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|4th Mar 2018, 7:39 PM||#26|
Join Date: May 2007
Erin and Erik are tangential characters in this update, but added an amazing amount of value. I like what they add to the perspectives of the families. Jimmy and Lucy are oh, so very young and naive! I hope Lucy can settle down just enough to meet the demands of a baby. This is a lengthy and often thankless commitment she's making.
|4th Mar 2018, 7:55 PM||#27|
Join Date: Jul 2016
Everytime I'm in here I just want to write my Crowborough the same way as you do with this story, and that makes me jealous because I know i'm too lazy to write that shit when i already have my book to write.
I build small houses *^*
|6th Mar 2018, 6:06 AM||#28|
@bbostic8 Hahaha! I don't know if this was supposed to be a bit meta but I cracked up at Lucy claiming it took two hours to make food for her visitors because it really does seem like it takes two in-game hours for them to prepare a meal that's not and instant meal or that goes into a microwave oven.
It's interesting to see how you portray Jimmy, he's one of the few sims that came with the game that I took and incorporated into my play. I like how fun-loving your Jimmy is, kind of like a suave class clown. I always thought he was one of the most handsome uni premades (along with Mattew Hart) and you have made him handsome inside and out
Here's some more of that 'three dimensional writing' I mentioned tha tI loved in this installment: the way you described the guys getting out of the pool to go to the hot tub, the way Lucy's voice carries in an emptier house, Jimmy's job description which goes into depth of what he does, and the effects of Jimmy's personality on Lucy was just all very beautifully written, engaging and put me into the story. I think this is actually my favorite post on this thread so far!
Other little quips I liked was Swain's Ovulation Nation and Jimmy trying to call John 'Dad' and John not having it.
There's a lot of sims stories out there but ones that engage me are few and far between so I can agree with your reply, even more so, it's extremely rare to get me excited about premades because so many people play with them, because I feel it's redundant to read about them so kudos to you for your excellent work in drawing me in and making me feel excited to read--it speaks to the excellent quality of your narration skills! So by all means your time is very well used I too try to write what I like to read and do so in an engaging way. My group thread which I saw you commented on is more informational but I do have stories out there if you ever have time to read some, I'd love to know what you think!
Can't wait for the next post!
|20th Mar 2018, 3:54 AM||A Pleasant Place: The Brokes #29|
A Pleasant Place
Across the road at the other corner of Main Street lies the smallest slice of suburban nostalgia blanching in the sun. Kitschy pink reminders of the proverbial "good ole days" frame the windows and pave the way through the tamed wild greenery of what once had been a sprawling valley, all the way to the front door. There's always noise, usually happy, but sometimes unseemly and cacophonous -- frantic barking, the high-pitched whine of a child in need, the deep tonal notes of an E minor chord struck to drown out all the other noise. Even on the bad days, it's a pleasant place to be.
|20th Mar 2018, 6:30 AM||#30|
I like that you write about the Premades because I have always played the Premades myself. I am sure that I play them differently than others including yourself, but that does not really matter as part of the enjoyment for me is reading how others play them differently than I do.
I really do like your writing and your writing about the Brokes was no exception. Really good pictures.
for info on changing the Mac Open File Limit check out my post here http://www.insimenator.org/index.ph...html#msg1628939
Curiosity killed the cat,
but satisfaction brought it back.
|20th Mar 2018, 7:56 PM||#31|
Join Date: May 2007
I loved this look at Brandi Broke's extended family. She has her flaws, but she's a great mother and grandmother. Brittany is adorable, and I liked her mature sit-down with her parents to ask for a violin. I think Summer is going to enjoy getting to know her father's family, and from the sound of her mother, she's going to need them. Amber makes me laugh; I like her.
|21st Mar 2018, 4:40 AM||#32|
I have to say, this update was fantastic! The ending, is my absolute favorite thing from your entire thread so far <3
|12th Aug 2018, 1:35 AM||A Pleasant Place: The Ottomases #33|
A full house is a happy one. Or at least, that's what Babaanne Dora used to say. Her son, Peter, lived by those words, however much he questioned their validity in his younger years. Today, even after the loss of their dear Babaanne, the Ottomases are a close-knit clan, seven strong.
|13th Aug 2018, 5:25 AM||#34|
Awesome update! Even though it was short, it was very informational and ofc well written as always!
|Yesterday, 8:53 PM||A Pleasant Place: The Goths #35|
Ask after a Goth and one will show you a moneyed traditionalist. Fiercely private. An intellectual and a progressive, despite the outward appearance of old timey pomp and class. Still, cloyingly sentimental. On the self-same grounds of the proud Goth manor, its newest iteration stands solemnly, waifishly eclipsing the horizon with its black Victorian spire and ash colored shakes. Certainly, the Goth manor has a charming new skeleton, but all the same problems lie chafing and splintering just behind closed doors.
Cassandra Goth considered herself a daddy's girl, once. She remembers her small brown fingers clasped against his leg, wrinkling the fabric of his trousers as she used his body as a shield from whatever eccentric lie in wait for her on the other side. She remembers his smooth voice rippling through his chest like an echo in a deep, dark cave as she rested her cheek against it while he perused the morning paper. She remembers the smell of fresh ground coffee beans as she tumbled down the stairs, her rump bounding off each step until finally her feet hit the floor, then leaping over the threshold and into the kitchen. He'd turn from the coffee maker and beam brighter than the sunlight stabbing in through the blinds masking the window behind him, then open his arms like the pearly gates to heaven and invite her, wordlessly, into an embrace.
Isolated in those golden, sun-kissed memories in a dress shirt and trousers tucked beneath a red smoking jacket, with a pair of slippers on his feet; this is how Cassandra will always remember him.
She watches with a swollen, blissful heart as her own daughters play, embarking on childhood adventures entirely unique to themselves. Tears sting her eyes and worry wrinkles her brow as she wonders how they'll come to remember her someday.
Her knees ache and click as she pulls herself up from the floor, reminding Cassandra that "someday" fast approaches. She shoves the sour thought aside and makes her way to the kitchen. She languors in the clanging of the frying pan as it clashes with the stovetop and reverberates down the hall. She scoops globs of ground meat onto the sizzling surface and grins indulgently as savory smell fills the air. Two of the cats, Lucretia and Lazarus, apparate on the kitchen floor. It's getting close to dinner time, and they're just as entranced by the scent of browning meat as she is.
Cassandra casts a sly look over her shoulder at the cat and tosses her a generous chunk of meat.
She can't resist a pretty face.
Cassandra's husband trawls through the kitchen, eyes fixed forward. He rummages through the refrigerator for a moment before pulling out cold leftovers and finds his seat in the dining room.
Cassandra calls to him, "Hey, Jim? I'm already making dinner in here. It'll be done in a second if you wait."
The silence gnaws at her ears. It's been days since there's been a single word between them.
Some scraping of forks and the smearing of food on little faces later, Cassandra hikes the stairs to the girls' rooms. A halo of soft lamplight casts a sleepy spell across the sage colored walls and warm wood floors. Small brown eyes flicker awake and drowsy, then finally rest at a close. Cassandra plants a kiss each on either of her daughters' foreheads, and cradles their heads as she lays them down to rest. She flicks the light switch as she creeps from the room, enveloping the precious space in a down blanket of darkness.
Her heart is full in moments like these.
And yet it feels so far away when it comes time to look her partner in the eyes. She's a little surprised to see him here. Usually he slips into the office to peck away at the keyboard and play a steady stream of classical music to drown out the sound. A large part of her is comfortable with this setup, with the silence and the lack of eye contact. It's far from the smell of ground coffee and honey-colored sunlight of her childhood, but it feels familiar all the same.
Cassandra thinks back to her first marriage. She remembers long and painful silences as she lobbed questions at him across the dinner table.
"Where were you all night?"
More hesitantly, she'd said, "Is...is there someone else?"
Then finally, angrily, "How long are you going to put off having a baby, Don? It means everything to me. You know that."
Never a goddamn answer.
But that marriage is years older and years underground. Today, it's the home she shares with Jim. It's the two beautiful daughters, the three cats, the large swath of grass in the backyard, the work, the heartfelt conversations that run until the sunshine spills in, the look he gets when he sees her and the touching that follows, and the laughter and the music that has all but disappeared since the day she kissed that man.
And ever since that day, she's been cooling her heels in a cold, familiar silence -- only it's her at the other end of the table.
Jim scowls at her then, and Cassandra knows she deserves it.
Cassandra's heart races when he sits beside her anyway. It feels like a chance, and a massive piece of her grabs hold and sings she should take it.
"Jim," she starts, then pauses as a decade of futile chances and empty declarations of love swallow her whole, "What are we doing here if you're not going to talk to me? Think about Mathilde and Isadora. What kind of a life is it for them if we don't work together?"
There's a beat as Jim turns away from her. She watches as his shoulders pitch and drop with his every seething breath.
Finally, he turns back to her, eyes steely and distant. "How could you say that to me after what you've done? 'Think of Mathilde and Isadora'? That's bullshit and you know it, Cassandra. Did you think of them when you cheated on me? Were you thinking of what kind of life they'd have when you hacked our marriage in two?"
Cassandra rolls her eyes at this. "Jim, you're a rational guy. So please, let's not act like I slept with someone."
He's taken aback and stares at her in rage and incredulity. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you looking for a marriage where we both go around kissing other people? Because I don't remember that being a part of our wedding vows."
"Of course not --"
"So why do it? Did I deserve that?"
"Did you even consider our family?"
"That's not --"
Jims' fingers grip the back of the couch and his glassy blue eyes are alight, boring into his wife's. "You want to know why I haven't spoken to you, Cassandra? Because I can't believe you. All you've been through, all the conversations we've had about goddamn Don Lothario and your father and your dad's second wife -- all of the baggage I spent years working through with you to allay any fears you have, and you pull this shit with me."
Cassandra sets her jaw and cradles her cheek with one hand as though she's been struck. "I...I'm sorry."
"Yeah. You are." he says, and stalks away.
That night, Cassandra curled up with a duvet on the rocking chair in Isadora's bedroom. She was the twin who had the most trouble staying asleep, and Cassandra hardly had intentions of being able to fall asleep regardless. After several hours' time, Cassandra tired enough of making that ritualistic march from the chair to the crib that she cradled her daughter in her arms and roosted upon the rocking chair with her. It was only then that either of them were able to dredge up enough peace to find sleep.
Today is a momentous day for the Goth-Menon family, however extenuating circumstances may jeopardize it. It's Isadora and Mathilde's birthday, and both their parents are ecstatic and anxious to see them through to childhood, wherein real memories and emotional trappings are formed. Cassandra grins nervously across the table at her husband, though his words echo in her head.
She is sorry, isn't she?
She's astonished to find the gesture returned.
The girls transition without much fanfare, as neither parent is fond of social gatherings even without the fate of their marriage being at question. Isadora grows into a restless child who cares very little for other people and is more concerned with her own fun. Cassandra worries most about her. Mathilde is a charming and gleeful personality who gets on easily with others, though her focus is squarely fixed upon philosophical questions. At her age, it's little things like "Why is the sky blue?" and "Why are Mom and Dad different colors?" but both Jim and Cassandra anticipate a fierce activist to be borne of that ceaseless curiosity. They worry about her too.
Tonight is Jim's night to lay the girls to bed, so Cassandra uses the time to shower and groom herself. She's noticed a lack in her self-care since her cheating. She feels a bit like she doesn't deserve the time -- that washing her hair and changing her clothes is somehow flaunting a level of joy and confidence in the face of her partner, who's suffered a painful infidelity. At least she's thinking in terms of his perspective now. That's progress, isn't it? Is that worth anything, after what she's done?
Cassandra raps her knuckle against the door frame, hoping to steal Jim's attention from the computer screen for a few precious moments.
To her surprise, Jim abandons the activity all together, and meets her halfway into the room. He watches her through expectant, alert eyes, his hands planted staunchly at his hips. He's opened the door to conversation, and Cassandra's hands quake at the thought that she'll ruin it again. It may be her last chance. She closes her eyes and exhales sharply before opening again, this time a little more open and a little less proud.
"I know that I've betrayed your trust, Jim," she begins, "I knew it when I did it, I knew it when you saw he and I -- I knew I was in the wrong and that you didn't deserve that. There's no excuse for the choices I've made, for belittling your feelings and disregarding the terms of our partnership -- a lot of which are ones I insisted because of my own insecurities -- I know what I've done. I hope it's not unforgivable."
Cassandra feels herself shrink under is skeptical, distrusting eyes. She kicks herself for what she's done to be deserving of it.
"Even worse, we have a family. And I put myself and my selfish, thoughtless, ugly desires before you, before the twins, before the life we have worked so hard to build together. Even worse than a single kiss, I willingly ignored all that to pursue whatever awful thing I wanted to without acknowledging the consequence."
Cassandra chuckles joylessly.
"I can't even say that that's not who I am. As much as I want to create distance between what I've done and who I am, that is me. I've become the expressionless, unfaithful, self-serving dickhead who's thrown a wrench into all your plans. And until now, I wouldn't even admit I was wrong. It's everything I hated about my last marriage, and I've dragged it in through our own front door. I'm that guy, now. And lord, does that put me in a shitty place, mentally."
"But the point is, I love you. Choosing you has brought me everything I ever could've dreamed for myself, and even if you choose not to forgive me, to divorce me, and wash your hands of me -- which is completely valid -- it won't change that my life is ineffably better because you were in it."
Jim's expression softens. He relents in his stance and his eyes which gazed upon her like a stranger only moments before, glisten with unshed tears as he relives each and every painful, loving, intimate, angry, honest, perfect, and awful memory he has with his wife. He glances away from her and down at the floor, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He grits his teeth, then flicks his gaze up at the sky, pleading with whatever deity, if any, why they'd put him in this, of all scenarios.
He sighs. He looks at her.
"Let's...let's work on it, then," he finally says.