Author Topic: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty ("Complete")  (Read 84994 times)

Offline RaiaDraconis

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 6, 1/29)
« Reply #25 on: January 29, 2014, 09:04:56 AM »
Amy and Sinbad, sitting in a tree... :)

Offline Trident

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 6, 1/29)
« Reply #26 on: January 29, 2014, 03:32:53 PM »
Amy and Sinbad, sitting in a tree... :)

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a nooboo in a nooboo carriage!



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Offline Rhoxi

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 6, 1/29)
« Reply #27 on: January 29, 2014, 05:43:43 PM »

Looks like everybody's coupling up to make some original townie offspring! Annette and Bill are oddly cute together.

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 7, 2/1)
« Reply #28 on: February 01, 2014, 12:57:04 AM »
I was on a pretty good schedule with updating, but I can't say that I was feeling my best over the past few days. :-\ I think I can get back on track now.

Amy and Sinbad, sitting in a tree... :)

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a nooboo in a nooboo carriage!

Why of course! But now now, because they're Just Friends (TM).

Looks like everybody's coupling up to make some original townie offspring! Annette and Bill are oddly cute together.

Gotta start the coupling early! Before everyone goes barren or dead. Annette and Bill are definitely oddly cute. That shared Inappropriate trait went a long way!



Chapter 7: Down in the Drywall



Annette almost texted Shark with I could sock you in the face right now.

Somehow, he wrangled her cellphone number. By somehow, I mean that he took his uncle’s phone for a few minutes and found who sent the most suggestive texts and lewd photos. Annette got out from work one night to two unread texts on her phone.

leave while you still can

woohoo tonight?

So she thought about it, as she sat in a chair outside the diner. One lone cicada clung to a branch in an oak tree out back and sang as if it was his last night to find a mate, which was good for him, but something that bugged Annette. She fidgeted with her phone in the meanwhile, checking social networking sites and news sites and flipping through them with glazed-over eyes. Until those two texts got to her, and that lone cicada kept singing and singing.

“Oh fine,” she muttered, tapping out two text messages and slyly smiling.

Hey there cutie. ;) Meet me at the esplanade around 10

I’ll leave him. Meet me at my place round midnight

All of that Racket evil might have rubbed off on her.

An hour later, the skies started weeping while Annette stood in the warm summer rain, right outside of Twinbrook Esplanade. It was too late for her shirt not to get soaked, but after half an hour, a black van with tinted windows pulled up to the side with a screech. Even through the obscured glass, she was pretty sure that Bill was behind the wheel.



“Couldn’t get the Kompensator?” she asked.

“I wish.”

“Oh, and we’re going back to my place.”

“The vacant lot?” he asked.

“Regrettably.”



As they pulled up the Waverly estate, it was still so vacant, except for the odd art supplies and bare necessities without walls. However, Harwood’s chainsaw still droned on, to the rhythm of the summertime cicadas. Puddles formed on the lawn, right near every piece of furniture. The old wooden rocking chair they bought even started to soften and rot after so many nights in the rain.

“Here’s my pathetic little place,” said Annette, “And to think that I’m stupid enough to ask you to live here.”

“I’ll do it,” Bill said, as if in a haste.

“What sort of personality swap happened?”

“You see, it’s a pitiful setup you have. But it sure beats living with my family. As long as none of them come over here, I’ll gladly live with you.”

Instead of coming clean about the text she sent to Shark, she instead hugged him with all of her waifish strength. Annette also asked him for his bank account details. 10,000 in savings, plus whatever else he could pawn off, and whatever else he could get for the getaway van he "borrowed."

For maybe one blissful hour, the entire household existed in peace. Two lovers, and two roommates without a grudge (and a dog). Then, a Big Lemon sped up to the lot, parked with a screech, and out stumbled a newly-young adult Shark Racket. His rich parents didn't intervene with his fashion. Shark was stuck with an ill-fitting t-shirt and rolled-up pants. His split-second smile soon dissolved into his mouth agape with disgust.



“You lied to me,” he said in a snarling, low voice.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Shark’s green eyes burned with rage upon merely seeing his uncle on the lot.

“I live here. What the hell are you doing here?”



So much for the peace. Fists flew, and two big men had too much potential to injure or maim one another. Shark, being a weight category below Bill, eventually got thrown to the ground. Meanwhile, Annette just backed away. Back all the way into Amy, avoiding her paintbrush and a load of canary-yellow paint.

“Things might be changing,” said Annette, looking away from Amy and into the night sky. "It's now two rich men and their soap opera."

“Rich men...does this mean we get walls?” asked Amy.

“Hey, there's that! Lots of drywall. And nothing else for a bit.”



“I can’t express how thankful I am for walls!” She then yelled “WALLS!” as she approached a new, powder-blue van parked by the curb.

“So I splurged,” said Annette, “They call it the Motive Magenta. You feel really refreshed after sitting in those plush seats, or that's how they sold it, anyways.”

Of course I sat in that Motive Magenta. Those plush seats are indeed the softest things around. But the five and Sagebear took a test drive that night, spending the night with one of Amy’s friends until they came home to not a house, but an acceptable drywall shell. It had ceilings, completed art studios, a few bits of furniture, and bank accounts bled dry.



Annette might have set aside some money for new wardrobes, too. The well-used dresser she found at a discount price had a top drawer that liked to stick. It stuck enough to defeat Bill that night, but maybe fighting Shark winded him a little more than he thought.



He took off his sunglasses, threw on a new jacket, and called it a night.



“I can imagine some large windows, right there!” said Annette, pointing at more barren drywall, without even holes for windows. “Maybe some more sofas.”

“We’re broke, babe,” Bill said.

She sat back down.



“It’s still a trainwreck, isn’t it? And I don’t think we’re allowed back at the old mansion.”

“We can make it work, I guess. Some big windows would look nice there.”



The night ended beautifully for those two, as they closed it with a kiss before crashing on the sofa. Annette flopped over, her head on the armrest, when she said “I just hope Shark finds something he likes.” Her voice was weak and tired.

“He can starve, for all I care,” said Bill.

“Yeah, but realistically, he needs something so he doesn’t make us starve. Something to take his mind off all that bad blood.” Her blue eyes soon hid under her eyelids, and the sound of her partner snoring a deafening snore next to her lulled Annette into a deep sleep.



The sound of Shark’s chisel the next room over might have too. Earlier that night, as his world changed forever, he struck a block of clay in the corner with anger. He was a few steps away from destroying the whole thing until Harwood grabbed his arm and told him that if he’s going to damage the clay, he better do something useful with it.

“I was once an angry young man,” said Harwood, “And then I started to sculpt! I see a lot of that in you too.” So Shark grabbed a chisel and made a misshapen table by the end of the night. It was a far cry from the perfect human forms that Harwood made, with even their eyelashes rendered in ice, but he had time to improve. Just not a lot of it, depending on how long his old mentor could stick around for.



But in between sculptures, Shark found his way to the dresser, and to the optometrist, just to correct some slight myopia.



While they worked, Annette also worked. She spent some mornings in the library, her nose buried in cookbooks, in hopes of slightly quicker promotions. Sagebear hunted and kept finding common ores and uncut diamonds, sometimes even an uncut moonstone, but it all sold for pennies in the end. Annette worked a bit of overtime each night, in hopes of bringing in the income that her collection of housemates needed. She prayed each night for Sagebear to strike it lucky and make a substantial profit.



One morning, Bill brushed Sagebear after she came back from an all-night hunt, and found a pile of fluorescent-green ores in his lap. They were covered in dog slobber. After finishing up on the most difficult crevices next to Sagebear’s ear, Bill took his new haul over the esoteric elixir shop on the edge of town. He cut a few gems, and laid them on the counter at home.



The tiberium spires glowed with a mighty glow and grew even mightier. Annette noticed that one night after work, when they all were eight inches tall and lighting up the room.

“My oh my,” she said, “It all looks so nice. The gems, and you in that suit. You can’t blame me for falling in love.”

“Get in your underwear again, and I’ll agree.”



Annette nearly fell into Bill’s arms, unusually queasy, which then became far less unusual when she looked up “tiberium” on her smartphone. Radioactive. Of course. She would miss their glow, but not poverty once they sold for a vast sum.



Nor would she miss dry-heaving on the porch, either.

One night after work, Annette returned to her drywall shell, but from that night onwards, wallpaper and wood paneling covered the walls. Carpets and pale hardwoods hid the cement floors. And her kitchen was spacious, and rivaled any other in Twinbrook.

Oh yes, she could enjoy that with Bill.



If only he had more time to.



Word Count for this chapter: 1,546
Word Count so far: 10,351

Revised on 2-2-2015

Shark is the official reason I said "okay, let's inbreed." It doesn't bother me too much, because his closest blood relation to the main Waverlys was that he and generation two were cousins. And Shark gets most of his looks from his mother, who is not a blood-Racket. Easy to go forward a few generations, breed third cousins together, and think nothing of it.

Offline saltpastillen

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 7, 2/1)
« Reply #29 on: February 01, 2014, 04:19:06 AM »
Lol, it's the sims, who cares if you inbreed.

Love Shark's makeover - very artsy!

Offline Eiira

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 7, 2/1)
« Reply #30 on: February 01, 2014, 06:58:37 AM »
It's so nice to see you posting an Immortal Dynasty Trip! I am sadly behind due to RL interference but I will catch up over the coming days!

Offline Trident

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 7, 2/1)
« Reply #31 on: February 01, 2014, 08:09:00 AM »
Shark's kinda cute, actually...lol.
Awww....poor Anette! I actually forgot that Bill was an adult until the sparkles.



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Offline RaiaDraconis

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 7, 2/1)
« Reply #32 on: February 01, 2014, 10:03:07 AM »
There is just so much about this chapter that I love. You write with almost a satirical bent...and that is something I greatly admire. :) All of those subtle details--the cicada, the canary yellow paint, the slobber-covered tiberium--it all just adds so much to the story.

Offline Rhoxi

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 7, 2/1)
« Reply #33 on: February 01, 2014, 11:44:01 AM »

Shark is surprisingly handsome! And Amy is just the cutest. Then again, I think I'd be just as excited about walls if I'd been living on empty lot. Still, her enthusiasm is adorable.

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 8, 2/2)
« Reply #34 on: February 02, 2014, 12:31:11 AM »
Lol, it's the sims, who cares if you inbreed.

Love Shark's makeover - very artsy!

My conscience does! Until I tell it to shut up.

It's so nice to see you posting an Immortal Dynasty Trip! I am sadly behind due to RL interference but I will catch up over the coming days!

It's so nice to see you commenting! And take your time. :)

Shark's kinda cute, actually...lol.
Awww....poor Anette! I actually forgot that Bill was an adult until the sparkles.

He's definitely one of the cuter guys in Twinbrook. There's very little "wrong" with him.

Yep, Bill starts off the game very close to elderhood. I originally hoped that Annette would get someone closer to her age, but I guess she doesn't mind.

There is just so much about this chapter that I love. You write with almost a satirical bent...and that is something I greatly admire. :) All of those subtle details--the cicada, the canary yellow paint, the slobber-covered tiberium--it all just adds so much to the story.

Thanks! I think I'm trying really hard with detail this time just because I need practice writing fiction and wielding adjectives again. :P

Shark is surprisingly handsome! And Amy is just the cutest. Then again, I think I'd be just as excited about walls if I'd been living on empty lot. Still, her enthusiasm is adorable.

He is! Writing excitable sims is interesting; it's writing a character type that is so much unlike who I am in real-life.

I like how you've included the dynasty helpers in this storyline. It's hard for there to be any meaningful updates about them since they mainly just build their skills, but you've done a nice job keeping their roles interesting.

I'm somewhat nice to my helpers; they might work to the bone to get masterpiece museum pieces done, but I try to fulfill their wishes and give them some sort of happy ending.



Chapter 8: Baking Buns



This chapter is the story of three new parents.

One of them had shiny dark hair and flawless skin. Even with a lack of papers, her age was verified by those. Our guesses were late 20's at that time. Most of us started families later than that, but the rest of the world saw her, Annette, as a typical new mother.

The other two waltzed into their elder years without any children and no excuses for it. Bill and Harwood had little in common, except for being (as far as Annette was concerned at that time) lifelong bachelors. But the nooboo fever attacked and ravished them too.

Why yes, the Waverly manor was baking a multitude of buns in multiple ovens. This is the story.



Finishing the house neatly coincided with Bill’s elder birthday. Even though Annette made some effort to make it a tolerable day, with yellow cake and a small party, her poor partner still sulked to the closet after blowing out the candles. He rummaged around for hair dye and anything acceptable and in aqua.



For him, sweater weather would come soon enough. But as Twinbrook still hovered at 80F or higher, even late at night and later in summer, sweaters were out of the question. Bill dug around the drawers a bit more, until he came across a tank top, in aqua and printed with black skulls. That, plus a pair of boxer shorts, it counted as clothes, even with company over. Annette subscribed to that philosophy for herself too.

The clock read 10PM, and most of the guests were gone. Maybe one still sat down, licking frosting off their fork, but the house got quiet in the time it took him to get the shirt on without it being inside out.



Most of them left, except for one comely, red-haired woman, who vomited in the toilet. No one knew her name, no one but Harwood, that is. He ended up claiming her after she washed her face.

“Don’t worry. She’s just a friend,” he said, with a smirk, escorting her out the door. "You guys might get to know Blaise a little better."



The party ended by the time Annette found Bill, with him hiding in the living room, and behind the best floor-to-ceiling television that tiberium could buy. She just sat down, with nonchalant gossip on her tongue.

“I think that Harwood knocked up that woman,” she said, as her rear end descended and hit the firm sofa cushion. "It's funny, I think this might be his first one. He's never mentioned anything about kids or even any partners. Heck, I thought he was gay."

“That’s all that’s on your mind? Not me being old?” Bill asked.

“Um, yeah. I have to clean the toilet now because of his squeeze. I don’t really care if you’re old or not. You’re a pretty sexy old man, if I say so myself.” Annette found his arm around her.



“That matters a lot to me. I’ve been thinking about this whole relationship business over the past few days, and I actually feel great about it,” he said.

“Really?”

“Really. As long as there are no surprises. I like things this way.”

“No surprises.” For a moment, Annette’s life felt like the slow, no-surprises lull that Bill wanted, until she woke up later that night to throw up. She threw her clothes in the laundry again, in case there was still tiberium dust left in the pockets. But even fresh laundry failed to take away her nausea.

Soon after, the household got a call from Harwood’s “friend,” just to forward the news to him that she was indeed pregnant. He took it with a weird sense of apathy, and was spotted using a dating site at the library.



Anyways, if you couldn’t guess by now, Annette had the exact same news, at least in regards to parenthood. Somehow, she forgot about the bun in her oven until she visited one of Shark’s old classmates one morning. She had Shark and Harwood with her; Shark had an honest reunion with a friend over waffles. Harwood found himself a new date.

Annette, against good sense, tore her nephew away from a delicious breakfast to spread the good news.



“Wow, my uncle did that to you?” he asked, pretending to not know how nooboos came to be.

“Yep!”



“Fool! I told you to leave,” he retorted. "And now you definitely can't."

“Now, now, your anger isn’t good for the nooboo. Isn’t your plate still half-full? Don't waste good waffles.”

“Point taken." Shark grumbled and headed back to the kitchen. "Good luck with your devil spawn.” The two of them turned away from each other for the rest of the day. Annette, now eating for two, stole a waffle for the road, and still wanted to get home to the collection of cheese plates and sushi stacked in the fridge. And cook something else, because neither were advised for pregnant women to eat. Maybe more waffles. She almost bolted out the door without Harwood, who was either sorely rejected or getting lucky.



It was the former. The wise old man made a foolish move, and found a married woman on the dating site. Something went wrong between him and Mrs. Castor. Before she could strike him in anger or tell her husband about the old man who tried to flirt with her, Annette grabbed Harwood by the wrist and led him out the door.

“You didn’t get any waffles, did you?” asked Annette.

“No.”

“Well, I’m fixing that once we get home.”

Someone else had the Motive Mobile that morning, so the two hailed a taxi, with Harwood looking out the window in silence. He tapped his fingers on the door.

“I want to leave your business with married women up to you, but this is just hilarious," said Annette. She laughed when she remembered his craggy face and scattered liverspots. Harwood was a man who showed his age. "Because when I think raw womanizing appeal, I think of Harwood Clay. Duh. How do you do it, though?"

He shrugged.

"Is this new for you?" Annette asked.

"Somewhat. I had flings before, but I'm in a stable place for the first time in ages. This is my weird way of finding someone right for me," he said. "And I'm having some fun with it."

"So, what about Blaise?"

"I'll do what I need to. She's a loose woman, but good for a fling. I'll keep my eye on her and avoid whatever comes out."

"God help you, because I'm in the same boat," Annette said, pointing at her tummy.

“Congrats on that, though I guessed when you stopped eating your sushi. I'm not so opposed to it, now that I think about it. You have years to leave behind a legacy, immortality or not. Me?” He stared out the window with an anxious, wide stare, as they crossed the bridge over to Puddlewick Lane.

“I’m lucky if I have a few more years. So do you want your ice sculpture now, or should we wait until you’re done baking that bun?”

“The latter,” said Annette, “Breaking the news to Bill is a little more important now.”

However, the house was empty, except for Sagebear sprawled out on the sofa with the television blaring. Amy was out for a movie matinee with a couple of friends, considering that she already mastered the art of portraiture and had actual time on her fingertips and not just paint. Shark went for seconds at breakfast. Bill, well, that was the mystery.

Whatever. Annette made enough waffles for two hungry sims plus more, with a glass bottle of real maple syrup and a stick of softened butter set on the island counters.



Whatever. Annette made enough waffles for two hungry sims plus more, with a glass bottle of real maple syrup and a stick of softened butter set on the island counters.

She also added to the stock of cheese plates, cutting to the mild hum of the refrigerator, and a muffled chainsaw. Those walls worked wonders. Now with a long maternity leave ahead of her, Annette took criticisms of her plating to heart. Sloppy, unorganized. But those cheese plates looked better each time she made them.

Sometime in the afternoon, Bill finally came through the front door. Sagebear bolted towards him and lapped his face.

“I missed you,” Annette said, holding a cheese plate, “What could have given you a reason to leave the house?”

“A job,” he stated.

“Really, what?”

Bill shoved an ID-card into her hand. Bill Racket. Twinbrook Police Department. City employee. #045603., and a picture where he stared at the camera with utter dejection, as if it was a criminal mugshot. Just a mugshot with a blue background.

“You know, when I suggested a job, I thought that you could go into business. Or tax fraud,” said Annette.



But no, he slipped away while Annette got ready for work a couple days prior and headed to the police department with truthful information about himself. He might have held some shallow loyalty to Twinbrook’s biggest criminal family up until that point, but people can change. Funny enough, his criminal record was mostly clean, except for a series of public nudity charges about 30 years prior. That, and Scout Sargeant processed the job applications, and she had no opinion of Bill either way. Facing his older brother, enemy, and long-time police officer Dudley came a little later. Telling his mother could never come at all, if he played it right.

“It’s not like I’ll turn you in,” Bill said, “In fact, I can pull some strings to let you steal in peace. But otherwise, I want to do well there.”

He went up to bed without a word about Annette’s new t-shirt, or the slight bump under there. By the time she made her way upstairs, Bill was asleep, snoring with Sagebear curled up at his feet.

Something about work kept doing that to Bill. He got sleepy as soon as he got home, and headed upstairs before Annette could say that she was pregnant. As time went on and she got rounder, she assumed that he knew what was going on. But why risk it if he was dense enough to think that her cooking was just that addictive?

Bill finally got into a better sleeping groove, so that he was awake for quite a while after work. By that time, Annette waddled around at the end of her pregnancy, weighed down.



“I hope that you figured out that my cooking isn’t that fattening,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Bill, I’m pregnant.”

“But you still look so thin!”

Gawd, was he dense.



“I mean, that’s great!” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “Surprising, but I think I can handle it.”

By handling it, it meant that he was out and missing for the next two days, leaving Annette to sleep alone in utter silence. Sagebear went back downstairs to her dog bed. She had one extra serving of food to put away after dinner without him to eat it. But two days was enough, and Bill came home to sleep in their own bed, next to his enormously pregnant girlfriend. He came back to a situation he had to accept without a scowl. The compromise was two hours overtime at work each day. Processing more police reports took Bill’s mind off fatherhood, and commitment. There was also the bonus of watching his family’s business get raided. Without punishment for them, but he kept an inkling of hope.



Annette’s new interest in fishing was unrelated to any of that, though. She just got into a sushi-making groove, and one of Harwood’s close friends kept a pond full of fish on his property.



Making him pancakes in thanks did not go so well, though, when Annette's water broke before she could flip the first one. As the pancake cooked and burned in an old, cast-iron skillet, Annette called a taxi and headed home. Juan Darer would have to deal with the pancakes himself.



Of course, she went home only to grab a toothbrush and some pajamas, with every intention of getting a ride to the hospital to deliver her nooboo in sanitary and private conditions. Every contraction got closer and closer, though, and she hardly got through the front door before it was too late to do anything else but give birth right there. Everyone else in the household was asleep, working, or engrossed in their art. Annette labored with a stranger panicking.

The end came within the hour, as if all of the pressure inside of Annette released its grip.



Because after less than an hour at home, Annette held a healthy little boy in her arms. Ten fingers and ten toes, in spite of Annette drinking the regular Twinbrook water. Healthy lungs that produced mighty screams. And vibrant pink skin.

“Oh, hey there,” she whispered to him. “Hope your dad thinks the same way, but I always liked the name Franco. I hope you don’t mind it.”



Finally able to fully bend over without a nooboo nestled inside of her, Annette laid Franco down. At last, she could get her regular clothes back. She also learned that their house guest was named Eva Drudge, and she was just one of Harwood's friends.

Annette mailed Eva a check, with a memo attached. Good luck getting more child support after this. - Annette



Bill, the new father immediately fell in love when he came home from work a little early. He did his duties in keeping Franco clean and smelling like cloying nooboo powder.



The story about the new parents would not be complete without the last one, who had no idea what to do with his new twins. Beverly and Eva both gave him chilling announcements too. But Harwood could take solace in how his world wasn't crashing down alone.



Not that Julienne could easily convince Annette of what horrors awaited for her either.



Word Count for this chapter: 2,309
Word Count so far: 12,660

Revised on 2-2-2015

Offline Trident

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 8, 2/2)
« Reply #35 on: February 02, 2014, 08:29:32 AM »
*cue dramatic music*

Lovely update. I really liked the way you described Annette's pregnancy.

Offline Rhoxi

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 8, 2/2)
« Reply #36 on: February 02, 2014, 06:13:12 PM »

I'm guessing both Hardwood and Bill have been rather busy with the ladies of Twinbrook. Poor Annette! Of course, now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't be surprised that a sim with a name like "Hardwood" likes to get around!  ;D

Offline RaiaDraconis

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 8, 2/2)
« Reply #37 on: February 02, 2014, 11:17:59 PM »
Oookay, so we have two Harwood-boos in the mix (at least...), one rather pink-looking Racket-boo, and if I am interpreting Julienne correctly, potentially another non-pink Racket-boo somewhere...?

Thus begins the "whom is procreating with whom and perpetuating townie genetics" part of the dynasty. :)

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 8, 2/2)
« Reply #38 on: February 04, 2014, 08:50:22 AM »
*cue dramatic music*

Lovely update. I really liked the way you described Annette's pregnancy.

Thank you!

Yay to the brood of nooboos and rainboos joining the family! Hardwood appears to have been a busy man (I love Blaise Kindle, can't wait to see what their offspring looks like). Amy needs to join in all this procreation fun!

I love Blaise too! Even if half of it is for her hair color and the other half is because she's pretty. Getting attractive kids from Harwood boils down to making sure that they have attractive mothers.

Amy will join in her own time. ;)

I'm guessing both Hardwood and Bill have been rather busy with the ladies of Twinbrook. Poor Annette! Of course, now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't be surprised that a sim with a name like "Hardwood" likes to get around!  ;D

HA! I had thought about making a crack about Clay's name, but I was afraid of getting flagged for being too inappropriate.  ::)

His name makes me think of floors. :P Like pale maplewood planks and easy-to-clean ceramic tiles.

Oookay, so we have two Harwood-boos in the mix (at least...), one rather pink-looking Racket-boo, and if I am interpreting Julienne correctly, potentially another non-pink Racket-boo somewhere...?

Thus begins the "whom is procreating with whom and perpetuating townie genetics" part of the dynasty. :)

The girl that Harwood is holding is actually a twin, so make it three.

But for whatever bad things that Bill did, I'm keeping my mouth shut. ;)

No new chapter right now. I hit a small writer's block (and an unrelated programming block, which is a little more imperative to fix, since it's for a class), but I wanted to respond to people's comments anyways.

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 9 & 10, 2/4)
« Reply #39 on: February 04, 2014, 12:24:35 PM »
I actually got two chapters done a little sooner than I thought. So have an awesome double-update.



Chapter 9: Griffin



I fear what comes next. Not wanting to do myself any good, I camp out by the door, listening for the trademark sound of cowboy boots against the walkway. Dad likes those boots. He says that it fits, considering that his name means "lover of horses." He never owned one, but he's worn the style ever since he was five. It's the only charming thing about the man, considering that he is a horrible person who fills those boots.

When it comes to fatherhood, and who was good at it or not, my dad seemed like a superb father in comparison to someone like Harwood. All I got about the latter were accounts of an utter deadbeat; of a sad old man wallowing in hedonism and avoiding responsibility. My father was there for me. In fact, he was heavily involved in every facet of my life. At some points, he was all I had, but now I loathe him like the rest of the town did, and I don't want those cowboy boots near me.

I regret this rash decision to let him live here. I don't know if I can hear him or not. I back away from the door, in the direction of the kitchen. Like many people, I keep knives there. Always be prepared.

It's like no one has come in, but I swear that someone is breathing along with me. My heart thumps in my chest. I almost tell myself that I'm alone.

"Boo."



"Jesus Christ!" He had to have come in through the window. "Dad, just go through the front like a normal person."

"Oh yes, call me normal," he said.



"Look, I need you to be mature right now. I'm going through a difficult time right now," I say. "Reliving some horrible times."

"Well that's what you get for putting up with me anyways. Do I get the couch or the bed."

"You know what. I'm not just doting on you because you can't escape the cops anymore."



“Oh, so says the privileged writer who gets an awesome salary," he says. "Being evil doesn't pay as well as it used to, you know.”

"Settle in, don't mess up things," I tell him. "I'm going for a run. Maybe you should try the Recurve Strand route."



Recurve Strand sits on the edge of Sunset Valley, shaded by the coastal cliffs and palms. And it is utterly untouched. Not even a beach chair makes marks in the sand. All that does are bare feet, such as my own.

My path winds around past the beach proper, over by some rocks that overlook the vast ocean. Once I make it there, I receive another text.

Surprise when you get home!



It’s dad.

And no, his surprises are usually quite awful.



Needless to say, I weep for my house and my stomach once I come home and have it presented to me.



Dad attempted to cook dinner, with his mac and cheese browning and scorching in the pan. He scrapes off the burnt parts, but is still left with a bowl of blackened pasta.

“Come on, it’s what I eat every night!” he says when I revolt.

“I never said that I can cook either, but you get a double serving tonight,” I say as I retrieve a half-eaten pint of cookie dough ice cream from the freezer. “However, I’m treating myself for being so dang nice to you.”



I mean, I put in a good run this afternoon.



But while I eat, a new pair of eyes looks at me.

“Is this your idea of a gift?” I ask dad.

“There’s quite a story behind that griffin. But first, you gotta guess who’s still in contact with grandpa Franco.”

“I dunno. Grandma Lily?” Of course, dad probably has grandpa Franco’s number, as weird as it sounds. Nobody else does; Franco went missing, for all I know.

“Her too,” says dad. “But Franco and I are actually chummy, considering that he worked for me. Anyways, the two of us met up last year, and he gave me that griffin. Apparently it’s one of Annette’s old heirlooms.”

“That’s cool.” In white marble, with a rough, pale wooden base, it matches the white floors from the old house, or Annette’s white pants. She surrounded herself with white, so a white griffin statue? Why not?

“Well, I picked up that book you’ve been reading,” said dad. I worry about what he's gotten into. “Just the first chapter. I don’t think grandma Annette was really that frantic. And second, I know that you wanted to learn more about her and that just confirmed it for me. Maybe read the bottom of the base when you get a chance.” He smirks right at me, dirty dishes in his hands. He has his uses, after all.



So I sit outside for a couple of hours. Dad watches for a few seconds, but he knows me well. You don’t interrupt me when I’m reading, and you certainly don’t interrupt me when I’m pondering the finer points of life.





Besides, he is a stickler for keeping things clean, so maybe I like him more than I say.



The griffin makes his way to the nightstand when the washing machine stops rumbling and it comes time to retire for the night. It watches me undress and smooth out the covers before I mess them up again, watching with white marble eyes.

Dad might be trying to do something good, for the first time ever. Maybe he's right and a little easter egg is written on the bottom of that griffin. I pick up the statue and flip it over, and one line of writing is on the bottom of the base. It is burnt-in and written in neat calligraphy and thin strokes. Roaring Heights 2047. For Eileen. Eileen was one of those vague names, or one I've tried to block out of my memory. Annette was the only person who referred to her, but something happened to get this from Eileen. While Annette was in Roaring Heights, perhaps? Dwarfed by gilded skyscrapers? Goodness, possibly wearing a skirt on a regular basis?

She seemed like a more modern city slicker. I like this new idea I have, however. Maybe I still have the wanderlust bug in me. I pick up travel brochures from time to time to satisfy it. Roaring Heights always makes the best, with pictures of the nighttime sky and every white tower lit up, with “Roaring Heights” written in shiny gold typeface.

What happened to all of us? That's difficult. But it's a different time now, and there might be answers of the distant past in what I call my present. Getting the answers is a nice excuse to travel, anyways.



Word Count for this chapter: 1,126
Word Count so far: 13,785

Revised on 2-2-2015

Offline Rhoxi

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 8, 2/2)
« Reply #40 on: February 04, 2014, 12:35:35 PM »

Intriguing! Looking forward to seeing some Roaring Heights. I haven't seen anyone feature it in a story yet.

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 9 & 10, 2/4)
« Reply #41 on: February 04, 2014, 12:42:02 PM »
Intriguing! Looking forward to seeing some Roaring Heights. I haven't seen anyone feature it in a story yet.

Once the town was announced, I knew that I had to place part of the story there. I've played there a bit and it's a lovely place.



Chapter 10: Talk of the Town



Julienne wanted to meet Annette at the laundromat, to discuss a personal matter. It seemed like too public of a place to discuss what she had to, but Annette listened to her colleague and hoped that Shark would make a good nooboo-sitter while she was gone.

"It's about Bill," Julienne said. "As it always is."

"I know, isn't he great?" said Annette. “Alright, tell me, what could he have done?”

“It’s a bit of a story. He called me a couple months ago and begged me to meet him at the park. Apparently he just learned that you were pregnant. I said yes…”



“...But I hate him and wasn’t letting him have it. So I slapped him across the face and hoped that he would go straight back home to you...”



“...What a jerk. He turned the blame on me, saying that I sounded so enamored over the phone and that he just needed one fling to clear his mind before your kid came along. When I said no, he said that he could just find another fling...”



“...Well, he could have it. But I’ll be darned if I have a part in letting a young cook get hurt like that.” Julienne exhaled, exasperated. “And just yesterday, I heard a little rumor that he had his way with a co-worker. She’s on maternity leave now. The other rumor is that her husband is sterile.”

“I’m not believing you,” said Annette, “The only woman he works with is Scout Sargeant. From everything he’s said about her, she doesn’t sound like his type.”

“Cheating is a funny thing. My family’s former maid didn’t seem like his type either. But my advice to you is to start over and find literally anyone else.”

“And I appreciate your concern. Can’t wait to get back to work.” Annette grabbed a few boxes of detergent off the shelves and walked out the door. “Gotta have a nice-smelling uniform for when I’m back, right?”

Actually, Annette thought of envy more often than the possibility of Bill cheating on her. She sat in the rocking chair near Franco’s crib each morning, waiting for her little boy to wake up and give her something to do. Preparing more cheese plates instead sounded too boring to tolerate. All of her museum pieces were all set, and watching her artists work bored her. But Bill? He had a job, and Twinbrook never caught on to the notion of paternity leave.

The restaurant kitchen needed her! If only Julienne focused on that, rather than trying to dig up dirt on an ex.

Summer started to fade to Autumn, with the temperature hovering around 60 or 70 and the cicadas quiet and hibernating. Then it got to 50 at night, and Annette started using the blanket she bought in the midst of summer when she went to bed. She even dug up a turtleneck sweater and a scarf for any time she could go out. And her adult birthday approached. The faintest sign of crow’s feet appeared at the corners of her eyes, but with an elderly partner by her side, looking old wasn’t much of a concern.

Annette also toyed with the idea of one last party before Franco’s first birthday and her own adult birthday. With the address book open, she compiled a few invitations, and then hit one name: Scout Sargeant. If Julienne was correct, Scout was pregnant with Franco’s half-sibling.

“I’ll humor you, Jules,” Annette said to herself, “I bet she’s not even pregnant.”



Okay, there were a lot of men in Twinbrook who could have done that, right?

Scout gave her a firm handshake and a warm smile. “Ah yes, I’ve heard about you,” she said to Annette, “Apparently you’re a fine cook and a joy to wake up next to.”

“I believe it. Congratulations, by the way.”

Once the leftovers were put away and the house fell quiet and the clock read 2AM, Annette dropped into bed without undressing. She sprawled out and lay face-down on her tummy. Half-asleep, she almost didn’t notice Bill when he snuggled next to her, but that put her into a full sleep. The thought of him ever cheating on her was far, far from her mind.



Besides, destroying relationships was someone else’s job. Annette couldn't bother to concern herself with Harwood's sleazy behavior, so why bother Bill about it? Unlike with the former, Annette didn't see any concrete evidence that he was guilty of anything. At least, anything more than working too much overtime, in the same office as Scout.

There were bigger troubles ahead in her long, eternal life to worry about than that.



On an unrelated note, Annette woke up one morning to find Shark caring about his little cousin for the first time. While Annette was at the laundromat, he handed Franco to Amy, but that morning he cradled Franco in one arm and held a bottle of warmed formula in the other.

“You know, you should beat me to the punch more often. Nooboos are hard work,” said Annette, “Sculpting going well?”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding languid from his work sculpting. “Nah, I’ll take back all the things I said about Franco being some sort of devil spawn. He’s just a nooboo, I guess.”

“Not for long,” muttered Annette, as she wistfully looked at Franco. Wrapped in his blue blanket and smiling with his soft and pink nooboo features, he won over Annette so hard that she couldn't bear the thought of him growing up. At least the pinkness would stay.



Shark might have thought different thoughts. That was the first and last diaper of Franco's that he changed.



But all of those wonderful nooboo things that Annette enjoyed blew away with the single candle. At least a squirming toddler sounded like a fun thing to have, though. One who got into mischief and giggled and maybe broke a few delicate thing lying around.



Of course, looking very much like his father was a plus in Annette’s book too. Franco came back from the dresser with his love of all things grey apparent, contrasting with all of the vibrant amaranth pink. He seldom made a sound except for when things went wrong. He got loud then. He usually carried a morose look on his little toddler face, and saved all of his trouble-making for when he got older, or so Annette hoped. She wasn’t going to raise a boring child if she could help it.



But if Franco smiled, he did it in a subtle way with that angry mouth, and that was just the cutest thing ever. Annette went to bed to feel entirely rested for starting work again the next day, but only after quick snuggle with her little man. He needed it before she unleashed him into the world of posing for museum pieces.

Usually, Bill was right next to her, snuggled close and always snoring, but what got into him that night? He didn’t get to bed until 4 in the morning, with 4 hours until work.



Bill had an alibi, and news that Harwood fathered another set of twins named Marcie and Norman. He just nodded and wrote a check. Annette poked fun at his deadbeat habits one morning over coffee, which bothered him. Blaise and the others had a good handle on how to raise children, and would they even remember him before he left the mortal world?



Besides, his women and the kids lived across the bridge. If they cried, he didn’t know and could ignore the burdens of fatherhood for his own spawn. Franco was different. For the moment, lived in the same room, posing for sculptures and often fussing due to slight changes in temperature or a speck of dust out of place.



With that fussiness, Franco was not a cheerful toddler, but something about his little pout charmed everyone.

Meanwhile, Annette faced two things. First, she got a promotion and was Julienne's new superior. The afternoon she returned to work as that superior, she tied the back-tie to her apron and noticed a dejected Julienne staring right at her.

“So, you’re still with him?” she asked.

“Duh. I’m not that easily convinced, Jules.”

“Have you even spoken with him about it?”

“Why? I don’t think he cheated on me, and I think that you’re a brilliant cook but a bitter ex,” said Annette, “I’m above you now. Get chopping.”

A large knife made a fast tapping sound on the cutting board, though Julienne wielded it this time, with slices of onions piling up. Instead of a knife, Annette’s lungs became her primary cooking instrument. She yelled out orders and expedited like a professional. She did that while tending to the large, open griddle and dozens of pancakes at a time. Actually, that might have been the best part of her life at that point, because she still had all of the chipper energy to come home and cook dinner, play with a toddler, and examine her developing wrinkles in the mirror. She did that every morning while running her hair through a flat iron. The humid kitchen made her hair wavier and she needed all the help she could get with it.

With those new wrinkles, she faced her adult birthday! On the eve of it, she came back from work and made a salad for herself and the rest of the family. She kept her scarf on in the house, as it grew colder in the autumn, then noticing that the oven clock said 12:05. A dark chocolate cake covered in white frosting sat in the fridge, and she needed more room for other leftovers anyways. It was time to get that birthday over with.



As much as she couldn’t say no to a party, Annette made it into a small family celebration. Very small. Franco was fast asleep, of course. Amy said that she went out clubbing with Sinbad or someone else. Harwood didn’t give any notice that he would be gone for the night, but he was anyways.



Oh well. She didn’t need any of their fashion advice. It’s basic instinct to love striped sweaters. Her wrinkles and crow’s feet turned out to be of no concern. They were there, but after ten minutes, Annette smiled upon seeing the new little lines of definition on her face. So subtle, they deserved only one act of rebellion in the face of middle-age. She got her black shears from the kitchen, probably unwashed after preparing a roast with them, and cut off ten inches of her beloved long hair. The flat-iron went in the garbage, with slight, slight waves making their comeback in her hair.

After preparing a pot of coffee to keep her from stumbling over and falling asleep in the middle of museum pieces, Annette stood in the sculpting studio. Impatient, she tapped her feet as the hours passed without a sign of Harwood.



He came home early that morning with a spring in his step. What would his fiancee think?



“Alright, let’s picture this right,” Harwood said, once he came through the double-doors of the sculpting studio at 5 in the morning. Annette struck a commanding pose.

Small talk was pretty common between the two as Annette tried different poses for a few hours, full of talk about environmental issues. It was the only topic they found much discussion fodder on, even if it was because they disagreed mightily on the importance of carpooling. But that morning, Annette gave Harwood a more difficult question.

“How do you talk about infidelity with someone?” she asked him. There was not any news about a messy breakup with Beverly, so it had to have happened in his life.

“Just ask? I don’t know. Bev and I talked about it, and it went pretty naturally. I brought up the subject of sleeping with other women, and she just shrugged her shoulders and let it happen. She's on odd woman. How bad are things between you two?”

“Things between Bill and I are fantastic,” said Annette, looking upwards and closing her eyes for another pose. “But his ex and I have a bet. She thinks that he cheated on me, and if she’s right, I have to pay for a bunch of expensive spa packages for her snobby little face. If I’m right and he’s been faithful, she funds the kickstarter for my own cooking show.”

“And you just forgive him if he cheated on you?” Harwood asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then you can get the truth out of him with that kindness. How about we try the first pose again? Commanding stance?”

The finished piece was quite a sight to behold, appraised at over 2,000 simoleons. The collar of her shirt was stunningly rendered. Running off a bold French roast, Annette’s fingers twitched as she got the mail for the morning. Utility bills, promotional materials, and among those promotional materials, a lingerie catalogue. On a normal day, Annette would throw it in the recycling bin, but she instead noticed a lacy, brown bra and underpants set on the cover. Not particularly risque, but a little more revealing than the tank top and boyshorts combo she swore by.

Well, if she had to get her boyfriend to open up about cheating or not, there was nothing wrong with sweetening the deal.



Word Count for this chapter: 2,222
Word Count so far: 16,007

Revised on 2-3-2015

Forgot to mention this when he was born, but Franco started out life as Artistic and Grumpy, with a love for Grey, Stu Surprise, and Geek Rock.

And Harwood and Beverly had a son before she aged up to elder. His name was Parker and his story significance is non-existent. :P Beverly was the only woman he had an inkling of attraction towards.

Offline Rhoxi

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 9 & 10, 2/4)
« Reply #42 on: February 04, 2014, 05:09:13 PM »

Oh gosh, that square jaw looks odd on a toddler, but Franco's little pout is darling!

"Okay, there were a lot of men in Twinbrook who could have done that, right?"

Unfortunately, thanks to story progression, only three!  :P

Offline RaiaDraconis

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 9 & 10, 2/4)
« Reply #43 on: February 04, 2014, 08:11:07 PM »
So that makes...five? Six Harwood-boos? I think I've lost count...

Franco is adorable. I totally feel for Shark though...I hate diapers. :/

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 9 & 10, 2/4)
« Reply #44 on: February 05, 2014, 12:47:50 PM »
Oh, am I loving this! Lots of fun and nooboos. Franco is such a cutie pie!

I hope Annette wins her bet, surely Bill would know better than to cheat on a lady with pointy teeth!

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 11, 2/5)
« Reply #45 on: February 05, 2014, 04:13:40 PM »
Oh gosh, that square jaw looks odd on a toddler, but Franco's little pout is darling!

"Okay, there were a lot of men in Twinbrook who could have done that, right?"

Unfortunately, thanks to story progression, only three!  :P

I can't say that Franco ever grew into that jaw. :P I love his pout! It's better than the constant scowl he preferred as he got older.

So that makes...five? Six Harwood-boos? I think I've lost count...

Franco is adorable. I totally feel for Shark though...I hate diapers. :/

I think six by that point. Four with Blaise, one with Eva, and one with Beverly.

Poor Shark. He had to face a lot of nooboos later down the line. I don't think he signed up for that.

Oh, am I loving this! Lots of fun and nooboos. Franco is such a cutie pie!

I hope Annette wins her bet, surely Bill would know better than to cheat on a lady with pointy teeth!

Thank you!

Good point. :P



Chapter 11: Simoleons Down the Drain



Annette knew a couple of things about book-keeping. A few sheets about the household budget were kept in a drawer, tracking the erratic income of the family. Annette wrangled promotions and raises for herself like a champ. Sculptures and paintings sold for hundreds or thousands. Having a hunting dog still paid, as Sagebear still dug up tiberium ore, dropping it in Bill’s lap when he came home from work. It covered the utilities and Annette's high grocery bills, and more.

Why, they ran a surplus! Rational sims would put all that extra money towards their kids' college tuition. Invest in the stock market. Put it in the bank and let it marinate in interest. Annette bought a fishing hole.

Granted, the fishing hole had a wonderful view, situated in the hills near the military base. Deciduous trees surrounded the pond and turned golden in the autumn. But at the time, it sounded like an odd purchase, so she made it worth it and overhauled the pond with suitable amenities. Granted, thar jacked the expense up even more, because a nice bar and a mixologist’s pay counted as a necessary amenity. 75,000 simoleons in the hole, and they still ran a surplus.

However, when it came time for Amy’s adult birthday, they still cut expenses and held that one at home.



Little did she know about a party crasher, though.

She and Marc hadn’t spoke for quite some time by then, and she  fell out of love with him and his quiet demeanor. He kept phone conversations short. He angsted over his structured, uncreative career. It was all a turn-off for her, in the end. But one day, a long time before, she thought that her heart belonged to him, and they drifted away without closure. Just a “maybe romance isn’t for us.”

So she followed Marc into the bathroom.



“Odd place to talk, but I think we left on the wrong note,” said Amy, “You’re a great guy, and I don’t want things to be sour between us. So, friends again?”



“Can’t see why not,” he said, “You’re a good person too. And don’t fret about adulthood. I ended up liking it.” And with Marc's words, Amy finally felt like she had the permission to carry on with her romantic life. She could carry it on with whatever man she could pick from her list of friends.

The two of them then coughed on some odd dust in the bathroom. What was going on?



Yep, Julienne was still bitter, if running off speculation. As for Bill, after getting beat and thrown to the tiles by skinny little Julienne, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

We need to talk privately. I’m at the fishing hole

Annette stood in front of the mirror in the little changing room she built at the pond, off to the side of new, main building. She put her phone on top of the dresser, just so she wouldn’t get distracted. The small elastic that kept her hair tied in a ponytail was slid off, and her regular clothes were folded on top of the dresser. Annette wore something better for that dreaded talk. A mailorder, it arrived just in time that afternoon.



As I said, she needed to sweeten the deal.



She did that at the expense of missing a friend’s birthday and the stunning carrot cake. What a shame; she decorated it herself cream cheese frosting and every tacky candy decoration she could find.



Bill was already seated at the couch, unusually patient, perhaps a bit forlorn. Melinda, the mixologist at the time, leaned over her spot behind the bar and hoping to scout out customers in the empty, empty room.

“Anything you need, Mr. Racket? Oh, and look to your left,” Melinda said.



He yawned. “Dressing like that in order to get the truth out of me? Oldest one in the book.”

“So you do have something awful to admit? Geez, I thought I would have to ask nicely too!” Annette leaned over to light the black candles at the end-tables. “But I want to clear the air, you know?”

"About what?" he asked.

"Some rumor that's been going around about you at work. You...you reconciled with Dudley, didn't you?"

"Yeah, that's something I never wanted to admit. He made a good career choice and is a funny, charming man."

"And everyone's been bugging me with some gossip about you cheating on me. By everyone, I mean Julienne. It seems outlandish-"



“I guess you and Jules caught me. I took Scout to the movies and we ended up doing other things, but hear me out. You were pregnant, I was stressed at work, I just got the notice that my mum passed away. And it was only once.” He sighed, looking at the floor. “I hate that I did that. I just hope you can forgive me now.”



The wide, distressed look in Annette’s eyes almost gave the verdict, but she switched gears. “I can’t believe it. Now I have to pay for all of those spa packages.”

“Wait, what?”

“Julienne thought you were cheating on me, and I didn’t. Because she’s right, I have to uphold my end of the deal. Another 50,000 simoleons down the drain.”

“Then what about me? Are you mad?” Bill asked.

“Oh, that? I've seen some horrible crap. Your thing? It was just a stupid lapse in judgment on your part," she said. "So is Scout’s kid yours?”

“Apparently. Her husband took it pretty well.” He gave Annette one peck on the cheek. “I don't care what you say. I still feel kind of awful about the whole thing. I think you’re due for a nice surprise tomorrow night, you know, for putting up with me. And I didn’t get you anything for your birthday.”



"Don't sweat it, honey." It wasn’t like Annette was diligent about birthday gifts either. She had nothing planned for Amy, except for a new orange dress and jacket that she hid in the dresser at home.



She took adulthood well regardless, even with the poor excuse for a party crowd.



Amy even found the dress. The headband was her idea, though.



While Amy preened at the dresser, Harwood found confronting another “friend” of his, Sofia. Pregnant, she looked up at him with sultry, tired blue eyes while giving her tummy a reassuring rub. While she claimed to be Amy's best friend forever, Amy laughed at the notion and Sofia was outed as being bitter and in need of rubbing Harwood's nose in the bad, bad thing he did.

“Sorry I haven’t called. How are things?” he asked, then looking down. “Aside from the obvious.”

“Going about as well as they can. I’m due tomorrow, and once I get this nooboo out of me, I swear that I’m going to kill you for doing this to me.”

“I know that kids weren’t really on your agenda, but take it in good faith that I’m thrilled. I hope it's as cute as you are.”

“That’s nice. As I said, I’ll go into labor and wish that you were dead. Pretty likely, considering your age-”

Harwood led her out the door before she could get more morbid. “Call me before you name it!” he yelled, as she waddled to the pink Bwan Speedster parked at the curb.

As the rest of the house slept, Annette embarked on a little excursion. Surely, things between her and Julienne would take a while to get tolerable again, even with all the money she had to fling in Julienne's face to pay for massages or manicures. As it turned out, Julienne had a friend that lived across the street from her. Just a friend, and not someone who could make her forget about the bad ex that her co-worker went steady with.

Not until she held that friend's car for ransom, anyways. She left a note in its place.



Not until she held that friend's car for ransom, anyways. She left a note in its place.

If you want to see your precious ride again, make Julienne happy. If you know what I mean. - xoxox Annette

The sun rose the next day, and Annette rose early in the morning, refreshed and bounding with energy for work in the afternoon.

Or some extra work for the morning, because Franco sat up in his crib, quiet but wide-eyed and awake. He was getting older and bigger each day, but somehow, everyone forgot about his toddler skills.



Poor Annette. She nearly jumped out of bed that morning, ready to take on the day even before her morning coffee. However, Bill ended up starting Franco his first lesson on talking in the time it took for Annette to brew a pot of espresso roast coffee and pour a splash of skim milk into her mug of it. At that point, she actually hoped that the dirty work of potty training was left to her.

And there was still the night to look forward to, with whatever Bill had planned. Annette even beamed from ear-to-ear while putting on her uniform and breathing in the scent of new fabric softener.



But the afternoon took a turn for the worse. The carpool arrived and the driver kept honking the horn, almost ready to jump out and drag Annette to the car themselves.

She made a dash to the car. Not like she was averse to facing bad happenings, but why be late to work when they paid by the hour?



Word Count for this chapter: 1,574
Word Count so far: 17,581

Revised on 2-5-2015.

Offline Rhoxi

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 11, 2/5)
« Reply #46 on: February 05, 2014, 06:47:38 PM »

So far, this isn't exactly shaping up to be a dynasty of happy romances and relationships. Amy and Marc not working out, and Annette's weird relationship with Bill. It's hard to tell if Annette and Bill really even like each other, sometimes! I mean, an agreed upon open relationship would be one thing, but not even caring about his cheating?  :o

It's probably more true to life, though.  :( Not sure how I feel yet about these more realistic relationships! Why isn't everything all happy and with rainbows and unicorns!? . . . says the watcher who killed off her founder. Okay, okay. Hypocritical, I know.

jsiberian

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 11, 2/5)
« Reply #47 on: February 05, 2014, 07:03:54 PM »
To be fair, I think that immortal dynasty relationships can't be happy forever - mortals always gots to die. Interesting components to those relationships make the passage of time more meaningful, in my opinion.

Offline Trident

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 11, 2/5)
« Reply #48 on: February 06, 2014, 04:20:17 PM »
Annette is definitely a different kind of sim. I'm going to enjoy watching her through the next 600 years.

Offline RaiaDraconis

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Re: Eight Ways to Live Forever: The Waverly Immortal Dynasty (Ch. 11, 2/5)
« Reply #49 on: February 06, 2014, 04:30:34 PM »
Annette is far more nonchalant about Bill's indiscretion than I would ever be. :P

So Amy is next on the romantic radar. I wonder who will be the father of her eventual nooboo...?

 

anything