Author Topic: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty ("Complete")  (Read 160670 times)

Offline notjustabook

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 80, 9/10)
« Reply #375 on: September 12, 2014, 07:47:57 AM »
Aw... poor Lily. Rest in peace, Bronson. I think Lily handled it pretty well - she's heartbroken of course, but she's a fighter.



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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 80, 9/10)
« Reply #376 on: September 13, 2014, 02:32:50 PM »
*sniff sniff* RIP Bronson!  You will be missed.  I did like Lily's moment with Annette though.  It was very appropriate for them.



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Offline Trip

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 80, 9/10)
« Reply #377 on: September 16, 2014, 10:52:41 AM »
This chapter was so bittersweet.  RIP Bronson, you shall be missed  :'(

That was pretty funny though  :)

Yeah, those leggings were wild. She looked more dignified with bare, elderly legs.

Aw... poor Lily. Rest in peace, Bronson. I think Lily handled it pretty well - she's heartbroken of course, but she's a fighter.

That she is. :)

*sniff sniff* RIP Bronson!  You will be missed.  I did like Lily's moment with Annette though.  It was very appropriate for them.

Annette did something appropriate? Wow! But thanks. :)



Chapter 81: Trash



A few days passed, enough for Lily to go from a functionless, sobbing mess of a new widow to one with the will to pick up the pieces. She oversaw Bronson's obituary, got plenty of condolences from his old coworkers, and even got back into the sculpting grind alongside Hephaestus.

Things weren't easy with him. Not since her ambrosia day.

Still, he sculpted. Hephaestus barely said a word to her, standing aloof and sculpting more until he felt like a great matter of the medium again. Lily didn't ask. Hephaestus didn't ask why she wasn't asking anything. They worked cold and silent, fitting for two ice sculptors, and aimed that the other one knew that they knew.

It ate at Heph enough, though, and soon he couldn't stand not being friendly with his stepsister and teacher any more. She knew that he did something wrong.

"I admit it," he sighed.

"Admit what?" What she assumed sickened her.

"I'm really sorry Lil. It only felt like the right thing."

"How could it?" She couldn't even bring herself to give Hephaestus a face that would make every reconstructive surgeon grin. Lily cried instead. "How the hell could you?"

"It's just, I know I'm crazy now, but I felt like a zombie on those meds. I know you wanted me to get help, but until medicine marches on, I'm better off being me. I guess it's why I've been quiet. I just didn't want you to find out if I ended up rambling about ghosts instead."

"Oh," she said, flatly. "Maybe I assumed something else was wrong. Glad to see I’m wrong now. I think your mind is a little better than I thought anyways. Even if you are mad, it's not the worst a man can be." A man could be dating his step-niece, after all.

"Great! I'm so glad to see a few beautiful forest nymphs again, though could you really call the bayou a forest? Maybe they’re lost.”

At that point, it was like music to Lily’s ears.

Maybe she overestimated the sinister ways of her stepbrother, by assuming he had any at all. It’s not like he and Annette spoke that much, and his relationship with Franco waned as they both grew old. They probably didn’t give him the memo. And as sad as it was that aging Hephaestus still hadn’t been kissed since he was 19 or so, he wasn’t the top priority. Tegan was. She still considered her and Bryant an item, and he did just as much, even though she was the one to always visit him, and to get kicked out when it turned out that gaming with some local neckbeards was first on his agenda.

Well, Hephaestus was no threat now. Suddenly, Lily engaged in small talk with him while they sculpted, or as much small talk as they could hear over two chainsaws. What they could manage was neutral, about current events and the local Purple Herons sports franchise. Hephaestus had no words about his romantic life, no news or even crushes to speak of. The confidence in his voice placated Lily. She even trusted him with a sad task.

She kept Bronson’s phone after he died, instantly powering the device off and vowing never to look through his voicemails. They trusted each other, and even if Bronson had something to hide, it had no bearing on the present. However, Lily couldn’t keep the phone forever, and it could find a good second life once it went through recycling. The bookstore kept a bin to drop old cellphones in.

Hephaestus got the phone one evening. “Take it where it needs to go,” Lily said. “I know that he didn’t password-protect the thing, so you can look through it. It’s just really distasteful to.”

“I know,” Heph said. “I’m insane. Not evil.”

“And that’s what I still like about you. You can get it there before they close if you leave now.”

He went to the closest bridge instead, gingerly walking across the rough wooden surface as not to get splinters in his bare feet. He clutched the phone tight enough to make the dark, ruddy skin on his knuckles still go white. He couldn’t betray Lily, could he? They finally got along again.

Screw it. He looked at the last voicemail. He recognized the first part of the number; all of the hospital’s numbers dialed out from it, such as Dr. Bertone’s. The extension was a few numbers off, though, and Bronson seemed to be of clear mind anyways (at least by society’s oppressive standards).

Hi Mr. Curious. It’s Dr. Jin again. Just calling to see if there’s a time when we can talk about treatment plans. We found one that might buy you some time, even at this stage. Call me back when you get a chance.

How cruel, even in spite of all of the venom that Bronson directed at him. Hephaestus opened the back of the phone and exposed the SIM card, while it was still on, and threw it into the water. It had to have been shorted-out by then.

Something was in the swampy air that night. Voices still haunted Hephaestus, though they were all muffled. That stressed him out more, trying to decipher their distorted words. No luck. Not even his own mind made sense to him now. His face contorted and he was ready to burst, but then the clack-clack of heels across the bridge started to grab his attention.



“Heph?” Tegan asked. She was all dressed-up.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “Just taking a brisk walk. It’s still humid, but the world has a beautiful teal glow right now. And you just seem sad.”

“It’s been rough,” she said.



“I can imagine.” He grabbed her shoulders to beg for her to cheer up. “My mum passed away before you were born, and I think I felt the same way. That was so long ago, her dying, and you not being around! Everyone’s aura looked so hot and orange and angry until you came around to brighten up everything.”



“I did?”

“You sure as hell did. Are you going to the lounge tonight?” he asked.

“They need a bassist to volunteer. I don’t want to get too rusty. Why don’t you tag along? They’re not as strict on the dress code anymore. I just like this dress you gave me.”

“I’m good.”



She arrived home later that night and immediately wrote a check to the last charity that mailed her a letter. Books for Bridgeport would get a check for one thousand simoleons and smile, but Tegan was wracked with guilt instead, and no amount of volunteer bass-playing and donations quite wiped it from her.

Bryant watched her, just for a bit. He was in his athletic/lounging around with video games clothes, and the mixologist on duty gave him a death glare. They didn’t loosen their dress code enough for sweatpants. Tegan didn’t care, but when she stopped at the bar for a glass of water, she found herself seated across from Bryant. That was fine. She still liked him enough.

“You haven’t seen me in a while,” Bryant said, looking crossly at her.

“I’m sorry,” said Tegan.

“You better be. Everyone is making fun of me for not making any moves on you, or for you not doing any on me. Come on! We’re an item, and I gave you the best birthday gift.” She could thank him for those pairs of lovely heels trimmed with bows, after all.

“Good point. I’ll be there tomorrow night. They still need me for bass-duty, though. I wish I could be in two places at once as much as you wish too.”

True to her word, Tegan came over to his house the next night. He led her up to the second floor, which bore an impressive amount of deck space and a view of both the lake surrounding the house and the swamps over the bridge. That was reason enough to stay. Bryant didn’t do much with her, barely holding her hand, and not talking. She took him in, with a message to whisper.



“Well, I don’t want to see you and your friends at odds,” she said in his ear. “If this is what you want…”

“What? Not now,” he said, alarmed.

“But, last night you said-“



“You need to know how we work, split-pea soup.” That wasn’t even the agreed-upon nickname. “My friends will think that you’re easy. So you just gotta act all cute and demure around me, which you do. You’re doing well right now.”

“Well, I’m lonely,” Tegan said. “I have needs, and I’m just like the average girl that way.”

“So you’re easy?”

She was livid and stormed out of the house, and then cried in Lily’s arms as soon as she got home. It was like school all over again.

“Bryant?” Lily asked. Tegan nodded weakly. She told her mum the story.

“That makes no sense! That's insane. He's insane. So you’re still with him, why?”

“If we’re breaking up, then I want him to do it. I’m not going to have that on my heart.”

“I understand.” Which wasn’t to say that she approved.

Lily was worried. She needed a backup plan for her daughter! Lest she settle for the biggest jerk in Twinbrook when plenty of wonderful men were in town. Well, a few, once she struck Hephaestus from the list.

Being rich and powerful meant knowing a lot of people, including the also rich and powerful. Lily looked up the road for her first call. There was a young man who could keep a secret.

Tegan got a call from dear Mickey Whelohff that night. First, she missed his birthday party, shame on her! Tegan rarely checked her phone, and Lily had plenty of things more important in her life than relaying calls for her technophobic daughter or setting up an inoffensive landline.

Second, he forgave her. Things happened. He read Bronson’s obituary, and he knew what it was like losing a father too, even if his was a playboy and a deadbeat. Still, Mickey wanted to hang out with his high school buddy even if they were both adults with lives past the confines of school. Or so he said. Lily smirked from afar as she listened in to the conversation.

“Wanna dismantle the establishment tomorrow?” Mickey asked.

“That’s violent. Is this new?” asked Tegan.

“Yeah. I went on a tour to Sims University a few weeks ago, and this really hot girl told me about anarchy. I’m all for it, and it’s not violent. It’s justice.”

“It’s not my cup of tea.”

“Fine. You like fishing? Swimming? We live in a town with a huge lake.”

They planned to meet up early the next afternoon for fishing and swimming, at the end of Poker Flats Drive. Not the end Bryant lived on, but the other end, where and abandoned lake house would look over them. The lights were off and the smell of wood shavings lingered. Even Annette forgot that it was owned at one point, and to two young ones, it was perpetually abandoned. But for them, they could fish off the edge of the property without angering a homeowner, or being leered at from the window.

“Nice to meet a friend again,” said Mickey.

“Nice to have you as a friend,” Tegan said. Lily hoped that would change.



It started with fishing and a talk about political theory. Tegan got schooled on anarchy, and found her common ground with Mickey: Simnation needed an overhaul. Corruption in politics didn’t end when Senator Jeffrey Cook was ousted from the legislative branch, or when any Rackets ceased to run for office. There was plenty of evil left in the world, and its grip on the government choked Simnation. As it turned out, the only thing they disagreed on was whether Simnation should vote for better people or whether they should uproot the voting process entirely.

“And it’s a darn shame that 99% of the wealth is held by a few,” Mickey said, as he reeled in a carp.

“It is,” Tegan sighed. Giving to charity left microscopic holes in the vast Waverly accounts. The family bought and invested in real estate and made keen choices, and grandma Annette still had a way with hotwiring and polishing-up expensive cars for the market. Seedy or smart, the Waverlys held a lot of cash and wealth.

“And I’m not ragging on you,” he said. “I’m rich, we’re well-off, it’s in our name.”



That little radical might be a great guy after all. He paired a cute smile with luscious brown skin and…unique eyes. His fairy wings and magic gave him an edge in gardening and botany. Tegan could really get to like that.



He couldn’t get to like being splashed by her when swimming, though.

They swam for half an hour, until a breeze rolled over Twinbrook and sent a shiver down their soaking wet spines.

“We can warm up at my place, or yours,” Tegan said. “We both have fireplaces, right?”

“Or we can just go to the house in back of us.”

“That’s not ours!”

“It’s nobody’s. It’s communal, public property, and my grandma said that the last owner died a while ago. Who’s hurting from this? Nobody.”

The door slid open without Mickey needing to crack the lock, or call Annette to get her to crack the lock. Aside from a few cobwebs, the house looked clean and beautiful for something long-since-abandoned. The wooden supports of the furniture had no rot. The metal appliances kept their silver sheen instead of a layer of rust. Two logs sat in the fireplace.

Well, as long as she didn’t burn the place down.



Tegan lit the fire to warm her wet self off, but the hiss of an aerosol spray sounded different than the hiss of an active fire.

“Mickey, what are you doing?” She looked back to him defiling a wall.



“Art,” he said, bluntly.

“I know it’s abandoned, but what if someone wants to live here again?”

“Then I’m saving them some interior-designing woes.”

She abruptly said good-bye to Mickey, and dropped off a friendly greeting card in his mailbox that night. They disagreed, but Tegan could always use his friendship. There were no hard feelings from him either. He could use her friendship, and only that. He had a girlfriend, the same hot anarchist he met at the university. Tegan wished them well, happy for her friend finding a wonderful comrade. She was so happy, that she had to tell Lily the news.

Lily couldn’t contain her opinion. “Drat.”

“Better than being single, right? I thought you and the Whelohffs were friends?”

“We are. I…maybe I don’t trust those uni girls.”

“Oh, okay,” Tegan said. “I’ll be there for him if it goes wrong.”

The next few nights were to herself. Tegan still didn’t decide on a career. She had time to, or so she kept telling herself. Meanwhile, she still invented and collected scrap metal for it, to keep the junkyards of the town a little cleaner. Hephaestus followed her for one of those, across the bridge and at the foot of a hill to the almost-forgotten Juan’s Pick n’ Pull. Whoever that Juan was, he didn’t take care of the place. The facilities inside were rotting. The trash was unsorted. No one ever came there anyways.



But it was still ripe for digging, as long as there was scrap metal in those piles.

Tegan was deep in her digging, getting trash under her fingernails. The whole place was silent, save for the swamp’s wildlife, until a wash of white noise filled the junkyard.



For the first time in a while, Juan’s Pick n’ Pull was occupied. Tegan turned her head towards the noise, and then noticed the spectre in her fiery glow.

“Heph,” she called. The ghost wasn’t too disturbed by it. She had her own job to do. Heph was elbow-deep in garbage, and oblivious to the noise.

“Heph!” Still no dice. Tegan gave up, and instead watched the ghost without saying a word. She was a quiet spirit and didn’t say anything back.



Instead, she got deep into trash like the two of them did.

It wasn’t the world’s most interesting ghost sighting, but that night changed Tegan.

She put in an application to the Paranormal Profiteers first thing the next morning.



Word Count for this chapter: 2,739
Word Count so far: 147,306
No respect, no chance, cease and desist when I chant-

Forum Rules / DecaDynasty


Offline Gwendy

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 81, 9/16)
« Reply #379 on: September 16, 2014, 05:24:05 PM »
Wow, way to be a jerk, Bryant.  Tegan can SO do better  :)

Yeah, Teegan doesn't deserve that jerk at all. Not even Bryant's ugly eyebrows deserve him! Free the eyebrows!
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Offline Shewolf13

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 81, 9/16)
« Reply #380 on: September 16, 2014, 06:28:59 PM »
*has the distinct urge to beat Bryant to a pulp* I really want Bronson's ghost to kick his sorry butt!

Offline Trip

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 82, 9/17)
« Reply #381 on: September 17, 2014, 12:25:50 PM »
Wow, way to be a jerk, Bryant.  Tegan can SO do better  :)

She has at least four different ways to do better!

Yeah, Teegan doesn't deserve that jerk at all. Not even Bryant's ugly eyebrows deserve him! Free the eyebrows!

I almost forgot about his eyebrows! It's like the game did its best to make a loathesome-looking guy.

*has the distinct urge to beat Bryant to a pulp* I really want Bronson's ghost to kick his sorry butt!

I do too. Especially after some events you'll see eventually.



Chapter 82: Piper



Hephaestus finally took inventory of his life. In spite of his youthful face and flexible, supple body that didn’t gain a pound of middle-age fat, Hephaestus still had a year tacked to his birthdate. It had been a while for everyone, hadn’t it? The beautiful young man was actually closing in on his first half-century alive.

“And here’s to another half-century for you!” Annette cheered on the morning of his 50th birthday. “Though I made a little more progress than you did when I was your age.”

“You have ambition. That’s nice,” he said, in between sips of piping hot coffee.

“So, any lucky women in your life?” She stopped keeping tabs on Hephaestus and Tegan, convinced that it would happen naturally. He shook his head no, again. That question tired him out.

“How about work?” she asked.

“Sculpting makes money.”

“That excuse worked for your grandfather, but you’re not that old yet. You have enough youth to establish yourself.”

“Oh come on. Do you think that the fine places around Twinbrook would hire someone you all think is out of their mind?”

“Lemme tell you a story about grandma Marigold,” Annette said. “She’s not your grandmother, but she’s Franco’s. I met that old bat once, at the grocery store. She was like you but eviler. Still ran the biggest weapons-smuggling ring in the South. Music also welcomes plenty of crazies, and I think you’d be better at that than being evil.”

“I’m liking the sound of that,” Hephaestus said. “Music makes the world calm and easy, and not glowing in orange like dad and Lily were a few minutes ago.”

“Whatever works. I just think that everyone should have something, or someone, to be responsible for. You have a lot of potential and genius, and a lot of capacity to love. I know that someone’s out there to fill in the void.”

He went upstairs after the conversation to wake up Tegan and get a final “happy 50th!” message too. She woke up well beforehand, even making the bed. Not a single wrinkle marred her blue, floral-print comforter. When he asked Lily where she could be, he learned that Tegan had an early interview with the Paranormal Profiteers. After that and training for the job, she’d be home later that afternoon.

Franco and Lily were nose-deep in their artwork for the rest of the day, which left Hephaestus and Annette to talk even more. She wanted to nap in the rocking chair in the nursery. He had something else to say.



“How dare she?” she asked, nearly going cross-eyed.

“Context?”



“Tegan, that’s what! She thinks she can just silence the spiritual world? I love her, but dang, how foolish! And you think I should get a real job!”



“Oh god, you’re off your meds, aren’t you?” Annette groaned. Hephaestus passed out on the floor, until Annette hit him in the head with a guitar.

“What the hell?” he asked, rubbing the sore spot on his scalp.

“You’re gonna be constructive. This guitar once belonged to the great DeAndre Wolfe, and you know darn well how I got it. I talked with Franco and you’ve talked about joining the Simsouri Philharmonic for a while, so how about we get started on that? Before you mouth off your best friend for putting the dead to rest.”

“But I’m a pianist.”

“Chords are chords are chords. Go to the theatre for lessons if you need pointers.”



He spent the rest of the afternoon filling the house with acoustic guitar music, simple but still less infuriating than the amateur guitar players who played in coffee shops and on university quads. He still didn’t get an explanation as to why he needed to learn a new instrument when he played piano at a professional skill level. Not even from the theatre when he called. However, his playing was good enough for him to gains some confidence and book an audition for the next morning.

“And if you can sing better than you grandfather,” Annette said. “Well, anyone could. I hated it when he showered. You’ll get the part, sport.” She gave him a friendly fist-bump for coming to his senses about responsibility.

Tegan came in later that afternoon, true to her word, and while Hephaestus’ head cleared, his position on her new job didn’t. He expected her to pull out a spiritual crossbow and shed all of her good tendencies, revealing a job of literally hunting ghosts and destroying their spirits.

“Are you harming them?” he asked. “As much as ghosts like to haunt me, I don’t think they’re evil, and they don’t deserve.”

“Oh Heph, I wouldn’t have even considered the job if it entailed that!” she cried. “I’m so sorry I worried you that way. It’s a lot more well-meaning. All I do is coax them into a peaceful existence in the afterlife. It’s why they’re making me learn logic and reasoning, so I can better convince them to settle.”

“That actually make a lot of sense.”

“And, I guess I wanted to try and make your world more peaceful. I can’t chase down any demons, but I can let the ghosts have their peace.”

Perhaps that could silence the spiritual world, or at least a sector of it. Hephaestus needed some time to rest and rethink his own perspective. Even though he said that the ghosts in his line of vision weren’t evil, they sure as heck made his life difficult, sitting in the bathtub and waiting, or haunting his bedsheets. He opened his mind or tried his best too, and slept for twelve hours before his audition. He needed a clear mind for presenting those chords, after all.



Meanwhile, Tegan read about chess moves and tried to apply them to persuasion and arguments, so she could metaphorically capture the offending spirits in an argumentative checkmate. So that there was a point to resting in peace. The Profiteers did give her a device that could best be described as a vacuum-gun, which captured the spirits in a small glass tank where they could rest before the head of the team sent them back to the great beyond. But Tegan’s pure heart wanted them to go into her vacuum agreeably, if they had to get in there at all.

Her job started at sunset, and the residents of the old Baker mansion across the street from the Waverlys had a ghost problem. The spirits were colorful, faceless, and uncommunicative. The homeowners were frantic because they tried themselves to reason with the spectres, but to no avail.

“How can I do that?” she asked her boss. “I can’t just suck them up!”

“Listen, missy, you can’t expect sugar and rainbows to work on every ghost we encounter. These guys aren’t exactly the souls of the dead anyways. They’re more like incomplete personalities and we really do have to be tough on them. Suck them up, bring the containers to me, and I’ll deal with them. That’s all you need to care about.”

“Were they human at any point?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” he said. “They’re more like the extra inner voices inside the insane. Hardly much else other than a vague and toxic personality. No one in the afterlife likes them! Much less humans.”

“Huh.” She thought it over while changing into her team-issued coveralls. Perhaps her job was like being an anti-psychotic in human form, quelling the demons on a much more literal plane. It even made her smile to think about fighting the bad guys of the spiritual world. Tegan zipped up her coveralls and skipped to her first job as Tegan Curious: Demon Cleaner.



The aqua spirit laughed at her immediately. It didn’t form words, but it still laughed. She drew out her vacuum and began sucking it in, with her almost falling on her back from the force. After a fight, she had an angry spirit swirling around inside a glass container, and a guaranteed extra twenty simoleons from the boss.



A few of those spirits swirled around the garden, taunting and laughing and destroying the growing lettuce heads and ripening tomatoes. In the peachy glow of Twinbrook’s sunset, Tegan wrangled each of these monsters and contained them, until the whole garden was quiet save for the ecstatic homeowners.

Tegan’s boss showed her how he dealt with them that night. He covered part of the floor with exorcised salt, and threw the containers down on the hard concrete and grains of salt. The glass was smashed, and the spirits were momentarily free, until the salt made them dissolve into the aether. The two of them stood back until it was all clear.

“That’s just for these guys, right?” Tegan asked.

“Yep. I’ll show you how we deal with real ghosts once I can get you on those jobs.”

“Job’s done tonight?”

“Go home and play some chess.”



Tegan met up with Hephaestus at the park instead, taking note of the first golden leaves of fall on the trees there, as well as Heph’s tattered clothes and how he winced and struggled while wearing baggy pants.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Things are a lot quieter now,” he said. “Like someone took my worst demons away. It feels pretty good.”

“That’s nice, but I was asking about the jeans.” Tegan took another pawn of his.

“It’s roadie-gear. I can’t join the Philharmonic yet, but they need someone to help with stage setup for them and budding rock stars.”

“Does it pay?”

“Not that it matters. I like the stability now.”

“I’m really happy for you,” said Tegan. “I loved you as an unemployed sculptor too, but I’m so glad that you’re getting a stable career now. And just some responsibilities! I think a lot of people in Twinbrook will like you better for it too. It’s a shame, because I think they just saw you as hopeless and crazy.” She made her next move. “And checkmate.”

“Well done, Peapod,” he said. “Responsibility is nice. Maybe it’s the treatment I need.”

“Also, are you working tomorrow?” He shook his head no. “The elders and I are going to see the Purple Herons tomorrow with a friend. Mum insisted that it just be us family, but I think you’re family too.”

“Bleh, sports,” he said, sticking his tongue out.

“I know, but I still think it will be fun.”

“I have to study up on arpeggios.”



So while Hephaestus was involved in artistic pursuits, Tegan and the family tailgated at sunset the next day. Franco and Tegan chatted, Annette made hot dogs for everyone, and Lily was inside the stadium to take a leak and say hi to any team members she knew. It was the last balmy evening before the start of autumn, and Tegan hoped that Hephaestus didn’t regret missing it. She really did believe that he was playing arpeggios from 6 to midnight.

He did, for half an hour, but went into the freezer to get some ice cream and noticed a slender glass vial with pink fluid frozen inside. He was meaning to do something with it.

If responsibility was what got the ladies of Twinbrook hot, then putting his vial to use would make him a god to the lady of his dreams.

He took that out, as well as another, smaller one. The vial full of pink was the unique genetic sequence of Lilith Jones-Brown, who was still alive but nearly 90. The companion vial had a few samples from her immediate family. Clones were nice, but variety was even better, and it made for a clone that was more like a genetic child. As much as Hephaestus would be okay with creating a true copy of the gorgeous Lilith, he could get such a beautiful, unique child with the rest of the family making a contribution.



As to whether she would get Loki’s light eyes, his goofy smile, or his orientation, that was up to chance, as Hephaestus had no clue what he sampled from Lilith’s brothers. He just got something.



He put them both into the machine and crossed his fingers. With any luck, he’d have a full-term newborn in a few hours. Without luck, he’d have a wasted night.



Meanwhile, the family friend arrived. Buck Green was on one of the Purple Herons teams, but he played Men’s Football. It was Women’s that night, and with a night off from the game, he was more than happy to go, especially when he could get a seat next to the lovely granddaughter of Bunny Curious.



“Good luck, sweetie,” Franco said to his granddaughter, hugging her.

“I’m just making a friend. I’ll do my best, gramps!”

She barely introduced herself before Buck made a proposition.



“You have a fine neck, Tegan,” he said. “Bunny always tells me that you’re the best granddaughter she could ask for. It would be a shame if you lost your youth. I can promise that you won’t.”



“That does sound interesting,” she said, puckering her lips in confusion. She mulled over the decision, but no one in the family would let her say yes. Annette and Franco motioned for her to say no. Lily caught the conversation and had a more violent solution.



She punched Buck right in the jaw. “Don’t you even dare,” she snarled. “There are plenty of other women for your perverted little vampire harem.”

“It’s a coven!” Buck was in tears and sobbing on the ground. He switched his seats with another spectator during the game, and Tegan didn’t make any connection with them either.



But Hephaestus had a surprise waiting for her at home. He took a look inside each hour, checking on the progress of his new specimen. After the third hour, he saw more than a lump of forming tissues.



Blanket and everything, a real nooboo formed in there, sleeping with her arms folded. Her uncles/brothers/whatever failed to give any Y-chromosomes in their samples, but a little girl would still give him a little jellybean to coo over and care for, so that he could pretend that he made progress with his life. He revolutionized the scientific field, if anything.



He opened up the chamber and the nooboo reached out to him with her soft, new hands. He couldn’t resist baby-talking to her already.

“Oh, you little squishy cutie-pie!” he squealed, scooping her up from the tray.



“You’ve changed the world already,” he said to himself, turning off the machine.



Tegan got dressed in something that didn’t threaten to expose her buttcheeks, and ran into Hephaestus scowling with his “newborn.”

“Is that yours?” she asked.

“Yep. She still smells like a real nooboo. Well, she is a real nooboo. Just ready-made.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Piper sounded good. Piper Jones-Brown. Lily, you're gonna love me for this.”



Word Count for this chapter: 2,464
Word Count so far: 149,770

Of course, the throwaway shot of Loki's newfound sexuality is foreshadowing for Piper's future. ;) As a reminder, his young boytoy is Francisco Racket, Julian's son.

Cloning sims through the science skill actually does carry a chance of them having coloring from their donor's parents. Not siblings, but it will make sense for a few other sims you'll meet down the road...
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Offline Trip

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 83, 9/18)
« Reply #383 on: September 18, 2014, 10:30:34 PM »
Welcome, Piper!  She's is going to be a cutie for sure  ;)

The cutest! Without hyperbole, Piper was the cutest sim ever at every age and even better than her donor. Though you'll have to wait a few chapters to see her in full form.



Chapter 83: The Three Suitors





She stumbled into the club before she had a single drink. Those tall heels had less support than her normal ones. Tegan performed a delicate balancing act that night; watching each step she took in those shoes, and making sure that the hem of her short dress stayed low enough so that she didn’t flash the club instead.

On any other night, Tegan would dress modestly, but she listened to the wrong friends too often, especially when they heard that she landed a not-date with her former math teacher, Keon Whelohff. His solid, muscular frame was a source of appreciation for the female students of Stary Community School, and she just had to flaunt her assets similarly. Which accounted for the soft floral prints being traded in for little white skulls.

She couldn’t put up a fight. It was a rough time.



Keon dressed in his most club-worthy shirt and trousers that barely matched. He still kept that awful emo-cut after all those years. His tiny, pink wings did nothing to light up the club, and his fairy-blood mattered little to Tegan anyways, when she just needed an ear that would listen.

The two of them started with catching up, lest Tegan dump a midnight confession on him instantly, sober, and before midnight. So she mentioned the ghost-hunting job. He quit teaching in order to cook for Annette. Tegan had a boyfriend. Keon had no luck.

One bottle of wheat juice bogged down Tegan’s heavy frame. The clock struck midnight. Keon waited for a response.

“Tegan, you’re not still with Bryant, are you?” he asked.

“Oh Keon!” she sobbed “I’ve done a horrible thing.”

“You?”

It started with Mr. Greenwood.

“Ain’t it funny?” Lily said over dinner. “I haven’t seen a man change quite like that. But I’m happy for Chris!”

“Who again?” Tegan asked. Her mother had too many friends to bother with.

“Chris Greenwood. You remember him from the cookout, right? The old man in hot pink?”

“Oh yeah.”

“And I thought it was just a new wardrobe! It is, but he called me with the real best news.”



Lily, some months prior, greeted the Chris she knew, while he still wore his pajamas and made no effort to gain his dirty-blond hair back. He still bagged groceries to pay the bills. Lily didn’t expect him to change, though she still loved the Chris she always knew.





“So he’s engaged to the lovely Louise now. I’m beyond happy for him. They’re so beautiful together.”

“Do they have a wedding date yet?” Tegan asked.

“Not yet, but I better get my dress ironed.” Lily daydreamed of their wedding vows.

Annette barged in. “Oh please, he’ll just be another Dustin.”

“Dustin was different, Gram,” said Lily.

“Hun, I’ve been around for a while. You give an old man his first taste of romance, and soon he’s throwing himself at every woman in town who crosses his path. If I was a psychologist, I could analyze it, but I know it’s a real thing that happens.”

“Still not nice of you to crap on the news like that,” Lily grumbled.

Tegan found Annette while she was washing the dishes. As the old woman scrubbed down plates, a job she usually reserved for young grunts at the kitchen, Tegan made the grueling task better with conversation.

“What did you mean by that?” she asked. “About Dustin. I think I was too young to remember much about him, other than that he came over for coffee a lot.”

“It’s not a long story. He was single until he was somewhere in his 80’s, and then he got a girlfriend, and another, and another. I dunno. It’s a lot of pent-up rage and testosterone, perhaps. As I said, I’m no psychologist.”

“Then what did you go to school for?”

“Tegan, please,” Annette said, dismissing the comment. “Anyways, it’s a bad trend here in the ‘Brook, and I wish I could stop it. I mean, what if Hephaestus ends up being the same sort of person? It’s been decades since he’s been with anyone.”

“That would stink.” And for a small bit, Tegan hoped that he would lift himself out of his romantic rut—if he wished—and find himself a dream girl. Lou was out of the picture thanks to Chris, but the world was a vast place. And he hadn’t even gone to University yet! Franco had a granddaughter there; a thick-framed power-lifter and comely ginger girl named Jerri Arkers. And Lily got messages from her other old college friends about their marriages and children. The world was indeed a vast place.

Sure, Tegan probably harbored a silly crush on Hephaestus, daydreaming about how fun it would be to braid all of that blond hair of his or cuddle up against him and the rock-hard feel of lean muscle and <10% body fat. She harbored that as a single teenager who had only a vague clue on his real age.



Tegan had to admit that it was so sweet and hot when he doted on Piper, though.

She had good reason to deny her crush, being taken since prom night and all, but Tegan had a good sob one night over how she really couldn’t let her crush on him go. He couldn’t let it go, maybe. He wasn’t old, but aging, and if he was pining for Tegan deep down, what would happen if he never got that release? After talking to Annette, Tegan feared that, but she still went down to Bryant’s to grit her fangs and watch him play video games. Maybe get a conversation out of him.



It was a quiet night, save for the sound effects of his game, and the ambient noise.



She couldn’t forget her father, who would spend all day with Lily whenever he could, and have his eyes fixated on her. Attention on her, conversation towards her, a few hugs and kisses and playful pinches on her. Tegan twiddled her thumbs while Bryant treated his game controller more like a girlfriend than he did to his actual girlfriend.



“Oh hell, I’m tired of this,” she said, raising her voice.

“I can play Halo instead. This is a pretty boring game. Got it in the bargain bin.”

“I mean having a relationship like this. When was the last time we went out to dinner or took a stroll downtown? You know, what real couples do. Didn’t your parents do that?”

“Single dad, remember?” Bryant rolled his eyes. “I mean yeah, he had dates, but he never did any of that either!”

Tegan didn’t have bad words for anyone until generation eight came around. And then. And maybe two other times. But that night, she had to tell Bryant off.

“I can see why he was single,” she sneered.

“And I’m okay with that being me too.”



After the breakup, Tegan had one of the best spirit-hunts in the team’s history, with the boss breaking up over a dozen containers bagged at the Racket mansion that night. She got a celebratory raise as a result.

“Keep doing that grunt work,” the boss said. “You take it better than the other grunts. But get some rest now.”



She got that rest, but along with the soundtrack of Hephaestus practicing his arpeggios. He didn’t bother to change out of his torn jeans, no matter how much they bothered him.

Tegan’s job ran into the morning one day, because no one else would clean ectoplasm off the equipment. Her coverall reeked of bleach. However, changing into her regular clothes cured that, and for a good reason, because a suitor waited for the newly-single princess after her gross, undignified job.

Hephaestus didn’t bother with mere friendliness that morning.



“Only you could look so cute after a night shift,” he said, pointing straight at her. Half-delirious from the long work “day,” Tegan answered with a flirty giggle.



“You’ve been up all night with stage work too, haven’t you?” He nodded.

“And you’re still the most handsome guy in Twinbrook. Wow.”

“How long did it take for you to think that?” he asked.

“Well, it’s been on my mind for a while,” she said. “Look. You walk around all day in a kilt, baring those lovely calves, and some more when you sit like a man and forget to close your legs.”

“When did you get such a dirty mind? That Bryant really was keeping you down, like an anvil on your chest. So if I lean in, can I kiss you now?”



“For sure.”

“So how did that feel?” Hephaestus asked.



“Like sunshine and cherry ice cream. The best things in life, basically.”

“You wanna be my princess?”



That worked too, bringing them together for a month’s worth of early mornings de-stressing after work in the way that couples did. They kept the volume down to not wake up anyone else, but other than that, the two were alone in their palace and living out years’ worth of daydreams. Tegan finally got to run her fingers through his silky hair, while he finally could caress those strong, shapely thighs he dreamed of (he wasn’t looking at curvy pin-ups before that just because).

Tegan had her dreamy, happy ending at a young age, for that month’s worth of nights being carried upstairs in her stained uniform by her prince in pauper’s clothes. While Lily slept and didn’t suspect a thing anymore. However, no Waverly got off that easily. Not even the package of purity named Tegan. She was less of a Mary Sue and more of a Pollyanna that way.

She would spend all day before work snuggling and kissing the neck of her lilac prince, but alas, work still called for her to brush up on logic. Instead of spending long hours reading about formal logic to the ambient soundtrack of Bryant virtually shooting faceless mooks while her rear was planted in an old, sagging couch, she headed to the library instead. The velvety, upholstered chairs supported her better.

And she wasn’t even alone for some of it. But Hephaestus had sculptures and a nagging Lily to answer to, so he left Tegan alone after a smooch good-bye.

The library’s solitude charmed her, though. She lit a fire and listened to its roar while she re-read a chapter on Boolean properties just to make sure that she got them right. Another few trees went golden in the autumn cold. Her phone broke the silence, but she ignored it. And ignored it again. A rapid-fire caller broke her zen, and she needed to sweetly shut them up.

“Tegan Curious,” she said, chipper and dripping with metaphorical honey.

“You forgot one of your books at my place.” It was Bryant. “I thought I’d take it for myself, but I guess you can have it back.”

“I dunno, Bry. I’m better without you. My book isn’t worth that, and I’m really sorry-“

“It’s the library’s. It was due last freakin’ month. You remember Formal Chess: Volume Three?”

“Oh, I left that there? I can’t believe I forgot about that. Later today. Just for the book.”

In a rainstorm, Tegan met Bryant right at his mailbox. Nothing was tucked under his shirt.

“Is it inside?” she asked.



Instead of answering, like a decent human being, Bryant kissed her instead. He kissed her hard, sending her back and almost bringing Tegan to her feet. He planted a strong, wet kiss on her lips, smudging her lipstick. And she couldn’t back away, as he wrapped his arms around her waist in a squeeze.



“Why?” she asked, rain and tears streaming down her face.

“I want you back, that’s what.”

“I’m happy right now, though.”

“You’re with that little noodly old man, and everyone but your family knows that. Come on, you want a real man that won’t die of a heart attack after a wild night.”

“But his heart’s pretty fine.”

“I think you’ll reconsider,” he said. He threw her book at her from the window once he got inside.

Tegan hated her phone, but she was on guard that night, in case she needed to call for help, or if Bryant texted her some evidence of his awfulness.



Midnight. In the middle of ridding the old Bayless house of a sad, yearning spirit who cried all the time, Tegan’s phone went off. She put down her vacuum once the spirit was contained and ignored the others. Bryant’s number was attached to it.



It’s either be with me or your mum gets this picture

How the heck did you get that?

Lighten up, you have a window

IT’S BLOCKED BY A CANOPY-

She erased that message. A canopy wouldn’t stop him. The house lacked a burglar alarm, and Annette was out drunk that night and too deep into it to attack the intruder. If that’s how he got it, anyways.

She could end it there and bring the text to the police as evidence that Bryant broke in and entered, and that he was a blackmailing little turd of a man on top of it.

She could let Hephaestus deal with it.

She could let anyone deal with it.

I’m back honey was her last text of the night. And Lily showed no evidence of getting a picture, though the whole situation haunted Tegan.

She didn’t have another person to turn to but Keon, who maybe could keep a secret. She had no confirmation of it. Keon gave the sobbing princess the strongest hug she ever received, Tegan nearly choking in the hold of his monstrous biceps.

“I’m just confused. Why can’t you go to your mum for this?” Keon asked.

“It was a talk we had.”

It was after the talk about Christopher and other old men, and over why Bronson was so protective of Tegan around men. Tegan got it, and she didn’t.

“This was something he didn’t tell me for a while either,” Lily said. “I think we’ve told you about grandpa Lincoln, haven’t we? Beyond his work, that is. Did we mention that he was much older than grandma Bunny?”

“I think?” Tegan said.

“So this man, Lincoln, was a very kind person, gregarious, funny, or so I’ve been told. I’m trusting Annette on that. I wouldn’t expect Bunny to regret having a man like that, but she did. She felt used and gross, sleeping with someone old enough to be her father, and apparently a close family friend too! And he died on her pretty early. It’s so odd. I certainly don’t mind that we got dad from it, but Bunny was a wreck after that, trying to find someone to cleanse her of that feeling. He just didn’t want you feel that way.”

“I never knew that. And grandma never talked to me about it.”

“I heard it second-hand myself. And that’s what Annette was trying to go along with when she brought up those old men. Older men hurt, and dad just didn’t want that for you. I don’t either.” Lily gave her daughter a shoulder-rub.

“I also didn’t know that Buck was so old. Apparently more than Annette. Sorry for trying to set you up with him.” Lily left the room after that, leaving Tegan to regret her crush on Hephaestus or be a rebel for once.

“I can’t do that to her, or dad, or anyone in the family! I don’t want to be hurt, but Heph, he just feels so right.” Tegan was sobbing into Keon shoulder.

He kept her in a protective, friendly cuddle in the back, near the bubble bar and as they sat in the mismatched sectional seating of the club. No one noticed them over the pulsating club music.

Tegan calmed down by 2AM, with the club still open for another two hours.

“I’m ready to go,” she said to Keon.

“Can we just do one thing?” he asked. She feared a kiss. She feared it all since Bryant.

“I’ve been practicing my club dancing so I can feel a little younger,” Keon continued. “And I just want a dancing partner, if you’re up for it.”

She still stumbled like a newborn fawn in her heels by walking, let alone dancing.

“Hey, why not?”



In the midst of romantic turmoil, Tegan found some solace in a new dancing partner, even as he stepped out of line with the beat. Even as they fell on their faces and laughed in a juiced haze.



Word Count for this chapter: 2,750
Word Count so far: 152,520

And some notes about our new cameos:

- Keon = son of Rosy and Shamus Drudge. Mentioned it before, but he was around for a long time and it's crucial for you guys to remember. :P

- Louise = Julian and Lita's daughter.

- Chris = Shark and Emerald's son.
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Offline Shewolf13

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 83, 9/18)
« Reply #384 on: September 19, 2014, 01:23:14 PM »
...I want to strangle Bryant now more than ever!  Argh!  Stop making the Peapod sad!  Let her be happy with Heph!  Grrr!  Yes, I am very upset about this right now XD  Though I did like the club shots.  They were great ^^

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 83, 9/18)
« Reply #385 on: September 19, 2014, 03:30:09 PM »
Man this was an epic  :o You've done so much with the challenge. I guess if you do think about the stuff that sims do it's all very heartbreaking, especially with some people staying immortal and some dying... And the love triangles. Squares. Pentagons  ;D By law of drama the villain does have to get what-for and secrets have to be revealed, so I shall be waiting for that.

Offline notjustabook

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 83, 9/18)
« Reply #386 on: September 20, 2014, 01:08:17 AM »
Aaaw, finally Hepheagan is reality... Or is it Teaphaestus? :b



Offline Magpie2012

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 83, 9/18)
« Reply #387 on: September 21, 2014, 11:01:08 AM »
Finally FINALLY finished catching up! Story is awesome! I want to murder Bryant, the nasty little snot! Teaphaestus sounds awesome but is a bit much to type out each time lol how about Hephgan? Teagan needs to stop being a wishy-washy foot stool and tell her mom "I'm in love and he's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me!" I admit I think she's gorgeous but she's probably the one who bugs me the most... Can't she just grow a spine?

That being said, your writing is awesome, Trip and I love this story (even the pet peeve I have with Teagan)
because... Math *Pippin The Most Tenacious Simmer*

Only 2 things are infinite... The universe and human stupidity. And I'm not sure about the universe. *Albert Einstein*

Don't believe all the quotes that have been attributed to me. *Albert Einstein*

I can't ignore ALL of the voices in my head - Some of them actually make sense! *Blayzen*

Offline Trip

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 84, 9/23)
« Reply #388 on: September 23, 2014, 01:35:47 PM »
...I want to strangle Bryant now more than ever!  Argh!  Stop making the Peapod sad!  Let her be happy with Heph!  Grrr!  Yes, I am very upset about this right now XD  Though I did like the club shots.  They were great ^^

I did love shooting that club scene. And Tegan in a short dress even more. ;)

Keep your strength for when Bryant really does something bad. Because this is Eight Ways to Live Forever! Things can always get worse.

Man this was an epic  :o You've done so much with the challenge. I guess if you do think about the stuff that sims do it's all very heartbreaking, especially with some people staying immortal and some dying... And the love triangles. Squares. Pentagons  ;D By law of drama the villain does have to get what-for and secrets have to be revealed, so I shall be waiting for that.

Thank you so much!

Aaaw, finally Hepheagan is reality... Or is it Teaphaestus? :b

I've been going with Tegaestus myself.

Finally FINALLY finished catching up! Story is awesome! I want to murder Bryant, the nasty little snot! Teaphaestus sounds awesome but is a bit much to type out each time lol how about Hephgan? Teagan needs to stop being a wishy-washy foot stool and tell her mom "I'm in love and he's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me!" I admit I think she's gorgeous but she's probably the one who bugs me the most... Can't she just grow a spine?

That being said, your writing is awesome, Trip and I love this story (even the pet peeve I have with Teagan)

Congrats on making it through the journey. More awaits. ;)

I'm actually glad that she bugs you, because she bugged me too and I don't want to be alone with that. Tegan has a spine, but it's not strong enough to support her big, bleeding heart.

But if Tegan's your pet-peeve, Josephine will be a real peeve when we get to her part in the dynasty...



Chapter 84: The Gentleman



Even after dancing to one song turned into two hours of club dancing with Keon and stepping on his feet a few times, Tegan still came home as an emotional mess. Lily slept and missed the worst of it, but she noticed how Tegan refused her late breakfast and slept until right up to her work time.

“I don’t know what you’re not telling me,” Lily said.

“You would hate it more than I do,” she said. “You’ve worked so hard for a nice, eternal life. Don’t stress yourself with my problems.”

“I’m your mother. Mothers do that about their kids’ problems, and even grandma Annette does that to your grandfather. He was a wreck too, and when he was 50 and older at the worst of it, and you’re not even half that yet.”

“Doesn’t Ms. Hoff want that topiary collection done by tonight?” Tegan asked.

“You’re more important than my topiaries, Peapod,” said Lily.

“I just had a rough patch. Got some emotions out last night with Keon. I’ll be fine tonight.”



Training for wrangling the tougher ghosts was postponed, as the houses in Twinbrook teemed with malicious spirits to be wrangled and boxed. More and more popped up with no apparent origin, like mushrooms did on lawns. But each job and each glass case meant paychecks and bonuses for Tegan, which she didn’t need but appreciated for the sake of adding to her charitable donations.



They infested desks and chairs. Couches and flower pots and slippers with holes in the toes levitated, possessed by a ghost stripped-down to a maniacal laugh. And Tegan sucked them up. Not even a hint of remorse crossed her sweet mind as she did it. She left a peaceful house in her wake, after all. And that night, she did it for a friend.



“Well, your mum’s not here,” Buck said, at the end of her job. “Wanna join us now?”

She turned off her vacuum. “No thanks. I hope you find some wonderful new vampires, though!”



Hephaestus praised her for her work, and spoke about having a clearer mind as if they were unrelated. For once, the world gave him closer and closer to the perfect amount of background voices, with enough silence for him to think. Tegan would give him a kiss on the cheek and a congratulations back, but Bryant put a burden on her shoulders as heavy as his 210 pound frame. She sighed, heaving, and gave him just the congratulations before retiring to a nocturnal sleep or for a trip in the Motive Mobile to stay awake and think.

The beacon of sunshine and fragrant lilacs never left Tegan’s mind, from his sinewy arms to his beaming smile. Hephaestus was perfection, but only for a world without Bryant. Tegan watched his antics from afar and hoped for a turn-around for Bryant. Men still needed part of their 20’s to mature, after all.

Work was sporadic, but Tegan called Bryant to visit the family cemetery anyways, so he could see what he was getting into with the family. And Tegan needed to plant some bulbs at Bronson’s grave.

His car pulled up the park and its crumbling columns and overgrown willows. Bryant walked down with caution, eyeing the whole place and every blade of grass. He almost turned back at the collection of obelisks, but Tegan stood there, in open-toed heels on such a cold, damp night. Just as she promised.

“Odd place,” he said. “This is where you bury the family?”

“Not my choice. Do you want to help me with these bulbs? They’re for my father.”

“I didn’t like him much.”

“Well that’s not nice to say,” said Tegan.

“You said that my dad deserved to be single. I think we’re even now.”

“Sorry, Bry.” She sulked and dug small holes for the tulip bulbs. Bryant helped, which put a smile on her face. They both ended up with dirt under their nails.

“Maybe he’ll like you for it,” Tegan said. “Dad was in the military. He was a stickler for respect.”

“It’s pretty commendable, really,” Bryant said. “I think we should respect our elders, and the ladies in our lives.”

Tegan blushed, or blushed as much as she could under skin the color of fresh cardamom pods. “Really?”

“I’ve been interested in the idea of chivalry lately. The world is full of weird hippies, post-modern ideas, playboys, and I can prove them wrong. By holding doors open and paying the dinner bills for m’lady.”

“Don’t worry about the latter. It’s only fair that I do it.”

“That’s only because you’re working. You’d make a better housewife instead.”

Tegan cringed.

“Maybe a while from now,” she said.

“They’re all details for later anyways. I know you’ve made your mistakes. We can start over again.”



“I just hope we’re both happy with this,” she begged.

“I am.”

“I am too, then.”

She told herself that for the ride home, and when curling up into bed alone as well. The other side was cold. She put some pillows there but they didn’t grab and hug her around the waist. Tegan fell asleep. She mentally compared her current relationship to being dragged on the ground from Twinbrook to Bridgeport, but with that scenario still being quicker and less painful than wooing Bryant. Too much hope clogged her heart. Clogged hearts kills.



But on chilly autumn afternoons, she and Bryant connected, and he left the worst of his mind at home to fester in front of the television while he talked current events with Tegan. Politicians weren’t getting any better. The recent elections changed nothing. He even listened to her about her job. He spoke of none for himself, but the economy was a cruel mistress.

And one afternoon, they met at the salon again, and Bryant took her into his arms for a deep kiss in front of everybody. Older patrons sighed at the beauty of young love. Tegan’s body warmed up and glowed when their tongues touched. Suddenly, Bryant’s big green eyes gained a soft charm. His pudgy frame was good for cuddling. And he took care of his hair without stuffing it under a trilby.

They lied down on the Waverly’s lawn to watch the stars on a rare, clear night. Tegan laughed at a few gaming jokes, knowing more about the dreadful medium more than she wanted to.

“I feel like such a euphoric gentleman right now,” Bryant said in a tired voice.

“Sure,” Tegan mumbled. Euphoric was good. Being a gentleman was too.

“Can I sleep over?” Bryant asked. He might have been half-asleep already.

“Nah,” Tegan said. “Mum’s up all night tonight carving ice sculptures. You understand how hard it is.”

“I could sleep in your basement, and let the world make a bunch of basement-dweller jokes about me.”

“Can’t. I’m locked out of there too.”

“On the porch?”

“Bet it will rain tonight.”

“The forecast is clear.”

“Just go home, Bryant. You’ll sleep in your own comfy bed and thank me later. I’ll drive you home.”

After tucking him in and giving him a peck on the cheek, Tegan drove away alone and glowing with the same euphoria that Bryant said he did, though her femininity probably prevented her from ever being a gentleman. Loneliness, while pleasant, wasn’t doing it to her tonight. Things became less of a drag with Bryant, and not even a new video game release could knock him back to his former nastiness. He just ducked out for a couple nights to find all the features he hated to rant about them on the internet.

However, Tegan returned home to what she didn’t want Bryant to see without context. He knew Hephaestus already. He knew that Tegan had a family too. But even though she was almost a year old, Piper fussed and Tegan would have some explaining to do if Bryant was more insistent about sleeping over.

She was too light-colored to be Tegan’s own child, but Piper was still the first of her kind and just as annoying, demanding, and heart-meltingly adorable as a natural infant. Tegan heard the stories about single parents dating. She wasn’t a single parent. Piper was, however, as much of her nooboo as she was to the rest of the household.

“Darling, darling, don’t you cry,” Tegan whispered as she comforted the crying bundle. “Auntie Tegan just needs some time to introduce you. I need to be honest, I do.” Her voice trailed off. Piper fell asleep cradled in Tegan’s arms.

“Nooboo, nooboo, you’re my nooboo too.”

But not for long. Hephaestus woke up Tegan one morning, maybe a week later, with a fresh cup of coffee made to her preferences (sugar and cream everywhere), and told her to get her swimsuit on. “It’s above 60 this morning! I think you should enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Does that mean you will too?” Tegan asked.

“I can’t. I need sleeves to shield myself from the birthday magic, and I heard that you’re in a happy relationship. You don’t need the temptation.”

“Suit yourself.” She’d get the opportunity to see him shirtless again soon, knowing Heph’s habits.



Clad in sleeves and an autumn-worthy scarf, Hephaestus lowered Piper to the cake, blowing out the candles for her. Tegan shivered in her lace-trimmed bikini instead, but dreamt of cake and a squirming, precious toddler to care for. Those dreams warmed her up.



Watching the transformation happen did even more, as a blonde, dark-eyed angel sat on the cold tiles in the ground, cross-eyed from watching each sparkle fall.



Tegan got her squirming, precious toddler. Piper couldn’t keep still as two adults attempted to dress her, but she calmed down when an array of hot pink clothes were put before her. They then dressed Piper without a fuss from her, with enough time to get her hair tucked into a hat before crawled off towards the spring rider.

“Nooboo, let me help you with that.” Tegan scooped Piper up. “Do you mind?” she asked Hephaestus.

“I know I’d like to, but she’s so cute. I don’t blame anyone who wants to take her away from me.”



“Alright, Piper. Hold on tight!” The toddler obliged, and the rider rocked her back and forth on a spring while she pretended to be at the helm of a pirate ship.



Tegan watched Piper for the entire time, unable to take her eyes off the platinum-blonde snugglebug that she had some responsibility for. Every one of Piper’s smiles, her coos and cries and laughs lit up Tegan from within. She had that little girl as family, in some sense.

With big, black eyes like that, Bryant couldn’t hate Piper at all. And if he did, then Tegan was free—single! She meant single. Unhappily single and missing Bryant and still waiting for another prince and a family of her own, or for a change of heart from her mother.



But Piper was impossible to hate. She knew it.

Tegan carried Piper close to her one cold night, close enough to hopefully keep her beautiful toddler warm. Hephaestus forgot to buy her something warm to wear, and using hand-me-downs didn’t feel right for the richest family in Twinbrook to do. Hopefully they would rectify the situation soon, but Tegan and Piper’s breath fogged up in the chilly autumn air. They went to Bryant’s house. Like many a civilized sim, he had central heating.

“Tegan, what the hell is that?” he asked, pointing to Piper in her arms.

“Not my child. Well, she is family, but you’d know if I was pregnant. I wasn’t. She’s not mine.”

“I’m not concerned about that. She’s family to you?”

“Why not? She lives with us, she was…adopted by us-“

“I want a normal rich family, not yours,” Bryant whined.

“What’s so bad about mine?”

“Your mother’s fine, but your grandfather and whatever Annette is? Unrelated housemates? That blonde witch? A kid now?”

“They all matter to me, Bryant.”

“I just feel weird with it.”

“What matters is that they’re my family, and it’s okay to me.” She shut the door in his face.



Bryant sent an apology letter and a pink hoodie for Piper the next day. If she’s family, then you better keep her warm. And she's a cutie, don't get me wrong, the note said. And Tegan kept her relationship going again, staying with Bryant and claiming euphoria. He really did hold doors open for her. He gave her a vase of flowers once, for putting up with watching his video games. He had a long streak of keeping snide comments to himself. And they engaged in public displays of affection like a normal couple, which counted as progress.



Tegan put Piper to bed one night, with the toddler pouting at her, looking up with begging eyes.

“Good night, lovebug,” she said to Piper. But Piper kept that look, perpetually telling Tegan Just do better, geez even before her first words.



Word Count for this chapter: 2,162
Word Count so far: 154,682

Let's forget about Bryant and focus on Piper, who is objectively the most adorable toddler the game has ever made. Not even arguable.

The moral of this story isn't "don't settle for less in a relationship," or "don't keep secrets from your family," it's "mix those Castor and Goode genes in whatever way you can, because you might get your very own Piper from it."
No respect, no chance, cease and desist when I chant-

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Offline Malley

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 84, 9/23)
« Reply #389 on: September 23, 2014, 02:35:48 PM »
Quote
Let's forget about Bryant and focus on Piper, who is objectively the most adorable toddler the game has ever made. Not even arguable.

Much agreed  ;D  Piper is too cute for words!

Offline Magpie2012

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 84, 9/23)
« Reply #390 on: September 23, 2014, 02:47:06 PM »
Piper is adorable! Tegan is a [word redacted - Trip]! And Heph just letting her do whatever out on the town with that... that... person!!! (I refuse to call it by name since that gives it credibility)! Trip, please let Tegan wake up and stop being such a bleeding-heart doormat! Either that or let the (unmentionable) person come in contact with a faulty dishwasher and a puddle of water!!!
because... Math *Pippin The Most Tenacious Simmer*

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Offline Gwendy

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 84, 9/23)
« Reply #391 on: September 23, 2014, 05:09:59 PM »
Quote
“I’ve been interested in the idea of chivalry lately. The world is full of weird hippies, post-modern ideas, playboys, and I can prove them wrong. By holding doors open and paying the dinner bills for m’lady.”

Oh, watcher! Run, Teegan, run, it's just a line! A bad, bad line! God knows he's only not being outwardly terrible to rack up points to use against you someday! (Or maybe he DOES have an ability to just be nice for no selfish reasons at times, but this is Neckbeard Bryant, so I'm going in with many a grain of salt, here. Either way, good job on showing them having good times together, and making it a realistic situation, Trip, and not just have him be a full-blown cartoony moustache-twirling villain.  :) )

But seriously, where's the Everette/Leopold Dream Team Etiquette and Mannerisms Squad when you really need a fool to be schooled?! D:
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I think those pictures gave me heartburn.
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Offline Shewolf13

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 84, 9/23)
« Reply #392 on: September 23, 2014, 07:37:46 PM »
My eye is twitching... I need to do violence... horrible violence upon Bryant's person... *tries to take calming breaths, but doesn't work* Trip, you're killing me!  Poor Tegan... she really is too sweet for her own good.

Offline Brooke.

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 84, 9/23)
« Reply #393 on: September 24, 2014, 12:47:57 PM »
Piper is so cute. I generally don't like cancer stories/movies but you didn't do so bad, thank God  :P
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Offline Rikki8528

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 84, 9/23)
« Reply #394 on: September 27, 2014, 10:54:53 AM »
I'm guessing Piper is Jo's mum? And will be married to Phil? Phil is Tegan's right? Looking at Phil's personality and skin tone, unfortunately I think he's Bryant's.

Offline Trip

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 85, 9/28)
« Reply #395 on: September 28, 2014, 02:00:50 PM »
Much agreed  ;D  Piper is too cute for words!

Good thing I got a lot of pictures to describe her instead! What a darling.

Piper is adorable! Tegan is a [word redacted - Trip]! And Heph just letting her do whatever out on the town with that... that... person!!! (I refuse to call it by name since that gives it credibility)! Trip, please let Tegan wake up and stop being such a bleeding-heart doormat! Either that or let the (unmentionable) person come in contact with a faulty dishwasher and a puddle of water!!!

One day she will. Many chapters from now. Maybe during a mid-life crisis. Not everyone can be a strong, independent woman! I needed to save all that strength for a later character or several.

But there will be a break in Tegan's submissive personality soon. I promise. ;)

Oh, watcher! Run, Teegan, run, it's just a line! A bad, bad line! God knows he's only not being outwardly terrible to rack up points to use against you someday! (Or maybe he DOES have an ability to just be nice for no selfish reasons at times, but this is Neckbeard Bryant, so I'm going in with many a grain of salt, here. Either way, good job on showing them having good times together, and making it a realistic situation, Trip, and not just have him be a full-blown cartoony moustache-twirling villain.  :) )

But seriously, where's the Everette/Leopold Dream Team Etiquette and Mannerisms Squad when you really need a fool to be schooled?! D:

I'm so glad my research into the worst of internet neckbeards paid off. ;D

I think he does have the capacity for non-selfish good, such as giving Piper some proper outdoors wear. He might have a redemption arc, might not. I'll see how a later chapter plays out.

My eye is twitching... I need to do violence... horrible violence upon Bryant's person... *tries to take calming breaths, but doesn't work* Trip, you're killing me!  Poor Tegan... she really is too sweet for her own good.

Sorry. D:

Piper is so cute. I generally don't like cancer stories/movies but you didn't do so bad, thank God  :P

I've read and laughed at the truly bad cancer stories of TS2/3, so I wanted to take my stab at something not-so-cringeworthy. Last time I'll do that, I swear. I was kind of angry that Bronson barely made it past 90 in spite of being in incredibly good shape, while some lazy wastes of space almost hit 120.

I'm guessing Piper is Jo's mum? And will be married to Phil? Phil is Tegan's right? Looking at Phil's personality and skin tone, unfortunately I think he's Bryant's.

Piper as Jo's mum: that's the plan, and that would explain her blonde hair. Married to Phil? Well, I'll have quite a story to tell.

He is Tegan's son. No spoilers there. His personality was planned out when I first started. I wanted this family to be a big mix of personalities, and Phil's evil, take-no-crap attitude was meant specifically to play against Tegan's. Regardless of who fathered him.

All that it took for his skintone was for someone lighter than Tegan to father him. And Tegan, when you put her on a normal skintone slider, is a little lighter than Bronson. She's dark and all of Tegan's spousal prospects were lighter than her.

His hair color tells a story, I'll say that. As will a subtle hint I'll drop in Chapter 86. ;)



Chapter 85: My Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great Aunt



“Maybe it’s time to pack up and go home.”



She says it over breakfast. Dad doesn’t care much about it, basking in his post-divorce glow and enjoying my girlfriend’s delicious eggs. I wish I had a post-divorce glow. Instead, I got fat for a while, but that’s in the past. Doesn’t mean I don’t hate him, though.

But all he has right now are those eggs, and I’m not offended at his breakfast choices nor at how he keeps his mouth closed while chewing. He didn’t just suggest for me to take a break from solving the greatest mystery I’ve ever encountered. Or solving whatever’s left of it. I’ve learned, right?

“I don’t think you have much left to do here,” Agnes says, after chewing. She keeps her mouth closed while chewing too. What a goddess, but her suggestions are still wrong.

“I wouldn’t say that.” I wipe a smear of runny yolk from the corner of my mouth. “I thought you needed me around anyways.”

“Yeah, back in Sunset Valley. Where my company is, Jo. I do love you, and I can’t leave Roaring Heights without you, but I wasn’t expecting this to take so long, and I didn’t make the right preparations back at home.” She might be stifling back a tear. Her voice sounds the slightest bit like it. “It’s one of the only things that gives me some purpose now. I can’t let the publishing fail.”

“So completing my story doesn’t matter? Even though this will profit?” I ask.

“Not when I’m hemorrhaging simoleons, no.”

I can’t contest that when I’m broke.



The rest of breakfast is awkward.

“I guess I’ll do some more painting today,” Agnes sighs.



I don’t think badly of her, but I do like how the easel can shut her up and give me the silence I need in my life. Dad takes another nap, claiming that his new line of work is nocturnal. I can’t see him ever taking a job in the daytime hours. Evil operates on a different schedule.



I could read Eight Ways, next to the disturbing image of my father sleeping in his undies without having the decency to pull the covers over him. But then again, he did enough of that in Eight Ways too.

I can’t do this.



Alone, so wonderfully alone, I walk to the pool and bask in the sun and chlorine.

Screw it, I’m too happy here. Almost. By comparison? For a vacation riddled with arrest and surprises and confusion, it has been one of the best few weeks in a while, even if I am broke. Even if I am confused by romance again when I shouldn’t be.

I mean, that can be ended. But I ruined enough my life with the consequences of ending.

But I’ve ruined my life with just being in them. Simon and Katherine are still memories.

So I’m screwed. But I’m screwed in an interesting place.

“Alright, two minutes!” Two children splash in an under-developed frontstroke, but they make progress towards the other end of the pool. Their instructor treads water, but judging by her excellent figure, proper swimming is a part of her routine too.

For once, I don’t care about comely swimming instructors. Not the most, anyways.



I probably shouldn’t care about Bridget much either. She’s a child. And me, I look like a creep trying to keep my eye on her, trying to care about a seemingly-unrelated child even though she’s my great-great-great-great-great aunt. What a funny thought, even putting immortality in perspective.

The fact that she looks like one of my own descendants still haunts me. Blond hair, black eyes, blue skin, and they both wear black too. I need to forget that. This isn’t a torture session for Bridget nor does she deserve one. In fact, she can help me. Parents follow their kids. Even the drunk, criminal ones do.



Sure enough, Moira is there. She rubs her neck, groggy after a night of work, or a night of drowning her widowly feelings with distilled juice and a wedge of lime. I’m her best friend now (her words, not mine). She turns towards me and waves. “Fancy seeing you here!” she yells from across the pool.

Her voice lowers to motherly sweetness towards a dripping-wet Bridget, who stands there hoping for a towel to wrap herself in. “Bridget, tell Mrs. Capp that you can stay for a few more minutes. Mummy has some work to do.”

“Work? Am I targeted by the mafia now?” I ask, with a chuckle once she approaches and I’m sure that Mrs. Capp has her head under the water. I might be serious.



“We have more deserving targets. But! I spoke with Jamie a few nights ago about your money situation, and you’re still broke. So hear me out-“

“Wait, how did you?” No, it’s Jamie. He’d do that. “Never mind. Did it cost?”

“I just sit him down to Tank’s piano work in times like these. Man, it’s like a truth serum for him.”

“Is this a hint for me?” I laugh.

“If you need it. And if you take my new offer, he might be of use. Anyways, how would you like to accompany me in my line of nastiness and crime? It pays the bills.”

“I look like a thief now?”

“You look enough like me, right?” She chuckles, but still lacks any sort of awareness of the truth. “Blue-ish and demonic and racially-ambiguous otherwise. It makes the witness reports easier to use, but I hand that work off to Arthur.”

“Thought that he just wiped up your fingerprints.”

“That too. He does a lot of work to make sure that I don’t leave a trace. Not a broken window or a fingerprint left behind. You’ve met him, but I’ll have you meet the boss-lady tomorrow, if you’re up for the job. She signs our checks. And she’s my aunt.” By aunt, she means Maeve. Her mother’s sister. No other sisters were mentioned in the family photo album, and I find it hard to believe that her tan father would have a stake in the criminal world instead.

Also, this job will keep us in Roaring Heights for a while. Forever if they’re that sinister.

I can decline and try to get my bank account back instead.



“You know where I live, right? I’m gonna need a ride there.”

Agnes is home later that day, when it gets too dark to paint anything but darkness.

“I had a good walk,” I said. “But there is a wrench in our plans. I hate siphoning money off you.” I haven’t done much of it, but she smiles.

“…And I decided to get a job here.”



“You wouldn’t,” Agnes groans, head in her hands. “After all I told you?”

I have trouble with the truth. I also have a weakness for beautiful women, and on a purely aesthetic level, Agnes is that. Even if she ended up making me go steady far faster than I wanted.

“I’ll talk to Moira about it tomorrow.”

Nah. I want money too. I can make this work out. Agnes has a way of waking up on the wrong side of the bed anyways. Tomorrow could work better.

“I know it’s been a bad day, and it’s my fault, really,” I say. “Can I make it up to you?”



I have to ready and cheerful for the morning, after all.

The car pulls up against the curb the next morning. Moira drove straight and in the right lane the whole way here, and a small medallion hangs from her rear-view mirror. I look at it while she drives. Just Started is engraved on one side.

Annette had one for a week, long ago, when she started group therapy and had to go to Juice Anonymous, or JA, as a supplement. She fell off the wagon after six days sober. But Moira doesn’t need to know that about herself.

“Just started?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

“It’s because of you, friend,” she says. “You had some problems with me as a drunkard, and you know, you were right about that. I can’t be a mother or a savvy thief that way. Not for long, that is. So I’m gonna get clean, or try my best. For all of you guys.”



She, Maeve the boss-lady, lives up against the beach, in a mansion with a shining bright exterior, white window panes, and lively palms providing relatively little shade to the expansive property. I didn’t ask Moira, but I snooped through her photo albums enough to see little of Maeve and no family mentioned. She lives alone here, in this mansion built for several. At least she’s sharing.

Moira bolts in once she knows that the door is unlocked. “Isn’t that rude?” I ask her.

“She takes a while to get ready,” Moira says. “And it takes her a while to get to the door. Lighten up, I’m her niece. If there’s one person who gets to break into her house, it’s me.”

It’s a slow process for me too, as I stop at the doors and admire the statues through the glass, as well as the tiles on her floor. The whole place is empty, except for Moira, who reclines on a couch at the end of the hall, bare feet on the cushions and making herself at home.



Let’s make this clear: I grew up in a mansion. To change the cliché, I was born with a whole set of silver cutlery in my mouth. I grew up with millions at my disposal and gold at my fingertips, with five credit cards in elementary school, and most importantly, enough money to fall back on so that I could devote my life to writing at a professional level. We Waverlys sweated diamonds and Tiberium, and that mansion was home. I couldn’t make this home. I can barely make this my employer, not even in a time of crisis. I feel so working class right now.



Moira sits up straighter for me. “She has a harsh face,” she says. “But she’s our lovely old hag, and she runs a business like no one else.”

“Moira, please set up some tea for your guest,” someone called from upstairs. It’s probably Maeve. Moira abides and prepares her kettle in another room. I cross my legs and wait until someone’s on the other couch, though he’s too masculine to be a Maeve.

“I swear, the nerve of that kid,” he muttered. I look over my shoulder, through the leaves of the potted palm in the corner. Tank, again. It’s too early in the morning for jazz, and looking at those arms, he would be wasting them by delicately tickling the ivories. It looks like he’s at home.



I twitch in my seat while he slouches and growls at the world. “I trust her judgment,” I say, meekly.

“You would think that she’d get your old criminal dad instead.”

“How do you know my dad?” No one here knows my dad, even if they know Phil. It’s easier to pass him off as my evil twin instead, and for 99% of Roaring Heights, it has worked. Why would Tank make that assumption about him? If he is. Maybe Meg did some wizardry with my papers and made me a Racket instead. I haven’t bothered to take a look.

“Part of my job. Not the part that I’ll ever explain to you, but what I do behind the office door. It won’t even matter if you get the job.”

“Fine. Keep your mouth shut about it.”

I swear that he’s getting up to strangle me, hands open for my bare neck. The sound of heels against the stone tiles, and some third instrument, break his rage. Tank’s muscles relax enough to quell immediate danger, but I won’t trust him for long.



My gaze is averted to the approaching figure as well, with her harsh face and starfruit-yellow skin against a contrasting purple wardrobe, and a youthful, shapely figure that hoists itself up with a cane. This is the woman I can call my great-great-great-great-great-great-great aunt, but not to her face.



She crosses her arms. “You need to save your strength for tonight, Engel,” she says. Her deep voice is as clear and smooth as a fresh cup of Irish breakfast tea.



He rolls his eyes at his boss. “She’s been a bother and you know that,” he grumbles. “I’m not wasting my morning on this.”

“For a bother, she has potential. Do not harm the new recruits. I do not have to keep telling you that.” She stands tense and unassisted, before leaning on her cane again with a wince of pain on her face.

“I’m Maeve McGrail, and I’m sorry, Josephine. Mr. Engel is the foreman and much of the muscle of our business. His personality fits for that, but I won’t let him harm you this morning.” She approaches me and I lend out a hand.



“Ms. McGrail, it’s an honor to finally meet you. Moira’s said some nice things.”

“I hope she has. It is not that good to dishonor family, now is it Moira?” She snaps her fingers and Moira comes with cups and saucers balanced in one hand and a pot full of tea in the other.

“Nah, not for you. I gotta stay in the will somehow,” Moira says.



I’m led to the parlor. Tea is poured, and we all drink in silence. Maeve enjoys it, sip by small, slow sip. I bask in the glow of her fireplace in the meantime, in the aura of her strange décor tastes for this room and the garish green rugs, and even though she’s related to me, 100% aesthetic appreciation of Maeve’s lovely waist and cat-like eyes. I actually never knew I came from such a beautiful family. The old photos of Annette in Twinbrook didn’t do her justice, and the busy, tired, not-so-drunk single mother named Moira sheds a new light on that beauty. Or it’s the vintage fashion.

Tank’s cheekbones are weird. He’s built like a manly man. Eileen could do better than him half the time and being a devoted, cheerful beard to her gay husband the other half of it.

I could say all of these things right now, with the sort of tact that Moira has (or doesn’t), and lose any prospect for a job.

I could stay in this relationship.

I keep my mouth shut and drink another cup of tea.



“The tea’s gone cold now,” Maeve says, hands folded. “So, Josephine, what makes you think that you are ready to join my empire?”

“The recommendation of your niece, I guess,” I say.

“We can’t just trust Moira’s word,” Tank says. “She’s brought some pretty awful people in this business.” He locked bitter eyes with Moira. “You remember Muffin, right?”

“Yeah, you sacked him last month. That’s why I brought Jo here. Arthur doesn’t cut it for being a thief and doing this business solo sucks,” Moira says, crossing her arms.

“I’m a runner,” I say, which is true. Back in Twinbrook, I finished a marathon in my old age of uncountable oldness. I could do half of one today, with some training. 5Ks are still a breeze. “Also, I have some inside knowledge of a few families.” I almost swallow my tongue in embarrassment.

“Really now?” Maeve asks.

“My dad, who’s living with me, knows the Altos very well.” Or at least the patterns on their bedsheets. “And I knew the Rackets back in Twinbrook.” I’m a Racket, for starters. I met Shark once when he was resurrected. My ex-husband was a Racket too, deep down, much like me but a smidge closer to their heavyset, stern-looking kin. Not a lie.



“Amateurs,” Maeve scoffs. “I can assure you that we’re working on a deeper level. Bootlegging, criminal services, information, I run a big business here. Do you have any talents in those?”

“Explain your services.”



Tank delivers this news, doing his best to sound neutral. “A quick list: thievery, private investigation, cover-ups, counterfeiting, smuggling, whatever they ask of us. And I’m the foreman behind a lot of it.”



“Pleasant to know.” I avoid rolling my eyes. It’s a mutual feeling.

“You would be working under Moira, however,” Maeve says. “Any of her recruits are her responsibility.” For once, the thought of working with Annette/not quite Annette eases my mind.

“She’s also a total lesbian,” Moira chimes in. “And looking at how she checks out the chests of everyone she crosses, I bet she could, um, persuade a few of our female witnesses into never speaking about our work again.”

“I’ve heard,” Maeve sighs. “Rumor does have it that you’re a Sapphist,” she tells me.

“Self-described and everything.”

“Do you have a way with people? An observant eye? Good at keeping watch?”

Yes to all of them. Cheating on my ex-husband meant keeping a watch on things, but she doesn’t need to know. Moira doesn’t need to know that her new bestie is a horrible, unfaithful harlot. Tank doesn’t need more ammo against me.

“Worked security to get myself through college,” I say. Ha, I didn’t even go to college. My last name was blacklisted across Simnation, and Twinbrook had no options at home. And paying would be comparable to an average citizen dropping a quarter down the sewer: sad only for a second.

Tank raises a brow. The man must have a polygraph in his head. Maeve lightly slaps his hand and gives him a stern glare.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Security sounds nice. You might be trainable after all. Moira orchestrates the jobs, so she is responsible for telling you when you’re working.”

“Tomorrow night. Be there?” Moira asks. “The newspaper. I’ve done it before, getting into the private archives.” I nod.

“I look forward to having you as my employee, Josephine,” Maeve says. I shake her hand good-bye. I wave at Tank when he isn’t cooperating.

“Can you get home by yourself?” Moira asks. “I’m tired, and I need to not be before I pick Bridget up.”

“Sure thing.” She leaves with haste. I appreciate the architecture and statues while the muffled conversation between Tank and Maeve plays out.

“I am very disappointed in you,” Maeve says. “I don’t care what we know about her. This job will help us.”

“I don’t get your logic, cupcake,” he says.

“You’re going to have to perform very well to make this up to me.”

I walk out the door, or start to.

“Like I wouldn’t?”

I can’t help but take a look in the window afterwards, maybe just for some juicy gossip about the fight between the war machine and a disabled woman who isn’t as scary as I thought. I’m a horrible person.



They give me fuel of a different type. I could tell Eileen.

I could also be putting a bounty on my head.

I’ll ask dad if it eats at me. He knows their ways, and I’m shocked that I got the job instead of him. I don’t know what he’s doing for money, but he comes home with a smile on his face and a few herbs each night to mellow his corrupt mind for time to do a few sudokus (runs in the family, I suppose).

He wakes up and gets dressed not too long after I come home. Agnes is still out, angry over the job offer. My actual new job might throttle her straight into depression. Maybe a breakup will be a better option, but I try to force that out of my head while my dad has a glass of orange juice. How the heck did he afford that? I need to know. He’s finally one-upping me in success.

He’s about to step out the door.

“Where are you off to?” I ask.

“A good place.”

“Yeah, but where?”

“Oh please, you’ll be judgmental over it. You just don’t understand.” He fakes his whining mighty well. He’s also repeating lines I used on him when I went out at night to be a secret Sapphist (still sticking with that title).

“Cut the crap,” I say. “Where you off to? Who is it now?”

“We know them too well.”

“Wait, is this for Arthur?” First, gross. I have to closely work with the same guy my dad may or may not be romantic with. Second, I have an excuse to pay Eileen a visit. I might need her more than ever now.

“I really have to make these things harder to guess,” he says.

“Take me with you.”



Word Count for this chapter: 3,435
Word Count so far: 158,117

Maeve's cane is a CC accessory. I wasn't able to find any mods to make adults use the regular canes in game. Just in case I accidentally got anyone's hopes up.

I'd like to (finally, after a lot of chapters) give a shout-out to our very own NotJustABook, whose poses have helped this story a lot. :D Read her legacies.
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Offline ombradellarosa

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 85, 9/28)
« Reply #396 on: September 28, 2014, 08:23:09 PM »
I'm finally caught up! 158,117, not too shabby! I don't like being caught up though, it means more suspense  :( Maeve is gorgeous.
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By intl_incident                                                      By samoht04

Offline Brooke.

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 85, 9/28)
« Reply #397 on: September 29, 2014, 08:00:57 AM »
Maeve is stunning but she scares me. I hope Tank knows what he's doing.
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Offline notjustabook

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 85, 9/28)
« Reply #398 on: September 30, 2014, 10:11:52 AM »
Aaw, thank you for the shout-out - I thought I saw a couple of my own poses in there ^_^ Glad you found them useful!

You write so well as usual. The little details you add to description just really makes your writing sort of pop. Really, for serious jelly of your skills.



Offline Trip

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 85, 9/28)
« Reply #399 on: September 30, 2014, 01:14:04 PM »
I'm finally caught up! 158,117, not too shabby! I don't like being caught up though, it means more suspense  :( Maeve is gorgeous.

At least you're in the same, suspense-filled boat with the other readers now. ;)

She's definitely a lovely sim.

Maeve is stunning but she scares me. I hope Tank knows what he's doing.

He does. I think he and Maeve are pretty matched in power: she has authority, but he's athletic and able-bodied.

I'm scared for what she can do to anyone else.

Aaw, thank you for the shout-out - I thought I saw a couple of my own poses in there ^_^ Glad you found them useful!

You write so well as usual. The little details you add to description just really makes your writing sort of pop. Really, for serious jelly of your skills.

I've definitely been finding use for a lot of your poses. Thanks again for them!

Thanks for the compliments too!



So I've hit a bit of a technical snag, because my external hard drive is mostly out of commission until I get a new USB-to-Micro B cable for it. It's too obscure of a cable type for its own good. Thankfully I found one that will ship within a reasonable amount of time, but it means a slight delay in stories because I keep my images on there.
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