notices his absence. "Leila honey, do you remember that handsome professor? He doesn't come in here anymore."

Leila just nods.

"You know," Audrey adds. "I always thought he had a crush on you."

Audrey goes home after the night dessert rush has cleared out, and Leila stays to close up the shop. She and Corbin were so careful. There were so many risks they didn't take. She always had this fantasy of the two of them, behind the pie counter, or upstairs in one of the store rooms. There's so much quiet space here, so many possibilities.

She thinks of his body more now, now that it isn't a threat anymore. She thinks of that one night, his hands up her shirt, desperately, her hands gripping his strong shoulders as if holding on for dear life. She could almost laugh at their fervor now, like they were a couple of love-struck teenagers. Except he knew how to unhook a bra unlike any teenage boy she ever knew. Quicker than her husband, quicker even than herself sometimes and she's been wearing a bra for seventeen years. Which only leads her to wonder what other kind of skills he might have had.

But she tells herself, what would be the point? If she did, or if if she didn't. If it all ends like this anyway?

This is her life. She goes home to her husband. He keeps the kids up so she can say goodnight, so she can see her sweet children for a few short minutes before they go to sleep. They play games as they dress the boys in their pajamas, and they put them to bed together. When they're finished, she'll read Felicity a book and tuck her into bed too. The three of them mostly sleep through the night these days, but chances are she'll get to see one of them in the middle of the night again, for something. A strewn blanket, or another cup of water.

This is the point of it all. It's all for them.

She has obligations to her family. She's made promises. She likes to think she's doing the right thing for her family, that her children will be better for it, that some day this sacrifice with feel worth it.

She and Matt are kind to each other. There's a fondness that feels almost platonic, they enjoy each others company like siblings. How did this happen? Like the fire they used to have burned so hard and fast and sudden that it burned right out. A flash fire that left three children in its wake?

They've had two sessions of marriage counseling. They drive to Lakeside Heights, every other Wednesday night for now. In the beginning, their therapist wants to talk to them alone, to get both sides of the story. Leila doesn't like her - she's too young, too hopeful. She asks too many questions about what happened, about Corbin. She says she can talk about him if she wants - this is confidential, she won't tell her husband.

No, Leila doesn't want to talk about him. She can't even say his name out loud. Dr. Buchanan says, "If you want to save your marriage, I think it's vital you understand how you were able to fall in love with another man. How you opened yourself up to that."

How? There was no how, it just happened. It was one conversation and then another. Another and another and it still wasn't enough. It could have gone on forever.

There was a time she used to prize this quiet time with her husband after the kids were in bed. They'd wait for it all day. She tries to remember why, and what happened. Now their time is only filled with quiet tension. They work opposite shifts, spend the whole day apart, and at the end of the night they have nothing to say to each other. What did they ever say to each other? When the young flush of love had worn off, what was left? She tries to dig back to their early days, putting Felicity in bed and hurrying to their bedroom, the two of them, high on young love and wrapped up in the bedsheets. But what did they ever know about each other?

In the evenings, she'll read a book while he watches something on TV. She never cared much for TV, and he never had the attention span for books. He's a functional reader - he gets what he needs to know and he gets out. He never understood how she managed to get lost in them the way she does. Likewise, she tries to talk to him about her ideas, but he's never had many opinions. He isn't a very opinionated man.

Didn't they always have their distance? Him in his field, and her with her nose in a book. Living alongside each other, coming together to meet for short moments at a time.

He watches sci-fi dramas at night, and he tops it off with the evening weather. He looks over to her as the forecast is ending. "Are you coming to bed?"

"No, actually," she says. "I have some quilts to catch up on. We have so many orders this week."

"Okay," he says. He asks no further questions.

He kisses her goodnight. It's a simple kiss, light and friendly. She appreciates the sentiment. For a time, they couldn't even offer each other that much.

There are these moments of comfort, breaths of calm, moments where she thinks they just might be able to salvage this wreck. But in the gaps of those moments, all those spaces in between, there is the opposite of comfort. There is sadness and loneliness and regret and devastating panic.

She was here in her sewing room when she wrote that letter. It was late at night, and she was alone. There's still the same notepad, still the same pen tucked into the binding. And if she held it up to the light, as she has, she can even make out the words, her own words, the only ones she kept, carved into the layer beneath it.

If she's going to be honest with herself, writing that letter was like trying to cut off her own hands. Her beautiful, God-given hands, perfectly crafted instruments, inspiring and functional, made just for her, a perfect fit. And she cut them off. She cut them off because they were causing her the most trouble.

Except that it was never trouble. It was only ever beautiful and easy.

This is where she sat when she wrote it, three weeks ago. It didn't happen in one of her calm moments, but instead, in one of those tumultuous ones. She didn't know if she believed the words as she committed them to paper. She cried when she finished it. She took it straight to the post office, and she sent it with no return address so that it could never come back.

She broke it off, but she still can't escape him. How can that happen? And what does it mean?

There's calm moments and then there's these devastating frantic ones, where she can't forget him and can't see any way to make it work, where she sends herself into a panic realizing that they'll never see each other again, never have another conversation, never share another touch. But there's no way out without causing the biggest mess ever made in the history of human messes, without destroying all of the people she's ever loved.

So she took her heart out of it, because it was her heart causing the most trouble. She thought it through with her head, and she chose the option that caused the least damage. She counted up the casualties: the sacrifices, the children, the husbands, the homes, the businesses, the friends, the hearts, and she chose. This choice. Two people sacrificed, herself and him.

She chose that for him, and she's so sorry.

There are all kinds of love, Corbin once told her. Some are meant to be shared for a time, to grow, to run their course, to serve their purpose, and then to die. But which love was meant to die? She always hoped there would be some grand declaration that she was on the right path. But there isn't. There's only this part of him that still exists in her, stitched into every moment of her life, walking around with her like a living ghost.

*******

(footnotes: seven weeks ago // the letter)

one day, at sunrise...

2010-12-05T17:00:00.002-05:00

December 17, 2083 - Felicity Watts is 5, Leila is 28.

In the morning, her mommy does yoga. Felicity likes it. She's liked it from the first time she snuck downstairs early, before the sun had come all the way up, and saw her mommy bending and stretching in the living room. "Come here," Leila said, and showed her how to move from one pose to the next. "This one is Warrior Pose."

Now they do their practice every morning together as the sun rises, to welcome the day.

Leila tells her that they do yoga to be healthy, strong, happy, and peaceful in mind. Felicity's brothers are too little do to this with them. And her daddy won't do it either. He won't even watch them doing it. He says he hates yoga. So they do it together, just the two of them. It's their own special thing.

Felicity likes her mother's soft voice in the morning, nearly a whisper as the rest of the family sleeps, as she narrates the sequence. "Reach up high, longer and longer, and now dive down like a swan." They plant their hands to the floor.

"Am I good at it, mommy?"

"That's perfect, baby," Leila says.

When they're finished, they bring their hands together over their hearts, the Prayer Pose. Felicity does it too.

"Namaste," Leila says. "Do you know what that means? A very special friend taught me this once."

Leila kneels down in front of her, looking up to her daughter's eyes. "It means, I honor the place in you in which the entire Universe dwells. I honor the place in you which is of Love, of Integrity, of Wisdom, and of Peace. When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are One."

Felicity nods lightly. "Namaste, mommy."

Her mother smiles, but it's not the happy kind of smile. The other kind. The kind where her eyes fill up with tears but she doesn't actually cry, the kind where she reaches out, taking her daughter's hip in her hand, and says, "Oh, baby. Namaste."

She says they do yoga to be happy, to be healthy and strong and peaceful in mind. So Felicity doesn't understand why it always makes her so sad.

*******

(footnotes: 7 weeks ago.)

notes: just a little thing this weekend, but hopefully not without substance ;)

I'm using this little bit of breathing room to finish off a novel chapter, and prep for the next HUGE story set! Oh, does it ever need prepping for! :o

extras, friendship picspam

2010-11-29T14:44:00.006-05:00

Friends is the picture theme over at N99 this week, and I spent a bit of time putting this together, so I thought I'd share it here too so that you all could see it. Some of these friendships go back so far, and when you look at it all in sequence, it kind of even tells a story.

If I get around to doing some other groups of friends, I'll share those here too. I'd definitely like to get around to doing my Tyler/Beau/April/Summer/Lucy/Dallas group too, but I know I have many others as well.

Sorry both of these friendship sequences have a bit of a somber ending, considering they're both from some of the current story sets, and the stories aren't very upbeat right now. Well, we know it's not exactly the end just yet ;)

And sorry about the older pics still being compressed and ugly (photobucket sucks!!!). I still haven't gotten around to reuploading and relinking all of them yet. I got through about February of 2009, so yay, just a year worth of blog posts left to relink!!! *sarcasm*

Justin/Keri, Stephanie/Jeremiah, and occasionally Corbin:

Jodie, Amelia, Carly, and Piper:

extras, birthday spam

2010-11-29T08:25:00.009-05:00

Just a few extras and outtakes from setting up Stephanie's birthday party. I found this bunch surprisingly photogenic while I was working on them, and I ended up with a lot more pictures than I could actually use.

They really did play hacky sack for most of the night. And Justin is really terrible at it, even now, after as many times as Stephanie has made him play. He seriously dropped the ball about a dozen times, lol! Of course, this was about Corbin's first time playing in his whole life, pulling out the fancy tricks, and I feel Justin saying, "Dammit, does he have to be good at everything!?!"

= bad combination!!! lol!

No, really though, neither of them have any intentions of going there. The last thing Corbin needs is to get tangled up in yet another married woman! So just friends for these two.

Poor girl though, she really wants to get laid, lol! That want will not go away!

happy birthday, dear Stephanie...

2010-11-28T23:57:00.018-05:00

December 16, 2083 - Stephanie Day is 24, Willow is 16 months. (Justin Kim is 23, Lily is 10 months, Corbin Gray is 32.)

Stephanie turns twenty-four today. Her parents have spent the majority of the week packing and unpacking, making the 20-minute drive from here to the LCU campus several times. Her mother got the School Board President job, and she starts immediately following the holiday break. But she did make some time to take Stephanie out for a new haircut and a pedicure, to brighten her spirits, and then they met her dad for lunch.

Her mother also arranged for some help around the house. "You'll have a housekeeper once a week," she said to Stephanie. "And call your uncle over if you need snow shoveled. The mortgage is paid, and you have Jeremiah's stipend for groceries. Your father will bring over more, if you need it. So all you have to do is take care of Willow. You can handle that, can't you?"

Stephanie handles Willow just fine, and Justin's daughter Lily sometimes too. So she isn't sure what sticks more, the emphasis on "all," or that it's even a question?

Tonight she plans a quiet night, which starts with two handsome men knocking on her door, one of them holding something she hopes is strong. And this picture might even sound ideal if she didn't have a husband, somewhere out there, and there weren't two babies crawling around on the floor behind them. Corbin is holding a bottle of sake. Stephanie's never had it before, and she doesn't know anyone who has.

Justin says, "I told him to get you wine."

"It is wine," Corbin says. "Kind of."

"How are you supposed to drink that?" He didn't bring the glasses with him, and she sure as hell doesn't have sake glasses. She goes to the cupboards and only finds some champagne flutes instead. It'll have to do.

They sit at the kitchen table while the girls play in the living room. Corbin remains mostly sober as Stephanie and Justin splash back their sake like it was spiked dorm punch. Maybe that's not how you're supposed to drink it. Stephanie has been old enough to drink now for five years, but that doesn't mean she knows how. She only drinks wine because it makes her feel more grown up than she really is. Or maybe she really is grown up. She's older, at least. Each year she gets older, but she never feels grown up. She keeps waiting for that day it'll just kick in, maturity, wisdom, inner peace? Is there such a thing?

Justin turns his head slowly. "You don't have a Christmas tree."

"You don't have one either," she says.

"Yeah, but I'm never there," he says. "We're always here, we should put up a tree. Even Corbin has a tree!"

She points at Corbin then. She didn't mean to, it just happened. "You have a tree?"

Corbin is hesitant to answer, but he does. "It's a small one, on my kitchen counter."

They might mock, but the house does feel like it's lacking something this time of year. Christmas cheer. Actual evidence of life. "There's one in the attic, I think," she says. "It's fake, but it's a tree."

They were quick, for being only half sober, each of them taking an end of the heavy bag it was wrapped in, laughing and banging into the walls and they maneuvered it down the stairs. She hurried to clear a space for them.

She sits with the girls while they assemble the thing, adding bulbs and tinsel. None of them are particularly artistic, but they strive for basic symmetry and balance. "That spot," she says from the floor. "Justin, there's a gap by your head."

He turns on the lights.

The girls bounce and coo, whipping their arms up and pointing at the tree. "Yey-yo," Willow says, no regard to which color is actually blinking. "Yey-yo, yey-yo!"

Lily only watches her daddy, babbling an automated, "da-da-da-da-da."

Justin turns off the lamp, letting the room fall to darkness.

He and Corbin each take an empty space on the carpet beside her. They're entertained by the lights for longer than the babies are. Outside there's a sharp wind in the trees, it vibrates the windowpanes. They sit there for a time, in near silence, softened by the dark, tranquilized by the colored lights.

She's thinking, and she wonders if they are too. She doesn't know how she ended up here. Here - not as in her parents living room, which is now her own living room on lease, her own living room by default - but here, as in life. She wonders if any of them know how they ended up where they are, if they ever thought it would happen?

Justin always knew what he'd do with his life. Even as a boy, when the ideas were just vague and far off. He knew, he'd go to college, he'd be a business man, he'd have a wife and some kids. Maybe some people just know. Stephanie never knew. Even by the time she got to college she still didn't know. Even when she married Jeremiah on spring break, she didn't know. They made a life of not knowing, for a little while.

It's bedtime. Or bedtime for the girls anyway. They'll put them both in Willow's crib, and drink a little more, play some hacky-sack in the living room. Fascinating, she thinks, all the things Corbin has done, and he never played hacky sack until he played it with them. So they'll play hacky sack until they get tired, and then play video games until they get too tired for that. Eventually Corbin will leave quietly, but not without saying goodbye, and stumble back up the hill to the train station. Then Justin will have the best intentions of taking Lily back home, but he hates that big, expensive, empty house. He hates it to death. So he'll pass out on the couch instead of waking her.

But first, they'll sit here, each of them taking an empty space on her floor. They could be anywhere, but tonight, they're here, with her. It might not sound like much, but it's actually a lot. It's more than she can even describe.

"We should get the girls to bed," Stephanie says.

Justin laughs. "Hey, you wanna see something funny? Make Corbin put the girls to bed. He holds Lily like a sack of potatoes."

"I absolutely do not," Corbin says. "I can hold a baby."

Stephanie smiles, with something like actual pride. "But, can you hold two?"

She and Justin just look at him, at each other, and back at him. Corbin realizes they're serious.

He stands, takes Willow, the larger child under one arm, slipping down his hip while Lily reaches behind his neck to pull his ponytail. He pauses, as if he moved an inch he might lose one. But then he grins. "There. See? Two."

Corbin takes the girls upstairs.

There's a little crying. Stephanie says, "Is that one yours or mine? Maybe I should go help him out?"

"Nah, it's your night off," Justin says. "He's actually okay at it. He recites his philosophy lectures, the deep voice, the boredom, puts Lily right to sleep."

Justin is right, and soon the babies quiet. She listens for sound from the upstairs, but hears nothing, maybe a subtle muted droning philosophy lecture. Or maybe it's just the wind. When she looks at Justin again, he's looking at her, has been looking at her, and kneads the back of his neck. He never does that. "What?"

"You look different," he says.

"Haircut, duh."

"Or maybe you haven't smiled in so long I forgot you had teeth," he says.

She smiles bigger. She reaches out her foot to kick him. "Shut up."

"Happy Birthday, Steph."

*******

Other December Birthdays!

December 1: Aurora Harris is 38
December 3: Toby Harris is 44
December 6: Jeremy Nova is 69
December 6: Abigail Collins is 69
December 11: Elijah Roberts is 18
December 14: Joel Harris is 42
December 18: Beau Jackson is 20
December 18: Tyler Jackson is 20
December 21: Ashlee Deppiesse is 44
December 27: Devon Shaw is 8
December 28: Aurora Miguel is 51
December 29: Tad Harris is 74

*******

(footnotes: Stephanie, Justin, and Corbin)

notes: and there we have our first real birthday post. Hope it makes sense. It's something we'll all get used to, I'm sure ;)

"yey-yo" = yellow, by the way. It was the first color my son learned to say, lol!

Oh, and this can count as one of the "holiday parties" for the poll, if you feel so inclined. There are two more holiday parties this season as well.

time in a bottle, revisited

2010-11-28T10:24:00.016-05:00

* Sorry, this is going to be unbelievably long and rambly! *

not really a prosperity blog, or anything like it, anymore...

It's been a long time since I wrote that post on time and aging, and a lot of things have changed in the almost-three years I've been writing this story. So if this opens a new era in the keeping of LH time, then it's something that actually happened quite a while ago. If you compare my rounds 2076/78 to rounds 2080 and especially 2082, I'm sure you'll see the huge difference ;)

I don't play/write my families in anything resembling equal turns. In fact, I rarely get the chance to really and truly "play" my families at all anymore. I'm fine with that, by the way. I have just as much fun using the game to tell my story as I do playing it for fun. And in the midst of posing, I do try to steal a couple minutes to just "play" them like the little pixel dollies they are. If I do manage to take any cues from gameplay anymore, it'll be found in these little 5-minute play sessions.

This story (and all of its story parts) has plenty of momentum, for the next two rounds, and into the spin-off even after the Lakeside Heights portion of the story is finished. So I thought we could talk about the way things started here, and what things have become. And I'll go ahead and finally say out loud that we're leaving that "prosperity blog" structure, which in honesty, we left quite a while ago.

You won't notice any difference as you read, of course, because we haven't been following that prosperity structure for at least the whole of round 2082. And the way I'll likely continue to do things is the way I've been writing this current round - five or six seasons to a round, and focusing on the development of a few prominent storylines each season.

First, I blame it on Piper and Hayden. And Dallas too. These were my first real mini-updates of actual substance, and the first times I needed to tell a story outside the structure of everyone's slotted "turn". Then I blame it on Micah and Mariah. Theirs was the first time I had so much story to tell that I had to split an update into parts. And I loved it! It gave me so much more room to really dig into the characters and situations. Being a storyteller before I was a prosperity hood blogger, you can guess that I found this new balance particularly appealing. And, if I might say so, it made the story much richer.

So that's when things changed around here, through the early parts of round 2080, which was nearly two years ago. So while we aren't changing much more right now, there are a few things we are changing.

First, I'm thinking that some of my quieter families will no longer get a once-a-round update. This is really the biggest difference between what I was doing before (gameplay-focused prosperity blog) and what I'm doing now (story-focused neighborhood drama). I have so many families with actual stories to write about that there's no point really trying hard to make up stories for families that don't already have one. If they decide to take part in the story again later, then so be it. But I've just got plenty to write about as it is, you know? I'll be following the stories and characters that inspire me, and not really worrying about who gets equal screentime or not.

Also, a couple of my families are going to live in short stories this round (if I get around to revising them...), rather than take their turn in the round. But they're not part of any of our major storylines, so I doubt you'll even know they were missing. And just a couple of the other quieter ones will fall to the background, still make appearances as family and friends, and they'll still grow up, go to school, etc. They'll basically become something like semi-playables.

Downgrade, lol!

the unbearable slowness of time...

With the addition of more and more mini-updates (which are often not so mini at all!), and large story sets broken into many parts, you've likely noticed that time has slowed way down. Note that the first twelve story pieces of this season all took place in the same story-week... and that they took me over two months to write. This season is a bit top-heavy, being that half of the stories take place in the month of December. But time will not always move so slowly (or we'd never get through it all!). The second half of this current season will cover the months of January, February, and March, all in about the same number of stories. Sometimes, like real life, there's just a lot more going on.

Given the slowness, and the close proximity of time between one story and the next, I've started to put exact dates in the date headings. This is something that's probably more helpful for me than it will be for you, and I'm not sure you'll even notice, really. But I usually work them out for myself anyway, and in the past few stories, I've found myself wanting to count back weeks for a real space of time, or needing to know that the past eight stories all occurred in the same space of a week or something.

Have you ever seen a calendar for the year 2083?

Well now you have! A real and actual calendar of the real and actual month of December, 2083! I had no idea that Liquid Story Binder could actually do this, lol! But it can! And I find this very helpful to me, since I have all these stories going on, running into each other and clashing and intersecting.

The screen above is from "forget what we're told, part 2". I've listed the primary happenings of each scene in the update, but also, at the bottom, you'll notice that I listed the happenings of things going on in the background outside the story as well. I'll use this as a reference point if I ever need to know that a particular character couldn't have been in two different places at the same time. Also, some days have two or three different stories listed (like Jodie's story, ambitions of teamwork, broken into three parts which all took place in about the space of an hour, lol!).

So you can notice the dates, if you want. Or you can ignore them. It's just a nerdy fascination of mine, having my characters and stories exist in a real and concrete world with painfully intricate time, lol! :p

And since we have real and actual dates...

birthdays, real and actual birthdays!!!

I went ahead and gave all my sims/characters real and actual birthdates!!! This is probably the biggest current change you'll notice around here. I did this a few weeks ago, and it was surprisingly a lot less time-consuming that I thought it would be. So now all of your favorite LH residents have a real birth date, month, and year, and their actual birthdates are all listed in the profiles.

This is another product of the slowing time, that it actually makes sense to have birthdays. If I were bombing through this story as fast as I used to, it probably wouldn't make sense.

I'll do a birthdays post each story-month for those Sims having a birthday, and like the New Year's updates, they will be actual stories too. You'll get to see this in action with tonight's update, and the first birthday post is from Stephanie. The rest of my December birthdays will be listed at the bottom of her story.

Then each story month, I'll go through and update the ages of those who have birthdays that month, and feature one of them in a story.

I haven't had the chance to work out how I'll do physical age-ups yet, but I imagine the way I'll do it is this: toddlers (8 months), children (4 years), teens (12 years), and elders (60 years), will age up on their actual birthday. Young adults and adults will transition on their graduation/drop-out day, so their ages will vary at the time of transition, but will likely still be around 18 for YA and around 22 for adults.

and something on tense...

I promised some people I would talk about my choice of POV and tense in Lakeside Heights. (That was weeks ago I promised that, sorry!)

POV:
I use several narrators, third person - because hell, there's like 23 main characters or something! I don't have the luxury of developing 23-or-so distinct first-person narrative voices (though I do try to give them their own voice for dialogue), so I use an authorial voice for the whole.

I love writing stories from several points of view though, and if I ever write a substantially-sized story with just one narrator, I think it'll be cause for alarm. Seriously, I am fascinated by telling stories from different angles. I write single narrators for short stories sometimes, but that's just because of the space constraints.

(Hmmm... *wonders if I could write a short story with two narrators?*)

Tense:
Lakeside Heights is written in present tense for its immediacy. Each entry is its own precise moment in a long chronology of time. Each entry takes place in a very precise day, month, and year, different from the one before it and the one after it. Each entry is rather short (compared to the big picture) and is precisely in the present, and thus, I use present tense.

Of course, I'm not really sure I was so aware of that choice when I started this story. I was just kind of winging it, and figured out how it made sense after ;)

ETA: further notes on birthdays and school kids...

I had to move some of my kids around in their school grades. A lot of this has to do with whether they've had their birthday or not at the time of this change. For those with winter and spring birthdays, it became an issue of either pushing them forward in age, or holding them back. Some of them would essentially then get two birthdays in a row, or no birthday at all for a full year, and that messes up all my friendships and planned romances, lol! We can't have that ;)

The ones held back have more to do with their emotional maturity than their intelligence. So it's not like they failed a grade or anything, lol!

For future children, I'll have them start kindergarten when they're 5, and I'll divide the summer birthdays around how many I have in each grade.

moving ahead:
Raine, Zach, and Felicity move to Kindergarten.
Bianca, Elliot, Connor, and Shaun move to 1st grade.
Devon moves to 2nd grade.
Sam moves to 7th grade.
Delphie, Dakota, and Robbie to 8th grade.
Hazel, Natty, and Charlie move to 9th grade.
Isaiah to 10th grade.
Melissa to 11th grade.
Lucy to 12th grade.

held in same grade:
Elijah, Amy, Blair, Fiona, Melody, Liza, Sarah, Cecilia, Ryanne, Angelo, Abby, Julia, Laney, Gabby

picspam, like a peace offering...

2010-10-31T21:29:00.012-04:00

Sorry, no story update ready for you this weekend. But before you get very disappointed, I'm going to make up for it with pictures of Dallas and Lucy... and a very cute toddler ;)

First, these are outtakes from the wallpaper sessions I've done so far.

Dallas and Lucy had the most outtakes, since I waffled around quite a while before I found the shot I wanted to use. These were all nice though, just not what I wanted for a wallpaper.

(You'll have to pretend the Dallas and Lucy ones took place last summer.)

Sailboat!!! ;)

Awww... *wistful sighs*

Here's one I almost used for Hayden and Piper's wallpaper, but then the other one happened, and I just loved it too much. But this one is funny too.

This is about what Jodie's wallpaper started out as.

And now, how about some toddler cuteness?

Lillian Riley-Kim :) She's nearly a toddler. About 10.5 months old now. (You know, I hardly ever wait for their actual first birthday. I just love to see a little 10 month-old crawling around! Once they're a year old, in RL, they're mostly walking anyway...)

I think you've seen a shrunken and bald peek of her before in one of Corbin's updates, but I made her over for her upcoming first birthday, and since she'll show up in a couple more stories soon, I thought I'd finally share these pictures I had hanging around.

I think she definitely has Keri's nose, and I only know this because Quinn has the exact same little nubbin of a nose, and Mariah and Keri are identical in features.

But here she is, visiting Grandpa Bryson for a bit. She's not really walking yet, but finally standing on her wobbly little legs.

Awww, aren't they cute?

(Is this like one of those things where all Sim toddlers are equally as cute, but because she's my own, she's just that much cuter? lol!)

But Justin and Lily are doing okay, for the most part. Justin likes to keep them out of the house and occupied, and they've got plenty of friends and family to visit. But you'd think he would attempt better table manners in front of his father-in-law? Even Lily does better. Bryson doesn't look amused ;)

quickie little bit of picspam, a linen store

2010-10-31T21:21:00.002-04:00

For my next update, I needed like two pictures at a linen store. So I added a little linen store to my mall. And I seriously only needed two pictures for the update, but I think I'll end up using three just to amuse myself. Since it took me a good couple hours to put together and I'll probably never need to use it again, I thought I'd show off a couple more here. It's supposed to be a Pottery Barn kind of thing ;)

Pillows!

Pottery and linens! (Yes, I'm aware those are towels and fabric bolts rather than bedding sets, but we're gonna pretend here!)

View out into the mall courtyard.

Here's an overview of the Lakeside Shopping Center. I'm not sure if I've ever shown this before. It's really too big to use very often. Clockwise from the top-left: bank, clothing store, women's restroom, pet store, bar and restaurant, linen store, men's restrooms, currently empty store with a fridge in it (lol!), and arcade.

There's a second floor above this which has the exact same layout of stores, but they're all empty right now.

And this is just an ordinary unowned community lot. I think it'd be so awesome though to rent out retail space in a mall, the way Sims can rent out apartments. Wouldn't that be so cool? Too bad it's not gonna happen, lol!

LH stuff: kind of, a twitter feed

2010-10-31T13:52:00.003-04:00

Lakeside Heights now has its own twitter feed! :)

Follow for updates and maybe even bite-sized LH babble (if I can remember to switch accounts before I babble, that is, lol!). Most general writing chatter and discussion will still happen on my main twitter account though.

I hope this will be useful for you all! :)

LH stuff: Jodie wallpapers

2010-10-21T15:54:00.004-04:00

Your favorite resident ice princess is now crystallized in her own wallpaper!!! lol! :)

The text comes from this story.

wide 1440 x 900
wide 1280 x 800
standard 1024 x 768
droid 960 x 854

Enjoy! :)

more randomly materialized families, text style

2010-10-21T09:37:00.022-04:00

This was inspired by that time I made Drew and Fenton's family (who you'll actually meet in story very soon!) and once I got started with them, I just couldn't stop! I've said before that I have a hard time reaching my characters fully until I understand where they're coming from, so family backgrounds are always a sticking point for me. These families were made from the little tidbits of story I've thrown out for them over the years, and when I compiled everything together, a real picture started to emerge.

I'd love to make all these characters as real actual Sims, but OMG, that would be impossible! So most of them will have to live in our imaginations. Though I'm sure some of them will probably end up working their way into a story some day.

Some of these places might not mean very much to people living outside the U.S., so I linked them up to Wikipedia if you feel inclined to know more.

Cameron: His parents have been married for 45 years, working-class people living in metro Detroit. Cameron is the youngest of four brothers. His dad and brothers are big fans of ice hockey, and his mother sings in the church choir. Cameron was always kind of bullied by his big brothers for being a bit of a prissy boy (which he kind of is), and we suspect that's why he grew up to have such a chip on his shoulder. Cameron is quite happy to have a house full of girls now, though sometimes he wonders how he would do with a little boy too.

Jodie and Jason: Their parents divorced when Jodie was a baby. Their dad remarried first, and brought one step-sibling and one half-sibling to the family. Their mom remarried next, bringing two more half-siblings, and three step-siblings. Blended family holidays were ridiculous and chaotic for a time, and once Jodie moved out for college, she stopped going. Even Jason stopped going soon after, and the grown children scattered around the country and meetings fizzled out. Jodie has spent holidays with her brother ever since. She considered not going this year, now that he's married and expecting a baby, because she thinks she'd feel left out. But in light of certain emotional events, she's actually changed her mind. She's even a little excited to see them. She plans on bringing a pie. Store-bought, but still.

Corbin: His parents are Raymond and Juniper "June" Gray, a hippyish and quiet couple living a little ways outside of Portland, Oregon. They've been together for about 35 years, but didn't marry until Corbin was five. Corbin is an only child. If at all possible, his father is even more reserved a man than Corbin is. His mother is a large woman who wears linen skirts and bakes organic bread. She also makes windchimes, and she sells both the bread and the windchimes at local craft shows. His dad is a carpenter, and specializes in sunrooms. Corbin calls home about once a month, plus holidays and birthdays, which he never forgets.

Piper: was born in Idaho, and moved to Lake City for college. She comes from a big, religious family (she's the second-youngest of seven!), but it was so big she felt lost in it. Piper is still fairly religious herself. Her parents have been married for 35 years. She was never very close to her mother, but she and all of her sisters are daddy's girls. She has four sisters and two brothers, and she keeps up with all of them through email and video chats. She's set up a family blog, where all her siblings can post pictures and stories of their children. She has sixteen nieces and nephews, and she can't WAIT to have one of her own!

James: Has just a dad, in Cleveland, Ohio. His mother died of cancer when he was eight. His father just remarried a few years ago. James was invited to their very small wedding, but he didn't attend. He is not currently speaking to his father.

Vicky: Declined to comment on her family.

elections 2083, results!

2010-10-20T16:39:00.006-04:00

And the votes are in! We had an amazing turnout this election with 134 votes! Nice job everyone, and thank you for voting! :)

Madison Riley takes another four years as Governor of State, with a landslide victory and 85% of the vote.

Aurora Miguel wins the position of CFO of the Lake County Treasury with 64%.

And Claire Bradshaw takes another landslide victory, and another four years as Lake County Court Justice with 82% of the vote.

New office holders will take control of their office between now and January. Current officials will take control of their positions immediately. The Public Pages are now updated as well! :)

forget what we're told, part 2

2010-10-17T20:35:00.005-04:00

December 7, 2083 - Corbin Gray is 32. (Emmy Masuko is 31.)

* Warnings: #1 definitely NSFW/children. #2 Unbelievable slowness of time, lol! I know it was like June that he read the letter in our time, but in his time, it's only been two weeks ;) #3 Also, long and text-heavy. *

Soundtrack: "Chasing Cars," by Snow Patrol.

This time of year, while everyone else is still working, Corbin sits home in his pajamas with a few dozen final exams to grade. He doesn't have to be anywhere until his 7:00 pm yoga class at the Lotus, so he wakes up slowly with a cup of coffee. Amelia turned him onto the coffee. He never really liked it before, too bitter, though the bitterness is starting to grow on him. It's colder here in the winters than anywhere else he's lived before, and the warmth, even if bitter, is comforting.

When he's not grading finals, he takes some time to pick at his dissertation. This spring he finishes his third degree, a doctorate in exercise science. And while he's trying to write about the use of Eastern medicine in sports injuries, he can't help but think about Leila's letter. All he can do is analyze the structure of her words, think about the undertones and meanings. He doesn't need to look at it anymore, it's committed to memory. He's been through the whole thing so many times, and what he's established is that the letter itself just doesn't compute.

But there's truth in everything, and there's truth here too - she said that if this was about her, the decision would be so easy. She said she didn't expect him to understand, and she's right, he doesn't. He's never been the center of so many lives. She said she was glad to have known what it was, that she did love him. And what he gets from all of that is that both of their lives are chained to this promise she made ten years ago.

But then there's another option: it could all be a lie. It could be a soft way to let him down. Maybe she never loved him that much? Maybe she does want her husband after all, and their time together was nothing but a passing dalliance. Sometimes people lie. A lot of times, people lie. That thought hadn't even crossed his mind until now, and as it finally does, he never knew such sadness could exist. Too much sadness to even believe.

And with all this time on his hands, he somehow manages to forget to pay his rent. It just slips his mind completely. In fact, he's only vaguely aware it's even December now, so his rent is six days overdue.

It's not like he doesn't have the money for it. Thanks to Amelia, he's got money all over the place. Money in this account and that, money on one stock or another, and money in his checking account and some cash on hand too. He doesn't even know how much money he has, or how many accounts. He never really cared about it in the first place. But he did mean to pay his rent. It just slipped his mind, while he was busy thinking about everything else.

***

He could date, but he finds it mostly disappointing. First dates are the worst. He already knows from the moment he meets her, before they even speak, that it could only taste bitter. Even Claire has stopped trying to set him up with all those nice young law interns. So many nice girls, pretty girls, sweet girls. Maybe some day, but not yet.

So he's focusing on other things, or at least trying. He's making new friends instead, and it fills just the right void. These new friends have lived and been burned like he has. He brings old friends to meet his new friends, though he wonders if maybe that was a bad idea. They tease Justin, "How are you old enough to be married and left already?"

Sheldon says, "At least I was married fourteen years before my wife left me." Berjes chuckles along with him.

"She didn't leave you," Corbin offers, after the laughter has died down. "She's just doing something else right now."

Corbin can't quite sympathize with these men. All of their wives left them, full of courage and the will to live the life they really want to live, and he only wishes Leila could do the same. Though he can't help but feel responsible for having advised Justin to let Keri go. It was the right thing to do, or at least it seemed so at the time. And he'll say it again now. "If you held her back, she would only grow to resent you."

But was it the right answer? It's his job to know all the answers and the longer he lives, the more he discovers he doesn't know. What did any of them know? There's a lot of negative energy in this room. There are a lot of dark auras. But he gets it, he identifies. He'd like to study it, this reverse karma, how all of this negativity feeds off of negativity and breeds something that almost feels like belonging.

But this is better than a first date, simply sitting here, rubbing arms with this beautiful woman, even if it's just accidentally. Her name is Heather, and Sheldon has wanted a piece of her for as long as he's been playing poker here. So it will end at just rubbing arms, because he has no intentions of stepping in on a new friend's girl. There are certain morals to uphold here. And yet he's a hypocrite all at once, hopelessly in love with a married woman. The letter didn't bring him closure, it only brought him more torment. And he's no different than these bitter, angry men, spilling their complaints out onto the poker table.

"I think it seems cowardly," he says out loud. The truth comes out of his mouth and it shocks him. He wishes she'd left her husband.

Half of them look up. Nobody knows who he's talking about but Justin. Then he feels put on the spot, to elaborate, to say something wise. There's nothing. He has no answers.

He didn't know what he wanted then, but right now, he knows what he wants. He wants more time to listen to her talk and steal a breath of her shampoo. Twenty minutes, three times a week, of that gap-toothed smile and sunburst of ideas. He wants more.

Sometimes he wrecks his brain trying to figure out what it all could mean, that the one single woman he ever wanted to share his life with is already sharing her life with someone else? If you believe in the universe, if you believe in the workings of fate and destiny, is this a glitch in the program?

His phone rings. He's since stopped hoping it would be Leila. It's Emmy. "What you doing, baby?"

"Nothing," he says. "I'll be right over."

He likes to drive. He should have guessed it already, but he really loves to drive. He learned to drive at sixteen just like everybody else, but he never liked it then, borrowing his dad's truck, begging for a turn. He never had his own car until now, and it's amazing. The open road, the freedom. His car is modest and energy efficient, so he doesn't have to feel guilty about his carbon footprint. Sure, he has two perfectly good, strong legs. They get him places. But the roads stretch out forever, and there's so many places he hasn't seen yet.

Jodie answers the door at Emmy's place, mumbling a bothered, "Oh, you."

She's already turned to head back to her computer desk when she shouts up the stairs. "Emmy, it's for you!" Then she's back to her work at the computer. He closes the door behind him.

Emmy wastes no time getting his clothes off. She wasn't wearing most of hers already.

She's lively in bed, livelier than most of the women he's had, vocal and dramatic. She's an actress; she puts on a good show. If she had a chandelier above her bed, she'd probably want to hang from it. If she happened to have handcuffs in her side table drawer, he'd probably be tied up in them. But she doesn't have handcuffs - not tonight anyway - but only flavored condoms, a palm-sized metallic vibrator, a blindfold, and self-heating cinnamon massage oil. It's all entertaining, if not draining, though her show doesn't really leave much room for his precision or skill. He figures she must have done this on film, in her youth, though he doesn't ask and she doesn't tell.

But sometimes he finds himself hopeful for the nights, like tonight, when she's just kind of tired, and lets him run the show instead.

When they're finished, she rolls off with a satisfied sigh. When she's finished sighing, she says, "Oh, you cut off your hair."

He never thought a second about his hair before, and suddenly it made him feel silly. It was too idealistic. He wondered about what it meant, all that hair? Did it mean anything at all?

"You know," she says. "When a girl cuts her hair, it means she's struggling with her identity."

"You cut your hair every month," he says.

"I'm an actress," she says. "That's allowed. But you, you're all right out there in the open."

"Like an open book?" he says.

"Yeah," she says, sitting up. "Whatever."

He wonders how a woman so open and friendly could feel so vacant, but at the same time, he thinks that's why he keeps coming back to see her. Because she doesn't feel like all those nice, sweet first date girls. Her detachment hits just the right spot.

She talks a lot after sex. But when she talks, it's not really to him, but at him, just because he happens to be here in the room, like wanting to hear her own voice against the empty walls. Hearing her own voice in the empty void, does that help? He wonders if she talks to herself when no one is here.

He isn't allowed to stay over. There's only one of her boyfriends who's allowed to stay over. She talks about him sometimes, Cyrus. What makes it happen, he wonders, that one person clicks with another, or doesn't? All these random configurations, what are the chances that two just happen to fit? What are the chances that when they do fit, it might even work out?

He tunes out, as she chatters on about him, finally sighing at the end. "The prettiest thing I ever saw."

"I mean, not that you're not pretty, baby," she says, turning half to him. "You're lovely."

Corbin laughs softly.

"You get it?"

He nods. Yes, he does. They aren't lonely. There's a difference between lonely and empty, and the difference is gaping.

She yawns. "Mmmm, baby, you wore me out. When you go, if she's not still up, will you lock the door?"

That's his cue.

There are too many moments. Far too many. All those twenty minutes, over and over again add up to so much, so many memories. More than he could count. For a time he was swimming in them, twenty minutes of her, added up into infinity, like it would never end.

He never thought about it ending. He should have, but he never did. In his mind, these moments stretched out forever, because that would be how long it took to learn all there was to know about her.

The driving, he likes it a lot. It's a good time to think. It's a good time to fill his mind with these memories, while in reality, he's just in his car, in the cold, in the dark. He wishes he'd have thought of it sooner. There were so many things he wishes he'd thought of sooner.

Tonight, there's one memory in particular filling his mind, one single span of twenty minutes, after yoga class. They sat side by side in the courtyard, the high vined walls keeping their secrets. "Tell me something," Leila would often ask him. "Where were on this day, four years ago?"

"No, it's boring," he said. "I want to know about you."

Their feet stretched out toward the pond, the chlorinated bubbles popping up and spraying their toes with mist. She had a tomato-red bra strap falling down off her shoulder. It only made him think about taking it off entirely. But instead, he picked up the thin strap and slid it back onto her shoulder. At his touch, she inhaled - that little gasp, so quick, so soft. He would keep touching her for the rest of his life just to hear that sound. She closed her eyes at it. They were close, not to touching, but almost, where he could feel the aura of warmth around her body. They were so close that when she turned again to look at him, he could see the light amber hidden in the center of her rich brown eyes. He said, "I want you to tell me about what book you were reading last night."

She laughed, and reached out to push at his arm, the tips of her fingers not ever leaving his skin, but instead falling down the length of it, a haphazard caress. It was a few seconds before she realized she was actually touching him, and drew back. Then smiled. "Great Expectations," she said. "My fourth time through, now that's boring."

"Fourth time," he said. "No, that couldn't be more fascinating." She doesn't know anyone else who reads, or at least not things like novels. Her best friend reads cookbooks and gossip magazines. Her husband reads hunting catalogs for new fishing gear. Corbin knows she likes to read, classics mostly, and now he knows she reads them several times. She told him she keeps journals, that she goes through them like water. She's kept journals since she was fourteen, but she never keeps them once they're finished. When they're full, she burns them, like she could send her thoughts up into the sky, mixed into the ash. He asked her, "What do you love about that one?"

"I love how each time, it's the same story, but there's so much new to discover."

"Like you could never take it all in at once, even if you tried," he said.

"Yes," she says, grinning that perfect gap-toothed smile. "Now you, four years ago?"

He paused to recount the time, a short trip he took in the middle of his fall studies. "China," he said. She'd never been to China, he already knew. So he told her everything, from wading through wet rice paddy fields to the cities covered in smog. She listened with a soft wonder in her eyes, her head tilted, like she wanted to rest it on his shoulder, like his stories were a lullaby.

"I'd love to show you some day," he said.

It stopped them both.

What did he mean by that? Steal her away, a weekend excursion? What was this to him? He never thought about it making a difference, and even if it would have, it's taken this space of losing her to realize what it was he wanted after all. He never got to say it. What he wanted was to show her everything. He wanted to spend the rest of his life showing her everything there was to see. He wanted these spaces of twenty minutes to add and multiply, exponentially until infinity.

But her eyes were wide and filled with such hopelessness. It was an impossibility, and this was their sad compromise.

"You just did," she said. "You showed me. I could see it."

*******

(footnotes: Leila // needs some time // and wrote a letter)

notes: Oh, and Blake's wife didn't leave him, by the way, since that was the topic of the night. He just happened to be out with them, and I'd already gotten the shots before that thread emerged in the story. Poor guy, happily married and around all that negativity, lol!

one day, on the basketball court...

2010-10-10T12:07:00.010-04:00

December 6, 2083 - Corbin Gray is 32. Jack Phoenix is 34.

One day, on the basketball court, Jack is trying to teach Corbin how to play basketball. There are a lot of things Corbin can do, but he isn't so well versed in these American sports, and all these sporty college kids run circles around him sometimes. Nobody wants to look like a fool on the job. So lucky for Corbin, his newest buddy was once a basketball star in college.

Corbin met Jack while jogging down North Park Street one afternoon, and noted how Jack's bad stride would surely cause shin splints if he wasn't careful. Then Corbin quickly explained that he was a certified physical therapist and not actually trying to pick him up. They've only been hanging out a few weeks, but they both welcome the new friendship. Jack welcomes someone to shoot hoops with, since his dad has gotten too old, and most of his family are into couch sporting rather than actual sporting. And Corbin looks forward to spending time with friends who aren't women, who don't remind him of Leila, or anything he used to do with Leila. Friends who play basketball and poker, and belch without excusing themselves, and drink cheap beer in slimy South End pubs.

It's an added bonus that Jack knows basketball. He's actually pretty good at it.

"But to be pro," Jack says. "You have to be great, not just good. Trust me, I make a better cop."

The ball flies though the net, bouncing almost perfectly back to him like he called it there. It seems to defy the laws of physics.

"Oh look at that," Corbin says.

"It's just practice," Jack says. "You'll get it soon enough."

"So we're having this holiday party," Jack says. "In a couple weeks, if you're not doing anything. Just some huge thing, we have it every year."

"Sure, sounds like fun," Corbin says.

"Generic holiday party, I don't know if you're religious or anything," Jack says.

"No, not religious," Corbin says. "But don't worry about it, if you are."

"Bring a date if you want, are you dating anybody?"

Corbin hates this question. He never hated it before, but he hates it now. "Oh, you know. Nothing serious," he says.

"There's just one thing," Jack says.

Corbin lines up the ball and shoots. "Sure, what is it?" The ball hits rim and circles around before falling outside of it instead of inside.

"You should probably know, so it's not a shock or anything."

Jack goes to get the ball.

"I mean, it is shocking," Jack says. "But it doesn't have to be weird. It's just the kind of thing people like to know beforehand."

Corbin waits. Jack pads at the basketball, round and round in his hands, like he'd forgotten he wanted to say anything at all. He stops turning the ball, but he doesn't look away from it.

"My wife, Nessa," he says. "She has cancer."

"I'm so sorry," Corbin says.

"If it's too weird, or whatever, you don't have to come."

Corbin doesn't know what to think, so he just answers. "No, I'll be there."

When Jack smiles, it's almost not a smile at all, but an offering. "Great," he says. He reevaluates, takes the ball back down to dribble again, the hollow boing, boing, boing of rubber on wood. He raises it back up to the hoop.

"She just wants to have a nice party," he says.

He shoots the ball. Nothing but net.

*******

(footnotes: Leila // Jack and Nessa)

notes: so there's that then. I think some of you already guessed it from Jodie's story.

This little storyline was actually inspired by something that happened in the game, and as with all gameplay tidbits, I always reserve the right to take it or leave it depending on how it fits into the story.

The c-word is one of those topics I don't usually want to "go there" with, and for reasons that hit too close to home, I'll probably maintain some distance with these stories. But I found that it brought something important to the story, and particularly with some of the characters more indirectly involved, like Hayden. It brings an angle that I couldn't have reached otherwise. So it started to write itself. And so I guess I can, and will, "go there" after all. Who knew?

I'll be wrapping this and all of its parts into Hayden's story tag, by the way.

And given all that gravity, I think we need some outtakes!

Meet the ballerina stalker, lol! And her stalker posse. I had such a hard time shooting this scene, because these women will not leave them alone, lol! But then, on any given day, Meadow follows Corbin around the gym like a little lost puppy dog! Oh how sad she'll be, now that she's retiring, and won't get to watch him at work every day. She's too funny!

But yes, of course, Corbin was hired for his athletic skill and knowledge! Of course he was! ;)

And Jack - poor Jack doesn't get enough screentime, but he was looking particularly nice in this one, so I just had to share ;)

So I'm not sure if Meadow is swooning for Jack, or for Corbin, or for both of them at the same time.

Ballerina Stalker though, she just won't leave Corbin alone, lol! I wrote in my babble thread about how tempted I was to make this a shirtless game, but the reality is that Corbin just does not take his shirt off at work! DOES NOT! Seriously, he is *terrified* of those college girls! They're insatiable!!! They're like hungry little hormonal sex-starved monsters!!! They would eat him alive!!! :o