#keating gen 7

[fisheremsims]

7.09 - Becoming Charlotte, Again

Fall Tuesday:

The day was overcast, the air cool as Charlotte and Dylan walked through Windenburg’s charming streets. She had spent the morning packing, knowing her time in town was coming to an end. Soon, she’d be heading back to San Myshuno, back to her routine and the life she had left behind after the divorce. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with everything that had happened, but she had no regrets about meeting Dylan. He had brought adventure back into her life in a way she hadn’t expected.

As they walked, Charlotte looked at Dylan and said, “So, I’m leaving Windenburg soon. I’ll head back to San Myshuno in a couple of days.”

Dylan paused, his eyes locking onto hers. The mischievous grin that had become familiar to Charlotte spread across his face. “Then marry me before you leave.”

Charlotte laughed, thinking he was joking. “What? Come on, Dylan. You’re not serious.”

But Dylan’s expression remained unchanged, his grin turning more playful. “I’m serious. What’s stopping us?”

Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. The spontaneity of the idea sent a thrill through her, and for the first time, she realized he wasn’t joking. He was asking her, seriously asking, and the boldness of it took her by surprise (though the similarity to her previous marriage was a little concerning).

She looked at him, feeling a rush of excitement—and nerves. She had always been one for wild decisions, but this was… different. “I guess nothing,” she replied, her voice unsure but intrigued by the idea. The moment was electric, and before she could second-guess herself, Dylan grabbed her hand and led her down the street.

Without another word, they hopped in Dylan’s truck and drove through Windenburg’s scenic streets, heading toward a small chapel nestled at the edge of town. The air felt thick with anticipation as they arrived, and Dylan grinned over at Charlotte, his eyes full of excitement. “Let’s do this,” he said, clearly thrilled by their spontaneous decision.

The chapel was quaint, charming, and exactly what Charlotte didn’t expect—a place for love to bloom without the formalities of a traditional wedding. They walked inside, where only the officiant was present, no friends, no family, just the two of them. The officiant gave them a knowing smile as she prepared to marry them.

The ceremony was short but meaningful, filled with laughter, shared glances, and the kind of carefree joy that comes with making an impulsive decision. Charlotte didn’t think twice—her heart was racing, but she knew, in that moment, this was exactly what she needed.

After the ceremony, they stood outside the chapel, now husband and wife, and Dylan leaned in to kiss her, the weight of the world seeming to vanish with each passing second.

As they walked back toward the car, Charlotte’s phone buzzed with a text from Jessica. She pulled it out and grinned. She typed quickly: “Married. Don’t freak out.”

Jessica’s reply came almost instantly: “You’re ridiculous.”

Charlotte laughed, her heart still racing from the whirlwind decision she had just made. She wasn’t sure what this meant for her future with Dylan, but for now, it felt right. It felt like she was embracing the unpredictable, adventurous side of herself she’d been suppressing for so long.

She texted back: “Yep. I know. But it’s kind of amazing.”

Meanwhile, back in the city, Sawyer had something important on his mind. The success of Verses and Chords had brought him recognition, but it was his relationship with Elena that had always grounded him. The deep bond they shared, the creative connection, and the love that had blossomed between them was something Sawyer couldn’t ignore any longer.

Sawyer knew he wanted to spend his life with Elena, and he had the perfect way to ask her. He’d spent days working on a piano composition, pouring his feelings into every note, every chord. It wasn’t a grand gesture—it was quiet, personal, and very much in line with who Sawyer was.

One evening, as they sat together in his apartment, Sawyer sat at the piano, motioning for Elena to join him. “I wrote something for you,” he said, his voice soft with emotion.

Elena smiled, intrigued. “What is it?”

Sawyer began to play, the melody flowing smoothly, the music capturing everything he felt for her. The piece was called “Yes, Forever”—a musical representation of his desire to spend the rest of his life with her. As the last note echoed through the room, he turned to Elena, his heart in his throat.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tears welled in Elena’s eyes as she looked at him, overwhelmed by the sincerity of the moment. “Yes, of course,” she replied, her voice full of love. She leaned over to him, taking his face in her hands, and they shared a quiet kiss, sealing their promise.

Fall Wednesday:

Charlotte’s heart raced as she stared down at the pregnancy test in her hand. The little pink line was undeniable, and her mind raced to process the news. She had suspected something was off—her body felt different, and after the whirlwind of the past few weeks with Dylan, she hadn’t exactly been keeping track of anything. But seeing the test results made everything feel more real than ever.

She took a deep breath and walked into the living room, where Dylan was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as she entered, his smile fading when he saw the look on her face. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

Charlotte swallowed hard. “Dylan, I’m… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, the room was completely still. Dylan stared at her in surprise, his eyes searching her face to make sure he hadn’t misheard her. And then, without hesitation, a wide grin spread across his face. He jumped up from the couch, wrapping Charlotte in an excited embrace. “That’s amazing, Charlotte! Oh my god, we’re going to have a baby!”

Charlotte laughed, feeling a rush of relief wash over her as Dylan’s enthusiasm filled the room. She had expected some surprise, maybe even a little uncertainty, but Dylan’s reaction was pure joy. His arms tightened around her as he spun her in a circle, both of them laughing with excitement.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Charlotte said, feeling the weight of it all sink in. She had always imagined having a family, but after everything with Elliot and Penny, she wasn’t sure she would have another chance. But now that it was real, it felt like an entirely new chapter.

They celebrated that evening with a quiet dinner at home. Dylan insisted on cooking, despite his usual habit of picking up takeout, and they enjoyed a simple meal together. After dinner, they shared a toast of sparkling juice on the couch.

“To us,” Dylan said, his eyes bright with love and excitement. “To our family, and to all the adventures we’re going to have.”

Charlotte smiled, her heart full as she clinked her glass with his. “To our future.”

As they snuggled on the couch, their laughter filled the apartment, and for the first time in a long while, Charlotte felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Meanwhile, on a remote hiking trail far from the bustle of the city, Juliette and Liam were living out the kind of adventure they both craved. They had been inseparable since they met, their shared love for exploration pulling them into a whirlwind romance. And today, as they hiked up the trail, Juliette felt as though the world was opening up to them, filled with endless possibilities.

As they reached a breathtaking overlook, with the valley spread out beneath them, Liam pulled something small from his jacket pocket—a ring box. Juliette turned toward him in surprise, her heart skipping a beat.

“I don’t need a big wedding. I don’t need anything extravagant,” Liam said, his voice filled with sincerity. “What I need is to spend the rest of my life with you, Juliette. Will you marry me?”

Overcome with emotion, Juliette didn’t need a moment to think. She had known that Liam was the one for her from the moment they met. “Yes! Yes, I will!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a kiss.

And then, in the heat of the moment, something in Juliette stirred—this wasn’t just a proposal. It was the perfect moment, in the perfect place, and she realized that they didn’t need anything else. “Let’s elope,” she said, her voice a little breathless with excitement.

Liam’s eyes sparkled, and he grinned widely. “Let’s do it.”

They found a small chapel at the base of the mountain, an intimate, peaceful place tucked away from the world. With only the officiant as their witness, they exchanged vows, pledging their lives to each other in the quiet solitude of the mountain air.

As the ceremony ended, they stepped outside, the crisp mountain breeze carrying their laughter as they kissed, their love echoing in the vastness of the landscape. Their elopement was everything they could have hoped for—spontaneous, meaningful, and true to who they were.

Not long after their elopement, Juliette discovered she was pregnant. The news was unexpected but welcomed. She and Liam had always talked about a future together, and now, their adventure would include parenthood. They were ready for whatever came their way. The news brought them even closer, solidifying the love and bond they shared.

As they hiked together, laughing and talking about their future, Juliette felt more certain than ever that they had made the right choice. They had eloped in the most adventurous way possible, and now, they were embarking on another journey—one that would be even more incredible.

Fall Thursday:

The days had been slipping by in a blur, and Charlotte couldn’t shake the growing unease in her stomach. Dylan had been staying out later and later, often returning home after midnight. At first, Charlotte had dismissed it, telling herself it was just his busy schedule, his bartending shifts, or hanging out with friends. But the longer it went on, the more she found herself lying awake, waiting for him to return, her mind spinning with questions she couldn’t answer.

Dylan's absence, coupled with her growing anxiety, made her feel more isolated than she had ever felt before. It wasn’t just about the time he was spending away; it was the way it made her question everything. Was he pulling away from her? Was something happening that she wasn’t seeing? She tried to ignore the doubt creeping in, but the more she tried to push it away, the more it dug its claws into her heart.

Charlotte spent the day in a daze, trying to focus on work, but all her thoughts kept returning to Dylan. She hadn’t talked to him about it directly—she didn’t want to seem insecure—but the distance between them felt like a wall she couldn’t break down. Each night, as Dylan stayed out later, her anxiety only grew.

The stress of it all felt overwhelming, but she kept it bottled up. Dylan had always been spontaneous and adventurous, and Charlotte had loved that about him. But now, it felt like their carefree connection was starting to slip away.

To get her mind off things, Charlotte attended Oliver and Harper’s wedding that evening. The event had been talked about for months, and the excitement surrounding it only grew as the day approached. Held at the famous Von Haunt Estate in Windenburg, it was the kind of wedding that promised to be unforgettable—intimate, beautiful, and filled with love.

The villa was everything Charlotte had imagined—rustic charm with a touch of modern elegance. The setting sun bathed everything in a golden light as guests mingled and sipped champagne, creating an air of warmth and joy. Charlotte couldn’t help but smile as she greeted friends, the festive atmosphere lifting her spirits just a little bit.

The ceremony was a perfect reflection of Oliver and Harper’s relationship: lighthearted and sincere, filled with laughter and tenderness. Oliver, ever the charmer, made everyone laugh with his witty remarks, while Harper’s vows were heartfelt, full of love and emotion. As they exchanged promises, the crowd was moved, many wiping away tears of happiness. The couple’s vows blended humor and genuine emotion, making everyone feel the strength of their bond.

The guests called it “the wedding of the year,” and Charlotte couldn’t agree more. The night was a celebration of love, with music, dancing, and laughter filling the air. Charlotte watched Oliver and Harper, their happiness infectious, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to forget about her own worries. The wedding was a reminder of the joy that love could bring, and it was hard not to feel hopeful for the future as she witnessed the strength of their connection.

But as the night came to a close, Charlotte’s thoughts returned to her own life. The joy of the wedding had been a much-needed distraction, but as she returned to her hotel room alone, the weight of her situation settled back in. Dylan had always been her source of adventure, but now, it felt like their relationship was drifting further apart.

Fall Friday:

The night Nathan Brooks was born, the rain fell steadily outside, casting a quiet, peaceful atmosphere over the San Myshuno hospital. It was the middle of autumn, and the crisp air mixed with the sound of raindrops tapping against the window. Charlotte had been in labor for hours, her exhaustion mounting, but as soon as Nathan finally arrived, it felt like the world slowed down.

He was a quiet baby, only crying when he was hungry or needed a change. His tiny face was serious, and Charlotte couldn’t help but smile at his expressions. “Already a little old man,” she joked softly to herself, her heart swelling with love for the little life she had just brought into the world. There was something calm about him, a quiet presence that made Charlotte feel like she could breathe again. After the chaos of the past year, having Nathan in her arms felt like a fresh start.

Dylan, ever the proud new father, immediately called his parents to share the news. His voice was filled with excitement, his energy palpable. “It’s a boy. Nathan’s here,” he said over the phone, his voice full of joy as he paced around the room, occasionally glancing at Charlotte and Nathan, his eyes shining with pride.

Meanwhile, Charlotte pulled out her phone, snapping a blurry photo of Nathan’s tiny hand curled around her finger. She posted it on social media with the caption, “He’s here. ❤️”, feeling a rush of happiness as the small image of their newborn son captured the moment perfectly.

The next day, Charlotte turned the page to a new chapter in her life. She was a mother again, and her life had shifted in ways she couldn’t yet fully comprehend. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she knew it was time for a change.

She still loved her playful, impulsive side, but with Nathan now in her care, she felt a sense of maturity she hadn’t before. Her red hair, once bold and daring, now seemed to need a softer touch. Charlotte toned down the fiery tones, keeping the red but blending in caramel ombre at the tips, creating a look that was still playful but more “mom-friendly.” The new style was a reflection of her changing life—a vibrant yet grounded look that embodied the balance between her fun-loving nature and the responsibilities she now had as a mother.

As she adjusted to the new look, Charlotte felt a sense of calm. She was ready for this next step, and even though she felt a little nervous, she also felt empowered. With Nathan’s arrival, she knew her life would never be the same, and that was exactly how she wanted it.

Later that day, Robyn, Charlotte’s mother, stopped by to meet her new grandson. She looked at Nathan with a gentle smile, admiring his calm demeanor. “He’s so calm,” Robyn remarked, gently stroking his tiny hand. “Compared to how wild you were as a baby, he’s already got his own quiet charm.”

Charlotte laughed, feeling both embarrassed and amused by the comparison. “Guess I was a bit of a handful,” she replied, recalling her own childhood. She had always been the adventurous one, the one who didn’t sit still, and her mother’s comment made her realize just how much she had changed in such a short amount of time.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Juliette was adjusting to a new chapter of her own. She had just given birth to her first daughter, Amelia Carter. After months of writing, promoting Legends of the Jungle, and balancing her career with her personal life, Juliette had decided to take some time off to focus on her family. Amelia was everything she had hoped for—sweet, quiet, and already full of personality.

Juliette had always been driven by her work, but now, holding her daughter in her arms, she realized just how much her priorities had shifted. She had taken a break from writing, deciding to embrace the quiet moments of motherhood and the joy of watching Amelia grow.

“I’ve waited for this,” Juliette said softly to Liam, her husband, as they watched Amelia sleep in her crib. “It’s time to focus on family. Writing can wait.”

Liam smiled, his eyes full of love as he watched Juliette. “I’m proud of you. We’ll be okay. Amelia’s our new adventure.”

With Amelia now the center of their world, Juliette and Liam were ready to dive into this new chapter of their lives. And while Juliette didn’t know what the future would hold for her career, she knew that being a mother was the adventure she had been waiting for all along.

7.08 - Crushes, Crowds, and Cherry Red

7.10 - The Messy Middle

[fanlore-wiki]

Featured Article: Vila Restal

This week's Featured Article is all about Vila Restal, a character in the British sci-fi television series Blake's 7!

As portrayed by Michael Keating, Vila is an unapologetic coward and often the butt of jokes, but many Vila fans find him appealing because of his (often hidden) cleverness and resourcefulness and his sense of humour, often expressed through asides and pithy one-liners. Though Vila was undeniably more popular back in the days of print zine fandom, many fans are still drawn to Vila also via his relationship with Kerr Avon, both in Avon/Vila slash and or in gen fanworks.

Learn more about Vila's fandom and fanon on Fanlore!

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We value every contribution to our shared fandom history. If you’re new to editing Fanlore or wikis in general, visit our New Visitor Portal to get started or ask us questions here!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Joshua Keating at Vox:

For most of the past year, the war in Gaza dominated global headlines, while the growing conflict between Israel and Hezbollah along the country’s northern border was just below the surface, threatening to boil over. Today, on the anniversary of the October 7 attacks, the situation is roughly reversed: the Israeli government and the international community are focused on the spiraling violence in Lebanon and escalation with Iran, while Gaza has fallen off the front pages. It’s not that the combat in Gaza has ended. Just last week, nearly 100 people were killed by Israeli airstrikes and ground operations in Gaza. But Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) troop levels in Gaza are down as much as 90 percent from the high point of the operation, as Israel has shifted resources toward the fighting in the north. Yet even as the military operation Israel calls “Swords of Iron” has receded, there are no signs that it is ending any time soon. Instead, the conflict seems to be transforming into the sort of “forever war” that both Israel and the US have become all too acquainted with in recent decades. Instead of the “day after” that has been talked about since the invasion began nearly a year ago, Gaza is trapped in a perpetual present of conflict, chaos, and civilian death. There are no signs that will change — and that is exceedingly grim news for Gaza’s civilian population. “With the world’s attention focused on Lebanon, I think the concern for Palestinians is that they’ve now been left to their own devices,” said Tahani Mustafa, senior Palestine analyst for the International Crisis Group. A ceasefire in Gaza remains elusive. Multiple rounds of US-led talks aimed at securing a pause in the fighting and a return of hostages have come to naught, with Netanyahu repeatedly insisting on maintaining an Israeli military presence in Gaza after the war. Meanwhile, after months of public rage following his government’s failures on October 7, Netanyahu’s popularity has rebounded after the killing of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah. That means there’s far less internal pressure to bring an end to a war that has sparked domestic protests, brought international opprobrium on Israel, and battered its economy.

That’s not the only thing working against an end to the conflict. With the US election looming, President Joe Biden has effectively become a lame duck with diminishing leverage (that he’s willing to use, at least) over America’s Israeli ally. After months of criticism of Netanyahu’s conduct of the war in Gaza, US officials — off the record, at least — have taken a notably more positive tone about its operations targeting Hezbollah and Iran. As for Hamas, while it can still launch periodic attacks — including one that killed four IDF troops in September — and may still be holding as many as 101 Israeli hostages, it has lost more than half its military leaders since the war began, according to Israeli estimates.

[...]

A different kind of occupation

Israel’s military occupied Gaza from 1967, following the Six Day War, until 2005, when Prime Minister Ariel Sharon ordered the withdrawal of security forces, along with the forced removal of about 8,500 Israeli settlers. Though the move was widely supported at the time — the occupation viewed by many as a costly quagmire — the withdrawal came to be seen as a mistake by many Israelis, particularly after Hamas took over Gaza in 2007.

What’s happening now in Gaza is different. Though some in Israel’s influential settler movement, including ultranationalist Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, have called for rebuilding settlements in Gaza, this is not widely supported in Israel and the government does not appear to be actively contemplating it. And while some like Gen. David Petraeus have urged Israel to pursue an Iraq-style “clear, hold, build” counterinsurgency approach, which would combine defeating militants with supporting the civilian population, digging wells and building schools in Gaza does not seem to be on the IDF’s agenda. “The Israeli plan right now is to move to a sort of a counterterrorism footing in Gaza,” said RAND Corporation military analyst Raphael Cohen. “It’s not going to be withdrawal, but it’s not going to be full-on occupation either.” This could involve control of the Philadelphi corridor along the border with Egypt and the so-called Netzarim corridor dividing Gaza’s north and south border, along with periodic raids into the center to target the remnants of Hamas, which will likely remain an insurgent force for the indefinite future.

“The real concern is that Gaza gets stuck in a kind of middle state,” says Cohen, meaning the low-intensity fighting continues indefinitely, but with no opportunity for Gaza to rebuild or establish stable governance. Not everyone has such a light footprint in mind: Retired IDF General Giora Eiland has been on a media blitz in recent weeks promoting what’s been called the “Generals’ Plan” for Gaza. This would involve giving the entire civilian population of northern Gaza (about 250,000 people) a week to evacuate, then declaring it a “closed military zone” with no supplies allowed in; essentially, seeking to starve out any Hamas fighters that remain. Netanyahu is reportedly considering the plan, though it is almost certain to be widely condemned as a war crime. Israel has set the destruction of Hamas’s military capabilities as a core goal of its operation. Given that Hamas can likely continue to operate as an underground insurgency for quite some time, this is a recipe for a very long war.

[...]

Who will actually rule Gaza?

Regardless of its military plans, Israel does not appear to have any desire to provide the security or social services for Gaza’s civilian population that its offensive has utterly devastated. The early weeks of the war saw a flurry of articles and policy papers proposing ideas for the post-war governance of the strip. The US and Western governments coalesced around a few. The United States pushed ideas involving a “revamped and revitalized” Palestinian Authority (PA) — the body that currently governs the West Bank — taking over control of Gaza. Netanyahu refused to consider such plans, saying they would turn Gaza from “Hamastan” to “Fatahstan” (Fatah is the party that dominates the PA). In any case, given how unpopular the PA is in the areas it already controls in the West Bank, it’s not clear how much legitimacy it would have had with Gaza’s population had the party been installed at the point of an Israeli gun. The Biden administration has also pushed Arab states to take a leading role in Gaza’s postwar reconstruction, but those countries have ruled out committing to that kind of project without a clear pathway toward a Palestinian state.

One year ago today, Hamas launched a terrorist attack into Israel, and subsequently led to Israel’s genocide campaign against Gaza.

One year later, will Gaza become a forever war for Israel?

[papercranesong]

Thanks for tag @themurdochmemesteries I feel like our answers are scarily similar 😁

1 . What ratings do you write most of your fics under?

T (teen and up) mostly, and a lot of Gen too.

2. What are your top three fandoms?

Star Trek: Enterprise 

Man from uncle 

The A-Team 

3. What is the top character you write about?

Malcolm Reed ☺️

4. What are your top 3 pairings?

I tend to just write platonic so it looks like 

Malcolm and Trip

Malcolm and Archer 

Illya and Napoleon 

5. What are your top 3 additional tags?

Friendship 

Hurt/ comfort 

Angst 

6. Does any of this surprise you?

Nope, that pretty much sums up what I write. 

7. Favourite tag you've used?

I’m so unimaginative with tags!! Probably the “Malcolm Reed needs a hug” one - it reminds me of Scrubs when JD keeps giving Dr. Cox a sneak hug - with the Enterprise crew being JD and Malcolm being Dr. Cox.

Although ironically in the actual show, I don’t think Malcolm actually gets any hugs 😭

So here is a picture of DK and CT, but you can pretend it’s Malcolm and Trip hugging - Malcolm even has his trusty phase pistol in his hand.

tagging: @deadheaddaisy @glitter-and-metal @scatterbrainedcapybara @saintzenni @unmaskedcardinal

and anyone else who would like to do this, no pressure

Tagged by @ionamalachite thanks so much! I love tag games, especially ones about my fics lol!

1 . What ratings do you write most of your fics under?

I mostly rate my fics T to be safe, but I have a fair amount of Gs as well.

2. What are your top three fandoms?

Star Trek: Enterprise (174)

Desmond's (16)

Back to the Future (14)

Yes I know, big gap.

3. What is the top character you write about?

No surprise, it's Malcolm Reed at 157 fics.

4. What are your top 3 pairings?

I'm going to assume these mean romantic pairings only.

Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III (57)

Lee Stanley/Tony (Desmond's) (10)

T'Pol/Charles "Trip" Tucker III (8)

If we're including friendships as well, Malcolm & Trip and Doc Brown & Marty McFly actually take places 2 and 3.

5. What are your top 3 additional tags?

Angst (124)

Hurt/Comfort (63)

Fluff (53)

6. Does any of this surprise you?

I'm surprised Fluff is so high in my additional tags tbh.

7. Favorite tag you've used?

I loved discovering that "Self-Imposed Time Loop" was a tag someone else had used before me. I also love using "Malcolm Reed Needs a Hug" and "Hurt Malcolm Reed" >:)

Tagging @peculiarreality @blue-dreamers-eyes @talshiargirlfriend @papercranesong and anyone else who wants to do this!

[green-co]

40 citations de la nature pour vous inspirer à profiter des grands espaces

Peu importe la saison, il y a tellement de raisons de sortir dans la nature. Il y a de l'air frais, des animaux impressionnants, ainsi que des sentiments de paix et de concentration qui vous accompagnent pendant des jours après une longue marche ou randonnée. Si vous avez besoin de plus d'inspiration pour prendre l'air, nous avons rassemblé les meilleures citations sur la nature. Des pépites de sagesse écrites par tout le monde, de John Muir à Henry David Thoreau, ces citations sur la nature vous inspireront à quitter la maison et à prendre la piste. Bonne randonnée !

Citations sur la nature pour inspirer votre envie de voyager

 1.       Quittez la route, empruntez les sentiers. – Pythagoras

2.       "J'ai senti mes poumons se gonfler avec la ruée vers le paysage - l'air, les montagnes, les arbres, les gens. J'ai pensé :" C'est ce que c'est que d'être heureux. "- Sylvia Plath

3.       "La nature ne se presse pas, pourtant tout est accompli." – LaoTzu

4.       "Des milliers de personnes fatiguées, nerveuses et sur-civilisées commencent à découvrir que se rendre à la montagne, c'est rentrer chez soi ; que la folie est une nécessité" - John Muir

5.       La normalité est une route pavée ; il est confortable de marcher, mais aucune fleur ne pousse. - Vincent Van Gog

6.       "C'était pour le mieux, alors la nature n'avait pas d'autre choix que de le faire." - Marc Aurèle

7.       Rien n'est plus dommageable pour l'esprit aventureux d'un homme qu'un avenir sûr. Le cœur très basique de l'esprit vivant d'un homme est sa passion pour l'aventure. La joie de vivre vient de nos rencontres avec de nouvelles expériences, et donc il n'y a pas de plus grande joie que d'avoir un horizon sans cesse changeant, pour que chaque jour ait un soleil nouveau et différent. "- Jon Krakauer

8.       "Adoptez le rythme de la nature : son secret est la patience." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

9.       La plupart des gens sont dans le monde, pas dedans. - John Muir

10.   Une promenade matinale est une bénédiction pour toute la journée. - Henry David Thoreau

11.   "Je suis heureux de ne pas être jeune dans un avenir sans désert." - Aldo Leopold

12.   "Vivez chaque saison au fur et à mesure qu'elle passe ; respirez l'air, buvez la boisson, goûtez les fruits et résignez-vous à l'influence de la terre." - Henry David Thoreau

13.   "J'ai la nature, l'art et la poésie, et si cela ne suffit pas, qu'est-ce qui suffit ?" - Vincent Van Gogh

14.   "Mon souhait est de rester toujours comme ça, de vivre tranquillement dans un coin de nature." - Claude Monet

15.   "Au printemps, à la fin de la journée, vous devriez sentir la saleté." - Margaret Atwood

16.   "Le cœur de l'esprit de l'homme vient de nouvelles expériences." - Jon Krakauer

17.   "Je ne suis sorti que pour me promener et j'ai finalement décidé de rester dehors jusqu'au coucher du soleil, car je trouvais que sortir allait vraiment bien." - John Muir

18.   "Dans la nature, rien n'est parfait et tout est parfait. Les arbres peuvent être tordus, pliés de façon bizarre, et ils sont toujours aussi beaux." - Alice Walke

19.   La nature ne fait rien d'inutile. – Aristote

20.   "Si nous nous rendions à l'intelligence de la terre, nous pourrions nous élever enracinés, comme des arbres." - Rainer Maria Rilke

 Belles citations sur la nature

 1.       "Il ne suffit pas de vivre. Il faut avoir du soleil, de la liberté et une petite fleur." - Hans Christian Anderson

2.       "Ceux qui contemplent la beauté de la terre trouvent des réserves de force qui dureront aussi longtemps que la vie durera. Il y a quelque chose d'infiniment curatif dans les refrains répétés de la nature - l'assurance que l'aube vient après la nuit et le printemps après l'hiver." - Rachel Carson

3.       "La poésie de la terre n'est jamais morte." - John Keats

4.       "Je pense que l'imagination de la nature est tellement plus grande que celle de l'homme, elle ne nous laissera jamais nous détendre." - Richard Feynman

5.       "Les bois sont beaux, sombres et profonds. Mais j'ai des promesses à tenir et des kilomètres à parcourir avant de dormir." - Robert Frost

6.       Je suis allé dans les bois parce que je voulais vivre délibérément, pour ne présenter que les faits essentiels de la vie, et voir si je ne pouvais pas apprendre ce qu'il devait enseigner, et non, quand je suis venu mourir, découvrir que je n'avais pas vécu. - Henry David Thoreau

7.       La nature n'est pas un endroit à visiter. C'est chez moi. —Gary Snyder

8.       "La mer est une émotion incarnée. Elle aime, déteste et pleure. Elle défie toutes les tentatives pour la capturer avec des mots et rejette toutes les entraves. Peu importe ce que vous en dites, il y a toujours ce que vous ne pouvez pas." - Christopher Paolini

9.       "Où que vous alliez, quelle que soit la météo, apportez toujours votre propre soleil." - Anthony J. D'Angelo

10.   "Étudiez la nature, aimez la nature, restez proche de la nature. Elle ne vous manquera jamais." - Frank Lloyd Wright

11.   De nombreux yeux traversent la prairie, mais peu y voient les fleurs. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

12.   Je n'ai jamais vu d'arbre mécontent. —John Muir

13.   Toutes les bonnes choses sont sauvages et gratuites. - Henry David Thoreau

14.   "Un homme pratiquant la bonté dans le désert vaut tous les temples que ce monde tire." - Jack Kerouac

15.   La terre a sa musique pour ceux qui écouteront. - George Santanaya

16.   "La nature est satisfaite de la simplicité. Et la nature n'est pas un mannequin." - Magda Boulet

17.   "Pour ceux qui n'ont pas d'imagination, une place vide sur la carte est un gaspillage inutile ; pour d'autres, la partie la plus précieuse." - Aldo Leopold

18.   "Le retour à la maison est la partie la plus difficile de la randonnée longue distance. Vous avez grandi en dehors du puzzle et votre pièce ne correspond plus." - Cindy Ross "

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

Seasons of Love - Heart of Winter Challenge

Hey guys we are now up to part 2 of my Seasons of Love Challenge. It will be a 4 part challenge with 1 part dedicated to each season.  We are now entering Winter so  that is the season we will do next.

Each part of the challenge will run for almost 3 months - to fit the season. There will be no extension since 3 month is plenty of time to come up with something. If you want to drop out for one reason or another that is totally fine. Just sent me an ask and I will remove you from my list. If you don’t turn in your fic on time and you haven’t kept in touch, you will be banned from all my future challenges.

If you wrote for fall you are allowed to make this a part two to that fic - which I very much encourage. If you didn’t do fall you can still do winter but the fic has to be a stand alone - if you wanna make spring and summer part 2 and 3 for your winter challenge that is still allowed having missed fall.

You can also just make this challenge a one shot - just like always. You are NOT allowed to make it part of an on going series that wasn’t done for the fall part of the challenge though.

Do I have to have taken part in in Fall?

No. You can take part in one, in two ect. Any you would like. BUT if you haven’t done fall you can’t sign up until November 26th. I am giving the ones that want to do a series a chance to get first picks.

If I do all - do the stories have to be linked?

No. They can be but that is not an acquirement. But if they aren’t sign ups for you starts November 26th just like everyone else not doing a series for the challenge. 

If I do them all do I have to write the same pairing each time?

Nope. Not unless you are doing a series then I guess it would be adviceable but follow your own vision!

Will you read and reblog my fic?

You betcha :D But I only reblog fics with a keep reading if it is above 600 words!

Do my fic have to be winter themed?

Since it is the idea of the challenge - yes I am afraid so.

When Do I Post?

Between Dec 1st and February 16th. Sign Ups start now and ends when there are no more prompts

RULES - READ PLEASE!

Don’t Post Before: Dec 1st

Due Date: Feb 16th

Word min: 600 words

Word Max: 6k words

Style: It can be a drabble, one shot or beginning of a series. Do not put in in the middle of an ongoing series since I plan on reading them and don’t want to read 10 parts of something to understand the entry. IT CAN BE THE MIDDLE OF A SERIES IF YOU ARE DOING FOUR PARTS ONE FOR EACH PART OF MY CHALLENGE WHICH I WOULD LOOOOVE!

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst are all welcome. DO NOT write smut if you are under the age of 18 and tag everything with appropriate warnings. AUs are more than welcome!

Limits on what you can write: No Mommy/daddy kinks, no non/dub con, no A/B/O, no glorification on cheating, no wife hate in rpfs! - if you got any questions at any time feel free to send me an ask.

Format: State in your A/N that it is for my (thing-you-do-with-that-thing) Seasons of Love - Colors of Fall Challenge. And use the # SoL - Heart of Winter challenge in the first 5 tags.

Submit: After you posted on tumblr you have to add yourself and your fic to this doc.  

If you don’t do this you will not be added to the masterlist I create when the challenge is over. If you got questions - just ask :D

Doc link it case tumblr is an ass: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1h0aFhiBAjoOJlxxjc1TbT4KKqMpX3IEWedmZm1a1ZHY/edit?usp=sharing

Sign-ups begins: For people that did Fall NOW until there are no more prompts, BUT you can’t sign up until you COMPLETED the FALL part. THIS ONLY APPLIES IF YOU PLAN ON CONTINUING THE THE ONE YOU DID FOR FALL AS A SERIES

For people that haven’t done the FALL challenge sign ups begin November 27th and you get a pick of what is left. The same goes for all that did fall but don’t want to continue it as a series. There are plenty of prompts so don’t worry

How do I join? IMPORTANT!!!!!

You pick a prompt and a pairing off the list. Send me the prompt number along with a backup just in case and your pairing of choice. IF YOU ARE CONTINUING A STORY FROM FALL TELL ME THAT TOO AND REMIND ME OF THE TITLE OF PART ONE! ASKS ONLY!! REPLIES, REBLOGS AND IMS WILL BE IGNORED!

There are no limits on the pairings but I only allow 1 person per prompt so think before you sign up. If you don’t think you will be doing it then don’t take the spot from someone else. Prompts and Pairings are under the cut!

Pairings:

No male readers - gender neutral are fine!

General Fics - character or rpf are both fine.

Sister/daughter/romantic/friendship reader pairings for following are all fine - just let me know which:

Jensen

Dean

Misha

Cas

Jared

Sam

Ships (all are allowed as poly with reader too):

Destiel

Deonna

Megstiel

Saileen

Cockles

Jensen x Danneel

Jared x Genevieve

I AM ALLOWING PEOPLE TO SIGN UP FOR MARVEL CHARACTERS ALSO. I DON’T READ ALL. SENT AN ASK AND HEAR IF THE ONE YOU WANNA WRITE IS SOMETHING I AM INTERESTED IN READING.

No shaming of any pairings or ships I just have to read them and these are the things I prefer. On to the prompts.

IF YOU WANNA CHECK IF I SEEN IT. CUSSIV MEANS WRITTEN AND I READ. BOLD MEANS WRITTEN, READ AND YOU ADDED TO THE DOC. IT NEEDS TO BE IN THE DOC TO MAKE IT TO THE MASTERLIST.

Activity and word prompts

1 Blizzard @luci-in-trenchcoats (Jensen x Reader) - Continued

2 First Snow @mysupernaturalfics (Janneel x Reader) - Continued

3 Christmas Tree @queen-of-deans-booty (Jensen x Reader) - Continued

4 Christmas Lights  @xx-multi-fandom-imagines (Dean x Reader) - Continued

5 Ice Skating @like-a-bag-of-potatoes (Sam x Reader) - Continued

6 Fireplace @attractiverandomness (Dean x Reader)

7 Baking @teamfreewill-imagine (Jenneel x daughter!reader) - Continued

8 Crafts (free to interpret) 

9 Hot chocolate @percywinchester27 (Dean x Reader) - Continued

10 Carols @rebelslicious (Megstiel)

11 Snowball Fight - @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester (Dean x Daughter!Reader) - Continued

12 Snowed In @ruined-by-destiel (Sam x Reader) - Continued

13 Skiing @highlyfuncti0nings0ci0path (Dean x Reader)

14 New Year’s Kiss @roxyspearing (Dean x Reader) - Continued

15 Fireworks @tngrayson (Dean x Reader) - Continued

16 Horse Sleigh @reality-isfor-muggles (Sam x Reader)

17 Stokings @trunk-full-of-ideas (sister!reader)

18 Christmas Eve @mrspadalackles (Dean x Reader) - Continued

19 Christmas Morning @sammy-moo (Sam x Reader)

20 Mittens @oneshoeshort (Sam x Reader) - Continued

21 Tundra @not-that-rude-but-very-ginger (Dean x Reader)

22 Frostbites @torn-and-frayed (Dean x Reader) - continued

23 Cuddling for warmth @ladysimoriah (Megstiel) - Contiued

24 Pecan Pie @winchasterdean (Dean x Reader)

25 Santa Claus - @winchesters-favorite-girl (Sam x daughter!Reader) - continued

Song Prompts:

26 Bruce Springsteen - 10th Avenue Freeze Out @chaos-and-the-calm67 (Sam x Reader)

27 Neil Young - Winterlong

28 Elvis Presley - In the Ghetto

29 Foo Fighters - February Stars

30 Ray Charles - Winter Wonderland

31 The Bangles - Hazy Shade of Winter @firefly124 Sam x Reader

32 Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson - Winter Song

33 Ronan Keating - Caledonia

34 Black Sabbath - Snowblind

35 Gordon Lightfoot - Ring them Bells

36 The Avett Brothers - Winter in My Heart

37 Anastasia - Once Upon A December @not-moose-one-shots Sam x Reader - continued

38 Leonard Cohen - Winter Lady

39 Kate Bush - Snowflake

40 Bon Iver - Minnesota, WI

41 Radiohead - Black Star

42 Wizzard - I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday

43 Pretenders - 2000 Miles

44 Joni Mitchell - River

45 Chris Rea - Driving Home for Christmas

46 Abba - Thank You For the Music

47 Band Aid - Do They Know It’s Christmas

48 The Pogues - Fairytale of New York

49 Lea Michele - Auld Lang Syne

50 Counting Crows - A Long December

40 Secret Gif/Picture Prompts:

25/40 left

1 

2 @docharleythegeekqueen (Destiel x Reader) - Continued

3 @jayankles (Dean x Reader) - Continued

4 @winchesterprincessbride (Sam x Reader) - Continued

5 @queen-of-deans-booty (Sam x Reader) - Continued

6 @sillesworldofwriting (Jared x Reader x Gen) - Continued

7 @padasteph-nie (Destiel) - Continued

8 @queen-of-deans-booty (Dean x Reader) - Continued

9 

10 @tngrayson (Dean x Reader)

11 @acreativelydifferentlove (Jensen x Reader)

12 @cass-trash (Cas x Reader)

13 @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 (Dean x Reader)

14 @atc74 (Jared x Reader)

15 

16 @deanssweetheart23 (Dean x Reader) - continued

17 @queen-of-deans-booty (Jared x Reader)

18 @queen-of-deans-booty (Cas x Reader)

19 @captain-s-rogers (Steve x Reader)

20 @whiskeyxcola (Clint x Reader)

Challenge taglist:

@fromashell

@torn-and-frayed

@secretlyfurrydragon

@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester

@like-a-bag-of-potatoes

@ruined-by-destiel

@iwantthedean

@creativelydifferentlove

@luci-in-trenchcoats

@atc74

@atc74

@percywinchester27

@riversong-sam

@sea040561

@not-that-rude-but-very-ginger

@not-moose-one-shots

@deansleather

@angelsdeadromance

@fangirlextraordinaire

@onlyhalfapsychopath

@mrspadalackles

@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

@chaos-and-the-calm67

@rebelslicious

@docharleythegeekqueen

@firefly124

@pie-not-cake-you-assbutt

@wayward-marvel-sommer1196

@sammy-moo

@curliesallovertheplace

@agentsofsupernaturalmarvel

@danijimenezv

@teamfreewill92

@supernaturallymarvellous

@impalaimagining

@samwinjarpad

@evilskank-inthemegacoven

@castiels-broken-fool

@padasteph-nie

@immawinchestersgirl13

@eccentricsammy

@padasteph-nie

@xx-multi-fandom-imagines

@cass-trash

@acreativelydifferentlove

@bemyqueenofdarkness

@fandomoniumflurry

@dreamcas

@dreamcas

@winchesterprincessbride

@internationalfandomgirl

@sillesworldofwriting

@justme-noonebutme

@fangirlofeverythingme

@iwrotemyownending

@tngrayson

@desolatedreality

@oneshoeshort

@winchasterdean

@not-moose-one-shots

@sleepylunarwolf

@ruined-by-destiel

@ruined-by-destiel

@emoryhemsworth

@spnaddict11283

@feelmyroarrrr

@katymacsupernatural

@ericaprice2008

@adriellej

@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester

@percussiongirl2017

@jayankles

@canadianjelly

[americanmysticom]

Retired generals who denounced Trump could be recalled to active duty and prosecuted, experts say By Susan Katz Keating - JUSTTHENEWS.COM The Uniform Code of Military Justice prohibits using "contemptuous words" against the president.

https://justthenews.com/government/security/retired-generals-who-denounced-trump-could-be-recalled-active-duty-and

June 12, 2020 - 9:28am

Retired four-star military officers who lambasted President Trump could be recalled to active duty and prosecuted for violating the U.S. Code, military law experts told Just the News.

“Retired officers can't make contemptuous remarks of the commander-in-chief,” said John Dowd, a former Marine Corps Judge Advocate and former Trump legal advisor. “They’re all subject to recall. They’re subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice until they die.”

The pertinent law is Title 10 of the U.S. Code, Section 888, the experts said.

“As part of the UCMJ, governing military law, you cannot use contemptuous words against certain officials, including the president,” one active duty Army Judge Advocate General Corps officer said. “That is a court-martial offense, and yes, you can be recalled to active duty to be court-martialed.”

The outspoken retired officers know they could be held to account, the JAG officer said.

“I don't know who the hell they think they are,” Dowd said. “It’s stunning to me. I guess the law doesn’t apply to them.”

The retired officers comprise some of the biggest marquee military names in recent times. They include former Defense Secretary Gen. James Mattis and former Special Operations Command chief Adm. William McRaven.

With increasing frequency over the past couple years, and in quick succession over the past week, they have leveled serious accusations against Trump, and have called for him to be removed from office.

In late 2019, McRaven published a New York Times op-ed titled "Our Republic Is Under Attack From the President," and later told CNN interviewer Jake Tapper that Trump is working to destroy the country.

On June 7, former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Gen. Colin Powell — also speaking to CNN’s Tapper — said that Trump has “drifted away” from the U.S. Constitution. Elsewhere, Powell said Trump “lies all the time,” and called him a “menace.”

Retired Lt. Gen. John Allen, who commanded U.S. forces in Afghanistan, said in an interview that the Constitution is under threat — not from violent anarchists, but from the president of the United States.

Retired Gen. Barry McCaffrey, who led U.S. Southern Command and served in Bill Clinton’s cabinet, denounced Trump as a threat to national security. Former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Adm. Mike Mullen — who in 2012 surrendered his computers to the FBI in the course of a cybersecurity investigation — accused Trump of giving succor to foreign detractors.

Last week, Mattis launched his own salvo.

“We are witnessing the consequences of three years without mature leadership,” Mattis wrote about Trump in The Atlantic. “We can unite without him, drawing on the strengths inherent in our civil society,” he said, adding Trump made a mockery of the Constitution.

Amid publicity surrounding the comments, the retired officers rallied around one another, giving virtual salutes and fist-bumps.

McCaffrey posted on social media his support of Powell and Mattis. He tweeted a Tik Tok video mocking Trump, and made fun of Mattis critic Sebastian Gorka, calling him “a childish fraud.”

[1920sgirl]

Les 20 meilleures citations de Murder (How to get away with a murderer)

Comment échapper à une condamnation pour meurtre ou encore How to get away With Murder sont les appellations de cette série fantastique ! Prof de droit pénal exceptionnelle, elle dispose de toutes les qualités requises pour être appréciées et admirées par ses étudiants ! Elle est charismatique, intelligente, autoritaire, mais surtout impitoyable et dangereuse. Tous les proches d’Annalise Keating sont d’accord sur le fait qu’elle est sans pitié et peut faire montre d’une grande froideur quand il s’agit de défendre ses clients qu’ils soient coupables ou non.

C’est ainsi que dans la série, l’on a assisté à une série de procès où cette prof a obtenu la libération de plusieurs criminels même quand toutes les preuves semblaient être contre eux. Chaque année quelques-uns de ces étudiants ont le privilège de travailler avec elle dans son cabinet. Mais une fois, ils ont été confrontés à un cas de meurtre avec leurs profs, et c’est ainsi que les drames se sont enchainés dans la série. Entre suspense, scénario, citation Murder, le fort caractère de la prof et les caprices de ces étudiants qui se rebellaient contre elle de temps à autre, cette série était juste démentielle. Remémorez-vous les citations Murder d’Annalise Keating ou de ses proches qui vous ont le plus touché.

1. « Tout ce que vous direz à la police pourra et sera mal interprété pour soutenir l’accusation. Alors en cas de doute, ferme ta gueule. » – Annalise Keating

2. « Parce que j’essaie de te protéger, comme toujours. Quand vas-tu enfin l’accepter ? » – Annalise Keating

3. « Annalise : Tu en sais plus sur moi que la plupart des gens. C’est triste parce que je ne te connais pas. » – Nate Lahey.

4. « Choisissez votre mari avec soin, Mlle Pratt. Tu ne t’en prendras qu’à toi-même si ça finit mal. » – Annalise Keating

5. « Je regarde les murs depuis trois jours. J’ai besoin de compagnie, sinon je pourrais te mettre du rhum rouge sur le cul. Bien que, quelque chose me dit que tu pourrais être à fond là-dedans. » – Rebecca Sutter

6. « Tu es bon à tout ou tu ne peux faire ton travail que si tu fous en l’air les preuves de quelqu’un ? » – Annalise Keating

7. « Ne retirez jamais une occasion d’apprentissage à un autre élève. Peu importe à quel point tu as besoin que tout le monde pense que tu es intelligent. » – Annalise Keating

8. « Ne pas faire attention à toi est le meilleur compliment que tu puisses avoir. Parce que ça veut dire que je n’ai pas à m’inquiéter pour toi. Retourne au bureau et arrête d’être dans le besoin. » – Annalise Keating

9. « Laisse-moi t’aider. Laisse-moi t’aider. Parce que si tu le fais, je te promets que tu t’en tireras comme ça. » – Annalise Keating

10. « Asher : Est-ce que quelqu’un en a bu un peu trop ? Annalise : une bouteille entière de vodka, et si vous aviez tous des couilles, vous seriez soûls aussi. » – Annalise Keating

11. « Tu veux garder ton entreprise ou tu veux aller en prison pour avoir été une salope négligente ? » – Annalise Keating

12. « Fais de moi le méchant si ça t’aide à dormir la nuit, mais ne te mêle jamais de mes affaires. » – Annalise Keating

13. « Sexe. Je sais ce que tu penses. J’ai payé 80 000 $ par an pour ça ? Qu’est-ce que le sexe a à voir avec le droit pénal ? ». Tout. » – Annalise Keating

14. « J’y pense beaucoup, je me tue. Je l’ai toujours été depuis que je suis enfant. Souvent, je pense que le monde serait un bien meilleur endroit sans moi. Mais je ne le fais pas. Tu es une meilleure femme que moi et si je ne mérite pas de mourir, alors tu ne le mérites certainement pas. » – Annalise Keating

15. « Tu t’en prends à la mauvaise salope. » – Annalise Keating

16. « Toute notre relation est une excuse. » – Bonnie Winterbottom

17. « Tu as ruiné nos vies, tu ne comprends pas ? J’étais censé me marier et je ne le suis plus. Aiden a annulé le mariage à cause de toi. Tu nous as entraînés dans le spectacle d’horreur qui est ta vie, et maintenant nous sommes tous foutus pour toujours. Donc vous allez nous dire la vérité. Tous les horribles secrets de cette nuit dont tu n’as parlé à personne. Ou je jure devant Dieu que je te détruirai personnellement. » – Michaela Pratt

18. « Réfléchissez bien, tout ce qui suivra ce moment ne déterminera pas seulement votre carrière mais votre vie. Vous pouvez le passer dans un bureau corporatif à rédiger des contrats et à draguer des parajuristes grassouillet avant de finalement mettre une arme dans votre bouche ou vous pouvez vous joindre à mon cabinet et devenir quelqu’un que vous aimez vraiment. Alors, décidez : voulez-vous le poste ou non ? » – Annalise Keating

19. « Il est responsable de la perte de votre bébé. » – Wes

20. « J’ai tué Wes. Dis à Annalise que je suis désolé. » – Frank

Source: https://www.chillcity.fr/citations-murder-how-to-get-away-with-a-murderer/

[fisheremsims]

7.08 - Crushes, Crowds, and Cherry Red

Summer Friday:

Charlotte had never been one to shy away from life’s challenges, but today, everything felt different. The pain of her divorce and the loss of custody of Penny was still raw, still sitting in her chest like a weight that refused to budge. But she couldn’t let herself stay buried in it. She needed something—anything—to channel her grief.

So, she packed up what was left of her old life, signed a new lease, and moved into a small apartment across town, one with creaky floors, sunlit windows, and not a single memory of her marriage.

It wasn’t perfect—but it was hers.

She set her favorite mug on the coffee table, hung a new poster on the wall, and laid a bright yellow rug down in the center of the living room.

A fresh start, she told herself. One laugh at a time.

Comedy had always been her escape, her way to laugh at life’s absurdities and find light in even the darkest moments. And right now, it was her lifeline.

She spent the morning on the couch—surrounded by half-unpacked boxes—writing furiously into her notebook. Her new material was raw, messy, and biting: the realities of breakups, custody hearings, sleeping alone, and trying to remember who you are when half of your identity just walked out the door.

The punchlines came easy because they were honest.

“So I’m officially single,” she wrote, pausing to sip coffee from her chipped mug. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with someone who spends more time crying on the couch than actually being productive?”

It was brutal.

It was hilarious.

And it was true.

Later that evening, Charlotte performed at Orchid A Go Go, her usual venue known for its lively crowd and eclectic mix of performers. As soon as she took the stage, Charlotte felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She took a deep breath and dove into her set, starting with a joke about dating after a breakup.

“So, I’m officially single,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I’ve never felt more alive. Or confused. Or constantly judged by couples at the grocery store.”

The crowd laughed, and Charlotte’s confidence grew. She went on, hitting hard with jokes about dating apps, awkward first dates, and the absurdity of navigating the single life after a long relationship. Her new “Ex-husband Jokes” resonated with the crowd, and by the time she wrapped up her set, she was on fire. The audience was laughing so hard, it felt like they were part of the joke, part of her catharsis.

As she stepped offstage, breathless and grinning, a man in a leather jacket approached her with an easy smile and a business card.

“Hey, you were great tonight,” he said, flashing a smile. “I think you’ve got something. If you’re interested, I’d love to help you get some gigs around town.”

Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. The offer was exactly what she needed—an opportunity to take her comedy to the next level. She grinned, shaking his hand. “I’d love that. Thank you.”

Meanwhile, Juliette was attending a book signing for her debut novel, Legends of the Jungle. It had been a few months since the release, and while the success had been modest, she was starting to feel the weight of being recognized as a published author. The event was small but filled with fans who had read her book and were eager to meet her. Juliette smiled and chatted with each person, grateful for their support.

But as the crowd thinned out and the event was winding down, one person caught her eye—a man standing by the door, holding a camera. He was tall, with a casual confidence about him, and his smile was warm but reserved. He looked like someone who had seen the world, and that intrigued Juliette immediately.

Liam Carter, a travel photographer, had been following Juliette’s work for a while. He had read Legends of the Jungle and was captivated by the way she captured the spirit of adventure and exploration in her stories. It wasn’t just the book that intrigued him—it was Juliette herself. He had always admired her creative vision, and when he saw the book signing, he knew he had to meet her.

They struck up a conversation about travel, photography, and writing. Juliette was drawn to Liam’s passion for adventure, and as they shared stories about their favorite destinations, the connection between them grew. There was something about him—his easy smile, his genuine interest—that made Juliette feel an instant spark.

By the end of the evening, Juliette realized just how much they had in common. They both loved exploring the world, both had a sense of wanderlust that pulled them to new places. It felt effortless, the way they clicked.

“You know,” Liam said, his voice smooth and confident, “there’s this trip I’ve been planning to take. Maybe you’d like to join me? I think we’d have a lot of fun.”

Juliette’s heart raced at the idea. She had been swept up in the excitement of her book tour, but the thought of taking a trip with someone who shared her love for adventure felt like the perfect way to break free from the routine.

“I think I’d love that,” she replied, smiling up at him.

Their connection had sparked quickly, and what started as a professional interaction had blossomed into the beginning of a fast-paced romance. As they exchanged numbers and made plans for their first adventure together, both Juliette and Liam felt the promise of something exciting, something new, on the horizon.

Summer Saturday:

Charlotte’s promoter had gotten her a gig in Windenburg, a picturesque town known for its cozy pubs and lively nightlife. Tonight, she was performing at a small comedy venue tucked in the heart of the town. The crowd was intimate, but lively, and Charlotte couldn’t help but feel a buzz of excitement as she took the stage.

Her set was full of new material—“Ex-husband Jokes” and single life humor, her sharp wit cutting through the crowd. As she spoke, she could feel the connection with the audience, each laugh a release of the frustration and sadness she’d been carrying for weeks. The performance went better than she had hoped, her jokes landing perfectly. By the time she finished, the crowd was on their feet, applauding.

Backstage, Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. She had poured her heart into this set, and it had paid off. As the night drew to a close, she decided to head to the bar located in the venue for a drink, to unwind after the performance.

The bar area was dimly lit, with a relaxed, friendly atmosphere. Charlotte walked in, still buzzing from her performance. She made her way to the bar and ordered a drink. As she sat down, her eyes drifted around the room—and then they landed on him.

Dylan Brooks, a bartender with tousled hair, a cocky grin, and an undeniable air of adventure, was pouring drinks behind the bar. His eyes met hers, and before Charlotte could even turn away, he was walking over to her with a glass in hand.

“First drink’s on me,” he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The lady who just killed it on stage deserves something special.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh really? And what makes you think I deserve anything from you?”

Dylan winked. “Let’s just say I’ve got a good eye for people who know how to have fun.” He slid the drink toward her, his smile never fading. “What’s your name?”

“Charlotte,” she replied, accepting the drink with a sly smile. She took a sip, feeling the smooth burn of the alcohol. “And you are?”

“Dylan,” he said. “So, tell me, what brings a comedian like you to Windenburg?”

Charlotte chuckled. “Well, I’m on a small tour. This was my first stop. I figured I’d check out the local nightlife after my set. You know, just to see where bad decisions are made.”

Dylan’s grin grew wider. “Then you’re in the right place.”

The two of them laughed, and Charlotte found herself drawn into the conversation. Dylan had that effortless charm, the kind of confidence that made him easy to talk to. As they swapped stories about their wildest nights and past misadventures, Charlotte realized how easy it was to open up to him. He didn’t judge; he just laughed and listened.

They talked about everything—adventures gone wrong, late-night road trips, and the kind of reckless moments that come with being young and free. As the night wore on, Charlotte felt more relaxed than she had in ages. Dylan was the perfect antidote to the chaos she had been feeling.

As the bar began to close, the two of them stood up. Charlotte felt the familiar sense of reluctance that always came when a good night was about to end. Dylan, noticing her hesitation, gave her a warm smile.

“I’ll walk you back to your hotel,” he said, his tone gentle but confident.

Charlotte nodded, grateful for the company. They walked down the cobblestone streets of Windenburg, the night air crisp and refreshing. When they reached her hotel, they stood for a moment, the energy between them still crackling.

“Well, this was fun,” Charlotte said with a smile.

Dylan leaned in for a quick hug, his arms wrapping around her. “It’s just the beginning,” he whispered, pulling away with a wink.

Charlotte watched him walk away, her heart still racing from the night. She had no idea where it would go, but one thing was clear—this, whatever this was, could be fun.

Meanwhile, Oliver’s career was taking off. After years of hard work, auditions, and perseverance, he had landed a role in a Simlywood blockbuster—a film that was generating serious buzz. His portrayal of the lead character, a charming and complex hero, was receiving rave reviews, and his name was quickly becoming known in the industry.

As his fame grew, so did his relationship with Harper. The two had spent countless hours together, supporting each other through the challenges of their respective careers. Their bond had deepened, and what started as a professional connection had blossomed into something more meaningful. Their late-night talks, shared laughter, and unwavering support had brought them closer, and Oliver began to dream of a future where their paths would remain intertwined.

Sawyer, too, was thriving in his own way. His collaboration with Elena had resulted in something extraordinary: Verses and Chords, an experimental duet album that blended music and poetry in a way no one had expected. The album was groundbreaking, receiving critical acclaim for its unique sound and emotional depth. Sawyer’s compositions, combined with Elena’s evocative poetry, created a hauntingly beautiful experience for listeners.

The success of Verses and Chords not only validated Sawyer’s artistic vision but also opened doors for future projects. He and Elena began discussing new collaborations, but for Sawyer, the journey didn’t stop there. The critical success of the album gave him the confidence to pursue even bolder artistic endeavors, embracing his creative freedom fully.

Fall Sunday:

The sunlight streamed through the window, and Charlotte woke up with a slight headache from the night before—part of the fun of indulging in drinks and good company. As she checked her phone, her eyes landed on a message from Dylan. It was a simple text, but it made her smile.

“You left too soon. Come back and let me show you how Windenburg really parties.”

Charlotte chuckled to herself. She had only been in town for a day, but Dylan’s message immediately pulled her back into the whirlwind of excitement she had felt the night before. She wasn’t in the mood to stay in her hotel room all day, so she quickly replied, “Alright, you’ve got my attention. Let’s see what you’ve got, Dylan.”

Within minutes, they were meeting outside her hotel. Dylan was already waiting, wearing a comfy pullover and a carefree smile. His tousled hair still had that wild, adventurous look about it, and Charlotte couldn’t help but feel that today might be the beginning of something interesting.

They set off to explore Windenburg, walking through its charming streets. Dylan showed her the hidden gems of the town, from a quirky little bookstore to a scenic garden tucked behind an old cafe. They stopped at a food stall for hot dogs, laughing as Dylan jokingly challenged Charlotte to finish the largest one without taking a breath. Between bites and laughter, they shared stories from their childhoods—how Dylan had moved around a lot, never staying in one place too long, and how Charlotte had always been the “free spirit” in her family, but never quite living up to everyone’s expectations.

They talked about everything—from their wildest dreams of travel to their deepest fears about the future. Charlotte was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. There was something effortless about their connection, like they were two people who were destined to meet at this point in their lives. It wasn’t romantic yet, but the chemistry between them was undeniable.

As the day wore on, they found themselves walking toward the river just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The water glistened in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting a peaceful silence over the two of them as they sat on the cement, looking out at the view.

Dylan broke the silence, turning to Charlotte with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “You’re different from anyone I’ve ever met,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by the intensity in his tone. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” Dylan continued, “It’s like you don’t care about the things everyone else gets caught up in. You just… live. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Charlotte’s heart fluttered, and for the first time that weekend, she found herself considering the possibility that this, whatever it was between them, could be the start of something exciting. Adventure. It was exactly what she had been missing in her life, and Dylan seemed to embody that sense of thrill and unpredictability she craved.

The night grew cooler, and they stayed there for a while longer, watching the stars begin to appear. By the time they headed back to the hotel, Charlotte was convinced—this wasn’t just a random encounter. She had met her next great adventure. Dylan was spontaneous, daring, and everything Charlotte needed right now. It was all too easy to get lost in the idea of them, to let the excitement carry her away.

Back in the bustling world of Simlywood, Oliver had been working hard. The film was a huge success, and the momentum was propelling his career forward. But amidst the craziness of fame and deadlines, there was only one thing that mattered to him: Harper.

The chemistry between them had grown since their first meeting on set, and their relationship had deepened into something meaningful. They had become partners in every sense of the word—not just professionally but emotionally as well. Oliver had always admired Harper’s strength, her passion, and her unwavering support for him. And now, in the middle of a quiet break between takes, he knew it was time to ask her the question that had been on his mind for weeks.

As the crew took a brief pause, Oliver slipped away from the set, pulling Harper aside out behind the studio. The moment was intimate, quiet—the kind of pause in the chaos where everything felt still.

“Harper,” Oliver said, his voice steady but full of emotion, “I’ve known from the moment we started working together that you’re the one I want to spend my life with. You’re my best friend, my partner, and the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Harper’s eyes widened in surprise, her breath catching in her throat as she looked at Oliver, her heart racing. She hadn’t expected this—no grand gestures, no over-the-top planning—just a simple, heartfelt question in the middle of a hectic day. But that’s what made it perfect.

“Yes,” she whispered, a smile breaking across her face. “Yes, Oliver, I will.”

Oliver’s face lit up with pure joy as he pulled her into a tight embrace, the world around them fading away for that one perfect moment. They were both overwhelmed, the noise of the set, the excitement of the film, all melting away as they shared in the quiet joy of the moment. Harper was the person he wanted to spend forever with, and now he had the chance to make that dream come true.

Fall Monday:

Charlotte couldn’t stop smiling as she texted Jessica from her hotel room. She had spent the morning replaying every detail of her day with Dylan in her head, the adventures they’d shared, the way he made her feel light and carefree. She was giddy, like a teenager with a new crush, and Jessica was the first person she wanted to tell.

“Guess who I met?” Charlotte FaceTimed her friend, her smile not easily contained.

Jessica’s reply was almost immediate: “Who?”

“A bartender named Dylan. I know, I know—a bartender,” Charlotte added with a playful sigh. “But he’s… different. We spent the day exploring Windenburg, talking about everything from our childhoods to our wildest dreams. It was amazing.”

Jessica didn’t waste any time. “Another partier? You really have a type.” There was a long pause before she added, “But hey, if he makes you happy, I’m all in.”

Charlotte grinned at the screen. Jessica was always supportive, even when she couldn’t resist teasing her. “I know! But seriously, I feel something with him, Jess. He’s fun and spontaneous. It’s like he just gets me.”

For the rest of the day, Charlotte’s phone buzzed constantly with Dylan’s texts. They exchanged jokes, shared stories, and before long, the conversation shifted to something more playful. By the time evening rolled around, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

When Dylan invited her to his place for dinner, Charlotte was more than happy to say yes. “Come over around 7,” he’d texted. “You’ll see how Windenburg really parties.”

Charlotte was already excited—she had no idea what the night would bring, but she felt like she was diving headfirst into an adventure. As she got ready, she couldn’t resist a new idea. In the wake of the carefree, impulsive energy Dylan seemed to inspire in her, Charlotte decided to make another change—this time, her hair.

She grabbed the hair dye she’d been eyeing for weeks, a vibrant cherry red. It felt like the perfect fit for her “free spirit” era. Her strawberry blonde hair had been a statement, but the red felt bold, bright, and full of energy. It was a reflection of the wild, adventurous side of herself she was beginning to embrace. Dylan’s influence was already clear: he made her want to be more vibrant, to live fully in the moment, and she was going to start right here.

When Charlotte arrived at Dylan’s apartment, she was greeted with a familiar grin and that same carefree vibe that had made their first meeting so memorable. He was standing in the doorway, holding two bags of takeout. “So, turns out my cooking skills are pretty basic,” he said with a wink. “Chinese food it is.”

Charlotte laughed, feeling a wave of comfort and ease wash over her. Dinner wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t need to be. They sat on the couch, unpacking the containers of noodles and dumplings, eating with chopsticks and making silly comments about the food. Charlotte was enjoying every moment of it—the simplicity of the night, the ease of being around Dylan, the way he could make everything feel spontaneous and exciting.

Between bites, they shared more stories—Dylan’s most reckless adventures, Charlotte’s impromptu road trips—and before long, the conversation had turned quieter, more intimate. The evening had felt effortless, and Charlotte was starting to feel more at ease with him than she had with anyone in a long time.

When the last of the food was finished, Dylan leaned back on the couch, his eyes catching Charlotte’s. There was a shift in the air, an unspoken energy between them. Dylan moved closer, his hand brushing against hers. He looked at her for a moment, as if gauging her reaction, and then leaned in, his lips pressing softly against hers.

Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. The kiss was tender but filled with promise. It was everything she had been craving: something wild, something that made her feel alive. When they pulled away, Dylan looked at her with a sincerity that made her chest flutter.

“I’m serious about you,” he said quietly, his voice full of intent.

Charlotte smiled, feeling the weight of his words sink in. She wasn’t sure where this would lead, but for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t afraid of the unknown. She was ready for whatever came next.

7.07 - Breaking Points and New Beginnings

7.09 - Becoming Charlotte, Again

[fisheremsims]

7.07 - Breaking Points and New Beginnings

Spring Saturday:

Charlotte had suffered through months of overpriced sweaters, impossible customers, and a manager who tolerated her at best. But today was the final straw.

It started innocently enough—Charlotte was folding a display of overpriced, pretentious knit sweaters when a woman with perfectly manicured nails and an attitude that screamed ‘I demand to speak to the manager’ came striding over. She picked up a sweater, examined it for 0.2 seconds, and let out a dramatic sigh.

“This is wrong,” she announced.

Charlotte blinked. “Excuse me?”

The woman tossed the sweater back onto the table. “It’s folded wrong. I don’t know how you expect people to shop when everything looks so… messy.”

Charlotte stared at her. She looked down at the sweater. It was perfectly fine. She looked back at the woman. And in that moment, something inside her snapped. She wasn’t going to spend one more second being scolded over a sweater. So, with zero hesitation, Charlotte stood up straight, placed her hands on her hips, and made her grand declaration.

“You know what? I’m destined for better things.”

Silence. Jessica, from across the store, slowly turned her head like a dramatic soap opera character. Charlotte ripped off her name tag, tossed it onto the display table, and grabbed her bag.

“Wait—are you quitting?” Jessica whispered, eyes wide.

Charlotte grinned. “I prefer ‘dramatic exit.’”

And with that, she walked out of Urban Luxe, never looking back. The moment Charlotte stepped outside, she felt it—relief. No more customers snapping at her. No more overpriced “seasonal essentials.” No more fake smiling through retail hell.

She took a deep breath, exhaled, and grinned to herself. She had no job. No plan. No clue what she was doing next. And honestly?

It felt amazing.

Summer Sunday:

The morning had started off like any other—quiet, except for the sound of Penny playing in her room—but it quickly descended into chaos. Tension from the past few days had been building between Charlotte and Elliot, and it all came to a head.

Elliot had been distant, as usual, and Charlotte had reached her breaking point. The argument started over something small—a misplaced bill, a forgotten chore—but it escalated quickly. Charlotte accused him of being absent both physically and emotionally, of prioritizing his band and his career over their family. Elliot, already stressed from work, snapped back, accusing Charlotte of not understanding his commitment to his music and of making everything about her. Their voices rose with each word, each hurtful statement.

“I can’t keep doing this, Elliot!” Charlotte shouted, her hands trembling with frustration. “You’re never here! I’m doing everything on my own, and you’re just… gone!”

Elliot’s face flushed with anger. “You think this is easy for me? I’m trying to build something, Charlotte. Something for us! But you’re too busy with your own mess to see it.”

The words stung, and Charlotte’s chest tightened as her anger boiled over. “You’re not here for us! You’re here for yourself.”

Elliot didn’t respond at first. He stood there, breathing heavily, before letting out a long sigh. “Maybe we need some space. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending this is working.”

Charlotte’s heart dropped, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence that followed was suffocating. Elliot stood up, grabbed his jacket, and without another word, left the apartment. He didn’t tell her where he was going, just that he was going to stay at a friend’s house for a while.

The door slammed behind him, and Charlotte stood frozen, the weight of his words and his departure sinking in. Her mind raced, her heart aching with the uncertainty of what had just happened. They had separated.

Meanwhile, Juliette was celebrating a milestone of her own. After months of writing, editing, and submitting drafts, her first full-length novel, The Traveler’s Folly, was finally published. It was a story that had been close to her heart, inspired by her time in Selvadorada and her experiences there. She had poured herself into the book, using it as a way to process the emotions and adventures she had encountered.

The release didn’t come with the overwhelming success she had dreamed of, but it was still something. The Traveler’s Folly received modest success—positive reviews from critics, a small but dedicated following of readers, and a growing number of sales. Juliette was proud, but there was still a part of her that longed for more. The world was recognizing her talent, but it wasn’t the overnight sensation she had hoped for. Still, she celebrated, knowing this was just the beginning of her writing career.

Juliette hosted a small party at her apartment, inviting her closest friends (basically just her family) to toast to her success. Charlotte, who had been deep in thought after Elliot’s departure, came to show her support, even though her own life felt like it was falling apart. As they raised glasses, Juliette couldn’t help but smile at the small victory, but she also noticed the look of sadness in Charlotte’s eyes.

“What’s going on?” Juliette asked, her voice soft.

Charlotte forced a smile. “Nothing, just… life. It’s been a rough day.”

Juliette didn’t press further but kept her arm around Charlotte, offering quiet support as they celebrated her book’s success. Even though they were in different places in their lives, Juliette knew she could be there for her sister, just as Charlotte had been there for her through the tough times.

Summer Monday:

The silence in the apartment was deafening. Elliot’s absence had left a void that Charlotte wasn’t sure how to fill. She missed him—his presence, his energy—but she also felt a sense of relief in his absence, as if the weight that had been pulling them both down was finally lifted. But still, loneliness crept in, especially during the quiet moments when Penny was napping or playing alone.

That morning, Charlotte had woken up to the sound of Penny playing in her room, her laughter filling the apartment with warmth. It was hard to believe how much time had passed—Penny was growing up so quickly. As Charlotte made her way to the nursery, she was taken aback by how much her little girl had changed in such a short time.

Penny was no longer a toddler. She had transitioned into a child, and Charlotte could already see hints of the young person Penny was becoming—her personality starting to shine through in small ways. Penny was more independent now, more curious about the world around her.

Charlotte sat beside Penny as she played with her toys on the floor, her heart swelling with love. Penny looked up, her eyes bright with excitement. “Look, Mama! I’m a big girl now!”

Charlotte smiled, wiping a tear from her eye. It was bittersweet, seeing her daughter grow up so quickly. But Charlotte was proud—proud of how much Penny had blossomed, proud of the little girl she was becoming.

That afternoon, as Charlotte sat in the living room, staring out the window, her mind wandered. She had always used her comedy to cope with life’s ups and downs, and today, the emotions swirling inside her were no different. If anything, they were more potent, more real. The pain of separation, the frustration of feeling lost—it all had to come out.

She grabbed her notebook and began scribbling down thoughts, turning her raw emotions into material. The more she wrote, the more the jokes came naturally. She found herself laughing through the pain as she turned her situation into something others could laugh at, too. “Ex-husband jokes,” she wrote in big letters at the top of the page. If she could turn her broken heart into punchlines, maybe it would help heal the cracks.

Later that night, Charlotte stood backstage at the open mic, nervously preparing for her set. She had been performing for years, but tonight felt different. This was personal. This was about her. When her name was called, she took a deep breath and walked out to the microphone, her mind racing. She opened her set with a joke about her recent separation.

“So, I’ve recently become an expert in what I like to call ‘ex-husband humor.’ You know, like when they leave, and suddenly, everything that used to be annoying is now just… funny. Like, ‘Oh, you didn’t want to help with the dishes? Well, that’s fine, I’ll just get used to doing everything myself and making jokes about it on stage!’”

The audience chuckled, and Charlotte felt the tension in her shoulders begin to melt. She continued, delving into the more absurd parts of her relationship and her separation—turning her pain into something lighter. She poked fun at herself, at Elliot, at the way they had both let things slip. Each punchline hit perfectly, and before she knew it, the crowd was roaring with laughter. It was the release she had needed. She had turned her hurt into something powerful, something cathartic.

By the end of her set, the room was still buzzing with laughter. Charlotte felt a sense of accomplishment and pride. She hadn’t just done well; she had owned her story. She had channeled her pain into something positive, something that made people laugh, and for the first time in days, she felt like herself again.

Summer Tuesday:

The apartment was still quiet, the kind of silence that echoed in Charlotte’s mind. It had been a few days since Elliot left, and though they hadn’t yet finalized anything, the emotional distance felt vast. Charlotte was still reeling from the argument, from the separation, and from the overwhelming sense of uncertainty about what came next. But she couldn’t stay in this place forever. She knew she needed to shift her mindset, to find a way to reclaim some sense of control and lightness in her life.

The chaos of her life had become almost too much to handle—the constant mess, the emotions running high, and the uncertainty about her relationship. But Charlotte wasn’t going to let it swallow her whole. She couldn’t.

In an attempt to regain some sense of stability, she focused on something she could control: her appearance. It had always been a form of self-care for her, a way to ground herself in moments when everything else felt out of place. Her hair had already been through so many transformations—natural dirty blonde, lighter highlights, then platinum blonde—but today, she wanted something different. She needed a shift that would feel fresh, something warm and comforting in the face of all the turmoil.

After a quick search online for hair inspiration, Charlotte found the perfect color—a soft, strawberry blonde. It was light, vibrant, and full of energy. It felt like the right choice for this new chapter. She needed to feel warmer, to embrace a new version of herself, and the strawberry blonde was just the change she was looking for.

As the dye set and the color took shape, Charlotte watched herself in the mirror, feeling a shift inside. Her new look was more than just about appearance—it was about embracing the warmth, about welcoming change and transformation. It was her way of taking back control, of turning the chaotic period of her life into something she could manage, even if only on the surface.

When the color was done, Charlotte stood back and surveyed herself. The strawberry blonde hair was soft, glowing, and, in her eyes, a symbol of the fresh start she was trying to create. It felt like a breath of fresh air. For the first time in days, she smiled at her reflection, feeling a little lighter, a little more like herself again.

It wasn’t going to solve everything—she knew that. Her relationship with Elliot was still on the rocks, and the messiness of her life was far from over. But for the moment, her hair was a reminder that she could take small steps to care for herself, to bring warmth and lightness into her world, even when everything else felt out of control.

Summer Wednesday:

The air in the apartment was heavy, the kind of silence that came before big changes. Tomorrow, everything would be finalized. The papers, the signatures—everything that had been hanging over Charlotte’s head for weeks would come to a head. The divorce from Elliot was imminent. Charlotte’s mind swirled with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she felt relief—no more endless fighting, no more walking on eggshells. But on the other hand, the weight of what she was about to lose pressed heavily on her chest.

She glanced over at Penny, who was sitting on the floor, engrossed in her toys. The sight of her daughter, so innocent and unaware of the storm brewing, made Charlotte’s heart ache. Penny was growing up, and though Charlotte had done everything she could to give her the best life, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the upcoming change might not be in her favor.

Elliot had been more financially stable than Charlotte, that much was clear. His band had started to get some traction, and though Charlotte had never doubted his love for Penny, his career—and the stability that came with it—had always been a point of concern for her. He had the resources to provide more, to give Penny a life that felt more secure. Charlotte was still figuring out how to balance work and motherhood, and while she’d always tried her best, she knew the courts might see things differently.

It wasn’t the money, though, that was weighing on Charlotte. It was the realization that Elliot could offer Penny more than she could at the moment. More stability, more structure. He had a home, one that he could afford on his own (he had just bought one in Willow Creek after the split) a career that could give him flexibility, and the means to support a child in ways Charlotte wasn’t sure she could match.

She took a deep breath, her fingers lightly brushing her hair. Tomorrow would be the beginning of something different. The thought of being separated from Penny, even part-time, felt like a punch to the gut.

Despite her attempts to shift her mindset, despite the new hair and the effort to feel lighter, the uncertainty was still there. Would she be able to keep up with Penny’s needs? Would she have the energy to rebuild her life while raising her daughter?

As Penny ran over to her, asking her to dance, Charlotte smiled softly, trying to push away the thoughts that were clouding her mind. She couldn’t focus on what might happen tomorrow. Not yet.

For now, she was here, in this moment with her daughter. And that was enough for today.

Summer Thursday:

The day had come. Charlotte sat at the small dining table, her hands trembling slightly as she signed the final divorce papers. The words blurred before her eyes, the weight of it all sinking in. She had known this day was coming, but nothing had prepared her for the finality of it—the legal dissolution of the life she had built with Elliot.

The meeting had been tense but quick. Elliot had arrived at the courthouse with his lawyer, calm and composed. Charlotte, on the other hand, had barely been able to hold it together. The divorce papers, handed over in a quiet, sterile office, had included something she hadn’t fully anticipated: Elliot was granted full custody of Penny.

Charlotte’s chest tightened as she replayed the conversation in her mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Penny—she did, more than anything—but Elliot had the stability, the financial resources, the space to provide for Penny. Charlotte had tried, but in the eyes of the court, it wasn’t enough.

She had fought to keep her daughter, but the truth was undeniable. Elliot had been more financially stable, and though the judge had acknowledged Charlotte’s efforts as a mother, it hadn’t been enough to grant her custody. Penny would stay with him primarily, and would visit Charlotte when she could. The thought of not having Penny with her every day, of missing out on all her milestones, was almost too much to bear.

When the papers were finally signed, Charlotte left the courthouse in a daze. She drove home, feeling numb, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. She had never wanted this—to lose Penny like this. To know that she wouldn’t be there for the first day of school, or to tuck her in at night. The guilt crushed her. She had always been a good mother, hadn’t she? She had tried so hard, and yet, it hadn’t been enough.

By the time Charlotte arrived home, the apartment felt empty. Penny was with Elliot, and the silence that filled the space was unbearable. She dropped her purse by the door, her eyes red from holding back tears during the drive. She wasn’t sure where to go from here, what to do next. There was no direction, no roadmap to guide her through this new reality.

She stumbled into the living room, the weight of the day pulling her down. She collapsed onto the couch, curling into herself, letting the tears flow freely. It felt like her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces, and she didn’t know how to put it back together.

The overwhelming loss of Penny, the realization that her life was changing in ways she never expected—it all hit her at once. She cried for the future she thought she’d have with her daughter, for the life she had imagined, the one that was slipping away. She cried for the guilt, for the sense of failure, for the loneliness that threatened to swallow her whole.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as Charlotte lay there, sobbing into the cushions. Her tears weren’t just for the divorce—they were for the woman she had been and the woman she didn’t know how to be anymore. It felt like the end of everything. She had lost her family, and she didn’t know how to move forward.

The night stretched on, and Charlotte moved to the bed, her eyes swollen, her body exhausted, but the grief didn’t stop. She had no answers. She just felt the weight of the world pressing down on her, and all she could do was cry.

7.06 - Everything but Easy

7.08 - Crushes, Crowds, and Cherry Red

[fisheremsims]

7.06 - Everything but Easy

Spring Wednesday:

Charlotte had always known Elliot was passionate about music, but lately, his so-called “band practice” had started to raise a few red flags. At first, she hadn’t thought much of it. He’d always been a night owl, and sometimes practice ran late—but 2 a.m.? That was new. And it was happening more often.

Tuesday night, when he wasn’t home by midnight, Charlotte tried to distract herself by scrolling her phone in bed, but her mind kept wandering.

She told herself not to be that person—the one who freaked out over a late night and started jumping to conclusions. She wasn’t insecure. She wasn’t clingy. So, instead of texting him, she rolled onto her side, muttered, “If I wake up and you’re not here, I’m keeping the blankets,” and fell asleep.

When she woke up at 2:10 a.m., she heard the front door creak open. Charlotte didn’t say anything. She just pretended to stay asleep. She could ask questions later. For now, she chose to trust him.

The next day at work, Charlotte needed a distraction, and what better way to cope with potential relationship drama than by annoying her manager?

So, when Jessica casually said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if we dressed the mannequins like animals?”, Charlotte took it as a personal challenge. While Claire was in the back, Charlotte got to work.

Mannequin #1: A racoon.

Mannequin #2: A yeti.

Mannequin #3: The Easter Bunny.

Jessica lost it. “Oh my Watcher, Charlotte, this is art.”

Charlotte folded her arms, proud. “I call it ‘Avant-Garde Halloween Costume Chic.’”

Customers started noticing. Some took pictures. One person even said, “Finally, a look I can actually afford.”

And then—Claire walked out. She froze. She stared. She pinched the bridge of her nose so hard, Charlotte thought she might leave a permanent mark.

“Charlotte.”

Charlotte grinned. “Thoughts? Feelings? Praise for my creativity?”

Claire exhaled through her nose. “Fix. It. Now.”

Charlotte sighed dramatically. “Fine, but just know that fashion is about taking risks.”

Jessica hid behind the register to stifle her laughter. As Charlotte begrudgingly returned the mannequins to their boring, overpriced outfits, she decided two things:

 1. Claire had no sense of humor.

 2. If Elliot wasn’t honest with her about where he was at 2 a.m., she’d be pulling a prank on him next.

That morning, Juliette had returned from her semester abroad in Selvadorada, her bags filled with stories and new experiences. She had lived the adventure she’d always dreamed of, but it was her work on Legends of the Jungle that had left the most lasting impression. It had started as a collection of short stories, inspired by the mysteries of the jungle, but now, it was something much bigger. Her creativity had exploded while she was in Selvadorada, and it was clear to everyone who had read her stories that she was destined for greatness.

That afternoon, Juliette stood in front of a crowd at Britechester University, receiving the prestigious Britechester Young Author Award. The recognition was overwhelming, but the pride she felt in her work was even greater. Her short stories had captured the essence of Selvadorada’s beauty, culture, and myths, and her book was being praised as one of the most innovative debuts in years.

As she stepped onto the stage to accept her award, her heart swelled with joy. She had worked so hard, balancing university life with her writing, and now, all of that effort was paying off. The crowd cheered, and Juliette couldn’t help but smile—she had worked for this, and it felt like the first of many milestones to come.

Later, when she called Charlotte to share the news, Juliette’s voice was full of excitement. “I can’t believe it, Charlotte. I really did it. Legends of the Jungle—it’s winning awards. I’ve been dreaming of this moment, and now it’s happening.”

Charlotte, still half lost in thoughts about her own life and Elliot’s late nights, smiled warmly. “I’m so proud of you, Jules. This is just the beginning.”

Juliette’s achievement was a reminder to Charlotte that life could be full of surprises and that her own journey, though complicated, was still unfolding. She just needed to keep trusting herself—and trust that things would work out in time.

Spring Thursday:

The morning sun spilled through the windows, filling the apartment with soft light as Charlotte carefully set up Penny’s birthday cake. It was a small celebration—just the two of them—but it felt significant. Penny was about to age into a toddler, and Charlotte couldn’t help but feel emotional. Time had passed so quickly, and her little girl was growing up before her eyes.

Charlotte, still in her pajamas, smiled as Penny giggled and clapped her hands at the sight of the cake. “Make a wish, sweetheart,” Charlotte whispered, her heart swelling with love and pride. Penny’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and with a puff, she blew out the candle.

As the clock ticked past noon, Penny’s tiny body transformed before Charlotte’s eyes. Her baby was no longer a baby. Her little features had sharpened, her movements more purposeful, her eyes bright with curiosity. Penny was now officially a toddler, and as Charlotte picked her up, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of joy and sadness. This was the first milestone, the first sign that Penny was growing up, and Charlotte had to let go of the baby phase.

She was still processing the shift in her life, the realization that her daughter was no longer a helpless infant, but an independent little toddler. The growing pains of motherhood were in full swing. But there was a part of Charlotte that was ready—ready for the new challenges, the new adventures, and the new moments with Penny.

However, the morning wasn’t as joyous as it could have been. Elliot had been getting later and later with his band practice, and today, as he had so many times before, he had left early and didn’t come home until much later than usual. Charlotte had texted him earlier about Penny’s milestone, but there was no response. It was now past dinner, and Elliot had still not returned from his band meeting, leaving Charlotte alone to manage Penny’s first day as a toddler by herself.

As Penny played with her new toys, Charlotte sat on the couch, staring out the window. She had tried not to let it bother her—the late nights, the increasing distance between them—but today, on Penny’s special day, it was harder to ignore. It felt like Elliot’s world was becoming further and further removed from hers. She could feel the shift—the emotional distance between them was growing just as surely as Penny was growing.

By the time Penny was asleep in her toddler bed, Charlotte had too much frustration and nowhere to put it. So she did what she always did—she found Dani. They met up in Dani’s apartment, where Charlotte flopped onto the couch, arms crossed, legs stretched out, words spilling out of her like an overflowing glass.

“He didn’t show up,” she muttered. “Didn’t even text. She aged up, Dani. And he missed it.”

Dani, standing by her easel with a paintbrush in hand, glanced over.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Charlotte scoffed. “Oh, yeah, great idea. I’ll just sit him down and say, ‘Hey, remember when we made a whole human together? Maybe start acting like it.’”

Dani set her paintbrush down, her expression careful.

“Look, I’m on your side,” she said, “but you need to figure out what you actually want to do about this. Because venting? That’s fine. But if this is a pattern, then… maybe you need to think bigger than just being mad.”

Charlotte hated that. Because Dani was right. And Charlotte didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want solutions. She wanted distraction, validation—something to make her forget how much it hurt. So instead of listening, she lashed out.

“Oh, okay. So now you’re my life coach?” Charlotte snapped, standing up. “What, you think you’re better than me because you have your act together?”

Dani’s face fell.

“That’s not what I said,” she replied quietly.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You know what? Forget it. I should’ve known you’d just act superior.”

Dani looked genuinely hurt.

“Charlotte, I’m just trying to help—”

“Well, don’t.”

Silence. Dani nodded slowly, wiping her hands on her paint-stained jeans. “Alright,” she said. “If that’s what you want.”

Charlotte walked out. The second the door closed behind her, Charlotte felt it - that sinking, twisting feeling in her gut.

She had just lost Dani, and for what? Because Dani had told her the truth? She considered going back, apologizing, saying “I didn’t mean it, I’m just—” but she didn’t. Because the thing about Charlotte Sullivan-Walker was that she didn’t do emotions. She ran from them.

Spring Friday:

Charlotte knew she and Elliot were going to have it out eventually—but she hadn’t expected it to be over laundry and bills.

It had started small. Elliot left his dishes in the sink—again. Charlotte bit her tongue. Then, he forgot to pick up groceries, so she had to drag herself and Penny out to the store alone. Still, she let it slide. But when she found a past-due notice on the counter, she snapped.

“We agreed you’d handle the bills this month,” she said, arms crossed, voice tight. Elliot, half-distracted with his guitar, barely looked up.

“I got it covered,” he muttered.

Charlotte grabbed the paper and waved it at him. “Yeah? Because this says otherwise.”

Elliot sighed, finally setting the guitar down. “Charlotte, it’s not that late.”

“Not that late?” she echoed, voice rising. “You know, maybe if you spent less time out until 2 a.m. and more time being here, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

Elliot’s jaw tightened. “Oh, so now we’re back to that conversation?”

Charlotte let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, because we never actually had it. You just avoid it. Like everything else.”

Elliot rubbed his temples, his patience visibly wearing thin. “Look, I’m doing the best I can, alright? I’m balancing work, gigs, and this whole—” He gestured vaguely. “—life thing. Sorry if I can’t be Super Dad 24/7.”

Charlotte felt something snap inside her.

“Newsflash, Elliot—you don’t get extra credit for being a parent. You just do it. Like the rest of us.”

Silence. For a split second, Elliot looked like he might actually argue. Then, instead, he just exhaled sharply, grabbed his keys, and walked out. Charlotte stood there, heart pounding, hands shaking, staring at the door.

She hated this. She hated that they were becoming this couple—fighting over money, chores, trust. And worst of all?

She didn’t even know if they were fighting for something—or if they were just fighting to fight.

By the time she got to work, Charlotte had reached her emotional limit. The second she saw Jessica, she dumped the entire situation onto her. Jessica, already halfway through her morning coffee, blinked. “Wow. Okay. We’re diving straight into the deep end today.”

Charlotte groaned, leaning against the counter. “I just—ugh, I don’t know, Jess. I’m trying. But it’s like I’m the only one keeping things running, and he just—” She waved her hands frantically. “—drifts in and out like a part-time husband.”

Jessica tilted her head. “Did he actually say he doesn’t care, or are we at the ‘I’m pissed, so I’m assuming the worst’ stage?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Look, I don’t need therapy right now. I just need you to agree with me and say he’s being a dumbass.”

Jessica smirked. “Oh, he’s definitely being a dumbass.”

Charlotte sighed. “Thank you.”

Jessica took another sip of coffee. “But also, maybe, just maybe… you should, you know, actually talk to him instead of waiting for him to figure it out.”

Charlotte made a face. “Ugh, I hate when you sound like Dani.”

Jessica laughed. “Yeah, well, someone has to be the reasonable one in this friendship.”

Charlotte snorted. “You’re only reasonable because you’ve never been married.”

Jessica grinned. “Exactly. I learn from other people’s mistakes.”

Charlotte shook her head, but for the first time all day, she felt lighter. Even if she wasn’t ready to fix things with Elliot yet, at least she had someone in her corner.

Meanwhile, on the set of the film, Oliver was preparing for the final day of shooting. The days had been long and exhausting, but through it all, one thing had been clear: his feelings for Harper had grown stronger with each passing moment. His admiration for her had turned into something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore anymore. The way she carried herself, the way they worked together—it had all led him to this moment, where he knew he had to express how he felt.

On the last day of the shoot, Oliver gathered his courage. He had written a monologue—his heart’s words, his feelings for Harper laid bare. As the crew packed up and the last scene was being filmed, Oliver found the perfect moment. He approached Harper quietly, just as she was finishing a conversation with the director, and pulled her aside.

“Harper,” he said, his voice a little shaky but filled with resolve. “I’ve been meaning to say something. And I don’t want to leave here without saying it.”

Harper looked at him, curiosity in her eyes. “What’s going on, Oliver?”

He took a deep breath and began, his voice steady now. “From the moment we started working together, I felt something. It’s not just that you’re talented or amazing at what you do—it’s that you’re… you. There’s this energy you bring, and it’s like it pulls me in. I never thought I could feel this way about anyone, especially not so quickly. But I can’t deny it anymore. I’m in love with you, Harper.”

For a moment, Harper was silent, her eyes wide in surprise. But then, a smile slowly crept across her face. She stepped closer to him, her hand gently resting on his arm. “Oliver, I—” Her voice faltered, and for the first time, she seemed vulnerable. “I feel the same. I’ve felt it, too. But I was scared to say anything.”

Oliver’s heart swelled with relief and happiness. “So… what does that mean?”

Harper laughed softly, shaking her head. “It means I’m an idiot for not saying anything sooner.”

With a laugh, Oliver stepped forward, gently taking her hand. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think we were both just waiting for the right moment.”

As the crew began to pack up their things, the world around them seemed to blur as Oliver and Harper shared a quiet, intimate moment. They knew that this was just the beginning. The romance that had blossomed on set would now extend beyond the film—into real life, where they could explore something truly special.

“I guess this means we’re… dating now?” Harper asked, her smile wide and bright.

Oliver grinned, his heart full. “I think it does.”

And as they stood there, hand in hand, they both knew that this was only the beginning of their new chapter.

7.05 - Punchlines and Pacifiers

7.07 - Breaking Points and New Beginnings

[fisheremsims]

7.05 - Punchlines and Pacifiers

Spring Sunday:

Charlotte had officially reached Level 3 in her retail career, which sounded impressive—except it wasn’t. It didn’t mean a pay raise or a better schedule. It just meant she was now trusted to handle even more unreasonable customers.

And she was so over it.

Charlotte had discovered a flaw in the system:

If she vanished into the bathroom for just long enough, no one questioned it. Why? Because she was pregnant. And nobody was going to call out a pregnant woman for needing extra breaks. So now, anytime she felt even remotely irritated, she would conveniently excuse herself for a bathroom break—which was just code for scrolling her phone in a locked stall.

Charlotte thought she was getting away with it—until her manager, Claire, started giving her looks. “Charlotte,” Claire said one afternoon, hands on her hips, “you’ve been taking a lot of breaks lately.”

Charlotte blinked innocently. “Well, you know…pregnancy.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “You’re six weeks along.”

Charlotte shrugged dramatically. “And yet the struggle is so real.”

Claire sighed deeply, clearly debating whether or not to argue. She chose not to.

“Just… don’t push it,” she muttered, walking away.

Charlotte grinned as she pulled out her phone again. Level 3 in retail, and she was thriving.

When she returned home, the apartment had never felt smaller. Everywhere Charlotte turned, there were boxes of baby clothes, half-assembled furniture, and Elliot on a mission to baby-proof the place.

Elliot had spent the morning moving fragile items out of reach, adding soft covers to sharp edges, and mentally cataloging every single potential danger.

The kitchen? Too many sharp corners.

The bookshelf? Way too many things a baby could pull down.

The entire apartment? A hazard waiting to happen.

Each task made the impending arrival feel more real. Between bathroom breaks, Charlotte had called Juliette, who was still in Selvadorada, telling her everything—about Elliot, the pregnancy, and how things were changing.

Juliette had been supportive and understanding, and they agreed that once she got back, she’d find her own place to give Charlotte, Elliot, and the baby more space. It was bittersweet, but necessary. Elliot, while equally overwhelmed, was diving headfirst into the chaos. He installed a baby gate in the hallway, cleared out a corner of the already-cramped apartment for baby essentials, and stacked tiny onesies on the couch like they were important artifacts.

Charlotte paused, watching him fuss over arranging tiny socks into perfect little piles. “You know they’re just going to get thrown everywhere, right?” she teased.

Elliot grinned, not looking up. “Let me have this moment of control before the baby arrives and chaos takes over.”

She shook her head, but smiled. As crowded as the apartment was, as messy and overwhelming as everything felt, she couldn’t help but love how much effort he was putting into their new life together. By the afternoon, Charlotte needed a break. She had signed up for an open mic night a few days ago, and though part of her wanted to back out, she knew she had to go through with it. She had new material to try. Something personal; something real.

That night, she stood backstage, gripping the microphone, feeling the familiar rush of nerves. And then, she stepped onto the stage. “So, I found out I’m pregnant,” Charlotte began, her voice steady. “Which means I’ve been nauseous 24/7 for the past week. Let me tell you, pregnancy is great… until you feel like you’ve been hit by a bus every time you get out of bed.”

The crowd laughed, a wave of relief washing over her.

“It’s not even a cute ‘I’m-glowing’ kind of pregnancy,” she continued, “it’s more like ‘I-can’t-stop-wishing-I-was-sleeping’ kind of pregnancy.”

More laughter, and suddenly, she felt it. The connection. People weren’t just laughing at the jokes—they were laughing with her, feeling what she felt. By the time she left the stage, the applause was loud, the laughter still lingering in the air. It wasn’t just a set, it was a glimpse into her reality—and it had resonated.

When she got home, Elliot was still rearranging baby things, determined to make the tiny space work. He looked up when she walked in, grinning. “How’d it go?”

Charlotte flopped onto the couch, still riding the high.

“It was a hit. People laughed. And honestly? It felt good. Like… really good.”

Elliot wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“You’re going to be amazing at this. I’m so proud of you.”

Charlotte leaned into him, letting herself bask in the feeling for the first time. Because tonight wasn’t just about preparing for the baby. It was about her, too.

Spring Monday:

The early morning hours were quiet, too quiet. Charlotte had been awake for most of the night, the contractions growing stronger and closer together. It was still dark outside when her water broke, and she barely had time to process it before Elliot was rushing around, packing a bag, and trying to stay calm.

“Charlotte, are you okay?” he asked, looking at her with wide eyes, clearly trying to keep his panic in check.

“I’m fine,” she replied through gritted teeth, already trying to focus on breathing. “I think it’s time.”

It all happened so fast. The ride to the hospital was a blur, and by the time they arrived, Charlotte’s contractions were coming so quickly she barely had time to get settled in. The nurse rushed in, and it felt like the world sped up. Before Charlotte knew it, there was no turning back.

The delivery was swift—too swift for Charlotte to even fully grasp. One moment she was gripping Elliot’s hand, and the next, the sound of a baby’s first cry filled the room. Penny Walker was here.

Elliot’s eyes were wide with amazement as he looked at their daughter. He softly whispered, “She’s perfect.”

Charlotte, exhausted but overwhelmed with love, pulled Penny close, her tears flowing freely. It was everything she had dreamed of and more. The tiny, fragile life in her arms felt like the greatest gift she could ever receive.

Later, in the quiet of their hospital room, Elliot picked up his guitar, his fingers gently strumming the chords of a soft lullaby. The notes filled the room, tender and soothing. Charlotte lay next to Penny in the crib, her eyes closed, the tears of joy still fresh on her cheeks. She felt an overwhelming sense of peace and completeness. This was what she had been waiting for.

As Elliot played, Charlotte whispered, “Thank you,” her voice barely audible but full of love. She didn’t need to say anything more. It was a moment of connection, of everything falling into place.

Meanwhile, across town, Harper and Oliver were on set, working late into the night. The lights were dimmed, and the quiet buzz of activity surrounded them as they took a rare break. Takeout boxes littered the table in front of them—cold pizza and greasy Chinese food. They had been here for hours, working through lines and reworking shots. It had been a long day, and neither one was eager to head home just yet.

“You know,” Harper said between bites of her egg roll, “I never thought I’d be working these kinds of hours. But it feels good to be doing something I care about.”

Oliver leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. “I get it. I mean, this movie—it’s kind of everything I’ve wanted to do. But sometimes, I wonder if I’m cut out for this. There’s so much pressure.”

Harper nodded. “Yeah, it’s not all glamorous. I’ve had my fair share of moments where I just want to walk away.”

They shared a quiet moment, both understanding the weight of the industry they were in. But as the conversation shifted from work to their visions for the future, something changed. They started sharing their ideas, their passions, their dreams. There was something about the late-night hours and the exhaustion that made everything feel more real, more open.

Harper spoke about her goals in the entertainment industry, the kind of stories she wanted to tell. Oliver shared his creative visions for film, how he wanted to make art that mattered, even if it was hard to find the right path. As they continued to talk, the space between them seemed to shrink. Their friendship grew stronger, more grounded.

“We make a good team,” Harper said with a smile, finishing the last of her takeout.

Oliver grinned back. “I think we do.”

As the night stretched on and the set quieted, the bond between them felt solidified. What had started as a professional relationship was now turning into something much deeper—something built on trust, shared visions, and late-night conversations about everything they hoped to create together.

Spring Tuesday:

The first night home with Penny was nothing like Charlotte had imagined. Instead of quiet coos and peaceful sleep, the apartment was filled with the sound of her newborn’s cries. Charlotte paced the floor, cradling Penny in her arms, trying everything she could think of to calm her. Feeding, burping, rocking—the baby just wouldn’t settle. Elliot, exhausted from the day, slept soundly beside them, unaware of the long hours Charlotte spent trying to comfort their daughter.

By the time the sun began to rise, Charlotte was beyond exhausted. She had skipped her open mic set, knowing there was no way she could leave Penny. Motherhood had arrived with all its weight and responsibility, and Charlotte felt overwhelmed. The sense of isolation crept in as she struggled to get into a routine, the pressure of taking care of a newborn weighing heavily on her. She loved Penny, but the transition was harder than she expected.

Sitting on the couch, exhausted and worn out, Charlotte looked at the empty space around her. The apartment was too quiet, too small, and she could feel the walls closing in. She missed performing, but right now, her priorities had shifted. Penny was her focus, and she didn’t mind it, but it didn’t make it any less overwhelming.

After a sleepless first night with Penny, Charlotte found herself staring in the bathroom mirror the next day, desperately needing a change. The weariness in her eyes matched the exhaustion she felt inside, and she craved something—anything—to make her feel like herself again. The flood of emotions she had felt as a new mother had left her with a desire for transformation, a fresh start.

“I need a change,” she muttered, her reflection staring back at her.

With newfound determination, Charlotte picked up the bleach, deciding to go for the dramatic change she had been thinking about. She couldn’t quite explain it, but the thought of platinum blonde hair called to her, something to match the newness of her life as a mother. As she worked through the process, she could feel a kind of rebirth happening inside of her. The tired, worn-out version of herself seemed to melt away with each strand she lightened.

When the final color took, Charlotte gazed at herself in the mirror, feeling a rush of energy. She looked different, but more importantly, she felt different. The platinum blonde wasn’t just a hair color—it was a statement, a way for her to embrace the “new mom, new me” energy. She was still Charlotte, but she was also someone new, someone ready to embrace the next chapter of her life.

As the days passed, Penny slowly settled into a routine. The sleepless nights became fewer, and Charlotte began to adjust to the rhythm of motherhood. She watched as Penny grew, her tiny features becoming more defined as she transitioned into infancy. Charlotte marveled at the little milestones: the first time Penny reached for something, the first sound of a giggle escaping from her lips. It was like watching a tiny human slowly come into her own, and Charlotte couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride.

Though she was still adjusting to the demands of being a new mom, Charlotte was beginning to find her rhythm. Her comedy had taken a backseat for a while, but with the transformation in her life and the calm settling in, she started to feel the stirrings of creativity once again. Her platinum blonde hair was just the beginning of her own personal rebirth, and she felt more ready than ever to reclaim her identity—mother, comedian, and everything in between.

Meanwhile, across town, Sawyer had found a quiet, unexpected connection with Elena. Their late-night talks had always been a mix of lighthearted banter and deep conversations about life, art, and their passions. As they began to collaborate on music and poetry, something shifted. They were both driven by their creative visions, and as they spent more time together, their chemistry deepened.

Sawyer was a quiet, introspective person, and his love for Elena was never loud or overt. Unlike his brother Oliver, who made grand romantic gestures, Sawyer expressed his feelings in subtler ways. One evening, after hearing Elena recite one of her favorite poems, Sawyer sat down at the piano and began composing a piece inspired by the words she had shared. It wasn’t the kind of declaration of love that would make headlines, but it was enough to make Elena feel seen, understood, and cherished.

As the music swirled through the air, Elena felt something shift inside her. Sawyer’s love was not in the flashy gestures or bold declarations, but in the way he listened, the way he saw her—truly saw her—and expressed that with his art. The music became their secret language, a bond that grew stronger with each passing day. What had started as a creative partnership soon blossomed into something more, something quiet but deeply rooted in mutual respect, admiration, and love.

Sawyer’s piano piece became the soundtrack of their connection, a gentle reminder of how love could grow—slowly, tenderly, and without fanfare—into something beautiful.

7.04 - Married by Lunch, Miserable by Close

7.06 - Everything but Easy

[fisheremsims]

7.04 - Married by Lunch, Miserable by Close

Winter Thursday:

Charlotte hadn’t thought it was possible to find a job worse than being a barista.

She was wrong.

Her first shift as a retail employee at Urban Luxe, a trendy boutique known for overpriced sweaters and impossibly tiny handbags, was already a disaster.

The store was painfully minimalist, all sleek white shelves and mannequins wearing outfits that cost more than Charlotte’s entire rent. A sign at the register read “Style is Everything.”

Charlotte, adjusting her cheap thrifted boots, had a feeling she did not belong here.

Within the first hour, Charlotte:

✔ Accidentally folded a shirt wrong and was told it “lacked artistry.”

✔ Got yelled at by a customer for not knowing what a “seasonal neutral palette” was.

✔ Spent 20 minutes untangling necklaces, only to drop them all back on the floor.

Halfway through the shift, she was already plotting her escape.

Then, Jessica happened.

Jessica, another retail worker about Charlotte’s age, had been watching her struggle all morning.

“You look like you’re about five seconds from walking out,” Jessica said, sidling up beside her at the register.

Charlotte, attempting to pretend she knew how the cash register worked, let out an exhausted sigh. “I was actually thinking three seconds, but thanks for the optimism.”

Jessica smirked, tucking a stray blonde curl behind her ear. “I give most new hires a week before they quit. You? I’d say… two shifts, max.”

Charlotte laughed, the first genuine one of the day. “Oh, I’m making it to lunch and then reconsidering my life choices.”

Jessica grinned. “At least you’re self-aware.”

From that moment, Charlotte had a work friend.

Jessica showed her how to actually use the register, gave her the secret code for accessing the good employee snacks, and whispered sarcastic commentary about the customers who treated shopping like a competitive sport.

By the time lunch rolled around, Charlotte had one foot out the door—but at least she had someone to suffer with.

Most people spent their lunch breaks eating sandwiches or scrolling their phones.

Charlotte?

She was getting married.

She rushed out of work, changing in the back of a rideshare (goodbye, boutique uniform, hello, white sweater dress) and met Elliot outside the San Myshuno Courthouse.

They kept it small. Simple. Fast.

No big ceremony, no dramatic vows—just two people deciding to take the next step, without all the extra fluff.

Afterward, they grabbed takeout tacos and sat at a picnic table, watching the city lights flicker on in the fog of the winter.

Charlotte, still in her wedding dress, took a huge bite of her taco.

“Well,” she said through a mouthful of food, “at least I know I hate my new job.”

Elliot laughed. “That was fast.”

Charlotte grinned, wiping salsa off her chin. “I work efficiently.”

And just like that, Charlotte was officially married—and officially miserable in retail.

After Charlotte finished her shift, she and Elliot settled in their small apartment, on the floor with a pizza box—no fancy dinner, just a moment of shared laughter. The apartment was a mess, the unpacked boxes piled up in every corner, but it felt like home. They talked about everything and nothing, and Charlotte realized this simplicity was perfect for them. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was theirs.

Meanwhile, across the world in Selvadorada, Juliette’s semester abroad sparked something new. Amidst the jungle’s mysteries, she was inspired to write her first book of short stories. The legends of the jungle, the ancient ruins, and the rich culture seeped into her thoughts, and she began writing Legends of the Jungle. Each tale felt alive, as though the jungle itself was whispering its secrets to her. She knew this book would be the start of something big, even if she couldn’t yet see where it would take her.

Winter Friday:

Charlotte had survived two whole days at Urban Luxe, which was already an accomplishment considering she hated every second of it. By the end of her first shift, she had accepted her fate: Retail was just as bad as customer service, but now, instead of making coffee, she was selling clothes that cost more than her rent. The only thing keeping her sane? Jessica. The thing making her insane? The customers.

Charlotte decided that if she had to be here, she might as well make things interesting, so she tried using comedy to survive. It did not go well. A woman looked at the plain black outfit on the mannequin and gasped, eyes wide. “This is $120?! That’s outrageous!”

Charlotte nodded solemnly. “Yeah, but this one is expensive because it’s emotionally supportive. You’ll feel like someone’s always cheering you on.”

Jessica choked on her gum behind the counter. The customer was not amused. Then, a businessman stormed up to Charlotte, wearing a designer blazer from the changing room. “Does this come in navy?”

Charlotte smiled. “Not in this store, but I could probably manifest it if I believe hard enough.”

Jessica snorted from across the room. The businessman did not. A woman walked up to the register with an armful of clothes and zero patience. “Can you just ring this up quickly?” she sighed.

Charlotte beamed. “Of course! Would you like that with a side of respect or is that extra today?”

Silence. Jessica’s jaw dropped. The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s your manager?”

Charlotte internally facepalmed.

Minutes later, Charlotte found herself sitting in the back office, across from her manager, a woman named Claire, who had perfected the art of looking simultaneously bored and disappointed.

“Charlotte,” Claire sighed, sliding a write-up form across the desk. “We need to talk about your attitude.”

Charlotte grinned innocently. “By attitude, do you mean my charming sense of humor?”

Claire did not smile. “No, I mean the sarcasm that’s making customers complain.”

Charlotte shrugged. “To be fair, they were already complaining before I got involved. I just…added commentary.”

Claire pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sign the form, Charlotte.”

Charlotte sighed dramatically, signed it, and muttered under her breath as she pushed it back.

“First time getting written up for being funny. I should frame this.”

Claire gave her a pointed look. “Do you want to get fired?”

Charlotte considered it. Then she remembered she had bills to pay. “…No,” she said, not entirely convincingly.

Claire sighed. “Then tone it down.”

Charlotte left the office, trying very hard not to laugh. Jessica was waiting for her by the register. “You actually got written up for sarcasm?” she whispered.

Charlotte held up the paper like a trophy. “Proudly.”

Jessica shook her head. “You’re so getting fired.”

Charlotte smirked. “Not today, Jess. Not today.”

After work, the moving truck sat parked outside, the cold winter air curling around Charlotte as she stood by the door, watching the movers bring in box after box of Elliot’s music equipment. First came the amps, then the guitars, then the microphones and sound mixers—his entire setup, piece by piece, finding a home in their already-cramped apartment. She stepped back, pressing herself against the doorframe as another box labeled “Cables & Wires” was lugged inside.

At first, it had seemed like a good idea—Getting married, Elliot moving in, them fully sharing a space, figuring out life together. But as each piece of equipment was placed, the living room felt smaller.

The clutter pressed in on her—the already half-unpacked boxes, the stack of papers she kept meaning to organize, and now, an entire corner of the apartment swallowed by Elliot’s gear.

Charlotte stood still for a moment, taking it all in. The apartment was filled with noise, even in silence. It was the constant rustling of moving boxes, the hum of an amplifier Elliot had just plugged in, the crinkle of bubble wrap as he unwrapped another microphone stand. She exhaled, her eyes drifting over the chaos.

It wasn’t just the physical space that felt overwhelming—it was the realization that nothing here truly felt like hers anymore. “Maybe we should consider getting a bigger place,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Elliot, focused on adjusting a mic stand, didn’t look up. “What?”

Charlotte hesitated, her throat tightening.

“Nothing.”

But she knew it wasn’t nothing. The apartment was supposed to be their home. Instead, it was starting to feel like a shared storage unit.

Winter Saturday:

Charlotte hadn’t planned to spend New Year’s Eve feeling queasy. At first, she blamed it on too much coffee, not enough sleep, or maybe just the lingering exhaustion from the holidays. But by midday, the nausea hadn’t faded. And now, she stood in the pharmacy aisle, staring at rows of pregnancy tests, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for a box.

She paid quickly, stuffing the small bag into her coat pocket, avoiding eye contact with the cashier. Outside, the city was alive—San Myshuno preparing for the biggest party of the year. Streetlights twinkled, decorations hung from lampposts, and vendors set up for the midnight fireworks. But Charlotte felt like she was standing still while the world spun around her.

Back at the apartment, she locked herself in the bathroom, gripping the test so tightly her knuckles turned white. She paced. Checked her phone. Exhaled. Paced again. And then—finally—she looked. Her heart skipped a beat. Positive.

The word stared back at her, changing everything in an instant. Charlotte leaned against the bathroom counter, pressing a hand to her stomach, her breath uneven. This wasn’t part of the plan.

But then again, when had life ever gone according to plan?

That night, San Myshuno buzzed with anticipation—the air electric with the promise of a new year, a fresh start.

Their apartment wasn’t much quieter—Elliot had set up his guitar and a makeshift recording setup, working on a new song as the sound of fireworks testing in the distance filled the air.

Charlotte sat next to him on the couch, watching him strum absentmindedly, lost in his own rhythm. She knew she had to say something before the clock struck midnight. With a steadying breath, she reached out, gently stopping his hand on the strings. “Elliot.”

He looked up immediately, sensing something in her voice. “Yeah?” Charlotte hesitated for just a second, then pulled the pregnancy test from her pocket, holding it out for him to see.

Elliot’s eyes went wide, his breath catching. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder and disbelief.

Charlotte nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, everything was still. Then—Elliot jumped up from the couch, laughter bursting out of him as he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground. “This is amazing, Charlotte! We’re going to be parents!”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, smiling as she buried her face in his shoulder. The weight of uncertainty was still there, lingering at the edges of her thoughts.

But then the countdown began outside.

10… 9… 8…

Elliot pulled back, his hand still on her arm, his mouth serious but his eyes full of excitement.

7… 6… 5…

“Best New Year’s surprise ever,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

4… 3… 2…

Charlotte laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

1!

As the city erupted in fireworks, Elliot kissed her, slow and full of promise.

And in that moment—with colors lighting up the night sky and the future unfolding before them—Charlotte thought, Maybe life wasn’t about having a plan. Maybe this—the messy, unplanned, unexpected journey—was exactly how it was meant to be.

7.03 - A Tropical Engagement

7.05 - Punchlines and Pacifiers

[fisheremsims]

7.03 - A Tropical Engagement

Winter Sunday evening:

With a grin, she grabbed her keys and headed out.

By the time she arrived, the San Myshuno evening was alive with the hum of city lights and distant music.

Elliot was already there, leaning casually against the wall, his signature guitar case slung over one shoulder.

“You’re late,” he teased, that familiar playful glint in his eye.

Charlotte flipped her hair dramatically and shot back, “Fashionably.”

“Mmm. I’ll allow it.”

Inside Hogan's Burger Bar, they found a spot near the open-air counter, the smell of sizzling meats and freshly fried onion rings filling the crisp autumn air.

They ordered cheeseburgers piled high with toppings, warm and bursting with flavor, the perfect comfort food for a night like this.

As they ate, conversation flowed effortlessly.

Charlotte told him about her early days of stand-up, when she had bombed so hard she considered faking a power outage just to escape.

Elliot countered with the story of how his guitar string snapped mid-performance during his biggest show to date.

“I’m still haunted by the look on the audience’s face,” he said, shaking his head. “It was like I told them the headliner canceled.”

Charlotte leaned in, wiping ketchup from her chin.

“You think that’s bad? My first heckler was a toddler with a juice box.”

Elliot nearly choked on his drink, laughing.

“A toddler? Ruthless.”

“Right? And he had the audacity to sip his juice like he just ruined my whole career.”

Their laughter carried into the night, mixing with the buzz of the city around them. As they finished eating, a nearby street performer struck up a lively tune on a violin. Before Charlotte could react, Elliot stood abruptly and extended his hand.

“Dance with me.”

She blinked. “What? Here? In the middle of the street?”

“Where else?” he countered, smirking.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. With a dramatic sigh, she took his hand. Under the soft glow of string lights and passing headlights, they swayed, their steps completely unchoreographed but perfectly in sync.

The violinist caught on quickly, shifting into a lilting melody that suited their playful rhythm. Charlotte wasn’t sure if it was the music, the cool air, or just the way Elliot looked at her—but for a moment, it felt like the city belonged to just them.

By the time they reached her apartment, the city had grown quieter, the usual buzz of nightlife replaced by the soft hum of distant traffic. Elliot stood outside her door, his hands in his jacket pockets, hesitating for a beat.

“This was fun,” he said, his voice softer now.

Charlotte tilted her head. “Just fun?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his tousled red hair.

“Okay, maybe unforgettable.”

She smirked, victorious. As he turned to leave, Charlotte called after him.

“Hey, don’t forget—music and comedy. Solid duo, remember?”

Elliot glanced back, grinning. “I haven’t forgotten.”

She watched him disappear down the street, the cool air sharp against her cheeks but warmth lingering in her chest. It wasn’t just a date. It was the start of something that felt like it could be extraordinary.

Winter Monday:

True to his word, Elliot texted Charlotte all day Monday. His messages ranged from funny observations to a running commentary on his songwriting process. By mid-afternoon, Charlotte found herself smiling at her phone more than working on her routine.

“You free tonight?” he finally asked.

Charlotte didn’t hesitate. “Come over. I’ve got a Simflix series that’ll blow your mind.”

Elliot showed up with a bag of popcorn and a bottle of soda. They settled on the couch, a patchwork of blankets and pillows sprawled around them, and dove into the first season of Sixam Files.

“Okay, but why does every alien invasion start with a farm?” Elliot asked, tossing a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

Charlotte shrugged, laughing. “It’s cinematic. Cornfields are creepy.”

By the fourth episode, they were shoulder to shoulder, exchanging commentary and occasional jabs about the plot. When Elliot fell asleep halfway through the season finale, Charlotte draped a blanket over him and let herself admire his relaxed features for a moment.

Earlier that day, inspired by the vibrant city nightlife and the growing confidence she felt as a comedian, Charlotte had visited a salon. Subtle light blonde highlights now framed her face, a playful but safe change that reflected her fresh start.

As she turned off the TV and snuggled into the warmth of Elliot's shoulder, Charlotte felt a flicker of excitement. Between her budding comedy career and her connection with Elliot, her life in San Myshuno was finally starting to shine.

Winter Tuesday:

Charlotte had finally had enough. She had spent months enduring rude customers, impossible drink orders, and Becca’s exhausted sighs whenever she “accidentally” hijacked the loudspeaker.

She had tried. Really, she had. But this morning, when a customer snapped their fingers at her and said, “Can you make it quick? Some of us have real jobs,” something inside her snapped. She was done.

So, she decided to quit—Charlotte-style.

The café was packed, the morning rush in full force. Perfect. Charlotte casually grabbed the intercom, pressed the button, and cleared her throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my time here has been as bitter as this espresso.”

The entire café went silent.

Customers paused mid-sip. A barista froze while pouring a latte, causing milk to overflow onto the counter. Becca emerged from the back, eyes wide with horror.

Charlotte took a deep breath, grinned, and continued.

“I have steamed my last questionable oat milk. I have spelled my last name wrong on a cup. And I refuse—absolutely REFUSE—to pretend that someone ordering a ‘no-foam, extra-hot, double-shot half-caff, sugar-free vanilla latte with a whisper of cinnamon’ is a normal, functioning human being.”

A few customers snorted. Someone in the back clapped. Becca ran toward her. “Charlotte, put the mic down!”

Charlotte dramatically untied her apron, threw it over the counter, and grabbed her bag.

“I’m out.”

And with that, she strutted out of the café, head held high, the sound of scattered applause following her.

Meanwhile, Juliette packed her bags for an exciting new chapter—a semester abroad in Salvadorada. She kissed Charlotte goodbye that morning, promising to send postcards filled with inspiration from her travels. “Think of it as material for your future jokes,” Juliette teased.

Over in Del Sol Valley, Oliver celebrated a career milestone. He landed his first speaking role in a quirky indie film, Sim Noir, playing a clumsy but endearing detective. After filming his scene—a hilariously chaotic interrogation—he received his first on-screen credit. “One small step for Oliver, one giant leap for future fans,” he joked in a call to his parents.

In San Myshuno, Sawyer released his first official EP, Whispers in Solitude, a hauntingly beautiful collection of piano and violin solos. The album caught the attention of local music critics, with one review praising his ability to “paint emotions through sound.” Sawyer’s confidence grew as he received invitations to perform at larger venues, solidifying his place in the city’s jazz scene.

That evening, Charlotte returned to the stage at Orchid A Go Go for another open mic night, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Armed with fresh material inspired by her first date with Elliot, she launched into a bit about how dancing to a street performer’s music ended with her accidentally tripping into a taco cart.

“The good news? I learned Elliot’s got great reflexes,” she quipped. “The bad news? Tacos aren’t great as emergency pillows.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Charlotte felt a surge of confidence. After the show, a fellow comedian approached her. “That was hilarious. You’ve got a real knack for relationship humor,” they said, encouraging her to explore the topic further.

By the end of the day, each sibling felt the weight of their individual accomplishments. Though they were scattered across different cities—and now, even countries—the Sullivan family’s collective momentum continued to build, fueled by their shared dreams and unwavering support for one another.

Winter Wednesday:

Instead of spending Christmas morning in the city, Charlotte and Elliot made a spontaneous escape—trading San Myshuno’s twinkling lights and winter chill for the warm, sun-kissed shores of Sulani.

The air smelled of coconut sunscreen and salt, and the sand was warm beneath their feet as they lounged under a striped umbrella, fruity cocktails in hand.

“So, technically,” Charlotte mused, twirling the tiny umbrella in her drink, “this counts as the most unconventional Christmas ever.”

Elliot smirked, adjusting his sunglasses. “I mean, there are trees. They’re just not decorated.”

They spent the day swapping stories and jokes, walking along the shoreline, where Elliot, being Elliot, couldn’t resist playfully splashing Charlotte with water.

“Oh, you did NOT just do that,” she warned, narrowing her eyes.

Elliot grinned mischievously. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Charlotte didn’t answer—she just ran full speed at him, sending them both toppling into the waves, their laughter blending with the ocean’s rhythm.

As the sun dipped lower, the sky turned into a masterpiece of pinks, oranges, and deep purples. Charlotte and Elliot stood barefoot at the water’s edge, the cool waves lapping at their ankles, when Elliot grew quiet. Charlotte noticed his mischievous but oddly sincere expression.

“What?” she asked, nudging him playfully.

Elliot turned to her, his eyes serious yet filled with amusement.

“We should get married.”

Charlotte snorted, laughing. “Ha. Hilarious.”

But when she saw the way he was still looking at her, her laughter faded.

”…Wait. You’re serious?”

Elliot took her hand, his thumb grazing her knuckles.

“Absolutely. You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met. Why wait?”

Charlotte’s heart raced.

This was crazy. This was impulsive. This was so them.

She grinned, breathless. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

The moment sealed itself in a kiss, the waves swirling around them like a quiet witness.

By the time they left the beach, they were already planning a quick courthouse ceremony for the next day. A Christmas engagement—and tomorrow? A wedding.

Meanwhile, across the country, Oliver spent Christmas in Del Sol Valley, working on set for an indie film.

That’s where he met Harper Monroe—a bold and sharp-witted costume designer, her hair dyed in streaks of fiery red.

She was adjusting a shirt on an actor when she caught Oliver watching.

“What? You gonna critique my stitching?” she teased.

Oliver smirked, tilting his head. “Nope. Just admiring how effortlessly cool you are.”

That earned him a playful eye roll.

By the end of the day, they were grabbing coffee together, talking about art, design, and the insanity of creative deadlines.

Oliver left the encounter feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time—pure inspiration.

Also that night, in San Myshuno, Sawyer found himself at an open mic event, looking for new sounds, new voices—something different.

And that’s when he heard her. Elena Rivera.

Her performance was raw, vulnerable, and magnetic—spoken-word poetry that commanded the room, each syllable landing like music.

After her set, Sawyer approached her, intrigued. “Your words feel like they need a score.”

Elena raised an eyebrow. “And you think you’re the one to compose it?”

Sawyer grinned. “Only one way to find out.”

That night, they started discussing a collaboration, blending spoken word and melody—something neither of them had done before.

7.02 - The Start of Something Extraordinary

7.04 - Married by Lunch, Miserable by Close

[fisheremsims]

7.02 - The Start of Something Extraordinary

Fall Friday:

In Del Sol Valley, frustration brewed for Oliver. Small acting roles and countless auditions had begun to wear on his confidence. He leaned back in his tiny house, scripts scattered around him, and picked up his notebook.

“If no one’s going to give me a story worth telling,” he muttered, “I’ll write it myself.”

Hours turned into days as Oliver poured his soul into a script about a struggling actor chasing his dreams. The story felt raw, real, and personal. With trepidation, he submitted it to a small indie film director he admired.

A week later, his phone buzzed. “Oliver Sullivan? This is Heather Mullins. I just read your script, and it’s brilliant. Would you be interested in auditioning for the lead?”

Oliver’s breath hitched. “Absolutely!”

Meanwhile, in San Myshuno, Sawyer’s quiet dedication to music blossomed. The underground jazz club had become his sanctuary, a place where his piano and violin solos spoke louder than words.

His sets were haunting and deeply emotional, blending classical precision with jazz improvisation. The regulars loved him, and newcomers often sat in stunned silence, captivated by the quiet, unassuming musician who bared his soul through every note.

After one particularly moving performance, the club owner approached him. “Sawyer, you’ve got something special. How about a weekend residency?”

Sawyer nodded, his usual shyness giving way to quiet pride. “I’d like that.”

That evening, Charlotte stood in the wings of Orchid A Go Go, clutching her notebook like a lifeline. The spotlight illuminated the stage, where another aspiring comedian was wrapping up their set with a half-hearted punchline. The polite laughter from the audience did little to calm her nerves.

“This is it,” she whispered to herself. “First open mic. No big deal. Just… everyone staring at you, waiting for you to be funny.”

Juliette, seated at a table near the front, gave her an encouraging thumbs-up. “You’ve got this!” she mouthed, her supportive presence a small comfort.

When the emcee called her name, Charlotte took a deep breath and strode onto the stage with all the confidence she could muster. The microphone felt heavier than she expected, and the bright lights blinded her for a moment.

“Uh, hi,” she began, her voice cracking slightly. “I’m Charlotte Sullivan, and I just moved to the city… so if I bomb tonight, it’s probably because my GPS sent me here instead of therapy.”

A smattering of polite chuckles rippled through the room, enough to boost her spirits. She launched into her routine, but her jokes felt stiff, her timing a little off. She noticed Juliette’s encouraging smile wavering slightly.

“Okay, so here’s a fun fact about moving to San Myshuno,” Charlotte said, abandoning her rehearsed material. “Did you know there’s an actual art to balancing six boxes of junk while unlocking a door that hates you?”

A louder laugh broke through the crowd. Charlotte grinned, leaning into the story.

“Picture this: me, standing in my hallway, trying to kick the door open while my upstairs neighbor—who apparently has bionic hearing—shouts, ‘Keep it down!’ I’m like, ‘Sir, if you want quiet, come help me or buy me better furniture!’”

This time, the laughter was genuine, the kind that rippled through the audience and echoed in her chest. Emboldened, Charlotte kept going, riffing on her moving-day disasters, her chaotic apartment setup, and her ongoing war with IKEA furniture.

“And don’t even get me started on the bed frame. I think I’m legally married to it now because we’ve spent more intimate time together than I have with any human.”

By the time she wrapped up, the room was warm with laughter and applause. She stepped off the stage, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration. Juliette met her at the edge of the room, clapping enthusiastically. “You killed it! The moving-day stuff was gold.”

Charlotte grinned, finally letting herself relax. “I think they liked me. Or at least, they liked watching me suffer.”

“They liked you,” Juliette corrected. “And you’re only going to get better.”

As the night wore on and other performers took the stage, Charlotte allowed herself to bask in the glow of her first success. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start—and for Charlotte Sullivan, that was more than enough.

“Watch out, San Myshuno,” she murmured to herself as she sipped her celebratory soda. “The queen of comedy is just getting started.”

Fall Saturday:

The San Myshuno Music Festival pulsed with life, despite the cool autumn air that carried the scent of street food and the distant hum of music. Festivalgoers, bundled in light scarves and jackets, weaved between glowing booths and indie pop-up stages, their breath visible in the crisp evening air. Charlotte clutched a warm chai latte, the steam curling into the night as she strolled through the festival grounds, soaking in the creative energy buzzing around her.

Then, she heard it. A rich, soulful voice intertwined with the strum of an acoustic guitar, melancholic yet warm. The sound pulled her toward a small stage, where string lights flickered above a lone musician. His tousled red hair fell over his face as he played, his voice carrying honest, heartfelt lyrics to a small but captivated audience. The way his fingers moved over the guitar, the ease in his presence, stopped Charlotte in her tracks.

She didn’t even realize she’d been standing there, staring, until the set ended. As the applause faded, she pushed through the small crowd, stepping closer as he packed up his guitar.

“Hey!” she called out, her breath fogging slightly in the cold air. “I just wanted to say… that was incredible.”

The musician looked up, his green eyes bright and curious.

“Thanks,” he said with an easy smile, slinging his guitar over his shoulder. “I’m Elliot.”

Charlotte grinned, shifting her coffee to her other hand. “Charlotte. I’m a comedian, but after hearing you, I’m questioning all my life choices.”

Elliot chuckled, eyes twinkling. “Well, that depends. Are you actually funny?”

Charlotte feigned offense. “Excuse you. I make people laugh for a living.”

They fell into easy conversation, trading stories about bad gigs, great performances, and the ridiculous things that inspired them. She liked his calm energy, the way he spoke with an effortless confidence. And he seemed genuinely charmed by her quick wit. As the festival wound down, Elliot handed her his phone.

“Let me get your number,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe we can check out an open mic sometime—music and comedy are a solid duo.”

Charlotte smirked, taking his phone and typing in her number.

“You might regret that when you see my act.”

Elliot grinned. “Doubt it.”

She wasn’t sure what to expect from this night, but as she slipped her phone back into her coat pocket and took another sip of her chai, she had a feeling she’d be seeing him again.

Across the city, on the quiet, ivy-covered campus of Britechester University, Juliette sat in the dim glow of the library, staring down at the freshly printed pages of the Britechester Literary Magazine.

Her name stood bold at the top of the second page.

Echoes of the Library – Juliette Sullivan

Her heart fluttered as she traced her fingers over the words, the surreal feeling of seeing her own story in print sinking in. Accompanying her story was a delicate, hand-drawn illustration of a mysterious figure in an ancient library, surrounded by towering shelves of forgotten knowledge.

For so long, she had written in solitude, her words only seen by professors and classmates. But now, her story was out there. Then, her phone buzzed with a message from her professor. “Congratulations, Juliette! Your story is a masterpiece. I’m so proud of you.”

She exhaled, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Across the library, a fellow student flipped through the magazine, pausing on her story. Juliette watched them linger on the first paragraph, then keep reading. She had always loved writing because it let her disappear into a world of her own making. But now her words were living outside of her.

And for the first time, she felt like an author.

Winter Sunday:

Charlotte had officially reached Level 3 in her barista career, which sounded like an accomplishment—except it wasn’t.

She had survived the early morning rushes, the confusing drink orders, and the soul-crushing experience of customer service. She could now:

✔ Steam milk without making a bubbly disaster (most of the time).

✔ Spell at least 50% of customer names correctly (Charlotte was proud of that one).

✔ Fake enthusiasm just enough to avoid getting written up.

But she hated every second of it. This morning had been her worst shift yet.

The line had been out the door, customers tapping their credit cards impatiently against the counter. One woman demanded a refund because Charlotte had handed her the drink and said, “Enjoy your emotional support coffee.” (Apparently, that was offensive?)

Then there was the businessman who snapped his fingers at her, asking “How hard is it to make a cappuccino?” as if he were some kind of foam expert.

And, of course, Becca, her long-suffering manager, pulled her aside again.

“Charlotte, please tell me you didn’t just announce over the loudspeaker that ‘If you don’t tip, may your coffee be lukewarm forever.’”

Charlotte shrugged, wiping espresso off her apron. “I feel like that’s a fair curse.”

Becca rubbed her temples. “Charlotte. I need you to at least pretend to take this job seriously.”

Charlotte sighed dramatically. The thing was—she knew she was good at being funny. She knew she could own a stage and make people laugh. She didn’t dream of spending her mornings arguing about the difference between almond and oat milk. And yet… she didn’t quit.

Maybe because she needed the paycheck. Maybe because, deep down, she was afraid to actually take the leap into comedy full-time. So instead of storming out in a blaze of chaotic glory, she nodded, gritted her teeth, and clocked out when her shift was over.

Back at her disaster of an apartment, Charlotte paced, rejecting outfit after outfit.

She wasn’t sure why she cared so much—it was just a casual night out with Elliot, after all. But somehow, looking effortless while also looking like she wasn’t trying too hard was impossible.

Finally, she settled on a vintage denim jacket over a short white dress, her hair falling in loose waves that felt just the right amount of undone.

Satisfied—well, mostly—she grabbed her phone and typed out a message.

Charlotte: Ready to be impressed?

Her phone buzzed almost instantly with a reply.

Elliot: You bet. Meet me at Hogan's Burger Bar in 30 minutes.

(To be continued in 7.03…)

7.01 - Beginnings in Chaos

7.03 - A Tropical Engagement

[fisheremsims]

7.01 - Beginnings in Chaos

Fall Tuesday:

Charlotte Sullivan stood at the threshold of her new life, the vibrant hum of San Myshuno pulsing around her. Her small apartment in the Arts Quarter was a far cry from the cozy family home she’d left behind. The building’s exterior boasted a charming old-world character, but inside, her apartment was a whirlwind of half-unpacked boxes, mismatched furniture, and bare walls begging for her unique flair.

Setting down the last box, Charlotte surveyed the chaos and sighed dramatically. “Well, this is either the start of a great adventure or an episode of Disaster Design,” she joked to herself. Her natural dirty blonde hair, a nod to her roots, framed her face as she pulled it into a loose ponytail. She had chosen to keep her look simple and practical—a symbol of a fresh start, free from the expectations of her past.

With boundless energy and zero organizational skills, Charlotte attempted to assemble her bed. She stared at the frame, instructions crumpled on the floor, and a lone screw rolling under a pile of clothes. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” she declared, tossing a blanket onto the lumpy sofa and collapsing onto it in defeat.

The next knock on the door brought a welcome distraction. Juliette stood there, suitcase in hand, her presence a comforting blend of familiarity and ambition.

“You’re really living the dream, huh?” Juliette teased, stepping over a box labeled Charlotte’s Stuff—Probably Important.

“Dream? More like a comedy sketch gone wrong,” Charlotte replied, hugging her sister tightly.

Juliette had recently graduated with honors in Creative Writing and Literature and was starting her studies at Britechester University. She had chosen to live off-campus, joining Charlotte in the city to keep their sisterly bond strong.

That evening, the sisters sat cross-legged on the floor, sharing takeout noodles straight from the cartons. Charlotte made exaggerated plans about turning her apartment into a “creative haven,” complete with an improv stage and a wall entirely dedicated to photos of her pulling funny faces.

“I’ll call it The Laughing Loft,” Charlotte announced, gesturing dramatically.

“Or Chaos Central,” Juliette quipped, dodging a thrown chopstick.

Despite their differences—Charlotte’s vibrant energy clashing with Juliette’s quieter, thoughtful demeanor—they quickly fell into their familiar rhythm. They spent the night unpacking together, turning the mess into a home.

Before bed, Juliette placed a small framed photo of their family on the kitchen counter. “No matter how wild things get, we’ll always have them,” she said softly.

Charlotte nodded, a rare moment of seriousness crossing her face. “And no matter how quiet or serious you get, you’ll always have me to shake things up.”

The two laughed, their bond strengthened by the promise of new beginnings. As the city lights twinkled outside their window, Charlotte leaned back against her half-built bed and grinned.

“San Myshuno’s not ready for us,” she said, and Juliette couldn’t help but agree.

Fall Wednesday:

The next morning, Charlotte rolled out of bed—literally.

Since her mattress was still on the floor, she landed face-first onto a pile of unfolded clothes before groaning and stumbling toward the bathroom.

Her first shift at the coffee shop started in less than an hour. Which meant—she was already late.

Twenty minutes later, Charlotte jogged through the doors of the café, still half-asleep, shirt slightly inside out, and hair a little wilder than intended.

Becca, her tired-looking manager, glanced at the clock and sighed deeply.

“You were supposed to be here at five,” she pointed out.

Charlotte flashed a sheepish grin. “Technically, I was awake at five.”

Becca rubbed her temples. “Just… get behind the counter. Try not to break anything.”

Charlotte saluted. “No promises.”

She threw on her green apron, surveyed the unfamiliar coffee machines, and had a deeply unsettling realization:

She had absolutely no idea how to make coffee.

It took less than ten minutes for her first disaster to unfold:

 • Burned her hand on the steamer.

 • Spilled an entire espresso shot down her apron.

 • Somehow managed to pour coffee in a mug… ice cold.

The customer stared at her.

Charlotte stared back.

“Uh… just drink it fast?” she suggested.

Becca groaned from the register.

By noon, Charlotte was covered in coffee stains, running on nothing but adrenaline and mild panic.

She wasn’t fired—yet.

But she was pretty sure Becca was already regretting hiring her.

That afternoon after work, Charlotte fumbled for her keys, her arms full of groceries she probably shouldn’t have bought—instant noodles, discount wine, and an unnecessary amount of spicy chips. The lock stuck, as usual, forcing her to jiggle it aggressively while muttering under her breath.

“Need a hand, neighbor?”

Charlotte turned, nearly dropping a bag in the process.

Leaning casually against the door of the apartment next to hers was a tall woman about her age, barefoot, paint-stained jeans rolled to her ankles, splatters of neon paint across her face like accidental battle wounds. Her wild, multi-toned hair was tied up messily, as if she had been in the middle of something before deciding to stop caring.

She had the kind of effortless, artsy chaos that Charlotte respected.

Charlotte grinned. “Unless you know how to bribe a door, I think I’m stuck in this battle for a while.”

The woman smirked. “Try kicking it.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow but gave it a half-hearted kick. The door swung open immediately.

She blinked.

The woman shrugged. “They never fix the locks in this building. You gotta get a little aggressive with it.”

Charlotte chuckled. “Noted. Thanks, uh…”

“Dani,” the woman said, leaning against the door again. “Artist. Professional procrastinator. Terrible with rent deadlines, but great with hair dye.”

Charlotte liked her immediately.

She shifted the grocery bags in her arms. “Charlotte. Aspiring comedian. Current professional coffee disaster. Also terrible with rent deadlines.”

Dani’s grin widened. “You’re gonna fit in here just fine.”

And just like that, Charlotte had made her first real friend in San Myshuno.

Fall Thursday:

Thanksgiving morning at the coffee shop was surprisingly busy. People rushed in for last-minute caffeine fixes, eager to fuel themselves before long family gatherings and hours of forced small talk.

Charlotte, running on exactly one slice of toast and a questionable amount of espresso, was in the zone.

By which she meant—she was guessing her way through every order and hoping for the best.

A customer stepped up to the counter, rubbing their hands together for warmth. “One cappuccino, please.”

Charlotte froze. The thing was—she technically knew the theory behind making a cappuccino. But every time she tried, she either steamed the milk into oblivion or poured the espresso in the wrong order. Today, she decided to fake it till she made it. She grabbed a cup, foamed the milk aggressively, and poured it over the espresso with the grace of a toddler trying to do latte art.

The result? A mountain of foam, completely swallowing the coffee beneath it. She hesitated, tilting the cup slightly. The foam did not move. Charlotte considered fixing it. Then she shrugged and served it anyway.

“Here you go!” she said, sliding it across the counter.

The customer blinked at the overflowing foam. “…What is this?”

Charlotte beamed. “That’s extra holiday spirit. On the house.”

The customer poked at the foam with a stir stick. “I don’t think there’s actual coffee in here.”

“There’s coffee in there,” Charlotte assured them. “Somewhere.”

Becca, her ever-frustrated manager, materialized out of nowhere.

“Charlotte,” she said in that dangerous, exasperated voice.

Charlotte raised her hands. “Okay, okay! I’ll remake it.”

“…After my announcement.”

Before Becca could protest, Charlotte grabbed the microphone in the dining area.

“Happy Thanksgiving, coffee lovers! If you’re hiding from your family today, we support you. If you’re the designated Thanksgiving chef, may your turkey be juicy and your patience unlimited. If you need to caffeinate for emotional survival, please form an orderly line and maybe tip your barista—she deserves it.”

Half the customers laughed. The other half rolled their eyes. Becca snatched the microphone from her hands. “Charlotte. Stop hijacking the system.”

Charlotte smirked. “You say ‘hijack,’ I say ‘enhancing the customer experience.’”

Becca rubbed her temples. “Just…get back to work.”

Charlotte saluted. “Gobble gobble.”

Becca walked away mid-sigh. That evening, Charlotte kicked open the apartment door, tossing her bag onto the couch.

“I survived the holiday rush!” she declared to Juliette, who was setting the table in their tiny kitchen nook.

“Somehow, that doesn’t reassure me,” Juliette muttered, adjusting the plates.

Charlotte flopped into a chair, dramatically exhausted. “If I never see another pumpkin spice latte, it’ll be too soon.”

Juliette poured them both glasses of wine. “You work at a coffee shop.”

Charlotte lifted her glass. “And I suffer for my art.”

Juliette rolled her eyes but clinked glasses with her anyway.

Their Thanksgiving dinner was simple but perfect—a homemade meal (courtesy of Juliette, because Charlotte’s cooking was an actual fire hazard), a cozy apartment, and just the two of them.

As they ate, Charlotte launched into dramatic retellings of her coffee shop disasters, acting out her failed cappuccino attempt and mimicking Becca’s ever-growing frustration.

Juliette, despite herself, laughed.

“One day,” she said between bites, “they’re either going to fire you, or you’re going to own that place just by sheer persistence.”

Charlotte grinned. “I like the second option.”

They ate, drank, and laughed, their small Thanksgiving feeling just as special as any big family gathering. As the night wound down, Charlotte leaned back in her chair, swirling the last of her wine.

“San Myshuno might be a mess, but it’s our mess,” she said.

Juliette smirked, a pile of laundry on the floor behind her. “Chaos Central.”

Charlotte lifted her glass. “To Chaos Central.”

Juliette sighed but clinked glasses anyway.

7.00 - Embracing the Imperfections

7.02 - The Start of Something Extraordinary