Inspiration, when it hits, it demands attention, keeping Rylan awake at night, things change this voice in his head was silent. Ideas for his videos were boring his fans, echoed by his procrastination. Producing regular videos, exhausting, add Eliza, she gnawed at his frayed nerves, forcing him to shout when she turned on the stereo. Eliza wanted to dance, Rylan wished she would be quiet, her tear woke Patrick, adding to his stress, filming delayed, he would be editing through the night. Another issue arose as his main source of fame wavered, royalties from books waned, on sale, they remained on shelves and unread.
The lacklustre business position stagnated, Rylan seemed stuck, same position, shuffling paper on top of his hectic home life, he wanted to ditch the lot, take an extended vacation. Rylan contacted a colleague at the magazine, they were looking for a regular contributor in their gaming section. It had been a while, unsure how he would feel returning, his colleague reassured he would be welcome, after a tense initial reunion. He loved the thrill of having his work published, small articles help launch his cyber-crime novels, the vast number of games fed his creative vibe. Emilie suggested he consider the opportunity, perhaps give insight for a new book. Abusing the social media platform would take on another meaning, with a solid position with the magazine, Rylan could pursue that celebrity status.
Rylan agreed to give Emilie alone time, taking father duty, watching the children when writing from home. Eliza had a bad night, crying due to bad dreams, Rylan gave her the usual dry ham sandwich. Bottom lip quivered, the pathetic meal, two whole slices of white bread, a miserable ham slice, Emilie cut the crusts off and into triangles. The toddler screamed, throwing the food, annoyed by Rylan, his contribution to her diet, providing the same food every day. Stern, Rylan slammed the worktop, Eliza stopped crying, breath held, unsure what might happen, he had deadlines, a tense voice enquired what Eliza wanted. She hugged herself, staring down, Rylan breathed heavy, calmer, stroked her hair, he offered an apologetic smile. Shaking her head, her lower lip pouted she pointed to the cereal, half a bowl, colourful shapes swimming in milk.
Emilie perched on the table, she watched unnoticed her daughter observe Rylan playing video games. He gave her commentary, as he collected coins, teaching her how to jump the pixelated boulders. These moments were sweet, Eliza loved him, the time spent together, except, it was rare, when she talked dreams, being a fairy, find a dinosaur, the latter she searched the garden for. Rylan crushed these, her wings were cardboard, the creatures she hunted had been extinct millions of years, laughing at her fantasies making her cry.
The problem embedded itself into the conversation, Emilie sat with Rylan, time with Eliza and Patrick, forced upon him. Emilie had to ask him to spend time with them, unlike with Eliza, changing Patrick’s nappy was rare, and his mean attitude wore thin as he upset Eliza. Rylan sighed, job stress, weird looks from old colleagues, a stricter boss, juggling this and keeping up appearances online, it was sorry for his grumpy address of her and the children. She touched his knee, Emilie wanted his remorse directed through his actions, starting with Eliza getting a decent breakfast and a reading of his latest article.
By the Grace of Sim Gods 