head over feet

June 2088. Vicky Garth is 23. Vale Akiyama is 27. Melissa Fortney is 21.

previously: Vale and Vicky prepare for a hot summer of music // with a monumental oops on her hands, Melissa makes a difficult decision to free up her future.

soundtrack: "Head Over Feet," by Alanis Morissette.

With dreams of freedom and sunshine and festival summer in her head, Melissa never imagined she’d be tempted by a summer job offer.

That is, until it turned out that her boss at Halston House Studios is actually best friends with Vale Akiyama, and Vale needed a roadie and media manager for his tour this summer.

Do you mean to say that Melissa isn’t just going to some festivals this summer…? She’s going to ALL the festivals this summer? And she’ll be paid to do it?

“Can you film in varying lighting conditions and weather elements? Can you edit videos and navigate social media platforms? Can you carry thirty—okay, fifty pounds of musical equipment?”

Hell fucking yes I can! Melissa thinks. Well, she’s never tried to lift fifty pounds before, but how hard can it be?

“Totally! When do we start?”




Vale showed her the editing software, which she was already familiar with from her film studies courses. And she knows her way around a camera—she’s been a shutterbug since she was twelve.

“Holy shit,” Vale says. “You can do all that? So I’ll like, give you money and you’ll do all the stuff I hate doing?”

“Sounds like a sweet deal to me,” Melissa says.



Melissa couldn’t wait to tell everyone about her new gig. She texted Sarah, Raquel, and her dad.

She didn’t always think of Hudson, but she thought of him right now. She thought of what might have been if they’d made a different decision a couple months ago. She also thought about what never could have been if they had, like this amazing opportunity to work on a festival tour. Maybe she would always wonder. But she texted Hudson and said, “I just wanted to thank you again for being so cool about everything. And I hope you’re having the best life ever, too!”

Time to pack some boxes! Probably she shouldn’t have worn a skirt and flip flops.

—

Road trip. Off they go!

This tour is too small for a tour bus, so a rented (fake) van will have to do.

Their camera girl got them set up for the first show of the tour at the Canyon County Fairgrounds in Utah.




It’s hot and sunny, and the townies are dressed like fools. Melissa may be a silly soul herself, but she’s all business when she’s behind the lens.





Vale is digging the desert vibes, and Vicky falls a little more in love with him every day. 

Their next town is not a tour stop, just a stopover. They needed to get some dinner and stretch their legs, and maybe check out that boardwalk. 

But they’d be wise not to get their hopes up too high. Dinner was mediocre, and the rides were bland.

Not much to write home about.

—

Next, they made it north to Copper Bay, Lake Michigan. They would spend the bulk of their tour around the Copper Bay area, which would keep them busy through June and July. Being up north always reminded Vicky of home, even if they were miles away from Lakeside Heights here. It was the same water, but the colder northern end of the lake.  

“How have you never been on a boat?”

He laughed. “I don’t know. It was landlocked where I grew up. Then I was so into my music for so long. There were a lot of nightclubs, a lot of event halls, not many vacations. Then I moved to the city, and here we are.”

Vicky grew up surrounded by water. First Florida, then Michigan, then Isla Paradiso. However tumultuous and changeable her life had been, she always had the water. So many chapters of her life were opened and closed to the rush of waves and spray of sea. “I miss my boat. I miss sailing out so far there was nothing but water on the horizon, waves and sky, like it was the edge of the world. I miss falling asleep to the rocking of waves, waking up with the seagulls. I’ll take you there someday.”

“Take me there now,” he said.

“Sorry, no,” she smirked at him. “As your bossy tour manager, I have to remind you that you have five more stops. You signed a contract.”

—

One of Vale’s obligations was not technically a show, but a fan meet and greet that Pat had suggested might pump up publicity for the Solstice Festival this week. After last year’s disaster of an event, people might be hesitant to come out again this year.

A squirrely-looking teenage girl was first in line at the meet, just seconds after they’d set up the table, fidgeting in silence as she waited for him to make eye contact.



“Hello? Hi. I’m Gabby Roseland, and I just wanted you to know that I didn’t see or hear nothing in that bush the other day. And I wasn’t laughing, I was just schooling this seventh-grader about who you were because he had like no idea. Which is a crime in the state of Michigan. By the way, I would never laugh at you. I’m your biggest fan alive. Like, I’d fight somebody to the death for you, I swear it.”

“Shit, no, don’t do that,” Vale said, looking around frantically. Where was Vicky? He might need his bodyguard for this one.



But Vale was reassured to see that the girl had her mother present as a chaperone. The mother was also an enthusiastic fan, but in an acceptable way.

They posed for some pictures and Melissa uploaded some footage to his feeds. Finally, Vicky returned with her coffee and razor-sharp manicure, surprised to have missed so much drama in the first five minutes of the meet.



“Six feet back, everyone,” she warned. “No touching. And you in the front, stop that heavy breathing.”

—

Besides the Solstice Festival coming up, they also secured a lodging deal with the promise to perform three weekends at the Lighthouse Sands Bar on Copper Island.

If there was ever going to be a perfect venue for Vicky to try out her stage skills, this would be the place. While it was a favorite for locals, it was remote, accessible only by ferry, and it lent itself to a softer and more intimate show. Perfect for Vicky’s brand of haunting, angry ballads.

No pressure, though.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Vicky picked up her guitar and did the afternoon sound check, drawing a crowd of exactly three people.

Blonde girl with the tattoos said, “Oh, hey, nice pipes,” and started to sway with the song.

A business man looked absolutely impartial.

Then a scowling gray-haired lady with balled fists said, “This is actually offensive to my ears. Don’t quit your day job.”

Vicky didn’t even have a day job to quit. She already quit her day job to follow her rock star boyfriend on tour.

Pick flowers and write in your journal, he had said. Do whatever, just be with me.

He didn’t mean it badly. Vicky knew that Vale believed in her more than anyone alive. But that alone couldn’t be enough. She needed to be more than just her famous boyfriend’s bossy tour manager, cleaning lady, and lover. But what would that look like? She didn’t want to be famous, but she loved writing songs. She was bristly and unlikable, she’d never be a bubbly pop princess. She’d only been playing the guitar a couple of months and her fingers were stiff and fumbly. But she knew the five chords she needed to play her song. There were doubts brewing inside her that felt like all the times she’d been rejected in her life. She let that rage fill her voice, which, to be honest, gave the song even more power. In the end, she won the favor of two out of the three.

She let the final chord echo in the quiet room and looked for the scowling lady. “It’s just a sound check, bitch,” Vicky muttered.

Later that evening, Vale was surprised and pleased to learn that Vicky had done the sound check without him. Tonight, the candlelit dance floor was dim enough that she couldn’t count the faces in the crowd. She knew it was more than three, but she didn’t want to worry about how many. It would be far too lucky a stroke of fate that the cranky lady from this afternoon might be here to witness her now.

Look at this, she would say. Her boyfriend can play several instruments, including the guitar, and he’s not mediocre at it, either. It turns out that she sings better when not having to think about guitar chords. She sings better when he’s standing beside her, her muse, her first and biggest fan. She wouldn’t be here without him.

But she is here, with him, rocking her jaded little heart out. That must count for something.



After their show, high on music, high on spotlights, high on the inertia of their dazzling and inevitable future, the two escaped upstairs to their rented room. The battered cottage-style decor suited neither of them, but that didn’t matter right now.

“That was so much fun!” Vicky said.

“You sounded incredible,” Vale said.

“We did,” she said. “We.”

—

The summer solstice came, and this year, the weather did not disappoint. Vale had a lot of high hopes for this day. Not only was he on a mission to make up for last year’s drenched show—and he would, the music was hot, the sun was hotter, and the dancers were on fire—but he had other plans, too. Oh, he’s had plans for what felt like such a long time. He’s been bursting at the seams. Sometimes he could hardly contain it.



But he was patient, and now the day has come. His friend, Asher, was taking care of some arrangements down by the shore while the party raged on. Meanwhile, Pat and Poppy were tasked with taking care of Vicky, making sure she always had someone to talk to and dance with. Tonight was not a night for wallflowers. Tonight was a night he hoped she would remember as one of the best of her life.








And the night was truly magical. The longest day of the year languished finally around 11pm. Everything was going exactly to plan. Until… it wasn’t.

They all tried to ignore the misty drops from above for as long as they could. No worries. We can dance in the rain. No problem. Wet bodies can carry on.



Wet electronics, not so much. The sound equipment stuttered, then it stopped. Soggy and sparking. 

“Sorry, folks, looks like we’re done for tonight.”

Some dancers carried on without music. Others went to the bar, which was still serving. Some of the lights remained lit, but others went dark.

Vale’s plans didn’t matter anymore. The tent would be soggy and the candles drenched. The sunrise they were meant to camp out for would certainly be shrouded in clouds and fog. This was all that mattered. Right here, right now. We.

Vicky said, “Oh, no, can you believe it? I’m so sorry,” as Vale pulled her along by the hand, leading her off to somewhere quieter. Somehow though, he wasn’t mad.

“Put that down,” he said. “Come here.”

“What?” she said. 

“There were going to be candles, but they’re probably soaked by now. That spot where we walked last year, down by that rocky shore. That was the spot where I first fell in love with you.

“Really, all the way back then? But I was so mean to you!”

He laughed. “You had your moments.”

“I still have moments, I hope.”

“Always,” he said. “So, 5:15am, that was the exact moment the sun was meant to rise.”

Vicky laughed. “You wouldn’t have woke up for it.”

“Well, I guess I planned on you hearing my alarm and waking us both up.”

“Okay. And then what?”

He was nervous, which didn’t make sense since he’d run through this scenario a billion times in his mind. But she had a gentle look on her face, and it felt reassuring. Go for it, her smile said. You don’t have to wait any longer.

“Okay, so, I never saw myself wanting to settle down, but being with you doesn’t feel like settling. I don’t know how to be a husband, but I think I can be a good one for you. I just can’t get enough of you, ever. I guess, what I mean is, will you marry me?”

“Yes, you weirdo. Get up here and kiss me!”

—

They woke up for the early solstice sunrise, anyway. Vicky set her alarm. The light was cloaked in fog, thick enough to breathe. 

It couldn’t have been more perfect if they tried to plan it. 

—

story notes: 

I don't know what mod these notifications are from, but they are super cute. Another one here. I don't see them often with many of my couples, but Vale and Vicky roll them up all the time and it's adorable! 💕

And they were both on board for the big moment, with shared proposal whims.

Music claims: I’ve been trying to pinpoint Vicky’s vocal style and songwriting with a RL example. I think I’m going to say Alanis Morisette, Jagged Little Pill era. Her songs are angry and confessional, her lyrics are very writerly, obscure, sometimes ethereal. Also, Alanis was more of a singer/songwriter before she learned to play other instruments and had a prominent producer/co-writer work with her on many of her early songs. Yup, that’s about how I see Vicky’s music if she wasn’t a sim. Maybe without the early breakout success that JLP had, simply because Vicky is living in a story and I have plans. But we'll see.  

I've had a harder time pinpointing Vale's musical style, mostly because I think his DJ and dance music is probably not something I'd listen to IRL. My hubby listens to some dance/electronica stuff occasionally, so I can imagine it. As far as Vale's personal recordings, when he's not mixing, it's upbeat, highly processed, and very eclectic. I see him leaning more towards In Rainbows era Radiohead, or Moby when he's feeling more chill, with lots of vocal collaboration like Daft Punk, because he doesn't like to sing.