tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67671038937511971122024-03-12T22:00:58.497-07:00Six DegreesSix degrees of separation - the idea that all Sims are approximately six steps away from one another; for better, or for worse.mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-52392095241477566582011-10-29T12:07:00.000-07:002011-10-29T12:07:02.486-07:00In ConclusionOnce again, my game has K.O.-ed and I'm not quite sure I can continue with the story. I have most of the characters in my Saved Sims bin, completely cc-free, but that's not the problem. The problem is, I've lost the enthusiasm to write the story; and when that happens, re-creating the sims and the environment just isn't all that appealing.<br />
<br />
But instead of leaving you all on a hanger, I decided to sum up the plot(s) to each story:<br />
<br />
<b>Ella and Eric</b> continue to have frequent conflicts, but otherwise end up being a "perfect" couple. They get married and shortly discover a bouncing baby girl in their future. They named her Blondie.<br />
<br />
<b>Christy</b> successfully released the story, after bribing <b>Mark</b> for more information about the Pinciottis. Mark's girlfriend Colette was pregnant with their child, and Mark didn't have a penny to his name after bad business decisions.<br />
<br />
After reading Christy's story, <b>Bonnie</b> has a major meltdown. <b>Kevin</b> runs to the Pinciotti mansion to check up on her, and consoles her as best as he can. Shortly after the story is released, Bonnie watched her beloved uncle (and Mayor) be assassinated during a speech at a festival. Bonnie's father, <b>Jack</b>, orchestrated the assassination (unbeknownst to her).<br />
<br />
After all the tragedy around her, Bonnie succumbed to a juice/drink/nectar addiction and woefully agreed to become a part of the "family business".<br />
<br />
<b>Kevin</b> divorced his wife <b>Christy</b> after the release of the book, and took their daughter with him.<br />
<br />
<b>Michele</b> continues to fall in "love" with <b>Luke</b> as the filming of the movie begins to wrap up. After being back home with <b>Alex</b> for almost a year, she began to remember why she loved him and that she didn't truly feel anything for Luke but was caught in the moment. However, a paparazzi decided to release the photo of Luke and Michele kissing for the entire world to see. Michele loses Alex and sinks into a depression. The pressures of fame became too much for her and she began refusing to leave the house like a hermit.<br />
<br />
<b>Bonnie</b> continues to see <b>Kevin</b>, but not as a therapist. They slowly begin to fall for one another. Kevin is completely unaware that Bonnie is involved with illegal doings in the family, and Bonnie is completely unaware that Kevin was the one who accidentally tipped Christy off to the secret illness in their family.<br />
<br />
You can check out Christy's story <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/p/deception-secrets-of-pinciotti-family.html">here.</a><br />
<br />
You may again see these characters, but for now, they are retired. I do sincerely appreciate each and every reader, which is why I wanted to post this. Unlike previous abrupt endings to my stories, at least now there's a conclusion. :)mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-47123418846556158862011-10-26T13:23:00.000-07:002011-10-26T13:23:00.076-07:00AMATUSSo, I have some exciting news!<br />
<br />
A short story called AMATUS <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(<b>latin:</b> <i>beloved</i>) </span>will be published on October 31st, aka Halloween. It was originally meant to be a part of the in-game project I've previously referred to, but the mood of the story clashes with the mood and environment of the project. Sooo, it gets its own short series! :)<br />
<br />
I wanted to wait to announce the series, since I wasn't sure if it would work, but it seems to be going well so far and hopefully it will continue to. I've written some chapters in advance so I can focus on school. The chapters will be released once every week for multiple parts, and once every two weeks for complete chapters.<br />
<br />
I'm publishing this on my Six Degrees blog as well as my <i><a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/">Cheezy's Corner</a></i> blog so all my followers can see it. Although it's been a month since I last updated this story, I promise I'm not through with it yet. My game and I just need a breather and a chance to expand on other projects.<br />
<br />
Can't wait to hear your feedback!mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-57158563276117175402011-09-07T10:27:00.000-07:002011-09-07T10:31:35.227-07:00Steal Your Heart<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><< <b>Previous Chapter:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/08/goodbye-apathy.html">Goodbye, Apathy</a></span></i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i><b>Song Title:</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_X8H4G5ACs&ob=av3e">Steal Your Heart</a> by Augustana</i><br />
<i><b>Content Warning:</b> strong language, some sensuality</i><br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkKRumv_r9qz0eQ_FxR3nzzpHzcc_9U6rVBeE5eaqzwh2__1xSbiV_d6otQSq-WauDhC5EeGnbLvD1bSZUgnkDVU7gNSC2_Mq8bPUELvxUfsAgNPZgHfi3NoBUUkiEVpWop9gpT7pE2Q/s1600/Screenshot-91.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkKRumv_r9qz0eQ_FxR3nzzpHzcc_9U6rVBeE5eaqzwh2__1xSbiV_d6otQSq-WauDhC5EeGnbLvD1bSZUgnkDVU7gNSC2_Mq8bPUELvxUfsAgNPZgHfi3NoBUUkiEVpWop9gpT7pE2Q/s640/Screenshot-91.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "And so, we meet again." Kevin chuckled, although his face soon returned to its usual stoic expression. "What shall we discuss today, Ms. Pinciotti?"<br />
<br />
Bonnie had thought over her next question very carefully, unsure of how to say it. She's been preparing for this moment for the past two weeks; cooperating with the nurses, listening to the doctors, and actively participating in therapy. She really did want to get better, even if it meant forcing - or faking - full recovery. Surprisingly, it worked. She willed herself into feeling better, and although she still wasn't eating much, she looked much healthier than she did the day she was admitted.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3xORqQhop3MaZecdm5440qL8ZmIGKqdxKcIDl4mfIejqTb6xTV2h1HjhBq0Lff0xGmsTFzgtEmeniRY29Zoe3YObNuM4dfq2UPXt3M2Z0U-rnstrJqlvyWqcu6uPcF2L-UhhYlucC8kA/s1600/Screenshot-93.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3xORqQhop3MaZecdm5440qL8ZmIGKqdxKcIDl4mfIejqTb6xTV2h1HjhBq0Lff0xGmsTFzgtEmeniRY29Zoe3YObNuM4dfq2UPXt3M2Z0U-rnstrJqlvyWqcu6uPcF2L-UhhYlucC8kA/s640/Screenshot-93.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Well, I think my state of mind has improved tremendously since my arrival..." she began, unsure of herself.<br />
<br />
"Indeed it has. I'm very impressed."<br />
<br />
"Are you impressed enough to let me out early?"<br />
<br />
Kevin paused and seriously considered letting Bonnie go, but wondered if the coping techniques she learned during her admission would escape her when faced with real-life issues.<br />
<br />
"I'll tell your case worker to let you go if you follow these conditions; one, you will call me <i>immediately</i> if you start feeling suicidal. Two, you will continue to see me twice a week for three weeks for outpatient care, and three; you will avoid negative influences and triggers that will create another episode such as this one. Understand?"<br />
<br />
Bonnie nodded her head enthusiastically, and a smile began to creep back up to Kevin's face.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNBFb4wuFekDHLgSrCRqszSBGBu6cRRo3vsPQq3U3IQFnLJ7mI8taxtZL1IobC50coIqBN0BB2i3y1giKG_xoxPu0ltAlcLRRRmmXPFjZyIe02LUJZN9pH5dZIqrE0IhJy8Z6qeqqOaE/s1600/Screenshot-94.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNBFb4wuFekDHLgSrCRqszSBGBu6cRRo3vsPQq3U3IQFnLJ7mI8taxtZL1IobC50coIqBN0BB2i3y1giKG_xoxPu0ltAlcLRRRmmXPFjZyIe02LUJZN9pH5dZIqrE0IhJy8Z6qeqqOaE/s640/Screenshot-94.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Well then, I'll schedule a board meeting in about two to five days to discuss the terms of your release, and then you should be free."<br />
<br />
"Thank you so much, Dr. Clarke! I promise you won't regret it."<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EjoZOni5FdXCRqTO0LjvKbBCEfGZSWK9zJSvfJKnAhCv36MQhbztNfkGpTQHPpFP_jaJ2ESF6SJz6OOoiLKPmWzHSB6AUg07AyIN_3TkQ4NLyS6ncZMnojvcV7Hsqh0OeLqqjTLpEbM/s1600/Screenshot-74.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EjoZOni5FdXCRqTO0LjvKbBCEfGZSWK9zJSvfJKnAhCv36MQhbztNfkGpTQHPpFP_jaJ2ESF6SJz6OOoiLKPmWzHSB6AUg07AyIN_3TkQ4NLyS6ncZMnojvcV7Hsqh0OeLqqjTLpEbM/s640/Screenshot-74.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Ella's eyes opened slowly as she listened to the sound of Eric softly snoring. She breathed deeply, and closed her eyes as she took in this moment. Her heart was beating erratically, but at the same time, it was as soft and slow as a drum.<br />
<br />
She quickly pulled her cellphone out of her back pocket and saw that Jordan called her four times last night. She shrugged as she huddled closer to him. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_dOQV3Cvcmn1ucRipPY6IekYdpb_3zAQyW2XmsvYAJR42-etktqbDaaFR_XhuQ0Uw9pzCeVcwcIGhLraaTruNgAjDQz6d3vtHWWQhmntqAboMqFM4oVLN9WjCEkE_mX10RC8gv6WCr1Y/s1600/Screenshot-75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_dOQV3Cvcmn1ucRipPY6IekYdpb_3zAQyW2XmsvYAJR42-etktqbDaaFR_XhuQ0Uw9pzCeVcwcIGhLraaTruNgAjDQz6d3vtHWWQhmntqAboMqFM4oVLN9WjCEkE_mX10RC8gv6WCr1Y/s640/Screenshot-75.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>His eyes began to flutter, as Ella watched him in awe. His hair laid perfectly in place, and his chest went up and down steadily. She softly stroked his stomach and caressed his fingers.<br />
<br />
"Hello beautiful," she whispered.<br />
<br />
"Good morning, blondie."<br />
<br />
"You know, I have a new theory...about us." <br />
<br />
"And what would that be?"<br />
<br />
"We are very much alike, and therefore drawn to each other. We have the same initials, and we both have ten letters in our full names. We're both famous, rebellious, flirty, terrified of settling down, and snobby."<br />
<br />
"I am not snobby," he interrupted jokingly.<br />
<br />
"You don't admit it, but you are. You're one of the snobbiest guys I've ever met."<br />
<br />
"How so?"<br />
<br />
"Remember that time when you would only listen to obscure bands and old music because 'mainstream' music was lame?"<br />
<br />
"Well, that was just common sense."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqYjDpezc-4t8TiPHG0Bmv637OZQQJkpH700wtYDeXZbIPK8sg6ZA0hqofISZETnvi3Z7OHXZyMQl2l3UsWMDGDXtLPt3ulVnzkJTf-k6l2FSSjnvAVUmGuzEWQh5k0vVxXoZOt3wOsQ/s1600/Screenshot-76.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqYjDpezc-4t8TiPHG0Bmv637OZQQJkpH700wtYDeXZbIPK8sg6ZA0hqofISZETnvi3Z7OHXZyMQl2l3UsWMDGDXtLPt3ulVnzkJTf-k6l2FSSjnvAVUmGuzEWQh5k0vVxXoZOt3wOsQ/s640/Screenshot-76.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>She reluctantly climbed on top of him, as he stared at her with a slightly confused face.<br />
<br />
"Well, I'm sick of trying to have a platonic relationship. It's not working. We are doomed to be drawn to and repulsed by each other."<br />
<br />
"And what about Jordan?"<br />
<br />
"I'll break it to him gently. He hasn't moved on from Bonnie yet, so he probably won't be too broken over it." Eric grinned as Ella kissed his lips lightly and began unbuttoning one of his many shirts.<br />
<br />
"Okay, but you have to be gentle with me." he smirked.<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XHOnylo_6TQDAu6dhFtB5vGp4fw3rvg-LF9m9G8JNJzMVroNBumGcOJSEgpq0yblCw-JkFncL-6lGMVinlSLf_iJDD9IQIRbSxiwxHi3yLi7W9lfvb9uZIXFdrO38vu9_p_rQiDtHg0/s1600/Screenshot-86.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XHOnylo_6TQDAu6dhFtB5vGp4fw3rvg-LF9m9G8JNJzMVroNBumGcOJSEgpq0yblCw-JkFncL-6lGMVinlSLf_iJDD9IQIRbSxiwxHi3yLi7W9lfvb9uZIXFdrO38vu9_p_rQiDtHg0/s640/Screenshot-86.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> As the weeks of shooting the film toiled on, Michele became very close with her cast mates; especially with one in particular. Almost every woman in Sunset Valley with a libido felt something for Luke, but she saw more of him than any of those sims could have hoped to see. Underneath the ladies' man exterior, he had a heart of gold and was very considerate. Whenever she wanted to complain about Alex's nosiness, or her growing uncertainty in regards to marriage, he was there with a listening ear.<br />
<br />
She hated to admit it, but she was falling for him.<br />
<br />
"Well, the view here is certainly amazing." she said with a fake air of confidence, while facing away from Luke. He chucked and said "Well, it would be even nicer if you turned around and actually looked at it."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgQ80CtvLxVWDnR2C8KyIJFIUn1_kNIwIOfbCdlL3doL5wT6L67L8kcRfX3n8WC-fm-i8jajuRKu3LsQKZIRxgtFDnLc9YCQt72tDQ-uuX-KzPmpZPHqZAvaQefJaHCWlD7Q0GECfhvQ/s1600/Screenshot-87.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgQ80CtvLxVWDnR2C8KyIJFIUn1_kNIwIOfbCdlL3doL5wT6L67L8kcRfX3n8WC-fm-i8jajuRKu3LsQKZIRxgtFDnLc9YCQt72tDQ-uuX-KzPmpZPHqZAvaQefJaHCWlD7Q0GECfhvQ/s640/Screenshot-87.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> She turned around hesitantly as he grabbed her and pulled her closer to him. "See? The view is much nicer now. Or at least, it is for me." he winked.<br />
<br />
Michele chuckled halfheartedly and refused to look him in the eye. She never wanted any of this to happen, and she never wanted to break any hearts. She slowly started pulling away from him, but he would have none of it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pNOpq3ZL_7MAETK8dhJ0fkQQMbkbnRIWLBbcM17DqDtI5buRzMhL5f4CdhbEzJjA3l3MMcDgH7_VvMLvCtthSMMTlC_6-doESAQ_8A3YsqcqNYmS59VMMfRHBI2N90GodTEJ1OCc4FA/s1600/Screenshot-88.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pNOpq3ZL_7MAETK8dhJ0fkQQMbkbnRIWLBbcM17DqDtI5buRzMhL5f4CdhbEzJjA3l3MMcDgH7_VvMLvCtthSMMTlC_6-doESAQ_8A3YsqcqNYmS59VMMfRHBI2N90GodTEJ1OCc4FA/s640/Screenshot-88.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "You okay?"<br />
<br />
"No," she sighed. "I can't do this anymore, Luke. I'm just not that kind of girl. I can't live with myself knowing that I'm...I'm betraying someone's trust. I'm sorry."<br />
<br />
"Hey now, don't be so quick to end this. I happen to think what we have is pretty special too; just as special as your relationship with Alex, even. It's bigger than us. By becoming one as people, our characters can become one with each other as well. I mean, what he doesn't know won't kill him, right?" he pleaded.<br />
<br />
"Luke-"<br />
<br />
"Just think about it, okay? Can you do that for me?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SXEbQtrXOowtn5HAPl2WpM29_ueg-atG9-_1Jtoh3-SfbIo9s0r8sYSyMy86tSNv0m-U_WZc7DpjWQafxwv9E3Jf_A8xQS55xNsJ5oWdZMQCOnXoL-UOys2WrPMhiVj5_vgJx-KQUA8/s1600/Screenshot-89.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SXEbQtrXOowtn5HAPl2WpM29_ueg-atG9-_1Jtoh3-SfbIo9s0r8sYSyMy86tSNv0m-U_WZc7DpjWQafxwv9E3Jf_A8xQS55xNsJ5oWdZMQCOnXoL-UOys2WrPMhiVj5_vgJx-KQUA8/s640/Screenshot-89.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> He pulled her closer to him, even closer than before, and gently kissed her lips while stroking her hair. Michele tried so hard to remind herself of Alex, and the mess she was creating each time she touched him; but it did nothing. She felt absolutely drained of any power to say no.<br />
<br />
After he pulled away to check her expression, she quietly smiled and nodded "yes", to approve of the misguided affair. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach for Alex, where the butterflies who favored Luke viciously attacked it. Her entire body, mind, and spirit was at war with itself.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvr6_45-gBQ2jPY230DaFCClmbKDeFyKHzkYk5QFseCYcOV1rY6Ekp8tguCWbHFnRQFIDbeg8lYqrTMehDR7GMpchAwavggxKspZ15-t0r-vBhMmeBprf9LfqzY_ViEhakIIegOBccOno/s1600/Screenshot-90.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvr6_45-gBQ2jPY230DaFCClmbKDeFyKHzkYk5QFseCYcOV1rY6Ekp8tguCWbHFnRQFIDbeg8lYqrTMehDR7GMpchAwavggxKspZ15-t0r-vBhMmeBprf9LfqzY_ViEhakIIegOBccOno/s640/Screenshot-90.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Unfortunately, if prying eyes had their way, Michele and Luke's dirty little rendezvous would soon cease to be a secret.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lKL4e2De-2XEaUtEsQHMWWZURmB5wbaIo6j5zJWXY0yACxSCNNsNkF_qGhMn4rEMoui3FWgraHUMpUswre5Og8yeScJv_0KtkixFtXLlPhANt-AkVug7d89C6q0F2S32GH1nvPUJDQo/s1600/Screenshot-97.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lKL4e2De-2XEaUtEsQHMWWZURmB5wbaIo6j5zJWXY0yACxSCNNsNkF_qGhMn4rEMoui3FWgraHUMpUswre5Og8yeScJv_0KtkixFtXLlPhANt-AkVug7d89C6q0F2S32GH1nvPUJDQo/s640/Screenshot-97.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Left...right...left...right...left..." Clyde chanted in his head. Tonight was the night.<br />
<br />
He had finally found the perfect opportunity to ask the girl he'd been in love with since high school on a date, and he didn't want to blow it. So much so, that he had his mother create a new outfit and hairstyle for him. Sometimes, it was great to have a world-famous stylist for a mother, and other times, it hurt more than it helped. His mother's occupation frequently aided high-school bullies with fresh new insults for Clyde, as if they didn't already have enough ammo with his notorious shyness, technophobia, and fear of nature.<br />
<br />
But, that was another time. He wasn't in high-school anymore, and neither was she. They were both mature young adults, secretly scared of the world beyond those locker rooms.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiooiBGvLAprspod0rjeM8ctCEVrVMevJMJ0g2BxBqa0ffQ-UymZAQfDkdn02aGcttvnH1T-Aw2GUYXKlw1AO6oqN7SBpMpx2sHLzZOLduTg1Tw6CzMhnMooVTyGTCqlX6yF1O8Ao959b0/s1600/Screenshot-98.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiooiBGvLAprspod0rjeM8ctCEVrVMevJMJ0g2BxBqa0ffQ-UymZAQfDkdn02aGcttvnH1T-Aw2GUYXKlw1AO6oqN7SBpMpx2sHLzZOLduTg1Tw6CzMhnMooVTyGTCqlX6yF1O8Ao959b0/s640/Screenshot-98.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> The girl in question was a different case, indeed. She wasn't a popular girl or anything, although she does have famous parents. She was quirky, and intelligent; she had as much brains as she did beauty. And beyond that, she was humble and understated. She didn't care for the flashy life her parents reveled in, and she dreamed of owning land by the sea, where she and her future family could see the ocean from their bedroom windows.<br />
<br />
Who knows; if Clyde got lucky tonight, it could be <i>their</i> family living on the seaside property. He was horrible with commitments and children made him nervous, but he'd raise a million kids if it meant seeing a smile on her face.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtp1mhNe8X9Sp639miGD5XOHJ5_wED7Q9pg9fVyJocoWpdadFeySwoTQhhcMoj4bbR2cga5iVSKNAmWGnmvurPtX6wZvjwJtoo7bAANwP0tSfhWmZ77wVkLIyid6qUAyMUooWyGVTwxh4/s1600/Screenshot-103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtp1mhNe8X9Sp639miGD5XOHJ5_wED7Q9pg9fVyJocoWpdadFeySwoTQhhcMoj4bbR2cga5iVSKNAmWGnmvurPtX6wZvjwJtoo7bAANwP0tSfhWmZ77wVkLIyid6qUAyMUooWyGVTwxh4/s640/Screenshot-103.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Okay, no pressure." he murmured to himself. He finally arrived at the Dillard abode, with sweat stains under his shirt and clammy, shaky hands. He quickly wiped the sweat on this hands onto his pants and dialed the number on the gate.<br />
<br />
"Clyde Pinciotti, here to see Thame Dillard." he mumbled. She quickly skipped out of her house and towards the gate, as he struggled to catch his breath.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuXDd6e8nQqjyytNmOtwbBq-JsA7AgiixJOA2LKHq35VQ3urM4KKwos4TgYXWGBH30MSAjvZjIFBec6LzxJLU2hVlmigrhmn5pXgLnHbwubMZsv1xaDWnOZY6jqn_5sCRbhWEPlINHtQ/s1600/Screenshot-104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuXDd6e8nQqjyytNmOtwbBq-JsA7AgiixJOA2LKHq35VQ3urM4KKwos4TgYXWGBH30MSAjvZjIFBec6LzxJLU2hVlmigrhmn5pXgLnHbwubMZsv1xaDWnOZY6jqn_5sCRbhWEPlINHtQ/s640/Screenshot-104.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Clyde! Wow, it's been so long since I've seen you!" she beamed. "So, where's your car?"<br />
<br />
"I, um...I didn't bring my car. It's in the shop. My little brother totaled it." he admitted, rather embarrassed.<br />
<br />
"I completely understand. I remember when my little sister totaled my car. I never forgave her. No worries, we can just take my car. To the beach we go!"<br />
<br />
When they reached Sunset Strand, Thame stared at the sunset in awe. Her eyes began to water slightly as she placed her hand over her heart. Clyde tried not to cringe as nature had a habit of making him physically ill, but when he saw how mesmerized she was, his heart instantly melted and all fear of the unfiltered oxygen evaporated. He quickly went about picking random flowers, and wrapped it up in a plastic film he found in a nearby recycling bin.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryNOZFQQ2Pm2dFEUgBdcXQPFH2LBudGw00TU9g0VHhXRlTGvEoNlgYahFIZsrvD0IlK-Dl1eypTy3ZZVbBuaNNADCXNBuHZUjcpRe5q5RMLFbTi0Zf4r3Hbof5RmwIN3OKNxDlklnYLU/s1600/Screenshot-113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryNOZFQQ2Pm2dFEUgBdcXQPFH2LBudGw00TU9g0VHhXRlTGvEoNlgYahFIZsrvD0IlK-Dl1eypTy3ZZVbBuaNNADCXNBuHZUjcpRe5q5RMLFbTi0Zf4r3Hbof5RmwIN3OKNxDlklnYLU/s640/Screenshot-113.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "I know you like nature, so I picked these for you." he mumbled. She stared at the flowers in a complete daze, and brought them up to her nose for a whiff.<br />
<br />
"They smell so sweet, just like you." she smiled. "I'm sorry I can't stay out as late as you wanted, photo-sensitivity and all. Maybe we could do this again at a later date?"<br />
<br />
"Of course. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking-"<br />
<br />
"It's okay. It's been awhile since I've seen the sun from a place other than my bedroom window. I really appreciate it."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIZ4L-_-T1hPwL0sChgOYQ4-6O6V_6hmLxQZiji2FxPOblsCA6f-DI21jgr-fia1eLr7tECdevQsCCgNnbYRbLRLoOPkVqSTzXLLjjOBcfWi0CIWC8i6znMXK6Yi7VFQgxBgF_I3DBuo/s1600/Screenshot-114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIZ4L-_-T1hPwL0sChgOYQ4-6O6V_6hmLxQZiji2FxPOblsCA6f-DI21jgr-fia1eLr7tECdevQsCCgNnbYRbLRLoOPkVqSTzXLLjjOBcfWi0CIWC8i6znMXK6Yi7VFQgxBgF_I3DBuo/s640/Screenshot-114.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"I...it's no problem, really. I just really like you. I think you're amazing, Thame."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Clyde, you don't even know anything about me." she sighed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"I know you're smart, and I know you enjoy painting landscapes. I know you can pick up any instrument and master it within a week. I know you love being by the sea, and now I know you love sunsets." Thame smiled as he went through the long list of things he's observed about her, and shook her head in disdain as he managed to completely overlook the most obvious thing about her:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Her skin.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Clyde...I really have to go." she said urgently as she felt her skin go up in flames. The sun was never very good to her kind, but she wished at this moment she could just stay with him, or even stay alone, and watch the sun set completely.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Wait- how about we go in the shade? Then you can stay with me, right?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"...Yeah, I can."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">------------------------------------------------</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Sometimes, sims show up in each other's lives for a purpose, unbeknownst to either sim.</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomcl93u-LaszMeUrz9vFq2lCf5VrIr-cDVt29w7h3ZhSHsQsLUkDctTOhYRinNIw0oPwzc4VO32s4kARUuhRFzdE6dieb0aQAIulKcoqWt18-vlcy2dEEHT_IpncAEW1NaAUKm8cRWaM/s1600/Screenshot-109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomcl93u-LaszMeUrz9vFq2lCf5VrIr-cDVt29w7h3ZhSHsQsLUkDctTOhYRinNIw0oPwzc4VO32s4kARUuhRFzdE6dieb0aQAIulKcoqWt18-vlcy2dEEHT_IpncAEW1NaAUKm8cRWaM/s640/Screenshot-109.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Sometimes, they're a healing force...</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNCEgfZ1UZaeX66uY2g0QXC-mDYnYfopVBhXhEnhfd6iGYtGBlFJoopojrx4XboPBBRJJmEt1M368MebmZ2rxeqHLfYBems96rtgRgpHw4UOIcp9GY-fkVctVxD6p_gM-fdDNWjZCfLE/s1600/Screenshot-112.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNCEgfZ1UZaeX66uY2g0QXC-mDYnYfopVBhXhEnhfd6iGYtGBlFJoopojrx4XboPBBRJJmEt1M368MebmZ2rxeqHLfYBems96rtgRgpHw4UOIcp9GY-fkVctVxD6p_gM-fdDNWjZCfLE/s640/Screenshot-112.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<i>Sometimes, they're a shoulder to cry on.</i><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wn0OqpobaqTTt5rynl9V3k8Qqw5Qr1tX5Rwykc7s3LiK0Hun_dG_uMbN7A2RKVdyemkVRa6BqXZ48iBAZl8On2weQfW7GFCVUQiNZaBkCGdCYN3GEAvSxhP4CDSUzp487aHDZ6dQXIA/s1600/Screenshot-115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wn0OqpobaqTTt5rynl9V3k8Qqw5Qr1tX5Rwykc7s3LiK0Hun_dG_uMbN7A2RKVdyemkVRa6BqXZ48iBAZl8On2weQfW7GFCVUQiNZaBkCGdCYN3GEAvSxhP4CDSUzp487aHDZ6dQXIA/s640/Screenshot-115.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<i>Sometimes, they teach you how to be stronger...</i><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0odHQa0ce0QtZb9MAFhmJNEZDuOZkIQxmR1Y_V0sfOrPjRIDPKiXuZ0OA7KLG1WLs3jFGHUsoy3gVsOdH257NaIAi1Ecwd5WyqBBxUZSdC-cGggCl9nQ74KNWCUPoxketTelGKgOL2Lg/s1600/Screenshot-95.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0odHQa0ce0QtZb9MAFhmJNEZDuOZkIQxmR1Y_V0sfOrPjRIDPKiXuZ0OA7KLG1WLs3jFGHUsoy3gVsOdH257NaIAi1Ecwd5WyqBBxUZSdC-cGggCl9nQ74KNWCUPoxketTelGKgOL2Lg/s640/Screenshot-95.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<i>Sometimes, they show you just how weak you are.</i><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvdT8vW7ra2RiObO94UU4g7iwbr21I372PwcoGP6BR6Zsevs1gBLC5dwjcYzYgM4K6homoebFsd09wyBlT8ZImhtapPDmTwVlD5OhmBxD0N1AP1hZobqGVVvI5yWlmC5rKqNQmQ8dDC0/s1600/Screenshot-105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvdT8vW7ra2RiObO94UU4g7iwbr21I372PwcoGP6BR6Zsevs1gBLC5dwjcYzYgM4K6homoebFsd09wyBlT8ZImhtapPDmTwVlD5OhmBxD0N1AP1hZobqGVVvI5yWlmC5rKqNQmQ8dDC0/s640/Screenshot-105.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<i>And sometimes, their purpose isn't immediately known.</i><br />
<br />
<i>But regardless of the purpose, each new experience comes with new lessons to learn, and new sims to teach. The lessons you learn and the sims you meet can greatly influence your life in a positive way...</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8eI8U_kMVW3Ya5luFA9y8Fy5G7nK8kqyIgH3H4jHTHMKRrQ62KEzMQBQgRZuywJeeiBl8CIIA2gflNBh_ZIALVsRhyyVff72Pa-L9OeTFGhxDmxoBnUCG4WcZsjNxc92-VhmEpWC_H4/s1600/Screenshot-117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8eI8U_kMVW3Ya5luFA9y8Fy5G7nK8kqyIgH3H4jHTHMKRrQ62KEzMQBQgRZuywJeeiBl8CIIA2gflNBh_ZIALVsRhyyVff72Pa-L9OeTFGhxDmxoBnUCG4WcZsjNxc92-VhmEpWC_H4/s640/Screenshot-117.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><i>...but only if you let it.</i><br />
<br />
----------------------------------<br />
Chapter commentary <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2011/09/steal-your-heart-commentary.html">here</a>. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><b>Next Chapter:</b> Everybody Loves Me (coming soon!) >></i></span>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-2549680457610287152011-08-01T12:27:00.000-07:002011-09-07T10:30:30.560-07:00Goodbye, Apathy<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><< <b>Previous Chapter:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/drumming-song.html">Drumming Song</a></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><b>Song Title:</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKHOX_yeU_c">Goodbye, Apathy</a> by OneRepublic</i><br />
<i><b>Content warning:</b> strong language</i><br />
<br />
-------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvO0AY1v5nKAurxuLmGCGXjNFeqD4KTcEVXbS-UGlmBS_taZMDutZcc5qX9go6oNAvFL6F1oEkUHi7WjDsBzXJjOfqVNIf0-9DKfOg4leSozABslGVerP4qIbYuBFIZuVr2tdmlRkNiSw/s1600/Screenshot-62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvO0AY1v5nKAurxuLmGCGXjNFeqD4KTcEVXbS-UGlmBS_taZMDutZcc5qX9go6oNAvFL6F1oEkUHi7WjDsBzXJjOfqVNIf0-9DKfOg4leSozABslGVerP4qIbYuBFIZuVr2tdmlRkNiSw/s640/Screenshot-62.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kevin's eyelids popped open before his alarm clock had the chance to wake him from his sleep. He smirked contentedly, knowing that he had outsmarted it once again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrPsMHats3q0wCluMnJcLWekrmEpXlid-kgAorr0FNM8xjSAeXhyXQPSDjYc2s7DQIuYmJpO6E_6ZzsX59RvitOibViyzv8qS3IHA4jMBWQbVhyphenhyphenq0zADOE1t0prIVXpR3N9ehovSE43Q/s1600/Screenshot-63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrPsMHats3q0wCluMnJcLWekrmEpXlid-kgAorr0FNM8xjSAeXhyXQPSDjYc2s7DQIuYmJpO6E_6ZzsX59RvitOibViyzv8qS3IHA4jMBWQbVhyphenhyphenq0zADOE1t0prIVXpR3N9ehovSE43Q/s640/Screenshot-63.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>He began his morning ritual by stretching, putting on his favorite slippers, and fixing a hot cup of coffee to start his day. He walked into the living room to find his wife hunched over the computer, furiously typing away.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVw_P7k5FzB-k8qGF_LraOW0QUzcV325k0YT-jjyUszLrMwgU3zD13poXYCUCSFJ9aSTJlNejE3O-kepPdfjg2jxwjaQkEtL0t0KwgZxq6GAEbZrKeglNzpe2TqggVXr_rdOMTy88sIvQ/s1600/Screenshot-64.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVw_P7k5FzB-k8qGF_LraOW0QUzcV325k0YT-jjyUszLrMwgU3zD13poXYCUCSFJ9aSTJlNejE3O-kepPdfjg2jxwjaQkEtL0t0KwgZxq6GAEbZrKeglNzpe2TqggVXr_rdOMTy88sIvQ/s640/Screenshot-64.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Christy, why are you up so early? What are you typing?" he yawned. Kevin peeked over Christy's shoulder with great suspicion, which made her guard the screen protectively.<br />
<br />
"Well, <i>Sims of the News</i> is looking for journalists, so I'm sending in my application with a sample article about the history of mummies in ancient Al Simharan times."<br />
<br />
"Sweetie, I respect your historian background, but <i>Sims of the News</i> is a pretty scandal-based magazine. Isn't that a little too dull to use as a submission?"<br />
<br />
"Well, I had a meatier story in mind, but someone won't let me use it." she scowled.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry Christy, but I simply can't let you do that. Anyway, I have to hurry up and get ready. One of my patients still isn't responding to treatment, and she's refusing to talk to anyone." Kevin walked up the stairs to retrieve his outfit for the day as Christy glared in his direction. <br />
<br />
"I'm going to get to that story, one way or another." she mumbled.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">"Bonnie, will you please talk to me?"</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs9rqPUAvn6kcO2UrGCkoOLK2wou2iSKXAZ3AO0w5bIBUMUUcJTqmQ4uxXg9_TZdMLPOJfTGb4dhAcAeQJr8M1RWLKEmAwvpPdlj5wf28G_W3kbA3sEIu9GgCSLuvYvkFzq70P-SnnaaE/s1600/Screenshot-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs9rqPUAvn6kcO2UrGCkoOLK2wou2iSKXAZ3AO0w5bIBUMUUcJTqmQ4uxXg9_TZdMLPOJfTGb4dhAcAeQJr8M1RWLKEmAwvpPdlj5wf28G_W3kbA3sEIu9GgCSLuvYvkFzq70P-SnnaaE/s640/Screenshot-49.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "No." she whispered weakly. Kevin couldn't help but smile slightly at her determination not to speak to him. For such a broken spirit, she still had a little fire in her. He sighed quietly as he observed this empty shell of a woman, unable to reach out to anyone and bound by sadness and doubt.<br />
<br />
"You're barely eating, Bonnie. I can see your bones." She shrugged weakly and closed her eyes.<br />
<br />
He wished he could do something, but there was nothing he could do if she didn't want to help herself. Every day, Kevin sits there for hours with Bonnie, hoping to pull <i>something</i> out of her, but never had such luck. He watched her as she pulled herself up from the ground and sat up on the couch. She shivered slightly, and held her frail arms close to her body.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgwX7vGr9cl-HngnTiwAybLLvxHUITTwal_0wgUPG5hpIkNyTV_1ViZbrFUQElhxoRvyPL7j6F3NoerfwiDXOncpcyEfzwFE3oI8y1NbXFKwzT2VL5-3iQiZ5Pm1LEYNMKkC1ZQxf9ho/s1600/Screenshot-50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgwX7vGr9cl-HngnTiwAybLLvxHUITTwal_0wgUPG5hpIkNyTV_1ViZbrFUQElhxoRvyPL7j6F3NoerfwiDXOncpcyEfzwFE3oI8y1NbXFKwzT2VL5-3iQiZ5Pm1LEYNMKkC1ZQxf9ho/s640/Screenshot-50.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Bonnie stared at him wordlessly with cold eyes and dried tears on her face. He could only imagine what she was thinking, and how she felt at the moment. Alone, afraid, betrayed...<br />
<br />
"You've been here for a week now. Why won't you talk to me?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ71qBCWWV35sgQgPQyjBtf2ry62U9pOqVyWAR3MJrD4YnnhUWEYz7inuOKNRBIVOiY7KuBdrn1cMVW8qjGljH4ld78A6u9cYYy8jUbLIfvh4h4Q-_wTs7DdlP3-Y3n7yt3NQiVdzaDCY/s1600/Screenshot-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ71qBCWWV35sgQgPQyjBtf2ry62U9pOqVyWAR3MJrD4YnnhUWEYz7inuOKNRBIVOiY7KuBdrn1cMVW8qjGljH4ld78A6u9cYYy8jUbLIfvh4h4Q-_wTs7DdlP3-Y3n7yt3NQiVdzaDCY/s640/Screenshot-51.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> She sighed loudly and put her head in her arms.<br />
<br />
"You ruined my life." she whispered harshly.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJzhyCVcWPyiwCTSO_Xeritlmp2fpdIfE5ju9D-Oeg-1DQGv-6MzGg0bRaPgllHbTsMZHPByOTT3AfEb43mhOr9XOHoTD5sB9KDQUJt-XUyF0hbvYa0Sa8-HXzNYxXvU262HKTaMUVm2Y/s1600/Screenshot-52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJzhyCVcWPyiwCTSO_Xeritlmp2fpdIfE5ju9D-Oeg-1DQGv-6MzGg0bRaPgllHbTsMZHPByOTT3AfEb43mhOr9XOHoTD5sB9KDQUJt-XUyF0hbvYa0Sa8-HXzNYxXvU262HKTaMUVm2Y/s640/Screenshot-52.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "One could argue that I <i>saved</i> your life. Don't be ridiculous, Bonnie. I'm just trying to help you. I'm trying to get you through this. I know you're in a lot of pain..."<br />
<br />
"You know nothing of my pain. And who says I need your fucking help, anyway?" she snarled.<br />
<br />
"So be it. If I'm not needed, I'll just go."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlahImvuTiYBbzvKGeN6LhfLSv4oAfK2dpWmdM2TaWlYyUvlWYFUvomiO6tcm-lDXtWZwXbj26we9kvcXMJeeoSAU4mv7MX0oLV-lwdQrro0VaKHtmeRqH5oYmvjzsCmwnkRYcv9MTWI/s1600/Screenshot-54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlahImvuTiYBbzvKGeN6LhfLSv4oAfK2dpWmdM2TaWlYyUvlWYFUvomiO6tcm-lDXtWZwXbj26we9kvcXMJeeoSAU4mv7MX0oLV-lwdQrro0VaKHtmeRqH5oYmvjzsCmwnkRYcv9MTWI/s640/Screenshot-54.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kevin got up from his chair and walked towards the door, seemingly unaffected by Bonnie's outburst. Before he opened the door, he checked to see if Bonnie had moved her head.<br />
<br />
She hadn't.<br />
<br />
With a sigh, he walked out of the room completely and returned home for the day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-3gU0Pjb6OpwxO79PXjt1BfMr-lRs4Wc0hg8_nSTXwA-1wiN6Iaa8vIaGPSxQU8SNsYkSAtd1HnfDOFArgQzAZENFp-2OPq6_ltXQxaoW4b6KcJp6Iix1ixSjE4iJeLi0KNepnKc-8w/s1600/Screenshot-55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-3gU0Pjb6OpwxO79PXjt1BfMr-lRs4Wc0hg8_nSTXwA-1wiN6Iaa8vIaGPSxQU8SNsYkSAtd1HnfDOFArgQzAZENFp-2OPq6_ltXQxaoW4b6KcJp6Iix1ixSjE4iJeLi0KNepnKc-8w/s640/Screenshot-55.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> With Kevin gone, Bonnie felt less constricted and suffocated. She quietly and slowly lifted herself up from the loveseat, and wandered around the room. As her eyes glazed over the obnoxiously muted tones, a certain something caught her eye.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJJM-M_waFlihnCo8s8brr_ZkafWLCcRTmzmrIRuIFKyWve0sOzupA6M8euygQ-bGHWCVTr1N5bq6hqUvvmIIXrWueZRZyYu5p3Y4lfaWGLrnelojfRFdnbpA3dAU2U8l3BDMfHOR8eg/s1600/Screenshot-56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJJM-M_waFlihnCo8s8brr_ZkafWLCcRTmzmrIRuIFKyWve0sOzupA6M8euygQ-bGHWCVTr1N5bq6hqUvvmIIXrWueZRZyYu5p3Y4lfaWGLrnelojfRFdnbpA3dAU2U8l3BDMfHOR8eg/s640/Screenshot-56.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Her medical files. A picture of a creepy man she could only assume to be her great great grandfather was pinned onto the file, along with the Pinciotti dissertation Kevin had referred to in a previous session. She sat down and read it, but was disappointed by the lack of new information.<br />
<br />
With all these things happening to her and so little information on it available, Bonnie began to wonder why her family was so secretive. And little did she know, she would soon find out.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-b8Q5ddoiw39wh7nS7q5JPdTOkdyz_Jp5IjVpudXi-X21_7G3mhrbQHo-sW_f5F1ucNGVQvwuVMf0oPWnP754tCwCRsSeO5teNCm-FlGJ2c5huU4CznsDEwEOg_gYWQH-s8522SfoXf8/s1600/Screenshot-60.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-b8Q5ddoiw39wh7nS7q5JPdTOkdyz_Jp5IjVpudXi-X21_7G3mhrbQHo-sW_f5F1ucNGVQvwuVMf0oPWnP754tCwCRsSeO5teNCm-FlGJ2c5huU4CznsDEwEOg_gYWQH-s8522SfoXf8/s640/Screenshot-60.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Hey, I'm home." Kevin chirped. He then grew suspicious as he saw his wife deeply engrossed in a book, and silently prayed that it wasn't some sort of Pinciotti-related biography.<br />
<br />
"Hi Kevin. How was work?" she asked mindlessly. <br />
<br />
"It was okay...certainly challenging. How's your book?"<br />
<br />
"It's great."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVChDdwnv3na290-RV_zsNaUjMZvnIeMKpJ6tql3ejFHBj2MLEHiiCm1bVTN7ZmuUH1sWuLmF7YKkHdKpB-dH4jFHyLfdNfrkdfz47ZL78JEB-4vl3ZklWCsF6JBMzc5nY4NkuVr4eQz0/s1600/Screenshot-61.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVChDdwnv3na290-RV_zsNaUjMZvnIeMKpJ6tql3ejFHBj2MLEHiiCm1bVTN7ZmuUH1sWuLmF7YKkHdKpB-dH4jFHyLfdNfrkdfz47ZL78JEB-4vl3ZklWCsF6JBMzc5nY4NkuVr4eQz0/s640/Screenshot-61.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Have you heard back from them yet? It's been a week..."<br />
<br />
"They said I was one of the three writers in consideration." she answered in a monotone voice.<br />
<br />
"Oh, cool." Kevin wondered why Christy was acting so distant, and wondered if she was indeed studying more on the Pinciottis. <i>"Well,"</i> he thought to himself, <i>"Maybe I could guilt her into admitting it."</i><br />
<br />
"Christy, thank you for not using your Pinciotti story. I realize it could have done a lot for you, but..."<br />
<br />
"No problem," she interrupted. "Just remember that you owe me." Kevin smiled appreciatively and wrapped his arms around his wife. Maybe he was wrong about her intentions after all.<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6tWbMc96-YjkMkk_EaK9O7iPdK2a4OSjPWXCPO1voUbMrKYmNGMWDx5xMRDsbV4EisMHxi6jIQGmC3YFy2JM9RcvY9YA3WIp5P3Erb-TyXkhYXNcBNCZCmCdqU9UH53IabCudyQJSVmI/s1600/Screenshot-68.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6tWbMc96-YjkMkk_EaK9O7iPdK2a4OSjPWXCPO1voUbMrKYmNGMWDx5xMRDsbV4EisMHxi6jIQGmC3YFy2JM9RcvY9YA3WIp5P3Erb-TyXkhYXNcBNCZCmCdqU9UH53IabCudyQJSVmI/s640/Screenshot-68.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"This is wrong."<br />
<br />
"I know."<br />
<br />
"No, I mean it. I shouldn't even be here."<br />
<br />
"I love you."<br />
<br />
"What the hell? We haven't spoken in a year and you say that you <i>love</i> me?" Are you drunk, or high on bubbles? What is it with you?! I'm trying to be <i>mature</i> for once in my life."<br />
<br />
"Why are you here?"<br />
<br />
"I'm here because I missed you, and for some inexplicable reason, I'm drawn to you. And now I"m sitting with you in this dingy motel to try and sort my feelings out."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKaCY-J_nbNDTGLaooK9Z3LbTlaYqe2dYAvYFkMuSMy7IZTLrLPHpMuowtWzoSf4DHecCr3coquf1rXOoRUodRKcRjeLQygGESYrsvZpVtCFnwZq4ycaM-Cmka-GNCm_VMHgqn6Nh47Q/s1600/Screenshot-67.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKaCY-J_nbNDTGLaooK9Z3LbTlaYqe2dYAvYFkMuSMy7IZTLrLPHpMuowtWzoSf4DHecCr3coquf1rXOoRUodRKcRjeLQygGESYrsvZpVtCFnwZq4ycaM-Cmka-GNCm_VMHgqn6Nh47Q/s640/Screenshot-67.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"What have you got so far?" he asked. Ella sighed as she sat up and leaned against his chest, feeling his breath tickle her neck.<br />
<br />
"You're familiar."<br />
<br />
"Mm-hmm."<br />
<br />
"You remind me of the life I had in Bridgeport, but most importantly, you remind me of home. I miss home, and that's why I miss you."<br />
<br />
"That's the only reason?"<br />
<br />
"Were you expecting another reason?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtON3fzOb3m6yaxQ0VjV8vA7MockZHks_2tVq5zTj1PKjl38vZrkokV1rt9LaBfufaSY14ABxUnCBElYQ7_OeS5K1u0l1W1xvIjZDv476_z1Lan3rKs-4V8MoCKKomp5M-grvJrax_pq0/s1600/Screenshot-69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtON3fzOb3m6yaxQ0VjV8vA7MockZHks_2tVq5zTj1PKjl38vZrkokV1rt9LaBfufaSY14ABxUnCBElYQ7_OeS5K1u0l1W1xvIjZDv476_z1Lan3rKs-4V8MoCKKomp5M-grvJrax_pq0/s640/Screenshot-69.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Ella rose to her knees, and Eric quickly followed. He grabbed her lightly by her waist and looked her in the eyes pleadingly.<br />
<br />
"I love you. Please stay."<br />
<br />
"Don't be stupid, Eric-"<br />
<br />
"Please, just stay with me tonight. I won't try anything, I swear." she gently ran her fingers through his hair, and sighed wistfully.<br />
<br />
"Even if I believed you, how would I explain it to Jordan?"<br />
<br />
"Say you spent the night with a girlfriend, I don't care. Just give me this. As closure."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBdRK5I_x_CRdAymuYlNyaJQ7CE4gY7oesJc1jhM0yL9h7RoavxqBCE3uPVW48PlysIkP0o2QptKH0uOxwMKQCzXnG31oaYEjP-sPkMNqici0xQW1nZoeah9kHqUzrvDyug2IAp6Nupmg/s1600/Screenshot-70.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBdRK5I_x_CRdAymuYlNyaJQ7CE4gY7oesJc1jhM0yL9h7RoavxqBCE3uPVW48PlysIkP0o2QptKH0uOxwMKQCzXnG31oaYEjP-sPkMNqici0xQW1nZoeah9kHqUzrvDyug2IAp6Nupmg/s640/Screenshot-70.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Fine, I'll stay." Eric smiled and closed his eyes, feeling Ella's cool hands on his cheek. She smiled back and kissed him gently on the forehead, while staring at his face.<br />
<br />
Once again, Ella had made her life more chaotic than it needed to be by falling for a man she shouldn't have fallen for.<br />
<br />
Except this time, she didn't care.<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Chapter Commentary <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2011/08/goodbye-apathy-commentary.html">here.</a> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Next Chapter:</b> <span id="goog_525084397"></span><span id="goog_525084398"></span><a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/09/steal-your-heart.html">Steal Your Heart</a> >></span></i>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-71453083393651360102011-07-24T10:47:00.000-07:002011-08-01T18:08:40.102-07:00The Drumming Song<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><< <b>Previous Episode:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/cosmic-love.html">Cosmic Love</a></i></span><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i><b>Song Title:</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TpLXQorSQe8&feature=relmfu">Drumming Song</a> by Florence + The Machine</i><br />
<i><b>Content warning:</b> strong language</i><br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9Yfi0ifOR3NLySLtn1Ug8RylCqlraNAYyUVFJbf2qaB20QaDAHzgA4zQidlXmTqt5YgTDV98ES_W2cZClaRPKku_q13dtj4JbxO8MNKr15Q0h2CP2ih1NpSO_Xv23QC0ozar0wkchGc/s1600/Screenshot-82.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9Yfi0ifOR3NLySLtn1Ug8RylCqlraNAYyUVFJbf2qaB20QaDAHzgA4zQidlXmTqt5YgTDV98ES_W2cZClaRPKku_q13dtj4JbxO8MNKr15Q0h2CP2ih1NpSO_Xv23QC0ozar0wkchGc/s640/Screenshot-82.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Bonnie squinted as a bright light pierced through her eyes and sparked an intense, throbbing ache inside of her head. She muttered to herself as she tried to steady her vision, which was currently impaired by her dizziness. She felt as if her body was hit by a bus, and only had one question:<br />
<br />
<i>"Where am I?"</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFwL50SkfHuhJKOc2tMR4rT4FthiU3T1fvOuvT9nvdlxzHF53nvWSqbhvgaGUm5OvVTlDdgRR97Nodctr7p-SOC15Ngo6QJxrv3TwBpg7kzyOO1kx_Hoynk8nXceRFiQrGzkeazpm0xE/s1600/Screenshot-83.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFwL50SkfHuhJKOc2tMR4rT4FthiU3T1fvOuvT9nvdlxzHF53nvWSqbhvgaGUm5OvVTlDdgRR97Nodctr7p-SOC15Ngo6QJxrv3TwBpg7kzyOO1kx_Hoynk8nXceRFiQrGzkeazpm0xE/s640/Screenshot-83.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>No matter how much she tried, the words never came out of her mouth. Bonnie would open her mouth slightly to find that she couldn't speak, and could hardly move. Her throat was incredibly dry, and her face felt tight; she searched around for some water, but could barely recognize the faces in front of her.<br />
<br />
"Oh good, she's waking up!" Tiffany exclaimed. Bonnie cringed as her mother clapped excitedly, and her grandmother Abbot cheered. All the noises in the room sounded like intense, deafening echoes, but she tried to focus on the doctor's voice as she explained her current state.<br />
<br />
"Seems like the sleeping pills wore off," she nodded. "She still may be in shock, so she may not speak right away. We'll release her when we feel that she's safe to leave."<br />
<br />
"When will that be?"<br />
<br />
"Honestly, Mrs. Pinciotti, we're not sure. It could be today, and it could be a few months from now. We just need to check a few things..." Bonnie tried to listen harder as the doctor mentioned something about "outpatient care" and "therapist", but the noise grew even more intolerable by the second.<br />
<br />
She wished that she could just die.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGguHWr1l8lwpqL-uPY94yP7r7kEjMg3tbJUh4mPdQIpl6yMzEt24Ch9gO-wzLCzYiRbyyWMqEAlAhWczVoVpRKgtTNjd-3LjGiS5ScHh2HGrZ72kLEz78V8d7szxvVlaL8bp0DgVeYI/s1600/Screenshot-85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGguHWr1l8lwpqL-uPY94yP7r7kEjMg3tbJUh4mPdQIpl6yMzEt24Ch9gO-wzLCzYiRbyyWMqEAlAhWczVoVpRKgtTNjd-3LjGiS5ScHh2HGrZ72kLEz78V8d7szxvVlaL8bp0DgVeYI/s640/Screenshot-85.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> She spotted a sink just a few feet away from her, but it looked as if it were miles away. Bonnie took a deep breath as she tried to steady her vision and rise to her feet.<br />
<br />
"Bonnie, be careful!" her mother exclaimed. She ignored her and stood up; feeling proud, she wore a faint grin on her face. But then, the room began to spin again and her heart monitor beeped rapidly as her heart rate rose. She fell back onto her bed, wishing she could make that one step without her body nearly failing on her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCK4Ud2sYzE8inVPlD4mqgxQr4QDI6uZGdJ0Lad6THOE40Of4TXJ52DTeaOoVDu5_sIh9LjOp93anTwW94wEHR5BSTgKv9dTbrsaKv2HsUhmhxDrQHh3JVVHVm6izWbFEP06iGg7lWFE/s1600/Screenshot-86.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCK4Ud2sYzE8inVPlD4mqgxQr4QDI6uZGdJ0Lad6THOE40Of4TXJ52DTeaOoVDu5_sIh9LjOp93anTwW94wEHR5BSTgKv9dTbrsaKv2HsUhmhxDrQHh3JVVHVm6izWbFEP06iGg7lWFE/s640/Screenshot-86.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Her vision began to steady as a handsome doctor walked in, dressed in khakis and a very smart shirt. His demeanor was that of complete and utter professionalism; intimidating, yet reassuring. She smiled once again as he made his way towards her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7tmkQOJ3JRdc7U-3Xz_WNeNYH-KIoPiFUw9_e8aHFcPIamy4gj6gI0mzU2cEK5Vh_yviFnobbe67LyJDBW6-0Hb9JRJivHlXgSBsORk5ieYOF6tdY_l2iWXyL2cTMdSji01qX7dbk99I/s1600/Screenshot-87.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7tmkQOJ3JRdc7U-3Xz_WNeNYH-KIoPiFUw9_e8aHFcPIamy4gj6gI0mzU2cEK5Vh_yviFnobbe67LyJDBW6-0Hb9JRJivHlXgSBsORk5ieYOF6tdY_l2iWXyL2cTMdSji01qX7dbk99I/s640/Screenshot-87.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"If I could have a few minutes alone with Ms. Pinciotti..." he said in a calm, assertive manner.<br />
<br />
"She's not speaking yet, Kevin. She may still be in shock." she warned.<br />
<br />
"That's fine, Marissa. I just need to take a few notes."<br />
<br />
They left, and soon it was only Bonnie and the handsome doctor. She let out a sigh of relief, as she felt a cloud over her head float away and her dizziness floating along with it. He brought her a glass of water as he took a seat by her bedside. She gulped it appreciatively and sat the glass by her nightstand.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigocf_AUr_9wRvsTuUs4goGXSp1LPRhSPNMf4V4Q1zkBhMDXK23iSw94zSu-Dpst72p0qVkKMFJys7Cx-WlwaMvkrrxMrEsCf0_hBl9nNyCc65iNwxE6cLxFP5NFTNC6d8QH0GVULtFZU/s1600/Screenshot-88.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigocf_AUr_9wRvsTuUs4goGXSp1LPRhSPNMf4V4Q1zkBhMDXK23iSw94zSu-Dpst72p0qVkKMFJys7Cx-WlwaMvkrrxMrEsCf0_hBl9nNyCc65iNwxE6cLxFP5NFTNC6d8QH0GVULtFZU/s640/Screenshot-88.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"You don't have to talk, if you're not ready."<br />
<br />
"I can talk," she said quietly. "My throat was just really dry."<br />
<br />
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I know you're still recovering, so I won't force you to talk too much." he reassured. Bonnie nodded and smiled, but winced as the cracks in her lips begun to bleed slightly. He shook her hand as he introduced himself.<br />
<br />
"My name is Dr. Kevin Clarke, but you can just call me Dr. Kevin. I'm assuming you are Ms. Bonnie Pinciotti?" he joked.<br />
<br />
"You can just call me Bonnie."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrVwncKhG0-I7ntWNVWMebu78YKRSLr_GHzsHxj-3CF9e7aoQ5_Y7N2NgXv8x3mpWP89IMrH-8kdz-2JQg8oWD7tqliNNNhDtokG6-SSAN_23iKTNCJEWwR58fEBaMVykB2DLa_5aCJo/s1600/Screenshot-94.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrVwncKhG0-I7ntWNVWMebu78YKRSLr_GHzsHxj-3CF9e7aoQ5_Y7N2NgXv8x3mpWP89IMrH-8kdz-2JQg8oWD7tqliNNNhDtokG6-SSAN_23iKTNCJEWwR58fEBaMVykB2DLa_5aCJo/s640/Screenshot-94.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Well Bonnie, I haven't read too much of your file just yet. Can you tell me honestly why you did it? You have fame, a wealthy family, a boyfriend..."<br />
<br />
"An <i>ex</i>-boyfriend." she muttered.<br />
<br />
"And yet, life isn't so bad, right?" he asked. Bonnie scoffed and rolled her dry eyes.<br />
<br />
"You of all people should know, Dr. Kevin, that money and fame doth not a happy person make. Truth is, for a long time, I was...a shell. To others, I looked fine, and that's how I wanted it to be. I didn't want people to think that I was suffering. I didn't try to kill myself because of a broken heart, or some dumb argument...I just wanted to really <i>feel</i> something other than indifference or anger."<br />
<br />
"Well, that's...that's interesting." he stuttered, seemingly astonished.<br />
<br />
"You're a therapist, aren't you? I'm sure this isn't the first case like mine you've seen."<br />
<br />
"Not by a long shot, but I've never had a patient that so readily admitted it; especially after attempting suicide."<br />
<br />
"Well I attempted it, and I lived, so I guess some higher being didn't want me to die yet, right?" she laughed. Kevin smiled as he took out his pen and notepad to jot down his notes.<br />
<br />
"Do you have anything else that you want to get off your chest?"<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8N4d-_i6mOemmqzJ6K4AroXYXuODpB45IST7-lP-Ihe5ihkfkk5ObmeYJTY7N07m6b9cmNSH8K0v-S9ZZKg33N9-b0TBV6h29S_IQaXd7RRSjb2i97zIb0VZMB_LCmYNR2OsoxkRDomQ/s1600/Screenshot-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8N4d-_i6mOemmqzJ6K4AroXYXuODpB45IST7-lP-Ihe5ihkfkk5ObmeYJTY7N07m6b9cmNSH8K0v-S9ZZKg33N9-b0TBV6h29S_IQaXd7RRSjb2i97zIb0VZMB_LCmYNR2OsoxkRDomQ/s640/Screenshot-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Michele closed her eyes and whispered a little prayer as she punched the numbers "815" into the box. It was her very first day of work, and although they chose her to play the lead, she felt undeserving and anxious. She prayed that her feet wouldn't give out on her, and this wasn't all a dream. She prayed she wouldn't wake up and find that none of this had happened.<br />
<br />
"Name please."<br />
<br />
"Michele Turner. I'm playing the part of Venezia Rojene."<br />
<br />
"Come right in," the lady said.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFagx_UewEUmQP6Ef1IpHBl6gFRJ_7B3A7naG0jDhG6T-WDqDVBFfmnROR9Fsrmy3P9HVH9Bo-wfT8nS3En_whmEWSzuIvmaKlorqJbaz5HuBhCBKrgsGW8Tfk8XWeNcQSu-ViNEqSp8/s1600/Screenshot-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFagx_UewEUmQP6Ef1IpHBl6gFRJ_7B3A7naG0jDhG6T-WDqDVBFfmnROR9Fsrmy3P9HVH9Bo-wfT8nS3En_whmEWSzuIvmaKlorqJbaz5HuBhCBKrgsGW8Tfk8XWeNcQSu-ViNEqSp8/s640/Screenshot-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> The gates opened as Michele felt her body shake with nervousness and excitement. She looked up at the sky and smiled, and took in the sights of the "base camp". There were about five trailers in this camp, filled with only the best of talent and the main characters from the film.<br />
<br />
If Heaven were on Simearth, this would be it for her.<br />
<br />
She noticed the director, Michael Rushnik, staring at her with an amused smile on his face. "He probably thinks I'm so green," she thought to herself as she blushed nervously. Michele cleared her throat and approached him with the most professionalism she could muster at the moment.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59-2GN7QOu7wHcxI86usWPXcbRAhOhxhJzwhwmEPqj_CXrC5txzk0MEbsfyKo3Q1indFeCX41OOwP_IaxgR68lbRFZO5cYL4ztZ8ruo7A0h4EODIRj_UnaSptgUmZjTZEk71EXshBvgQ/s1600/Screenshot-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59-2GN7QOu7wHcxI86usWPXcbRAhOhxhJzwhwmEPqj_CXrC5txzk0MEbsfyKo3Q1indFeCX41OOwP_IaxgR68lbRFZO5cYL4ztZ8ruo7A0h4EODIRj_UnaSptgUmZjTZEk71EXshBvgQ/s640/Screenshot-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Hi, you must be Michael, right? I'm Michele. I think I met you at the second callback. Anyway, sorry I'm late." she said sheepishly.<br />
<br />
"It's no problem, really. It was just the first day, so all you missed was a table read and a 'getting to know each other' orientation. Anyway, welcome to the family Michele!" he beamed. "Well, I'd show you around, but I'm afraid I don't have much time. I have a staff meeting with the other writers and producers, just to go over the smaller details and make sure everything's in order. Your cast mates are all chatting over there if you'd like to go introduce yourself, and Alona Isabel, our stylist, will be sure to get your character's costumes ready."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiCz3UaWbqkafLWhhIXuiexgenA08OMd2_A7DU6Z2e8gEq3IB89LOJ1ZuJlQW0az2lMuyd7XAYXJaStT7QWUIiZAY01Czn-EkGin9_-Ql1vchx3su6nBURBD4XNHnN-XJW5x5medW6ec/s1600/Screenshot-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiCz3UaWbqkafLWhhIXuiexgenA08OMd2_A7DU6Z2e8gEq3IB89LOJ1ZuJlQW0az2lMuyd7XAYXJaStT7QWUIiZAY01Czn-EkGin9_-Ql1vchx3su6nBURBD4XNHnN-XJW5x5medW6ec/s640/Screenshot-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Um, before you go, can you tell me which trailer is mine?"<br />
<br />
"Well, it was a basis of first-come-first-serve, and the only trailer left is that one." Michael pointed straight across to the empty trailer with her name on it.<br />
<br />
"Of course, " she smiled nervously. "Thanks!"<br />
<br />
"No problem. Guys, be nice to her! She's new." he yelled playfully to the rest of the cast. They all smiled and laughed politely, and Michele wanted to hide under a rock.<br />
<br />
As she made her way towards her cast mates, she couldn't help but notice that everyone, with the exception of the stylist, was in-costume and looked great. Michele sighed regretfully before giving herself a mental slap on the hand; she just arrived at the trailer site of her first feature-length film, and a brilliant one at that. Now was not the time for insecurity and self-loathing.<br />
<br />
Speaking of insecurity and self-loathing, she reminded herself to call Alex tonight before heading to bed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9_jyMRvAko9jjrTXLGy6ayhfgW6wUUEaDrAd_If4LBZ3ae1NYdS5aFmthOhv98vbtR1jTiurcL1HfNn2kFf-RnmGZ1F2CNA35WU32E9p5hvtiwjiQPMEQ4n_-VlZ_G8PvmERTsIGw0s/s1600/Screenshot-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9_jyMRvAko9jjrTXLGy6ayhfgW6wUUEaDrAd_If4LBZ3ae1NYdS5aFmthOhv98vbtR1jTiurcL1HfNn2kFf-RnmGZ1F2CNA35WU32E9p5hvtiwjiQPMEQ4n_-VlZ_G8PvmERTsIGw0s/s640/Screenshot-19.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Hey, my name is Eva Sanchez! You must be Michele, right?" she smiled. Her movements were dramatic and her personality seemed to be as bright as her hair.<br />
<br />
"Yep, that's me! Your costume looks great, by the way."<br />
<br />
"Thank you! I know what you're thinking, and no, this isn't my real hair color. Alona felt that 'Melodie' was meant to be a redhead." she mocked. Alona glared playfully before speaking to Fatima again.<br />
<br />
"And don't worry too much about being late on the first day, we tend to be pretty lax about that around here. Rehearsal days are a completely different story, though. Anyway, if you ever want to talk or anything like that, my trailer is right there."<br />
<br />
"Thanks, Eva. I really appreciate it."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLrIt_KGiMx_6BB3DToFC421dnZd9Jc9l9Yqk4x2HVK_jMfK6WQKbC12mzf7jKoIRRRKuOV-FArpgS70fIoupC8lGSU4mOCuoavjnVUmFwoYg6RbrT_u2yQcOvVKhZRiQX-uXGNGh3mo/s1600/Screenshot-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLrIt_KGiMx_6BB3DToFC421dnZd9Jc9l9Yqk4x2HVK_jMfK6WQKbC12mzf7jKoIRRRKuOV-FArpgS70fIoupC8lGSU4mOCuoavjnVUmFwoYg6RbrT_u2yQcOvVKhZRiQX-uXGNGh3mo/s640/Screenshot-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Hey! You must be the person my character murders at the end of the movie," Fatima Rushnik joked. Michele stared at her with a confused face, uncertain if she should be laughing or insulted. Fatima noticed her face and immediately started apologize.<br />
<br />
"Oh shit, sorry! My jokes suck, I know. They always seem to offend people. Anyway, I'm Fatima. I play Oldera Michitt. It's such a weird name, but it's a Champs Les Sims movie so I guess that makes it okay, right?"<br />
<br />
"Fatima, you're overwhelming the girl." Eva laughed.<br />
<br />
"No no, it's okay, I'm fine. I like Fatima's jokes." Fatima gave a satisfied grin before sticking her tongue out at Eva.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjay0EviCzQyq-7OeKdxzNhG6y3RQz34mpfFG5tgOZxFToILE_DFEN-FBGixhhDj7iAv7cdDqswbBGvammX6cKUWQ5swLLRfpPipKT0t5zETmbPovjnj5mHN_qC3l8gzBv6evq32XhQnag/s1600/Screenshot-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjay0EviCzQyq-7OeKdxzNhG6y3RQz34mpfFG5tgOZxFToILE_DFEN-FBGixhhDj7iAv7cdDqswbBGvammX6cKUWQ5swLLRfpPipKT0t5zETmbPovjnj5mHN_qC3l8gzBv6evq32XhQnag/s640/Screenshot-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"You are <i>all</i> overwhelming the pretty lady with your childishness," he flirted. "Maybe you guys should go back to your trailers and leave the adults out here."<br />
<br />
"And so, the great Luke DeManSkank strikes again." Eva smirked. Fatima giggled quietly as Luke glared at them.<br />
<br />
"Hi Luke, I'm Michele." she said, trying her best to ground her voice. <i>The</i> Luke DePeche was right there, in the flesh, flirting with her. She simply couldn't believe it.<br />
<br />
"Hello, Michele. Hey, doesn't that name mean 'beautiful' in some language?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know, " she blushed. Eva rolled her eyes and made a "gag me" gesture and Fatima once again laughed.<br />
<br />
"Okay guys, that's enough fun. I need Michele for a costume fitting." Alona demanded. The rest of the cast reluctantly went back to their trailers for the night, since the call time for the next day was at 4 in the morning.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5ODq75dzEgnBm-OHb22IMsqS9QAWuDllf6HyG3UEiFJUa0H8xqAAQyYtQqbo6qXnY8mbV96FAQFRDVUH41XO7wYajqNEf4woUzZ_M44vjgD_TBCVqUiwZHU7p25TcNT1r50eU1YHIA4/s1600/Screenshot-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5ODq75dzEgnBm-OHb22IMsqS9QAWuDllf6HyG3UEiFJUa0H8xqAAQyYtQqbo6qXnY8mbV96FAQFRDVUH41XO7wYajqNEf4woUzZ_M44vjgD_TBCVqUiwZHU7p25TcNT1r50eU1YHIA4/s640/Screenshot-23.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Michele was rendered speechless as she walked into the stylist trailer. She was expecting style and decadence, but definitely not to this degree. All she could do was mutter a "wow" as she observed the make-up kits, racks of clothing and the never-ending shelves of shoes.<br />
<br />
"It's great, isn't it?" Alona beamed. "I designed it myself. It's a tiny trailer so I couldn't fit much of my supplies in here, but I'd like to think that it's still rather classy. Now, let's get your costume out of the way."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkmlkMeg70LD-FCV00JYOc3uZBXbvu8RW9UcUvxrIIqElahmK6YgnYGUjiwedIxWlPTuiMCiVCByOS-uo5OuoZYh6RYMEDLT0-UoWEyqpQVMGQzAh4CGKILtwzsvPb3dtiJlfxdiETU8/s1600/Screenshot-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkmlkMeg70LD-FCV00JYOc3uZBXbvu8RW9UcUvxrIIqElahmK6YgnYGUjiwedIxWlPTuiMCiVCByOS-uo5OuoZYh6RYMEDLT0-UoWEyqpQVMGQzAh4CGKILtwzsvPb3dtiJlfxdiETU8/s640/Screenshot-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"If you could imagine your character's ideal costume, what would she wear?"<br />
<br />
"Well, it's a Champs Les Sims film, so I would go with something bohemian, feminine, and light."<br />
<br />
"Bohemian, feminine, and light." she repeated to herself as she went through the racks of clothing. "Hmm, I think I have some things in my arsenal that fits your description." Alona went through all of her racks, shelves, and boxes while picking up random items to bring to Michele. She brought a black hair tie, a bottle of water, a comb, some make-up, a pair of sandals and a gorgeous beige dress with a necklace. <br />
<br />
"So, what do you think?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALJMITHIojMp2VPVK8jtayUkDpV3SlhgqzoHSKun_DECzSeRv2OE22TPrgcLYRcniwV1CcspegLWWqmxEySqp3ET7W00rBL7dSWsHrGTeLIuXrQGCNL3-URljmp8iaYxYwjixKjmlm1Q/s1600/Screenshot-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALJMITHIojMp2VPVK8jtayUkDpV3SlhgqzoHSKun_DECzSeRv2OE22TPrgcLYRcniwV1CcspegLWWqmxEySqp3ET7W00rBL7dSWsHrGTeLIuXrQGCNL3-URljmp8iaYxYwjixKjmlm1Q/s640/Screenshot-26.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "What do I think? It's gorgeous, that's what I think! It's absolutely perfect for Venezia, and I wouldn't mind wearing it myself." Michele giggled. She never thought that a little girl from Riverview would star in her own film, and have a professional renowned stylist ask her for <i>her</i> opinion. She was so happy, she could cry...but she didn't want to mess up the freshly applied eyeliner.<br />
<br />
"I'm glad you like it! All I have to do is do a few adjustments and you should be free to go."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yLYYJS2zkDDktLytHABs85vX4MCcf7Xed5NMjDaKSlgp9VL_vGUz-7-RjU42_aNnxq5UfoPbVlPJL3c38VgATf1G4PqmYHEoCbK_Nha_21r8BP9HCKhQ5T5meioJ-r2l3iaOiD2YKYU/s1600/Screenshot-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yLYYJS2zkDDktLytHABs85vX4MCcf7Xed5NMjDaKSlgp9VL_vGUz-7-RjU42_aNnxq5UfoPbVlPJL3c38VgATf1G4PqmYHEoCbK_Nha_21r8BP9HCKhQ5T5meioJ-r2l3iaOiD2YKYU/s640/Screenshot-27.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>After a long but pleasant first day of work, Michele made her way up the trailer steps to get some sleep. She didn't exactly remember which trailer Michael pointed to, but after a game of "eenie meenie miney moe", she decided that this trailer was more than likely hers.<br />
<br />
"Ugh, all I want to do is change into my pj's and..."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhqktDqfzluBDKsLt3sGMvAIKspAiRHv9TQBbdbdnNyQEYBBIwZauZ9qA2IPJr_Oh44LyCnoSGWwOuUZUpk8Kg9IoG4YTInJfzSmofZi0DXIXBghtlGPLYY54PwH2w7agLxdBvGYqdH4/s1600/Screenshot-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhqktDqfzluBDKsLt3sGMvAIKspAiRHv9TQBbdbdnNyQEYBBIwZauZ9qA2IPJr_Oh44LyCnoSGWwOuUZUpk8Kg9IoG4YTInJfzSmofZi0DXIXBghtlGPLYY54PwH2w7agLxdBvGYqdH4/s640/Screenshot-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Michele froze as she saw a nearly naked Luke in her trailer, watching her TV. Once again, she wasn't sure how to react. All she knew is that a part of her wanted to join him on that couch.<br />
<br />
"Michele, you have a fiance." she reminded herself. "You love him very much. Don't mess this up because of a sexy actor." she drew in a deep breath as she opened her mouth to say the exact same words that came out of his.<br />
<br />
"What are you doing in my trailer?"<br />
<br />
"W-what? Aren't you in <i>my</i> trailer?" she said in disbelief.<br />
<br />
"Um, nope. Your trailer is the one you passed to get to mine."<br />
<br />
"Oh. Oh, fuck." she swore. "I am so, so sorry." <br />
<br />
"It's fine. Hey, why don't you join me? I was getting lonely anyway."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQD5PUbgRQY6Tso5FRWbxjxAmfj1NsJn4EEF4oqgnbi65Ym2d_PnjasVPGVnfjDoPo7QUe852R0vRagwPiDJl_emtfPebH6xlD6aUBoof7j7a7ZfhqH2AAcrXD5UNRXDdKzZ9nD2_RY10/s1600/Screenshot-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQD5PUbgRQY6Tso5FRWbxjxAmfj1NsJn4EEF4oqgnbi65Ym2d_PnjasVPGVnfjDoPo7QUe852R0vRagwPiDJl_emtfPebH6xlD6aUBoof7j7a7ZfhqH2AAcrXD5UNRXDdKzZ9nD2_RY10/s640/Screenshot-30.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>" That's a very pretty outfit," he smiled, trying to break the ice.<br />
<br />
"Thanks. Alona picked it out as Venezia's costume."<br />
<br />
"You know, I don't think they could have chosen a better actress to play the part." Michele smiled politely and stared at the candle, trying not to cry. She twiddled her thumbs and looked anxiously around the room.<br />
<br />
"What's wrong, cupcake?"<br />
<br />
"I'm just worried, I guess. The biggest project I've ever done was a national commercial for Bigbucks Warehouse, and yet here I am working on a feature-length film with some of the biggest names of this town. What if I completely ruin the film?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJt8qiEZwfBwfnYGcjCFzku_FSZZo7w3QNOxbv9nnGpT50PR0ZHsjcIMU7tbLfqoSFSGnDOvuLHrxOFNP5sfgHtkeRIvrMFYrzH36M65mnpEobEKyVqT8bkagYurYCrO97UWDmiaSh2A/s1600/Screenshot-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJt8qiEZwfBwfnYGcjCFzku_FSZZo7w3QNOxbv9nnGpT50PR0ZHsjcIMU7tbLfqoSFSGnDOvuLHrxOFNP5sfgHtkeRIvrMFYrzH36M65mnpEobEKyVqT8bkagYurYCrO97UWDmiaSh2A/s640/Screenshot-34.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Luke came over to her side of the couch and held her to him. "Oh, that's just first timer's guilt. We all run across it at some point. Listen, sweetheart; just give us your best and it will show. At the end of the day, that's all we can do. It'll all work out on its own." he said as he rubbed her back.<br />
<br />
Michele didn't exactly know where this was going, or if it was good or bad; but either way, she was under Luke's spell. He was sweet, sensitive, funny, <i>toned</i>...<br />
<br />
She would definitely have to be careful around this one.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkqUpyXW_XX8C11m4dm8qdD2nAGqCKNuInp57iC4zYyI14uGQQWYWFvqbnEl9PpCyP0Hdbs6goG2nnJx4LXEdRJH4H4kss0PUD3Jo-i6HVVOCGKrLzwzhMLQQ1yxDR4dueK0PgshWfNs/s1600/Screenshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkqUpyXW_XX8C11m4dm8qdD2nAGqCKNuInp57iC4zYyI14uGQQWYWFvqbnEl9PpCyP0Hdbs6goG2nnJx4LXEdRJH4H4kss0PUD3Jo-i6HVVOCGKrLzwzhMLQQ1yxDR4dueK0PgshWfNs/s640/Screenshot.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Oh good, you're here. Come on in, take a seat. I was just finishing up." Bonnie sighed as she made her way into the therapist's office for the first time, while feeling as sheepish as a teenager who got caught texting in class.<br />
<br />
"So, how is the psych ward treating you?"<br />
<br />
"They're giving me medicine for my headaches, so those are gone. I'm still getting used to the nightly checks, the horrid food, the invasion of privacy, and the semi-rude staff; but you know how that goes." she smiled.<br />
<br />
"They told me you bit an orderly." Kevin said with a stern look on his face. Bonnie grimaced as she nodded her head.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV4nkPASfCB7ScBUoXbJRpUvzVu1qZXVCfK-KHn8m-T3M4rt_Lz5CQfXAMa30q7tR9-GHpeolVlxs6tscY5RApDJUcdue011pdVxmThZlLZOvT66f2U4tEnWBcEY-QqQbyb37BL_mNLIU/s1600/Screenshot-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV4nkPASfCB7ScBUoXbJRpUvzVu1qZXVCfK-KHn8m-T3M4rt_Lz5CQfXAMa30q7tR9-GHpeolVlxs6tscY5RApDJUcdue011pdVxmThZlLZOvT66f2U4tEnWBcEY-QqQbyb37BL_mNLIU/s640/Screenshot-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Well, yeah...but it was self-defense! He kept calling us worthless lunatics and he sent my roommate into hysterics. He had it coming."<br />
<br />
"Bonnie, biting people is never a solution."<br />
<br />
"I'm just...I'm not crazy. I'm perfectly sane, and I hate it when people make me feel as if I'm anything but. I know I lost my temper, but I couldn't help it."<br />
<br />
"Well then, this probably won't help matters." he sighed regretfully.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzBG9_6I79AHKOHZV7Z7L9ulZA6j0uJiiMdPWnVKnag7KznxSpSS93BeEb2qRFh8ZpJNN_iq8NcyGOaeCUcDeLu5J69zRHnMIuGGSO56wLT8GoiBeFIFhG_MslvbCoeyjfUYZ3Db6I4s/s1600/Screenshot-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzBG9_6I79AHKOHZV7Z7L9ulZA6j0uJiiMdPWnVKnag7KznxSpSS93BeEb2qRFh8ZpJNN_iq8NcyGOaeCUcDeLu5J69zRHnMIuGGSO56wLT8GoiBeFIFhG_MslvbCoeyjfUYZ3Db6I4s/s640/Screenshot-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Bonnie, I've been looking into your file, and it seems you have a family history of mental breakdowns, emotional instability, kleptomania, and insanity; sometimes the symptoms go into remission, and sometimes...well...they don't. I think you're suffering from some sort of mental...'issue', but I'm not sure what at this point." he explained.<br />
<br />
Bonnie blinked repeatedly and opened her mouth to form a coherent sentence, but again, she fell silent. This time, however, her silence was due to genuine shock.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzoNV5JLrZnN_BP842fhz7Wklwan-VlvkKptSxU9lwFqo50UovTjJQCyN0Jc7-sFkYHA_ou0UzMcBfeDIVBMrwZPTSrv0MRotdLrkT95rVNxzmTIZfvBWOWCIgsaRk7o0TcfKyrLS16w/s1600/Screenshot-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzoNV5JLrZnN_BP842fhz7Wklwan-VlvkKptSxU9lwFqo50UovTjJQCyN0Jc7-sFkYHA_ou0UzMcBfeDIVBMrwZPTSrv0MRotdLrkT95rVNxzmTIZfvBWOWCIgsaRk7o0TcfKyrLS16w/s640/Screenshot-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"W-<i>what</i>?"<br />
<br />
"I thought you were already aware of this, ma'am. Your early ancestors from Champs Les Sims had a history of this behavior, and were often unwilling participants of torturous 'experiments' which only made their ailments worse. I had to do a report on your ancestors for my thesis," he chuckled. He noticed the scowl on Bonnie's face and cleared his throat.<br />
<br />
"The experiments seemed to have ended somewhere around the third generation, or in other words, your grandmother's generation. I'm not quite sure how she escaped the compound, but she did; and she started a new life here in Sunset Valley. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. The good news is, there are medications available for most mental conditions, so you'll still be able to live a normal life..."<br />
<br />
"But...I'm not crazy. Depressed? Sure. But <i>crazy?</i> No." she laughed in disbelief.<br />
<br />
"I never said you were crazy, Bonnie. Crazy is dismissive. What you are is mentally unstable, which is a dangerous place to be. Tell me, have you ever heard voices inside or outside of your head that were not your own?"<br />
<br />
"Sometimes, but only when I'm really depressed or really happy. Doesn't everyone?" she mumbled nervously.<br />
<br />
"No, I'm afraid not. What do these voices say to you? Are they mean? Are they nice?"<br />
<br />
"I'm not crazy." she insisted as she rose from her seat and inched her way towards the door.<br />
<br />
"Bonnie, I realize you're in shock right now..."<br />
<br />
"Stop it, just stop it!" Bonnie screamed. She leaped out of her chair and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her and ignoring the frantic calls from Kevin. It was too much, too soon, and she felt as if she was losing her sanity again. Her eyesight narrowed into tunnel vision, her throat begun to close up, and all she could think of was running.<br />
<br />
She had to get out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCqLm5-2CIQQGOCs3yd8suzWdsOjZ3Aff_AHnogDPmA51jyHi4J5TN3mqJPqqIy_Wz1ECArKkJTGXJn0_HF9CzXZMifOq3gVsn1pu2ZAA4qZ_o2c5FkZzNH_CJAjLlCAAOxvwVi3mMRo/s1600/Screenshot-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCqLm5-2CIQQGOCs3yd8suzWdsOjZ3Aff_AHnogDPmA51jyHi4J5TN3mqJPqqIy_Wz1ECArKkJTGXJn0_HF9CzXZMifOq3gVsn1pu2ZAA4qZ_o2c5FkZzNH_CJAjLlCAAOxvwVi3mMRo/s640/Screenshot-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Kevin yelled out for the staff to chase after her as she darted through the front door. Some emergency workers hopped into a fire truck and began to chase after her. She hid behind every bush she could find and took every trail she came across to get them off her scent. She felt stupid, hopeless, worthless, scared...<br />
<br />
Alone.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApimy3l0snjKUHcMxq8WJkro2zz5nOw7OSLlRIcTVB6ZzDxtDlOrxjSkxBg9hXQlVoM63oUJY5BAIdqlczg6KHogGuSeSbGbQwdk_IRiB9qCd_TUMVXbVqhyAkjttvA8Hv7YGZtEyLxA/s1600/Screenshot-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApimy3l0snjKUHcMxq8WJkro2zz5nOw7OSLlRIcTVB6ZzDxtDlOrxjSkxBg9hXQlVoM63oUJY5BAIdqlczg6KHogGuSeSbGbQwdk_IRiB9qCd_TUMVXbVqhyAkjttvA8Hv7YGZtEyLxA/s640/Screenshot-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> As she ran, she reprimanded herself for being so stupid as to run away in the first place. At the very least, she could have timed it better. The hardness of the sidewalk did her bare feet no favors as they begun to bleed. She yelped quietly, as the fear and tension began to take over her body. She was shaking, and struggling to stay upright. Her body was exhausted, and sent waves of pain throughout her legs with every step she took. The only thing that kept her from crying was her determination not to pass out.<br />
<br />
But it was too late to stop. She knew they would find her and probably bring her back to that awful place, so she continued to run wherever the unforgiving sidewalks would lead her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZopJOkrA84VOOxHKNwdn0nnSPR_GTghcjdyIArS80RegywBaW52O2EmQ4mTp4mLJbWTeQUcqNOnVvm4CDHTFyxVtvMcLd2Abc5olc4Uvv6sozW5QTzgrb51OD44LQZbhf97bnSa9BltE/s1600/Screenshot-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZopJOkrA84VOOxHKNwdn0nnSPR_GTghcjdyIArS80RegywBaW52O2EmQ4mTp4mLJbWTeQUcqNOnVvm4CDHTFyxVtvMcLd2Abc5olc4Uvv6sozW5QTzgrb51OD44LQZbhf97bnSa9BltE/s640/Screenshot-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>And to her surprise, it led to the place she needed to be.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1BhHIflHfZ0XPQCTLpCW1KocUIGLX8CLvoviFbjieuBNVWtAyUZbYAtk6k0HkBTufztg3sSrfijNkQSC9qm80fKrqzeKyu1EVatLhe83OfdAPYzioQFXi7KKV093KG41edVBpKH0jldE/s1600/Screenshot-41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1BhHIflHfZ0XPQCTLpCW1KocUIGLX8CLvoviFbjieuBNVWtAyUZbYAtk6k0HkBTufztg3sSrfijNkQSC9qm80fKrqzeKyu1EVatLhe83OfdAPYzioQFXi7KKV093KG41edVBpKH0jldE/s640/Screenshot-41.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "You know what I really want?" <br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
"A 'Beast'," Ella whispered wistfully.<br />
<br />
"You want a motorcycle? <i>Really?</i>!"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, why?<br />
<br />
"Nothing at all, but you don't seem like a motorcycle type of girl."<br />
<br />
"Well, I'm full of surprises." she winked.<br />
<br />
"That's for sure."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGCZkBDkjlK3y2qPUwY1T2_KU5htavT75IPZqf4R4OmTRAanOzl9mJRpZapre8Imul99_dsy7HXidOj8abyu0QqPlfu2SISoBwQw2PpOJ1BKV8GImqwMK-pmmMU5Z1WfiI1hd0_Osj0M/s1600/Screenshot-42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGCZkBDkjlK3y2qPUwY1T2_KU5htavT75IPZqf4R4OmTRAanOzl9mJRpZapre8Imul99_dsy7HXidOj8abyu0QqPlfu2SISoBwQw2PpOJ1BKV8GImqwMK-pmmMU5Z1WfiI1hd0_Osj0M/s640/Screenshot-42.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"So, how are you doing? Are you okay?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" she shrugged.<br />
<br />
"Well, I don't know. I guess I thought you'd be stressed with all the events that have occurred over the past few weeks."<br />
<br />
"You know, life is way too short to stress out about small stuff like that. Right now, I'd rather just sit here with a cute guy on my arm and enjoy this movie."<br />
<br />
"Sounds good to me," he laughed as he gave her a peck.<br />
<br />
The doorbell rang and Ella reluctantly got up to answer it. "I swear, if it's another one of those journalists I'm gonna kick some nuts."<br />
<br />
"What if it's a girl reporter?"<br />
<br />
"I'll still kick her." she joked.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxtz2qql396-cSLLh0caqC0rO9NITDcqJJ1TVRNwVTnBciG_Shp0wVuuoEDyZFknX-SRXeLMAwdKLJnwIBC2WBJHHs-mm-q0bK6Px7I-m7E1fO-OFaw2pXkkI3u8F0wSc99kI3Ofam_I/s1600/Screenshot-43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxtz2qql396-cSLLh0caqC0rO9NITDcqJJ1TVRNwVTnBciG_Shp0wVuuoEDyZFknX-SRXeLMAwdKLJnwIBC2WBJHHs-mm-q0bK6Px7I-m7E1fO-OFaw2pXkkI3u8F0wSc99kI3Ofam_I/s640/Screenshot-43.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Eric?" she asked, not believing her eyes. She hadn't seen Eric since the day she moved away from Bridgeport, and to be honest, she hadn't really thought about him since then either. He "changed" his style slightly, true to his word, which impressed her. He also seemed to be doing well with his band.<br />
<br />
"Hey, dollface! The band and I are touring here for a month, so I thought I'd do some sleuthing and find out how my favorite blonde is doing." Ella laughed nervously and extended her hand for a shake, but he simply scoffed and shot it down.<br />
<br />
"I haven't seen you in a <i>year</i>, Ella. I think I deserve a hug."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvI6dFGy_M9Is1ykqdv8M55v2i2qOzOYK41hBCfotKa9-_7F741AAiy-FuOgQQYz51kKTxhsXdHKIqc3oLhk5q4Esjl-TZNisdfnMrFgGi7zEtkX6o00IgivsWG-qXQy5zyPTbIKgCQBM/s1600/Screenshot-44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvI6dFGy_M9Is1ykqdv8M55v2i2qOzOYK41hBCfotKa9-_7F741AAiy-FuOgQQYz51kKTxhsXdHKIqc3oLhk5q4Esjl-TZNisdfnMrFgGi7zEtkX6o00IgivsWG-qXQy5zyPTbIKgCQBM/s640/Screenshot-44.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Ella ran into her arms and tried not to cry from happiness and confusion. "Oh Eric, I missed you so much! Everything has been so horrible since I arrived."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I heard. Trouble seems to follow you."<br />
<br />
"I know, and this time, it followed me straight to my doorstep." she sighed. Why, of all the opportunities for Eric to come down and visit her, did it have to be when she was finally settling into her life in Sunset Cove and with Jordan? Why did the sight of him always make her second-guess herself? Why is it that every time she manages to repair her life, something or someone comes along to screw it up?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQReS3WF1TvoSC7NBbsdHqtIsHZawEvp2kRPomIppj0ErZXV3BHOxvXTKTxGbTHWX3l3Yh-4q4_t_XTbVTORoAgzfMAuTDBrDjE5Ar5T5P9tNc63FjB2_YDEiCowot4ebCb7-p_Gol2aM/s1600/Screenshot-45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQReS3WF1TvoSC7NBbsdHqtIsHZawEvp2kRPomIppj0ErZXV3BHOxvXTKTxGbTHWX3l3Yh-4q4_t_XTbVTORoAgzfMAuTDBrDjE5Ar5T5P9tNc63FjB2_YDEiCowot4ebCb7-p_Gol2aM/s640/Screenshot-45.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Are you okay, beautiful?" he whispered.<br />
<br />
"Yes, I'm fine." she nodded. "So, wanna meet my boyfriend?"<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------- <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZopJOkrA84VOOxHKNwdn0nnSPR_GTghcjdyIArS80RegywBaW52O2EmQ4mTp4mLJbWTeQUcqNOnVvm4CDHTFyxVtvMcLd2Abc5olc4Uvv6sozW5QTzgrb51OD44LQZbhf97bnSa9BltE/s1600/Screenshot-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZopJOkrA84VOOxHKNwdn0nnSPR_GTghcjdyIArS80RegywBaW52O2EmQ4mTp4mLJbWTeQUcqNOnVvm4CDHTFyxVtvMcLd2Abc5olc4Uvv6sozW5QTzgrb51OD44LQZbhf97bnSa9BltE/s640/Screenshot-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Bonnie? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be..." she trailed off. Her daughter's psychiatric hospitalization was still hard for her to accept, but she'd rather have her stay in the "nut house" than dead. She bit her lip as her daughter began to cry hysterically.<br />
<br />
"Oh, dear, it's okay. You took your medicine, right? And you're cooperating with the staff?"<br />
<br />
"Mom, I ran. They were saying all this stuff about Daddy and Grandma and I just..." she sobbed and convulsed violently, turning mute once again. Her eyes were beet red, and her bloodied feet looked horrifying. Tiffany tried to contain her disgust as she consoled her daughter.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAO1cVM44evcAKRt7tGC9FBmyC7NJ5Z7I56Ax7PpFwD4hTy3PZWiivz_qA8nTxVQbcDveHIK0KvjDiddse_okWVQ0smlP7WlRpb2OZ35jgMFBm0L9-FDkI5viE1QCxKBMNKOK1-l8n1k/s1600/Screenshot-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAO1cVM44evcAKRt7tGC9FBmyC7NJ5Z7I56Ax7PpFwD4hTy3PZWiivz_qA8nTxVQbcDveHIK0KvjDiddse_okWVQ0smlP7WlRpb2OZ35jgMFBm0L9-FDkI5viE1QCxKBMNKOK1-l8n1k/s640/Screenshot-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"It's okay Bon Bon, we all have our lows. You're safe here with us, okay?" Bonnie nodded her head as she sniffled quietly. "Now, why don't you go shower and get some food, hmm? Does that sound good? We also have some hydrogen peroxide in the bathroom for your feet. Usually we use rubbing alcohol, but hydrogen peroxide is less toxic."<br />
<br />
Bonnie sighed as her mother spoke to her as a two-year old, and apparently started baby-proofing the house to confirm her suspicions. "Mom, I'm not crazy. I was just a little depressed." she said slowly, focusing on the words.<br />
<br />
"Of course dear, Dr. Kevin explained everything. Now go on and change out of that ratty gown."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8vyFG7-coUjAxmeQakc5NSbh_YQj8snKP_mEaBGSICVJSU2nPyP4481CWG5IMepx-viD-5-R04IUpoCOr6QcR7tbFjGOuQtNTmKyUPlTJ9tlW-Ct7O7ZAiDoXpApc4g-4kHbmnYFNZvA/s1600/Screenshot-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8vyFG7-coUjAxmeQakc5NSbh_YQj8snKP_mEaBGSICVJSU2nPyP4481CWG5IMepx-viD-5-R04IUpoCOr6QcR7tbFjGOuQtNTmKyUPlTJ9tlW-Ct7O7ZAiDoXpApc4g-4kHbmnYFNZvA/s640/Screenshot-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Tiffany sighed as she walked into the living room to tell her husband about the arrival of their daughter. Shortly after Bonnie ran away, Dr. Kevin called to warn them that she might try to stay here, and that if she did arrive here, it would be in Bonnie's best interest if they were to call and send her back. <br />
<br />
"I don't know if we should do it Tiff, I mean, we're the only ones she has left. Her friends have ditched her and her sister stole her boyfriend. Sending her back would betray her trust, and what if she decides to...you-know-what again?" Jack whispered quietly.<br />
<br />
"Jack, if she's at the hospital, where she <i>belongs</i>, then they can prevent another you-know-what attempt and quickly come to her aid if she goes through with it. We don't have that here. If she goes back, they'll put her on some nice meds, release her and we can pretend this never happened."<br />
<br />
"Medication doesn't solve everything-"<br />
<br />
"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to call Dr. Kevin." she interrupted. Jack scowled as she picked up the phone and dialed his number.<br />
<br />
"You realize that if you do this, she'll never forgive us, right?"<br />
<br />
"Oh poo," she said sarcastically. "I'd rather have my daughter pissed at me than dead, or worse."<br />
<br />
"What's worse than death?" <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVRfn17FeWPqcdOCNG3lerOKtWzyWs0Z4isZRZ-LFWum7dxeDRaU42g576jtPzytgbShPd9gn41fIRPiNyhnKvKIJfTr-t0F5tNaqRQ16Wo8oIZpEl4_goReInlRtXipLk6rcmz63XN8/s1600/Screenshot-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVRfn17FeWPqcdOCNG3lerOKtWzyWs0Z4isZRZ-LFWum7dxeDRaU42g576jtPzytgbShPd9gn41fIRPiNyhnKvKIJfTr-t0F5tNaqRQ16Wo8oIZpEl4_goReInlRtXipLk6rcmz63XN8/s640/Screenshot-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"I just...I don't want her doing anything foolish to make the rest of the family look deranged. That's all, dear."<br />
<br />
"So that's what you're <i>really</i> doing this for, isn't it? It's all about the 'image'."<br />
<br />
"You're only defending her because she's a loon!" she screamed. Jack's jaw dropped as her eyes narrowed into slits of anger.<br />
<br />
"I-I can't believe you just said that..."<br />
<br />
"I will not apologize for protecting this family." Tiffany whispered furiously, paying no mind to his embarrassment. "Bonnie isn't stable and this family isn't either. She's going back, and that's final."<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEag60IQkunkPkXtW4YUZqk4IDLwBrTfiujrUjh6yGaNBiQPbr7erHp1jWojT9aBTQ7yApvkfTVJYCIJEvMXKdRUnhXOHCT812U8-NrKMhitJn7O1jWVnvAPI5mQDVo1AaXOIdfzPQTM/s1600/Screenshot-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEag60IQkunkPkXtW4YUZqk4IDLwBrTfiujrUjh6yGaNBiQPbr7erHp1jWojT9aBTQ7yApvkfTVJYCIJEvMXKdRUnhXOHCT812U8-NrKMhitJn7O1jWVnvAPI5mQDVo1AaXOIdfzPQTM/s640/Screenshot-35.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "You're home early, <i>Dr. Kevin</i>."<br />
<br />
"I know. There was a situation at the hospital, so I got to go home early." he explained.<br />
<br />
"A situation?"<br />
<br />
"One of my patients is a mentally unstable socialite, and she fled the psych ward. The entire staff is going crazy trying to catch that girl."<br />
<br />
"Hmm, a crazy socialite in the psych ward, eh? What's she in for, a juice addiction?" she joked.<br />
<br />
"Patient confidentiality, sweetheart." he smiled.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4y9yEhtTb_Zv85i-I4Xik2eYXXIT1eTrHBIgkW4y_Rk40e0TOetHNWk-fmUQ51Qgvi5ReCkNf4IEHhdo4w6ToJ0uGy1BOYjrddDLRzDz8CXIVBOXPuz0YzMQ5Moy6fSTU3bRSedJ2to8/s1600/Screenshot-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4y9yEhtTb_Zv85i-I4Xik2eYXXIT1eTrHBIgkW4y_Rk40e0TOetHNWk-fmUQ51Qgvi5ReCkNf4IEHhdo4w6ToJ0uGy1BOYjrddDLRzDz8CXIVBOXPuz0YzMQ5Moy6fSTU3bRSedJ2to8/s640/Screenshot-36.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Well whatever the reason, I'm glad you're home." Christy leaned in to kiss her husband after a long day of work. Christy Clarke was originally a client of his, who visited him regularly to help control her multiple neuroses. She's still a little skittish, but her symptoms have improved tenfold. Not that the woohoo doesn't help, of course.<br />
<br />
"So, how's my little Trisha?" he cooed while kissing his daughter on the head.<br />
<br />
"Ugh, noisy. Nothing new. She seems to be very happy that Daddy's home, though." Kevin grinned widely as he watched his daughter shove pureed peas into her nose. "It's amazing how little kids can do some of the grossest things and still manage to make onlookers adore them with one look."<br />
<br />
"You're just a giant softie." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5ecEqfT-UkIPhVKL7JFP8uDWF9m_8eljHVZPjESlPgpOtdvILSS0scgPhf94blVVe0auhJgLKdUX3RzvfZ19oR4F89IkGtIFux8bZMXNJfPwWTRQzSYIUWJhvpcNYHILScQ4icrSlT0/s1600/Screenshot-37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5ecEqfT-UkIPhVKL7JFP8uDWF9m_8eljHVZPjESlPgpOtdvILSS0scgPhf94blVVe0auhJgLKdUX3RzvfZ19oR4F89IkGtIFux8bZMXNJfPwWTRQzSYIUWJhvpcNYHILScQ4icrSlT0/s640/Screenshot-37.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"So, about this socialite chick..."<br />
<br />
"Patient confidentiality."<br />
<br />
"Well, c'mon! I'm your wife!" she joked. "Just tell me. I promise I won't tell a soul."<br />
<br />
"Have you heard of the Pinciottis?"<br />
<br />
"Which one? Political Pinciottis or Sketchy Pinciottis?"<br />
<br />
"Both of them. They're two sides of the same coin."<br />
<br />
"Figures. I always thought our political leader was sketchy. Anyway, what about them?"<br />
<br />
Kevin cleared his throat as he debated whether or not he should divulge such scandalous and personal information about the Pinciottis. He sighed as he chose his wife over his integrity, and began informing her on the various mental obstacles the Pinciottis have faced.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIJ2oXOwKOalTA0wfjSXPpoY8quSDev7iCSrKJ2OJ8liVPil5B803fxQd2w7AW4JixQbYqnD4f8tWsylH8nsSV34etvdIgGAL0gfsWjW6wPWBOhlTcIoPHPM3DcbJ-oK4SHtONspW0s4/s1600/Screenshot-38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIJ2oXOwKOalTA0wfjSXPpoY8quSDev7iCSrKJ2OJ8liVPil5B803fxQd2w7AW4JixQbYqnD4f8tWsylH8nsSV34etvdIgGAL0gfsWjW6wPWBOhlTcIoPHPM3DcbJ-oK4SHtONspW0s4/s640/Screenshot-38.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Lord Sponges on Ice, that <i>is</i> scandalous!" she gasped. "You know what? Someone should write a book about those people. Now I know why I always got an eerie vibe from Mayor Pinciotti. And there's so little information on them, too. I mean, after nineteen years we're <i>just</i> finding out that Jack Pinciotti had an illegitimate child?! How does <i>that</i> happen? What other secrets are they holding? I bet they-"<br />
<br />
"This is exactly what I was afraid of, Chris." he groaned. "I don't want you to dig too deeply into this, especially when my patient is in such a fragile state. I understand you've been looking for that nonfiction goldmine...but this isn't it."<br />
<br />
"Fine, I'll spare your stupid patient."<br />
<br />
"Promise?"<br />
<br />
"I give you my word," she huffed. Trisha began to wail loudly as she shoved her food onto the ground. "It's your turn." Christy said, walking away.<br />
<br />
Kevin sighed as he grabbed their child from the high-chair and put her on the floor to play with her dolly. Then, he felt a sudden vibration in the pocket of his khakis.<br />
<br />
"Dr. Kevin Clarke." he answered.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisV6q2wLe7mlDvgPoMsL-Ap8IRoXVafF4-9717ms2h7U0IE0h-ellfjDGzoOfT-_U4pUsLfLtXwSqOTf9WQnH5T-3DPfM3TAImUNjDCu3usS2CyYhyMm-_mC_LYvq782gOB_Qbco2Ws5Q/s1600/Screenshot-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisV6q2wLe7mlDvgPoMsL-Ap8IRoXVafF4-9717ms2h7U0IE0h-ellfjDGzoOfT-_U4pUsLfLtXwSqOTf9WQnH5T-3DPfM3TAImUNjDCu3usS2CyYhyMm-_mC_LYvq782gOB_Qbco2Ws5Q/s640/Screenshot-39.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Thank you for calling, Mrs. Pinciotti. You're doing the right thing. I'll alert the hospital staff immediately."<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Chapter Commentary <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2011/07/drumming-song-commentary.html">here.</a> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Next Episode:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/08/goodbye-apathy.html">Goodbye, Apathy</a> </span> <span style="font-size: x-small;">>></span></i>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-56839916966896319082011-07-15T12:00:00.000-07:002011-09-06T02:54:14.508-07:00Cosmic Love<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><< <b>Previous Chapter:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/heroheroine.html">Hero/Heroine</a></span></i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i><b>Title:</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2EIeUlvHAiM">Cosmic Love</a> by Florence + The Machine</i><br />
<i><b>Content Warning:</b> strong language, adult themes</i><br />
<br />
---------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzzwSR3f2eU1gFu4GqgdCoV07erwnpVWVzWtC-dO2gopTqzqXzN7NUl-sCJSdO7F3mVqFoaArPFjggzzLMqnBxIH3TZUT5L0h0CGGGhljvOBPy25iyjqE0RMcsDlLQwu79Ynw0yCZmL48/s1600/Screenshot-52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzzwSR3f2eU1gFu4GqgdCoV07erwnpVWVzWtC-dO2gopTqzqXzN7NUl-sCJSdO7F3mVqFoaArPFjggzzLMqnBxIH3TZUT5L0h0CGGGhljvOBPy25iyjqE0RMcsDlLQwu79Ynw0yCZmL48/s640/Screenshot-52.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "You can speak whenever you're ready, Ms. Cartez." Officer Richards said softly. Ella sat with a nervous smile on her face while twiddling her thumbs.<br />
<br />
After four days worth of obsessing over whether or not to turn Mark in to the police, she finally decided to speak out. Ultimately, to prove to herself that she no longer loved him.<br />
<br />
"Right, I-I'm sorry. This is just really hard for me right now."<br />
<br />
"I understand completely."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72v1sUZLYqeTkUZslcf-YmLHdCo2NStD4dz6wK92JFcG9ZLampD_5rweVgj-zFxeZVoUsmAHDN4EeEALnoI9KllgukyLEJgo_bW2hS6zbGkx5AVrKRVUjK_NWSJrSkjeurr6URdC78lo/s1600/Screenshot-53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72v1sUZLYqeTkUZslcf-YmLHdCo2NStD4dz6wK92JFcG9ZLampD_5rweVgj-zFxeZVoUsmAHDN4EeEALnoI9KllgukyLEJgo_bW2hS6zbGkx5AVrKRVUjK_NWSJrSkjeurr6URdC78lo/s640/Screenshot-53.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"So, if I rat him out, how long will he get?"<br />
<br />
"We don't know for sure, but he's wanted for grand theft, kidnapping, and aggravated assault overseas. He's got quite the record on his hands. If we can convict him of those crimes, we're looking at twenty six days in a maximum-security prison."<br />
<br />
"T-twenty six days? Isn't that a little harsh?"<br />
<br />
"Ma'am, you have to remember that he didn't just hurt <i>you.</i> He's a slippery fellow, we can't risk allowing him to escape." Ella bit her lip in worry, and the police officer sighed. "You're a very valuable witness, and I don't want to have to drag this information out of you. By turning him in, you'd be helping a lot of people. You may even help keep him safe, since I'm sure more than a few 'victims' here would like to have his head. Literally."<br />
<br />
Ella sighed and looked back down to her thumbs. Her heart pounded as she contemplated what they would do if she refused to reveal the truth about him. Would they toss her into a cold, dark interrogation room? Would they incarcerate her and torture her until she finally caved? She recalled Mark's threat of revealing Jordan and Ella's night together, and wondered if this was really worth hurting her sister. It seemed that no matter what she did, someone would end up hurt.<br />
<br />
After a few shaky breaths, she finally made her decision.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3kizbGu3RsjoiHO2AkpQ97nmqyyZhZwJZFHdFmUyEHKzbvdrziEIAWY1BxXEcuWpBT7QmCm2BzamdsbF5eLvRLvOWlRjotLk6OLpOPWWUlRu09xqjtGv7J9KEDTu4ePSx7Q4Q_ubj20/s1600/Screenshot-54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3kizbGu3RsjoiHO2AkpQ97nmqyyZhZwJZFHdFmUyEHKzbvdrziEIAWY1BxXEcuWpBT7QmCm2BzamdsbF5eLvRLvOWlRjotLk6OLpOPWWUlRu09xqjtGv7J9KEDTu4ePSx7Q4Q_ubj20/s640/Screenshot-54.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Okay, I'll tell you all that I know." she whispered hesitantly.<br />
<br />
"Let me start from the beginning..."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0KHZYG08nPtT5Nr2H52I_YTDSQy7c3y2I6E78P8xDKLHDwRp7h64oESC2uI9Kk4C0nRdXsAQ5akRud6MZ41tEZjV1TVcZrfCVFnrpjfxDb5ON5pRNRBRXKYbJYD0BXum3nR71xj-MCY/s1600/Screenshot-57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0KHZYG08nPtT5Nr2H52I_YTDSQy7c3y2I6E78P8xDKLHDwRp7h64oESC2uI9Kk4C0nRdXsAQ5akRud6MZ41tEZjV1TVcZrfCVFnrpjfxDb5ON5pRNRBRXKYbJYD0BXum3nR71xj-MCY/s640/Screenshot-57.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Ella began online shopping for a black tie gala that was coming up in a few months. She had her eye on a gorgeous, floor-length gown and was just about to click "add to cart" when an anonymous person decided to IM her with a <i>"hello ella"</i>.<br />
<br />
She asked the person who they were, how they knew her IM address. and how they knew her name. Deep down, she knew it was Mark, but she pretended not to know to see if he'd reveal himself or not.<br />
<br />
<i>"i told u platinum, dont stick ur nose where it doesn't belong ;)"</i> He linked to a webpage of <i>Sims Magazine</i>, with her on the front page.<br />
<br />
And she wasn't alone. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEc1KXAKIYu70kQaVivqCimrJ4GV87Got3fbaw8dmAaGeAcYJJBKbi0TT68VJpFDKenL4dKi2aXyp530sv4XtejmiO2YTaf3oOIIdSPAxRA_gc63t5y-QnUdYd25J6jFbGjR5vLMORTSc/s1600/Screenshot-59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEc1KXAKIYu70kQaVivqCimrJ4GV87Got3fbaw8dmAaGeAcYJJBKbi0TT68VJpFDKenL4dKi2aXyp530sv4XtejmiO2YTaf3oOIIdSPAxRA_gc63t5y-QnUdYd25J6jFbGjR5vLMORTSc/s640/Screenshot-59.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><i>"i hope ur ready for some serious shit to hit the fan, sweetheart <3"</i> the anon replied before logging off.<br />
<br />
Ella stared in disbelief. There they were, with all their dirty laundry aired out to the world. Their small flings were no longer a secret; her skeletons have finally made their way out of the closet. Her sister Bonnie would be hysterical, and <i>SimVonne</i> would no longer want her as the face of their new perfume. All of her Bridgeport buddies would know that she stole her sister's boyfriend, just like the attention whore she was.<br />
<br />
She tried in vain to fight back tears.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5peVKAwxveg2jl-HkhvbnIDLPPYk2yORKC-KCM-h0RsGr-k5q3HDbJRNkkfqlBcr3joFSRLtHBRvLTrRHgwwCmz6lOrk-mWRd8UCcJYIepwJB98gJezmTO69ZHtzj_JYMt-XkNEAkjo/s1600/Screenshot-58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5peVKAwxveg2jl-HkhvbnIDLPPYk2yORKC-KCM-h0RsGr-k5q3HDbJRNkkfqlBcr3joFSRLtHBRvLTrRHgwwCmz6lOrk-mWRd8UCcJYIepwJB98gJezmTO69ZHtzj_JYMt-XkNEAkjo/s640/Screenshot-58.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>She thought by talking to the police, she would be able to rid Mark from her life entirely; but yet again, he had managed to escape. She didn't have the energy to ask how, because she didn't have the energy to even speak.<br />
<br />
She slowly rested her head on her keyboard and convulsed with sobs. <br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgLv2kCD1uXTvuk_9RHLrojirCnLgfISpI7NUHyP9GSdrnzDbkVUrm64qZMUBgYpGPf7TMq_y-SHT5jwPiSgcC5EEyqOwQJDJExxt-9ZhRb9uLf239b2ZGGl-xRUtPlRVFDolryAkKIg/s1600/Screenshot-62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgLv2kCD1uXTvuk_9RHLrojirCnLgfISpI7NUHyP9GSdrnzDbkVUrm64qZMUBgYpGPf7TMq_y-SHT5jwPiSgcC5EEyqOwQJDJExxt-9ZhRb9uLf239b2ZGGl-xRUtPlRVFDolryAkKIg/s640/Screenshot-62.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Ella stood by the safety of her bedroom door and listened to the heartbreaking sounds of her sister crying and screaming in disbelief. Bonnie was ranting and raving like a madwoman, making no sense at all. She began to cry a little herself, knowing that her sweet sister, the only member of her father's family that liked her, now hates her with a burning passion. She lost a friend. She lost the only person she knew to be "family". She lost a sister. The only person who had ever truly cared about her was now losing her mind because of what happened.<br />
<br />
And it was all Ella's fault.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-123fdL9g1ZRPYl0Q8dZ8BKH7iPPWdjc1UPqXhyphenhyphenuVx0EroCPMoNNwGwDHbi2up1zHf_sPRqz8FJWVhT51t35bMmFkbbTHY3LuI0hMT9rpnuaJJCVGas5LCHMIfoponAM_G795JSBn2Lc/s1600/Screenshot-63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-123fdL9g1ZRPYl0Q8dZ8BKH7iPPWdjc1UPqXhyphenhyphenuVx0EroCPMoNNwGwDHbi2up1zHf_sPRqz8FJWVhT51t35bMmFkbbTHY3LuI0hMT9rpnuaJJCVGas5LCHMIfoponAM_G795JSBn2Lc/s640/Screenshot-63.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"I've had enough of you! I'm leaving!" Bonnie screamed, wiping away tears.<br />
<br />
"Bonnie, take a second to just calm down okay?"<br />
<br />
"Calm down? You have the nerve to cheat on me with my sister, and <i>you want me to calm down?</i> I'll show you calm!" She raised a hand to slap him, but slowly retracted it when she realized it might not be worth a lawsuit. Instead, she grabbed a suitcase, shoved all of her clothes into it, and tossed the suitcases down the stairs. She the stormed down the steps and caught Ella's scared eyes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLv5M-3X6QdkAfj-X-tldyH7Bc36WIFwFzGrO3lET4nGxmlGCdktAyvKzpttvAsGsEupIfUKs8COkktq8dIWvqoaQVkCFcoyOwquXPe0FVKbgd8a1GnCqO1HI_wEJaLeexP2yT3Ehrz3M/s1600/Screenshot-64.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLv5M-3X6QdkAfj-X-tldyH7Bc36WIFwFzGrO3lET4nGxmlGCdktAyvKzpttvAsGsEupIfUKs8COkktq8dIWvqoaQVkCFcoyOwquXPe0FVKbgd8a1GnCqO1HI_wEJaLeexP2yT3Ehrz3M/s640/Screenshot-64.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Don't you fucking look at me like that, you hussy," she spat. "You may have deceived me, but I know now that you're nothing but a cheap, trashy home-wrecker. Just like your mom."<br />
<br />
Ella watched as Bonnie walked out the front door, with the intention of never returning.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">*Later at the Pinciotti Estate*</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHo1VzhLqOcQAjc94s3N8HzxCofHW5o1u3uCijB8E0JXqLIEd13F0BNFKRtB3ACQu1e9kkoRTQRvSe_krvwJLocvBBCqIQ9MQKWKvlxKP829Zi-I1deUDMb6vFwVinHC3U5hEqBGre8IE/s1600/Screenshot-67.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHo1VzhLqOcQAjc94s3N8HzxCofHW5o1u3uCijB8E0JXqLIEd13F0BNFKRtB3ACQu1e9kkoRTQRvSe_krvwJLocvBBCqIQ9MQKWKvlxKP829Zi-I1deUDMb6vFwVinHC3U5hEqBGre8IE/s640/Screenshot-67.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxMq-HP1qckfyQRisJ-Mrh3o74KiwmBnac8dbES09D2MEdAMbi8osW8eVu4mHSHZ1NfvyByDa8onCkSZMXKbHb1Wh36eBYeknLudglsWCyk7ZOvDrGrAiSFQ3N8kR8DUEixv2j6BoipQ/s1600/Screenshot-65.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxMq-HP1qckfyQRisJ-Mrh3o74KiwmBnac8dbES09D2MEdAMbi8osW8eVu4mHSHZ1NfvyByDa8onCkSZMXKbHb1Wh36eBYeknLudglsWCyk7ZOvDrGrAiSFQ3N8kR8DUEixv2j6BoipQ/s640/Screenshot-65.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "There's my Bon Bon!" Abbot said happily. She was always happy to see her grandkids, especially Bonnie. When she noticed her bags in her convertible, Abbot's face immediately fell into a worried look. "How are you, dear?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQv4vx_Ry2znup01mlBiqmi_aC6UKm4x-rgkmsqdHWnlVeK2uYMC8flIP6_yxWrV02ihdqeRT8rSwKtB0MM3DZuKCIgYk3FGeP2CgShSkv9NgwXMyyNuzmV7n05zdwtc6AxqJ7PBhfjY/s1600/Screenshot-66.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQv4vx_Ry2znup01mlBiqmi_aC6UKm4x-rgkmsqdHWnlVeK2uYMC8flIP6_yxWrV02ihdqeRT8rSwKtB0MM3DZuKCIgYk3FGeP2CgShSkv9NgwXMyyNuzmV7n05zdwtc6AxqJ7PBhfjY/s640/Screenshot-66.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Bonnie immediately fell into her grandmother's arms and cried. Abbot quietly shushed her as she rubbed her back. "There there, whatever it is, it can't possibly be that bad. Hmm?"<br />
<br />
Bonnie nodded and wiped her tears away. <i>"It's not that bad, Bonnie."</i> she thought to herself. <i>"Get over it. Stop your miserable sobbing. You're not a child."</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVowfqw2G_lSkpWquxDk8IbYoMfjzYKyjnkAoeeEIeldQjGHWYCds0M9_urmTiAMiMryuiWfzjqkgKatIHYz5UGV8N21qo8EyckAI3jjpVZeYPtkM-UowKUlU20bikMnIVRqN-hiVRiA/s1600/Screenshot-68.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVowfqw2G_lSkpWquxDk8IbYoMfjzYKyjnkAoeeEIeldQjGHWYCds0M9_urmTiAMiMryuiWfzjqkgKatIHYz5UGV8N21qo8EyckAI3jjpVZeYPtkM-UowKUlU20bikMnIVRqN-hiVRiA/s640/Screenshot-68.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Where's Mom?"<br />
<br />
"Tiffany is at her salon; working, as usual." she sighed as she rolled her eyes. Tiffany dedicated one-hundred percent of herself to her new booming business, <i>Tiffany's Salon</i>. "She thinks that it'll be the biggest and best thing to hit Sunset Valley since Costello built that stadium."<br />
<br />
"And where's Daddy?" she said cautiously.<br />
<br />
"He's in his office, working on his computer. You're free to talk to him if you wish."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWUPS-pPJYOF0Al361r1-ge1HbEKXFCzCJTyaZHvhjnIeeEIawIStqAUDi-AE1NcZdwLmY-V68mgTzbfXv9xxKszeSuXQViH8hsBYavwiyp57zf3Fz2rmgUI-mKwzeylQEoHcgTA35Tv0/s1600/Screenshot-69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWUPS-pPJYOF0Al361r1-ge1HbEKXFCzCJTyaZHvhjnIeeEIawIStqAUDi-AE1NcZdwLmY-V68mgTzbfXv9xxKszeSuXQViH8hsBYavwiyp57zf3Fz2rmgUI-mKwzeylQEoHcgTA35Tv0/s640/Screenshot-69.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Hey, twerps!" she chirped while putting on a fake smile. She didn't want her younger siblings to see her in such a fragile state.<br />
<br />
"I thought you moved out, <i>Ms. Independent.</i>" Clyde mocked. Bonnie rolled her eyes and smacked her brother on the head as she walked by.<br />
<br />
"Way to go, sis!" Lorena cheered. Clyde shot her a mean glare and she responded by shrugging her shoulders and tackling his character when he wasn't looking.<br />
<br />
"Heey, that's cheating!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMD-KGteCPpkeXwfptSP_Mg7pcshwUpOhpWN3wtrQpaD_7T1nZODnRFsmYdyZt5aq6AzUPi90vNcccrr_2M1EeoVLFiuSLgReY7JfsthHldp5Gu-XUCjnXpXL91a1hoIWrHVMNGvHiZA/s1600/Screenshot-71.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMD-KGteCPpkeXwfptSP_Mg7pcshwUpOhpWN3wtrQpaD_7T1nZODnRFsmYdyZt5aq6AzUPi90vNcccrr_2M1EeoVLFiuSLgReY7JfsthHldp5Gu-XUCjnXpXL91a1hoIWrHVMNGvHiZA/s640/Screenshot-71.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Bonnie entered her father's study and sat down quietly, waiting to see if he would take notice. He didn't. She cleared her throat and began to speak.<br />
<br />
"Hello, Daddy."<br />
<br />
"Oh hi, sweetheart. Why are you home so early? I thought you were staying with Ella." he asked disinterestedly.<br />
<br />
"It didn't work out." she muttered.<br />
<br />
"Hm. Bonnie, may I ask you a question?"<br />
<br />
"Sure."<br />
<br />
"What do you think of your mother and I divorcing?"<br />
<br />
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she seethed.<br />
<br />
"Bonnie, language."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6U4IRI3-aaDQXEM2la88S7LvYU2i0TaMFA915p5Yn9NzwjEYDwlL80wFvXd2dbG8qQDUKsziYn0fWE9qsNQVBNK5uxrXS2W4CdDZLPbO1rbP7V-YzZDVp464UNVI6Hh4hnp1mrVo450s/s1600/Screenshot-74.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6U4IRI3-aaDQXEM2la88S7LvYU2i0TaMFA915p5Yn9NzwjEYDwlL80wFvXd2dbG8qQDUKsziYn0fWE9qsNQVBNK5uxrXS2W4CdDZLPbO1rbP7V-YzZDVp464UNVI6Hh4hnp1mrVo450s/s640/Screenshot-74.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Oh really? You're <i>still</i> lecturing me for language like I'm a little girl? Why don't you lecture your bastard child, Ella? She's the potty mouth! What did you ever see in her mother that made you no longer want mine? What did you ever see in Ella that made you say 'yes' when her mother wanted to send her down here? Why does everyone hate <i>me</i> and love <i>her</i>?!" she ranted.<br />
<br />
"Bon Bon, where is this coming from? You know you're the family favorite..."<br />
<br />
"Don't call me that! You were just asking me what I would think if you divorced my mother. You don't have the right. Maybe things would be better if I just wasn't here!"<br />
<br />
"Well, maybe things would be," Jack agreed. Bonnie's lips trembled as she held in her tears.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYAer94_tdZhd9E-OJ9tjIP69InpLHm9BtGSKqBbfPvO1KDrC-TGmbgeH_ppETUTU1yw_sCXN4C8ot40YkufwRvB-rn26nUxxi2tFjiu2kL5ZoDtkr1OQgESDXlXZZ9MmpitQWJS3RRtc/s1600/Screenshot-75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYAer94_tdZhd9E-OJ9tjIP69InpLHm9BtGSKqBbfPvO1KDrC-TGmbgeH_ppETUTU1yw_sCXN4C8ot40YkufwRvB-rn26nUxxi2tFjiu2kL5ZoDtkr1OQgESDXlXZZ9MmpitQWJS3RRtc/s640/Screenshot-75.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Bonnie Pinciotti, I think this discussion is over."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I think it is. Just like my life." she muttered.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtSdoy1sconSgsAUW4S5XYqxhvY6zQ36KfuS1IlAzTzv844gvjhQ7CIWOWMmq-M6KEja0x8rbcU6ES7aVVgNXdufoqkDtyOGzZh0VmA8Zewm33fO4EyQ1u4OubXV897A9L-NsHQnVPdw/s1600/Screenshot-76.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtSdoy1sconSgsAUW4S5XYqxhvY6zQ36KfuS1IlAzTzv844gvjhQ7CIWOWMmq-M6KEja0x8rbcU6ES7aVVgNXdufoqkDtyOGzZh0VmA8Zewm33fO4EyQ1u4OubXV897A9L-NsHQnVPdw/s640/Screenshot-76.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Is my Bonnie home? Abbot told me and I rushed home as soon as I could..."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceHgGcFqjOGunjVsKvjv9Zc-JI8LB_ZPE2yAUwYOHnvk3JKXY6PhWAR8f3xqkzyXpK4h6B-C1Yia8q7Nz-wivUsPuNqsha6TPjPYJSDdi-ybVc9VMPDGuAgwocev_vI1_TGAOcqD493M/s1600/Screenshot-78.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceHgGcFqjOGunjVsKvjv9Zc-JI8LB_ZPE2yAUwYOHnvk3JKXY6PhWAR8f3xqkzyXpK4h6B-C1Yia8q7Nz-wivUsPuNqsha6TPjPYJSDdi-ybVc9VMPDGuAgwocev_vI1_TGAOcqD493M/s640/Screenshot-78.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Yep, she's home." he muttered, snarling. He didn't understand why Bonnie, of all his children, would snap and accuse him of hating her. He was shocked she would even snap at all. Pinciottis just don't "do" emotions.<br />
<br />
"Did you even notice my haircut?"<br />
<br />
"Why yes I did dear. What convinced you to chop it off?" Tiffany said without skipping a beat. Truth was, she was so concerned by her daughter's sudden homecoming that she hadn't been paying attention.<br />
<br />
"Eh, no special reason, just..." he trailed off as he looked into her eyes. Tiffany was always so beautiful, and so patient with his immaturity. She raised four of his five beautiful children, and still managed to excel in what she does for a living. She was perfect.<br />
<br />
Far too perfect for him.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dRxaf1otBfUy1WeUQ7tZkrLYR4G9c3nlI41_e4hD62uV8pN9O0sS1Byqv7IBJbufjoiRY89sWgxv1_Pz01WxrpoaJOy6zNlV6-sMiuRDtnWZUW-e1DkTtyUWyIMsFylW4bvCXF0HSQs/s1600/Screenshot-79.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dRxaf1otBfUy1WeUQ7tZkrLYR4G9c3nlI41_e4hD62uV8pN9O0sS1Byqv7IBJbufjoiRY89sWgxv1_Pz01WxrpoaJOy6zNlV6-sMiuRDtnWZUW-e1DkTtyUWyIMsFylW4bvCXF0HSQs/s640/Screenshot-79.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>He stood up and pulled her in for a kiss, leaving her bewildered. "What in the world did I deserve to get that? We haven't kissed like that in years," she chuckled.<br />
<br />
"I know, and...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything."<br />
<br />
"That's all fine and dandy dear, but where is Bonnie? I'm really worried about her."<br />
<br />
"Last time I saw her, she stormed off into the guestroom."<br />
<br />
Tiffany quietly walked up the stairs and into the bedroom, and was horrified at what she saw. The bottle with her sleeping medication was seen under the bed, completely empty, with Bonnie unconscious on the floor.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3lv3KeQBnqiVuCiJu88mPE4t-oFimN4HXlgKBWpZ7Dgn7gjx0nMVwRry2zExu_oB50v807KgAWCqzOp8YpVNOSchTq9msqfd4HGrlNVv70xKEHhf5sAlVHxMbpW3eBGj7_V_SugDMl-A/s1600/Screenshot-80.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3lv3KeQBnqiVuCiJu88mPE4t-oFimN4HXlgKBWpZ7Dgn7gjx0nMVwRry2zExu_oB50v807KgAWCqzOp8YpVNOSchTq9msqfd4HGrlNVv70xKEHhf5sAlVHxMbpW3eBGj7_V_SugDMl-A/s640/Screenshot-80.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Oh, my dear child!" Tiffany whimpered. "What did you do?!"<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Chapter commentary <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2011/07/chapter-7-commentary.html">here.</a> <b> </b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><b>Season 2:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/drumming-song.html">The Drumming Song</a> >></i></span>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-79604871570749663242011-07-11T10:08:00.000-07:002011-07-15T13:36:17.914-07:00Hero/Heroine<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><< <b>Previous Episode:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/beautiful-thieves.html">Beautiful Thieves</a></span> </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i><b>Title:</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bReVwemN5iE&feature=related">Hero/Heroine</a> by Boys Like Girls</i><br />
<i><b>Content Warning:</b> brief swearing</i><br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4twmWTcEd3li2X0AFvh_cDqTPiAdtCeeWXTtCEQlasNiv3TV8wrr7y4qVYI5LY7fj2ccbyX-9l8s_w9E9v5M3xJncwgL4McUZFJZ8D7S-dxFKSHkda7q4KxlW0uxN-B5gXAyBtq1FEug/s1600/Screenshot-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4twmWTcEd3li2X0AFvh_cDqTPiAdtCeeWXTtCEQlasNiv3TV8wrr7y4qVYI5LY7fj2ccbyX-9l8s_w9E9v5M3xJncwgL4McUZFJZ8D7S-dxFKSHkda7q4KxlW0uxN-B5gXAyBtq1FEug/s640/Screenshot-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Michele sighed quietly as she adjusted her pillow. "Alex, do you have any spare cash?"<br />
<br />
"Nope, not on me. A writer's salary is very slim, you know." he joked.<br />
<br />
"Yeah but the rent's due this month, and I don't know if we can scrape up the cash and still be able to afford our anniversary presents."<br />
<br />
"Well then, we can do other things for our anniversary. I can name a few right now, actually."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAlWfXywlKotjRUbosXti_jV-kVhrPkDQ-Ig6Mqx8B4xgM21OTLK5WHMDoUd9FGFeNV-Q_zhj37HrbxadKElOA3oO0vFJYPgl5_O5wr4L7kby_z-r73lDN7yOpg0-wiQb6m8-TGST7js/s1600/Screenshot-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAlWfXywlKotjRUbosXti_jV-kVhrPkDQ-Ig6Mqx8B4xgM21OTLK5WHMDoUd9FGFeNV-Q_zhj37HrbxadKElOA3oO0vFJYPgl5_O5wr4L7kby_z-r73lDN7yOpg0-wiQb6m8-TGST7js/s640/Screenshot-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Alex! Sweetheart, I'm being serious. I accidentally...<i>overspent</i> because I thought that Mark would be helping out with the rent this month," she confessed. "We have utility bills, rent, car payments; I don't know if we'll have leftover this month."<br />
<br />
"And that's alright," he said comfortingly. "If we're barely getting by this month, we'll just save up more for the next. That's the blessing of not having kids; it's not like we'll have any medical emergencies or other immediate expenses that we'll need to pay this month."<br />
<br />
"Yeah. You're right..." she trailed off. Michele turned her body to her side and stared intently at the alarm clock, not saying another word to Alex. He quickly picked up on her anxiety and gasped audibly.<br />
<br />
"Holy shit,<i> you're not pregnant, are you?!</i>"<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqF3m08bZVIKfARnbxUJEfYZFsT-Ft0bhRdH9gpM8tT7GkPpqwg2_CvdWFM5OuHO2IXjtaf0P17-RGCEGjlqQKb8lrSxlgDc7PDMRlf3VSREUsy65OOqOgWZ5DZtoHk4HQ7bU_svgmcg/s1600/Screenshot-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqF3m08bZVIKfARnbxUJEfYZFsT-Ft0bhRdH9gpM8tT7GkPpqwg2_CvdWFM5OuHO2IXjtaf0P17-RGCEGjlqQKb8lrSxlgDc7PDMRlf3VSREUsy65OOqOgWZ5DZtoHk4HQ7bU_svgmcg/s640/Screenshot-32.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "I can't believe you're pregnant." Alex whimpered in disbelief. He was a coward and he knew it, but an unexpected baby would be enough to make even the most brave sim freak out.<br />
<br />
"I <i>might</i> be pregnant, sweetheart. We still have about two more minutes until we know for sure."<br />
<br />
"Can't you speed up time or something? Sometimes I wish there was a button I could push to make things go faster."<br />
<br />
"Don't be silly Alex," she chuckled, "Magical buttons that fast-forward time don't exist. You spend way too much time with your computer games."<br />
<br />
"Hey, those games are important research for my upcoming sci-fi. Don't knock the moneymaker."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYramI4N04IsDOVwtu3Wqc26YiWDvNz_PGqjCqs3gGBnhQVOIKKO_0HwIpKCmGyZ3C3_pdwpgn2hBoZneQV2aI-FGPdOn4RJo3mfyoMZ_bUEF3fB4lMdFyBwD93QqDpVw0iN3DHo9YOk/s1600/Screenshot-33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYramI4N04IsDOVwtu3Wqc26YiWDvNz_PGqjCqs3gGBnhQVOIKKO_0HwIpKCmGyZ3C3_pdwpgn2hBoZneQV2aI-FGPdOn4RJo3mfyoMZ_bUEF3fB4lMdFyBwD93QqDpVw0iN3DHo9YOk/s640/Screenshot-33.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Well, <i>moneymaker</i>, guess who's pregnant?" Michele said mockingly.<br />
<br />
"Who?"<br />
<br />
"Not us!" Alex and Michele both let out giggles and sighs of relief. Maybe they'd have children one day, but not anytime soon. They were still trying to get used to the new status of their relationship, it wouldn't be fair to bring a newborn sim into an unstable environment.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIk6XbEynnART7OlaQFRrfxJxwPNCDRa3VHRDU-cdj6GcgqLZGFhKZ2XA3Q06lxzUU7-b3s92ZV-3mYVtrIFgX9q8-CftVkvkquqgKJoYd-dfVat1A_Y8wOWeI0tb07Yd95BEHgSpNJI/s1600/Screenshot-34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIk6XbEynnART7OlaQFRrfxJxwPNCDRa3VHRDU-cdj6GcgqLZGFhKZ2XA3Q06lxzUU7-b3s92ZV-3mYVtrIFgX9q8-CftVkvkquqgKJoYd-dfVat1A_Y8wOWeI0tb07Yd95BEHgSpNJI/s640/Screenshot-34.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"I'm so happy we still have a little more time left," she sighed.<br />
<br />
"How about we celebrate this good news with some woohoo?" he grinned.<br />
<br />
"You're kidding, right? I <i>just</i> got out of the red zone; give a girl some time to recover!"<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7qNS9jmhe3WMYTXFtz-8MSeuHdrlFjK1OHG8KkTHSde3dNLNVzPhiM1E5Q18ROgBGFwtC3fzvWU8SmqmhyphenhyphensyGAhCyswTmL1X-VkWUJPDOvThGIDJ9SatkSI44lQsXOuW4AD7sjwscs0/s1600/Screenshot-43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7qNS9jmhe3WMYTXFtz-8MSeuHdrlFjK1OHG8KkTHSde3dNLNVzPhiM1E5Q18ROgBGFwtC3fzvWU8SmqmhyphenhyphensyGAhCyswTmL1X-VkWUJPDOvThGIDJ9SatkSI44lQsXOuW4AD7sjwscs0/s640/Screenshot-43.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Alex," she begun sternly, "How's your story coming along?"<br />
<br />
"Great, actually. I'm almost done! Now I'm just running spellcheck."<br />
<br />
"I may not be a computer whiz, but I can tell you're not working."<br />
<br />
"Sorry, I'm just really stressed out. My agent keeps pushing me to release something and I guess I'm kind of afraid of failing him."<br />
<br />
"So because of your fear of failing, you're not going to even <i>try?</i> Don't you think that's more than a little pathetic, even for you?" she asked bewildered. Alex began to say something, but quickly stopped. His fear didn't make sense to him either, but that didn't stop him from being afraid.<br />
<br />
"No, you're right babe, it's no excuse to not even try." he admitted. "I'll get back into it first thing tomorrow morning."<br />
<br />
"Good, now go put some pants on! Our anniversary dinner is almost ready."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrxeTjymj91r6pSEh24nI7XCPvZgIjdiLlNLMnRNn_uvbx411CXE0ayrN0npP9MBgx6YW34g56kk6dlTfCLQoY4kXJAn6FOm-rIyO2vmVCR9OQW13ZKNKfE-LfsBC3jq23ryn3jtznzE/s1600/Screenshot-44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrxeTjymj91r6pSEh24nI7XCPvZgIjdiLlNLMnRNn_uvbx411CXE0ayrN0npP9MBgx6YW34g56kk6dlTfCLQoY4kXJAn6FOm-rIyO2vmVCR9OQW13ZKNKfE-LfsBC3jq23ryn3jtznzE/s640/Screenshot-44.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"How was your day at work?"<br />
<br />
"Fantastic!" Michele beamed. "I went to my callback for <i>Venezia la Paradigm</i> yesterday, and my agent said the casting director called today. Guess what she said!"<br />
<br />
"You got the part of Melodie?"<br />
<br />
"Even better," she squealed, "I got the part of Venezia! I'm going to star in a movie alongside Luke DePeche!"<br />
<br />
"That's great, honey! When do you start filming?"<br />
<br />
"We start filming two weeks from now. I am so excited! My first big break..."<br />
<br />
"Well, don't forget about us little people," he joked.<br />
<br />
"Are you kidding? Never!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ssdjbrcZwHgEizI9njVYjjB2wpgVIPRMOA3HfDn_-Ouuo2peDDKK0-LhNVmDXkmkjFJh_OAUP-CRjPgDND1pqDOqP0VelHoLemiV8GSaAqdtU4HlWjjWqTazwn01Y0lUfWjK12dHBag/s1600/Screenshot-45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ssdjbrcZwHgEizI9njVYjjB2wpgVIPRMOA3HfDn_-Ouuo2peDDKK0-LhNVmDXkmkjFJh_OAUP-CRjPgDND1pqDOqP0VelHoLemiV8GSaAqdtU4HlWjjWqTazwn01Y0lUfWjK12dHBag/s640/Screenshot-45.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Alex became silent and quietly picked at his food. After five minutes, Michele became impatient and worried.<br />
<br />
"You weren't serious, right? You know I would never forget you. <i>Never.</i>" she reassured comfortingly. Alex smiled quietly and shook his head.<br />
<br />
"No, it's not about that. I know it was just a joke. I was just thinking, that's all."<br />
<br />
"What about?"<br />
<br />
"Well, the 'almost' pregnancy, for one. What if you were actually pregnant? Where would we be right now? Dirt poor and looking for a new place to live. Here I am, slacking off at my job with a literary agent screaming in my ear while the love of my life is co-starring in a movie with some hunky celebrity." he whined.<br />
<br />
"Really? You're jealous of me because I got the role?"<br />
<br />
"No, that's not what I-" he sighed and put down his fork. "No, what I meant was...you don't need me as much as I need you. What if the director decides to relocate the movie and you'd have to leave? What would make you want to come back?"<br />
<br />
"Alex...sweetheart I love you. And even though it may not seem like it, I <i>do</i> need you. And I promise that if the director decides to relocate the film location, I'll email, call, and text every day."<br />
<br />
"But that's not enough..."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoEFaj-qyoxs4uDLA_Ugl06ssYt2KnlTOZzvIq3Kd8iaFuUIa-DxzA-XlySe6kQK28xUqKLJga1iad6s4e0BvPPORcxWhTXO4Rc1siOCvyipc-yysGqHTKo2Trsswa_gpH4FQPJeUESU/s1600/Screenshot-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoEFaj-qyoxs4uDLA_Ugl06ssYt2KnlTOZzvIq3Kd8iaFuUIa-DxzA-XlySe6kQK28xUqKLJga1iad6s4e0BvPPORcxWhTXO4Rc1siOCvyipc-yysGqHTKo2Trsswa_gpH4FQPJeUESU/s640/Screenshot-49.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Alex..."<br />
<br />
"Michele Louise Turner, I love you with all my heart. Will you please be my wife? Well, someday?" he chuckled.<br />
<br />
"Are you serious? Yes! Yes, I will marry you!" she screamed. When he stood up, she practically leaped into his arms, sobbing and giggling uncontrollably.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiA5FqNy0X29EkmA_01UY90m6GOO_fUCsRUOLJcQqhpQnSUueSYcTRxitSwO3MI9V-foVDjTH4VyqF2U1SCLeoZV1whA79_-ahf95SWy3NyxZ6smH6Y6qccyNWpS2RcYutHmTf4Fi2wY/s1600/Screenshot-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiA5FqNy0X29EkmA_01UY90m6GOO_fUCsRUOLJcQqhpQnSUueSYcTRxitSwO3MI9V-foVDjTH4VyqF2U1SCLeoZV1whA79_-ahf95SWy3NyxZ6smH6Y6qccyNWpS2RcYutHmTf4Fi2wY/s640/Screenshot-51.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Alex held onto his new fiancee as if she would float away the very second he let go. He wished life could stay this pleasant and simple forever.<br />
<br />
But as anyone could tell you, life just doesn't work that way.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------------<br />
Chapter commentary <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2011/07/chapter-6-commentary.html">here</a>. <i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Season 1 Finale:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/cosmic-love.html">Cosmic Love</a> >></span></i>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-70586047980396349782011-07-10T12:47:00.000-07:002011-07-11T21:00:09.281-07:00Beautiful Thieves<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><< <b>Previous Chapter:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-deep-is-your-love.html">How Deep Is Your Love?</a></i></span><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i><b>Title:</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vz__wHVCNng">Beautiful Thieves</a> by AFI</i><br />
<i><b>Content Warning:</b> strong language</i><br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
*A Month Later*<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBrWNsGY9d2Y_zrGADRRmMsWKHc2EXAkH_F-wkKUnVR8pwzIwphGywWNYNugmeWoyG88rkkLxRSt_rxOxFCmqOUgFjb-_qhF_iFFqrDwk0A2DUWQ9HQKfpGdkOYXo7xv3Vd0mAKRy9FE/s1600/Screenshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBrWNsGY9d2Y_zrGADRRmMsWKHc2EXAkH_F-wkKUnVR8pwzIwphGywWNYNugmeWoyG88rkkLxRSt_rxOxFCmqOUgFjb-_qhF_iFFqrDwk0A2DUWQ9HQKfpGdkOYXo7xv3Vd0mAKRy9FE/s640/Screenshot.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Ah, home sweet home." he snickered to himself. His plan had worked flawlessly; he managed to ditch his ex in a foreign country, bribe a Shang Simlan officer to clear his name with the simoleans he stole, and move out of Michele and Alex's place without paying rent. With the added bonus of the stolen jewelry, he managed to fill his empty wallet with a load of simoleans with no one the wiser.<br />
<br />
"So, 'ol chum, what shall we do now?" he said to himself. "Ooh, I know; how about some drinks?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj10wCS_5rPe1pwo9Znw2MyZLy2wK6GeyocwVO7-QO4MJEd9kmouePcpT5TYJJI9qq6SMaFVssXE1h2c6RILFLY17sr1W6Qe5dOtqZfH591QZgqwbWVj0iOHU4TLziugDjMKzvwOl2yFCU/s1600/Screenshot-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj10wCS_5rPe1pwo9Znw2MyZLy2wK6GeyocwVO7-QO4MJEd9kmouePcpT5TYJJI9qq6SMaFVssXE1h2c6RILFLY17sr1W6Qe5dOtqZfH591QZgqwbWVj0iOHU4TLziugDjMKzvwOl2yFCU/s640/Screenshot-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>He hummed as he walked outside to his mini-bar and made himself a simargarita. "I could really get used to this," he whispered. He figured it was probably too early for a drink, but it's not like he had anything "real" to attend to in the day anyway.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXLX9bIRcygOlhfEE43j0kMCbik4iyTDlzH5PWbZ4csSXtCVnlO8XnqVKXKC_SLWDfpCEMHXAv7NTY6zr2v4VMPl1PohGLhVdowz13TknmKjEE7wY_T_gGxo-hmPSbct4Gj92Io_0sf8/s1600/Screenshot-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXLX9bIRcygOlhfEE43j0kMCbik4iyTDlzH5PWbZ4csSXtCVnlO8XnqVKXKC_SLWDfpCEMHXAv7NTY6zr2v4VMPl1PohGLhVdowz13TknmKjEE7wY_T_gGxo-hmPSbct4Gj92Io_0sf8/s640/Screenshot-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_oAQH71965C_Mze_OKEhgtyLMuFhSuLhcc93CmtCgaxiDVH3V-73Tzac7fbP-SbAGLp0LYTF4gK54x-TlKkeCMcmP8gNoFNkj5uecNHwTD9lFpr9PEq0YVVAvet6Fz_cmmtWxxj00Fs/s1600/Screenshot-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_oAQH71965C_Mze_OKEhgtyLMuFhSuLhcc93CmtCgaxiDVH3V-73Tzac7fbP-SbAGLp0LYTF4gK54x-TlKkeCMcmP8gNoFNkj5uecNHwTD9lFpr9PEq0YVVAvet6Fz_cmmtWxxj00Fs/s640/Screenshot-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Mark took a seat on his lounger with his tray of drinks and sighed contentedly. He took in the splendor of the beaches and the mansions, knowing that due to his brilliant plan, he'd never have to work another day in his life.<br />
<br />
He let out a loud groan when his phone began ringing. "Mark Filroy. What do you want?" he asked curtly.<br />
<br />
"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Filroy. My name is Rebecca Abner, and I'm a reporter for 'Sims Magazine'. I can call back later, if you'd like."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWaw7v15tp9fnxZWd35T1v2X1rs7DjRmncSpCxA6kcNVBFEQLVa9QhPaPb6RxnVsk3NsM2w_Bx6a-4PK7vgXDrFfvxBCvySipkNjB-t_q_EL80oJwteZI6VjbRXGoIydHIDIZzSShH9xM/s1600/Screenshot-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWaw7v15tp9fnxZWd35T1v2X1rs7DjRmncSpCxA6kcNVBFEQLVa9QhPaPb6RxnVsk3NsM2w_Bx6a-4PK7vgXDrFfvxBCvySipkNjB-t_q_EL80oJwteZI6VjbRXGoIydHIDIZzSShH9xM/s640/Screenshot-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"'Sims Magazine', eh?" he grinned. <i>Sims Magazine</i> was a huge tabloid magazine that documented the lives of the young, famous, and wealthy. "Well, that's interesting."<br />
<br />
"We were just wondering if you'd confirm or deny the rumors that you and Ella Cartez have been dating," she inquired. "Yeah...I'll 'confirm or deny'," he mocked. "We can set up a meeting at my house for tomorrow. Sound good?"<br />
<br />
"Great, sir. Just let me get a pen an paper and I'll jot down your address."<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrUKQPMhS1Ze-7qfharfPeRcGIPAfGsb4JPbDM-rf2YEPeAKiCttmvIuWRHTMNp5tSTilU_5D_1hbM3lPvpCISfOoEvcfafwXGod88CEZS25KSsF1Oi10Dd5TepzXgiR7SoeBduxc__o/s1600/Screenshot-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrUKQPMhS1Ze-7qfharfPeRcGIPAfGsb4JPbDM-rf2YEPeAKiCttmvIuWRHTMNp5tSTilU_5D_1hbM3lPvpCISfOoEvcfafwXGod88CEZS25KSsF1Oi10Dd5TepzXgiR7SoeBduxc__o/s640/Screenshot-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Why hello, Platinum! I'm sorry I didn't make it back to finish watching the stars with you, love. I just ran into some problems." he smiled. Ella definitely wasn't smiling though, as she rolled her eyes in disgust.<br />
<br />
"Don't play games with me, you asshole. I know what you did."<br />
<br />
"Oh?"<br />
<br />
"Yes," she huffed. "You stole my money and fucking <i>ditched me</i> and <i>left me for dead!</i> In case it weren't obvious, we're over."<br />
<br />
"Okay then," Mark said, his voice lowering. "Why the hell did you come here, and how did you get my address?" Ella barged past him and made her way to the couch.<br />
<br />
"Come sit, <i>loverboy.</i>"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1o6Te3I0k31wQW0Vnn4n7Rm03GPaJW3mChPSS5AmWI9cAJuPam5FnkNM6Tq24P3YUswGIuyyYrxzbEcd_NiCVgfkPOtT7b75cy6CM8o5TQx5DEMmT2F_FYPxLzPwurF2fWl-qRp6HA0/s1600/Screenshot-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1o6Te3I0k31wQW0Vnn4n7Rm03GPaJW3mChPSS5AmWI9cAJuPam5FnkNM6Tq24P3YUswGIuyyYrxzbEcd_NiCVgfkPOtT7b75cy6CM8o5TQx5DEMmT2F_FYPxLzPwurF2fWl-qRp6HA0/s640/Screenshot-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"I want you to look me in the eye and answer all of my questions. Got it?" she demanded.<br />
<br />
"Are you sure you even want to know, babe?"<br />
<br />
"I'm not your 'babe' anymore, and yes."<br />
<br />
"Babe, you'll always be my babe." he winked. "Shoot."<br />
<br />
"First of all, how much of what you said to me was a lie?"<br />
<br />
"Pretty much all of it except my name." Ella winced internally and bit her lip in response to his admission. How could he take her heart and treat it as if it were a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe?<br />
<br />
"It's pretty easy to con famous people. All the information on them is on simGoogle, and if you act the part, people usually tend to believe you. Didn't you ever wonder why I never took you to my house?"<br />
<br />
"No," she mumbled sheepishly. The neon writing was on the wall the entire time, and she <i>just</i> noticed. "I have another question...why did you do it?" <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijMAsUDFR210gfU2FJdGLQnnsdNb1AShZ0fDIl31TnjsKG5Ss2M7oMseUmfH98GHIA1M4uXLzTwkIn965rO2XFyi0w7-3UzuYNmH61xyuzO64E1D7Lge7zxKy5L0w9sl4ntLPXD-HGA6E/s1600/Screenshot-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijMAsUDFR210gfU2FJdGLQnnsdNb1AShZ0fDIl31TnjsKG5Ss2M7oMseUmfH98GHIA1M4uXLzTwkIn965rO2XFyi0w7-3UzuYNmH61xyuzO64E1D7Lge7zxKy5L0w9sl4ntLPXD-HGA6E/s640/Screenshot-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"I was homeless and desperate for cash, and you were naive and desperate for companionship. You made it pretty easy for me. You fell for every line I fed you, and you trusted me with everything. It would have been a crime <i>not</i> to con you," he joked. Ella couldn't hold her tears any longer, as he, the man she once trusted, pretended not to see her pain.<br />
<br />
"I must admit, I did have fun with you. You just weren't my type, is all. Your cash certainly was, though."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTA-65HaEkUumV5oPsUw-YDSwzI3ufdm3biRIYPn6PQJ084FqQmonsa2qHldRO4NXQe0YORJCd6_MvDUXz1oys7FZmX2H_lQA5EHNnHPswptaeRy448Eu6qfkvF2lhhMaMpk2a4zbHow/s1600/Screenshot-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTA-65HaEkUumV5oPsUw-YDSwzI3ufdm3biRIYPn6PQJ084FqQmonsa2qHldRO4NXQe0YORJCd6_MvDUXz1oys7FZmX2H_lQA5EHNnHPswptaeRy448Eu6qfkvF2lhhMaMpk2a4zbHow/s640/Screenshot-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"And why shouldn't I turn you into the police?"<br />
<br />
"Well, because then I'd have to tell <i>Sims Magazine</i> about the little tryst you and that Jordan guy had about a month ago. That, and you still love me. I wouldn't have thought it to be true if you hadn't come today. I can see deep in your eyes that you'd want nothing more than to be held by me right now."<br />
<br />
"You lie," she spat.<br />
<br />
"No, actually, I don't. A conman must be perceptive as well as persuasive, and as you can see, I am both."<br />
<br />
"You're also heartless." she muttered.<br />
<br />
"Can't deny it. It's also a part of the job." he admitted.<br />
<br />
"So, this is all I was to you? A job?"<br />
<br />
"Quite frankly, yes. Hey, you wanna hear something funny? According to simGoogle, this is the house your mom used to get fucked in." he sneered<br />
<br />
That one did it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSyaCkPuRZaJbOzHKPeWZhLK3X2NnLmr9QiUGpuJ2_DI8mg4PcclHqnhZ-oaejT3rMyT2exj9DglhYlmnL8OGy1hYuv59B4fEYv8smi7sKpmx0pUs10Saim51QkgSBnfD_6s6A_l4AlQ/s1600/Screenshot-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSyaCkPuRZaJbOzHKPeWZhLK3X2NnLmr9QiUGpuJ2_DI8mg4PcclHqnhZ-oaejT3rMyT2exj9DglhYlmnL8OGy1hYuv59B4fEYv8smi7sKpmx0pUs10Saim51QkgSBnfD_6s6A_l4AlQ/s640/Screenshot-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "How <i>dare</i> you talk about my mother like that, you scum!" she screamed. Ella used all her strength to deliver a swift slap to Mark's face. His cheek grew bright red as he let out a yelp of pain.<br />
<br />
"You're right, Mark. I still loved you. And you wanna know why I <i>really</i> came here? I wanted a reason to hate you. After all you did to me, I still couldn't hate you. Until. now."<br />
<br />
Ella, now furious, made her way to the door; her adrenaline levels rising with each step.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-G3boAeSQw5zpjh00TC-F88GRQJ3PSi70h17JMNgOarNpSOyjDySb7Z1Sb6FalyK8La7YVqubRHAjLlZmRaFFS09VTIZFlCuFvXrfbr74lBHzzeNowAb3BajflqEp0DG-QAY7asEcktE/s1600/Screenshot-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-G3boAeSQw5zpjh00TC-F88GRQJ3PSi70h17JMNgOarNpSOyjDySb7Z1Sb6FalyK8La7YVqubRHAjLlZmRaFFS09VTIZFlCuFvXrfbr74lBHzzeNowAb3BajflqEp0DG-QAY7asEcktE/s640/Screenshot-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Goodbye, Mark. You'll get what's coming to you one day."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT7pid8Eej_2ekv-BbiKVSoWLGfvg7P6xoywlBVYTjROrRZXgnNHlMRI8QIxbhdzpK1SnE8gu0WSYcSBPhBFgfPfEs7-UOLQPeH2zM6QCh_YTbi8J1G3U06YGFL32Oo-16ZyivEHGKKYw/s1600/Screenshot-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT7pid8Eej_2ekv-BbiKVSoWLGfvg7P6xoywlBVYTjROrRZXgnNHlMRI8QIxbhdzpK1SnE8gu0WSYcSBPhBFgfPfEs7-UOLQPeH2zM6QCh_YTbi8J1G3U06YGFL32Oo-16ZyivEHGKKYw/s640/Screenshot-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4madABTiIi6m1t6tXw86X7C3eGV2L6UCscp9vfKt06xC4OW_D0HjwpHWbw9LfwWJpFkTTJQZwcZjx2Y00XgK949JQnZT0WMXhX35PKHGm2xlyKMnevyllIuqCtFYOCUz_xAdStHwa9VE/s1600/Screenshot-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4madABTiIi6m1t6tXw86X7C3eGV2L6UCscp9vfKt06xC4OW_D0HjwpHWbw9LfwWJpFkTTJQZwcZjx2Y00XgK949JQnZT0WMXhX35PKHGm2xlyKMnevyllIuqCtFYOCUz_xAdStHwa9VE/s640/Screenshot-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Feeling slightly guilty, he went to go drown his doubts at his old stomping grounds, the <a href="http://freya.modthesims2.com/download.php?t=433648">SHooters</a> bar. The bartenders greeted him with a smile, and the air smelled of mediocre hot wings and cologne. He sat down at the bar, and a bartender immediately got his usual; two drinks on the rocks. Nothing much has changed, much to his relief.<br />
<br />
Except this time, there was a lady in pigtails that caught his attention.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXe9MzO63boUOzg-P2Eoghbg19X73U5h6beT8mYAj3ozAuJ86nkoBGm2EQlA8HdKRrVBjRqTU2F2rSUBieP9DAueAfn7EAYQl-8M6lHBNK6uJzO4nlqICMnAw0Ed-WoG9EZL76rMqvY4/s1600/Screenshot-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXe9MzO63boUOzg-P2Eoghbg19X73U5h6beT8mYAj3ozAuJ86nkoBGm2EQlA8HdKRrVBjRqTU2F2rSUBieP9DAueAfn7EAYQl-8M6lHBNK6uJzO4nlqICMnAw0Ed-WoG9EZL76rMqvY4/s640/Screenshot-15.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Hey, I couldn't help but notice you from the bar. My name's Mark," he flirted. "Could I buy you a drink?"<br />
<br />
"Well, Mark," she replied. "I don't know. Should I let you buy me a drink?"<br />
<br />
"I think you should."<br />
<br />
"Then I will."<br />
<br />
Mark motioned the bartender to serve up two "bad cheerleaders" and put it on his tab. Maybe tonight, there will be more than drinks to get his mind off of things.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaRFSRZ02wDJQG7swkhkjo34w3fVjzLnAlOhD8hwFuxz54w8BYKyVf1aVCK7lI8Pv-dT0mcy5LJBF91Qgt6c9e9Z0Pmc7ezWUoQr4VatZ8eyAb5Y4Cy1pKR1mMatQ5w8Vt_KVEG23VrmQ/s1600/Screenshot-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaRFSRZ02wDJQG7swkhkjo34w3fVjzLnAlOhD8hwFuxz54w8BYKyVf1aVCK7lI8Pv-dT0mcy5LJBF91Qgt6c9e9Z0Pmc7ezWUoQr4VatZ8eyAb5Y4Cy1pKR1mMatQ5w8Vt_KVEG23VrmQ/s640/Screenshot-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Haven't I seen you around here before?"<br />
<br />
"I doubt it, I would remember a pretty lass like you." he smiled. "So, what's your name?"<br />
<br />
"Colette," she blushed. "Colette Bachelor."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_I6ZVOCQswnj76CGhGSQ70cg4wuN5w4Ss4ZjwKXDZWfoBEnrg3bKiNL-hlHdozG0BsnVeZCQg86cMFGz5Dgu1hb10Lkwcz2ML9LF3pg42uZJKKuN5iE3Tx3j5EJSUHvsy4Z1uBdJ8g2g/s1600/Screenshot-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_I6ZVOCQswnj76CGhGSQ70cg4wuN5w4Ss4ZjwKXDZWfoBEnrg3bKiNL-hlHdozG0BsnVeZCQg86cMFGz5Dgu1hb10Lkwcz2ML9LF3pg42uZJKKuN5iE3Tx3j5EJSUHvsy4Z1uBdJ8g2g/s640/Screenshot-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Well Colette, why don't you come back to my place after you've had some more drinks," he purred.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtMW518z74wMViobWdd9KQImgJaRhjuYPvdAt2D5yRfgS_Wsxn2dnonkBDG4EFQH8bSIJU2n1Z9qlGK6C1D6t2O6SaWMhtcFSzOyk540jyDsrD7FVeGrcJWVYisaNNWrKXv7htnO4hBRs/s1600/Screenshot-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtMW518z74wMViobWdd9KQImgJaRhjuYPvdAt2D5yRfgS_Wsxn2dnonkBDG4EFQH8bSIJU2n1Z9qlGK6C1D6t2O6SaWMhtcFSzOyk540jyDsrD7FVeGrcJWVYisaNNWrKXv7htnO4hBRs/s640/Screenshot-21.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>And so, Colette was able to put Mark's tinge of regret to bed...<br />
<br />
...for now.<br />
<br />
------------------------------<br />
Chapter Commentary <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2011/07/chapter-5-commentary.html">here.</a> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><b>Next Chapter:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/heroheroine.html">Hero/Heroine</a> >></i></span>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-69522392035340323122011-07-08T12:32:00.000-07:002011-07-11T20:54:17.750-07:00How Deep Is Your Love?<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><< <b>Previous Chapter:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/fallin.html">Fallin'</a></span></i><br />
<br />
<i>Optional Soundtrack: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vz__wHVCNng"></a><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpqmGx7meQw">How Deep Is Your Love</a> by The Bee Gees</i><br />
<i><b>Content Warning:</b> strong language and cleverly disguised nudity</i><br />
<br />
---------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Ella walked back to her room after discovering Mark deserted her and noticed that their "money chest" had been pilfered. Mark had convinced her that in case of emergency, they should get ten thousand simoleans converted into Shang Simla currency and store it in a chest.<br />
<br />
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she muttered to herself.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBqNHPi6qAOyjP3yBzK9uTxzxk31rnqv9HOWEovsW8xH9KAlfvz5QdKNLmLDUquHJ2BsVhzG6NhoB0dVd0bLf4zx8HpLTg8tenDnoL9uGYPHlSZIADR0fiUy6M4Jv7U0NjbUuZdA3jaE/s1600/Screenshot-320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBqNHPi6qAOyjP3yBzK9uTxzxk31rnqv9HOWEovsW8xH9KAlfvz5QdKNLmLDUquHJ2BsVhzG6NhoB0dVd0bLf4zx8HpLTg8tenDnoL9uGYPHlSZIADR0fiUy6M4Jv7U0NjbUuZdA3jaE/s640/Screenshot-320.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> She rushed over to the chest just to make sure, but her earlier assumption was correct; there was nothing left, not even a cent. "Shit. Shit shit shit. How could he do this to me?!" she swore, hitting the chest ferociously.<br />
<br />
"Creator-fucking-damnit! I'll kill that man!"<br />
<br />
"No, wait. Get a handle on yourself, Ella..." she whispered as she paced around the room. "Maybe he didn't rob you, but was kidnapped. Yeah, he was kidnapped! A-a-and the kidnapper took all of our fucking money! That sounds great."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfVRgBgnmB9TDvQP8tWTt1zQskDapOCqhpaiiC3KNTXfELe3QV4hQ22mS8SqwefdjiTaIssH0idBSJLOHlDsFEp3VNfxWRKV2koIKJ1UHVElrmMUOlu1sMzfOMlZ7V5JE5c2LMicfycgw/s1600/Screenshot-321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfVRgBgnmB9TDvQP8tWTt1zQskDapOCqhpaiiC3KNTXfELe3QV4hQ22mS8SqwefdjiTaIssH0idBSJLOHlDsFEp3VNfxWRKV2koIKJ1UHVElrmMUOlu1sMzfOMlZ7V5JE5c2LMicfycgw/s640/Screenshot-321.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>She plunked down into the seat and began to whine. "Mark took it! All of it! That stupid asshole <i>took it all.</i>" Ella sobbed into her sweaty palms, and said every Simlish swear under the sun. She began to wonder if what her mom said was true, that true love was impossible for Cartez women. Maybe she should have married wealthy and be done with it all.<br />
<br />
After wallowing in self-pity for an hour, she took a long shower to clean all the sweat and grime off of her and cried herself to sleep.<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------<br />
<br />
The next morning, she decided enough was enough; she was going to the tourism office to talk about Mark's disappearance. Her broken heart be damned; he stole her money. And everyone knows that you don't mess around with a socialite's wallet.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiURFiuJW4TFy_jPkuTVcow3BmYahKC8VLy4bjVttw6M9wcYssSiAFBn-qzJLXN6JEIjzuecamYMEc7aBsMcE_FaxFRcMjvRenn_bAz7bdJx7INTFRsS7Ym-duZxudcmhbQ3ySj6nLk5Uw/s1600/Screenshot-322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiURFiuJW4TFy_jPkuTVcow3BmYahKC8VLy4bjVttw6M9wcYssSiAFBn-qzJLXN6JEIjzuecamYMEc7aBsMcE_FaxFRcMjvRenn_bAz7bdJx7INTFRsS7Ym-duZxudcmhbQ3ySj6nLk5Uw/s640/Screenshot-322.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Hi, my name is Ella. Could you help me sir?" she inquired, as politely as she could. She was still incredibly upset over what happened last night, and she would really rather be alone in her bed crying than talking to some dude in weird safari getup.<br />
<br />
"Depends on your question, Miss." he flirted. She sent daggers through her eyes that caused him to straighten up his posture and clear his threat. "Ah-em, I mean, how can I help you Miss?"<br />
<br />
"Thank you. There's a pale blonde man, just a little bit taller than me, running around this city somewhere." she explained. "Y'see, he took me with him on vacation as well as ten thousand simoleans worth of currency, and now he and the money are gone."<br />
<br />
"We'll be sure to alert the local police ma'am, but there's no guarantee we'll catch him. What is his name?"<br />
<br />
"His name is Mark Filroy."<br />
<br />
The tourism officer quickly escorted her out of the room and outside, away from view of everyone else.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71niFxzvQfiPouofJQhculCPBM5jEhwGbsj6kKgWsEHgsEt2Z8RGxfXyWUl2BR97sBYkY2Yz-6FY8acpzLCR4-09Pls4b9-nmIh8Nqc0ot8Z1F61jNzfneMrbPj16ff4gnWUjxglYemI/s1600/Screenshot-323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71niFxzvQfiPouofJQhculCPBM5jEhwGbsj6kKgWsEHgsEt2Z8RGxfXyWUl2BR97sBYkY2Yz-6FY8acpzLCR4-09Pls4b9-nmIh8Nqc0ot8Z1F61jNzfneMrbPj16ff4gnWUjxglYemI/s640/Screenshot-323.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Okay, look. I don't know what game you're playing, but that name is forbidden here. Now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."<br />
<br />
"No, wait! I'm being serious! We were dating, a-and he brought me here. Why is his name forbidden?"<br />
<br />
"You're not one for reading about international news, are you?" Ella shook her head in shame, and the officer began to explain. "Alright then. The last time Mark Filroy was here, he was kicked out of our country for raiding the valuable gems in Emperor Lau's tomb, kidnapping Empress Mii and holding her hostage for a six-figure ransom, and physically assaulted one of our officers when the warrant was out for his arrest. He did all this under the name 'Adam Fargrat' and had black hair. We're pretty sure he's got another criminal record back in his hometown, Riverview, but he bribed someone to clear his name before we could access them."<br />
<br />
"Riverview? But Mark is from Twinbrook..." she said quietly.<br />
<br />
"Twinbrook? Wow, he must have really done your head in, because that is <i>definitely</i> not a Twinbrook accent."<br />
<br />
"I know," she pouted.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZVug6vypAkxdloemQlnlCAkSznC0L61KfkDd6vhZPCPIQ4-lElmAV1BLUAEfz3zvdLiU3qN7sX-OsKU5kCpLR_IowjJ_yREd9ldABnuL58ELwA0cYyQ_S7P0ENgENaeoqN74DIusAYs/s1600/Screenshot-324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZVug6vypAkxdloemQlnlCAkSznC0L61KfkDd6vhZPCPIQ4-lElmAV1BLUAEfz3zvdLiU3qN7sX-OsKU5kCpLR_IowjJ_yREd9ldABnuL58ELwA0cYyQ_S7P0ENgENaeoqN74DIusAYs/s640/Screenshot-324.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Are you okay, ma'am?" he said softly. Ella stuck out her lip, attempting to hold back tears. "Yes, I'm fine. Can' you just - can you point me to the nearest airport? I'd really appreciate it."<br />
<br />
"Anything. Do you mind if we get your contact info in case we need you? For legal reasons, of course." He was so plainly hitting on her that even blind Ella could see it, but she obliged anyway.<br />
<br />
"Sure, whatever. I just need to get home as soon as possible."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3KHjnBMbYMGHlLz37PXO15P25HjlbQZpnC6JMb7rmZoRBx5cmJJvhllS4S4i3Y8NWXz85FCPBZkqlrAyCuQRxJ7WlJwt2BmWwaswZAL2LpSOhYQZ9qjsWtibZ3IzfgCec_Ta0Vqp2Qj4/s1600/Screenshot-325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3KHjnBMbYMGHlLz37PXO15P25HjlbQZpnC6JMb7rmZoRBx5cmJJvhllS4S4i3Y8NWXz85FCPBZkqlrAyCuQRxJ7WlJwt2BmWwaswZAL2LpSOhYQZ9qjsWtibZ3IzfgCec_Ta0Vqp2Qj4/s640/Screenshot-325.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Hey, look who's home!" Jordan exclaimed after seeing Ella pull up to the street. She had called him beforehand to let him know that she was coming home early, but he thought that maybe Mark would have talked her into staying longer. "Not this this time, Cassanova." he joked to himself.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikl4gn8K6vs7Cs3Dk-Cv28wpcbLKnGVLOgxoxXQ9WS0LbYuzfnMhOQUqXla5hyIQOihdkThbx_l9FqTnPN0FruIX7TvZH0UBNCHOeT2q7OUrAqkqsz3s4yxB2HlIiw3JRibbEIf3Bwdck/s1600/Screenshot-326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikl4gn8K6vs7Cs3Dk-Cv28wpcbLKnGVLOgxoxXQ9WS0LbYuzfnMhOQUqXla5hyIQOihdkThbx_l9FqTnPN0FruIX7TvZH0UBNCHOeT2q7OUrAqkqsz3s4yxB2HlIiw3JRibbEIf3Bwdck/s640/Screenshot-326.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Sooo, how did everyone's favorite celebutante enjoy her Shang Simla vaca?" he asked mockingly. Ella's stagnant expression quickly started scrunching up and trying in vain to hold back tears.<br />
<br />
"Whoa, shit. What happened, Ella?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqUix4443VReUZtYLC1gB-UryGKqa8hL08j23LxvCZz8px0U-ghu2bPMDIibhz5_3LAxNVMeShp0c5lIXR6trqWU_DZo3EEgjYh8d79dEdJCRxEmtnD-kW-I8dMvwDAfLg2MkiMO2lDU/s1600/Screenshot-327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqUix4443VReUZtYLC1gB-UryGKqa8hL08j23LxvCZz8px0U-ghu2bPMDIibhz5_3LAxNVMeShp0c5lIXR6trqWU_DZo3EEgjYh8d79dEdJCRxEmtnD-kW-I8dMvwDAfLg2MkiMO2lDU/s640/Screenshot-327.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Ella broke down in spastic sobs as Jordan held her and smoothed her hair; just like he did the first night she came here, when she was torn apart by her mother's death. Although it's been two months since that night, his warm embrace still felt as inviting as ever. "Jordy, I can't." she sobbed. "I can't do this again. I can't do this to Bonnie."<br />
<br />
"I'm not asking you to," he whispered. "That night was a mistake, we've acknowledged that, and we can talk about it whenever you're ready. But for now, I'm just consoling a crying friend. Is that alright?" Ella laughed and nodded her head. "Yeah, that's fine." she sniffled.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJ8Bru7ydM7PkiRDXqhGpzPleaqIMpbvkIhQG6TLktCL0uInLq2ON7QRgg6qgwR8NHJu9GUoXyBiuu1mWC1nU4l1U0lR1ddEmk6DDclHH40WPSzLH_zNE-uABjsDoStQSWVWNNZSBYus/s1600/Screenshot-328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJ8Bru7ydM7PkiRDXqhGpzPleaqIMpbvkIhQG6TLktCL0uInLq2ON7QRgg6qgwR8NHJu9GUoXyBiuu1mWC1nU4l1U0lR1ddEmk6DDclHH40WPSzLH_zNE-uABjsDoStQSWVWNNZSBYus/s640/Screenshot-328.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Great. Now, let's go get some juice in you. Then you can tell me all about whatever that douchebag did to you. Sound good?" He wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks and smiled up at her. She smiled back, albeit weakly, and nodded her head.<br />
<br />
As she looked around, she noticed that someone was missing. "Where's Bonnie?"<br />
<br />
"She's at Shooters for a girl's night out, she told me to give you a big hug for her and a welcome back kiss. Well, I added the kiss part, but..."<br />
<br />
"Jordy!" she giggled. "You might want to lead me to the booze before trying anything."<br />
<br />
"Right," he nodded.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnN6oCfLc4-XGoO054b3YrRKQA23IitZSvVwVzELbz32-YCt1TujMiPE3sIm-sAOg0vKf4TT4LSUyzd6cSPqRsgarHFbUrB04fxwOHQEcn2b_K0Q_lka6P1s90_XjXg9D6oyXO9arDgho/s1600/Screenshot-333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnN6oCfLc4-XGoO054b3YrRKQA23IitZSvVwVzELbz32-YCt1TujMiPE3sIm-sAOg0vKf4TT4LSUyzd6cSPqRsgarHFbUrB04fxwOHQEcn2b_K0Q_lka6P1s90_XjXg9D6oyXO9arDgho/s640/Screenshot-333.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"...and so that concludes the ridiculously long and pathetic story of how the love of my life conned me out of ten thousand simoleans and quite possibly my pearl earrings." she casually explained while taking another swig of her drink. An hour and five drinks later, she felt <i>much</i> better than before. Jordan didn't feel too shabby, either.<br />
<br />
"Fuck, that's horrible!" he exclaimed, slurring slightly.<br />
<br />
"Psh'yeahh, it's horrible! You're telling <i>me</i>? I had to live it! I cried all the way back, and managed to get two hugs from strangers because of it."<br />
<br />
"Did you...did you really love him?" he asked, maybe a little too insecurely.<br />
<br />
"I honestly don't know. I cared about him, yeah. I trusted him, definitely. But love? It's such a strong word. Right now, I need to focus less on strong words and more on strong drinks." Ella and Jordan both doubled-over from laughing and spilled a little bit of their drinks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8qfEpjvOp5v_j_pCthM2G4Y_VHAVdOnsG1mcGlIfZb-5ZgxyAUykILJb4h19F8ID8ZAOOXJvgamxvLcn5a0KPYxpvMAD-ldCxZU8G0eknueFmww2xckgrcSnMMUm7JTnjpO5jYlWd0U/s1600/Screenshot-330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8qfEpjvOp5v_j_pCthM2G4Y_VHAVdOnsG1mcGlIfZb-5ZgxyAUykILJb4h19F8ID8ZAOOXJvgamxvLcn5a0KPYxpvMAD-ldCxZU8G0eknueFmww2xckgrcSnMMUm7JTnjpO5jYlWd0U/s640/Screenshot-330.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"So what's the dealio between you and Bonnie?" she asked.<br />
<br />
"What 'dealio'? As far as I'm concerned, we're fine."<br />
<br />
"Don't play dumb with me, shithead." she slurred. "You guys used to be glued at the hip, and now you guys are rarely ever seen together. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who noticed."<br />
<br />
"Well, maybe you haven't seen us together much because your head was too far up Mark's ass," he joked."<br />
<br />
"Come on. Seriously, tell me! I told you my relationship fiasco, and now it's time for yours."<br />
<br />
"Well, she's just been saying that I'm 'distant' an' shit, I dunno what to say to her anymore. We're starting to argue about stupid stuff, like laundry." he sighed and took another sip of his drink.<br />
<br />
"Laundry? How the hell do you argue about laundry?"<br />
<br />
"Well I like my clothes to smell one way, an' she likes'em to smell another way, so we juss...bicker, yanno?"<br />
<br />
"No, I don't know. That'ss pathetic."<br />
<br />
"Lookit you, you're shlurring all over the place." he laughed.<br />
<br />
"Me? What about you?! You're shlurring waaay more."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybQWdPPBY-xMHcWXKHeeUBbJer9Vzpo39xrPs5rI4uGs_0A0-sX364D0ePA2q7NXGMYdk1EzW0i9MSwUoKEQvBy78sohDMKFrEjXId_jVJNzTBRcZZFvypDK7N6jNyvSzZRiMOhVkx-A/s1600/Screenshot-331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybQWdPPBY-xMHcWXKHeeUBbJer9Vzpo39xrPs5rI4uGs_0A0-sX364D0ePA2q7NXGMYdk1EzW0i9MSwUoKEQvBy78sohDMKFrEjXId_jVJNzTBRcZZFvypDK7N6jNyvSzZRiMOhVkx-A/s640/Screenshot-331.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Hey, wanna skinny dip?"<br />
<br />
"What? Are you crazy?" he laughed.<br />
<br />
"No, but I'm drunk. Last one naked is a rotten egg!" she squealed. Ella darted towards the pool and threw off her clothes while a confused Jordan stared at her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1bRdM_fYRqiHzO_QKL7B5n3BRA0wdC9abQpMay0jEi5JPtPRChzswzkOXmQxYHj_dFQKopz7Z6HqEgFIxFXOoZQJlaNjPRYbn7sCAQbuO4yiCX5v_Wo-4Z2bSG7sAon2-R4ff5Ulucs/s1600/Screenshot-335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1bRdM_fYRqiHzO_QKL7B5n3BRA0wdC9abQpMay0jEi5JPtPRChzswzkOXmQxYHj_dFQKopz7Z6HqEgFIxFXOoZQJlaNjPRYbn7sCAQbuO4yiCX5v_Wo-4Z2bSG7sAon2-R4ff5Ulucs/s640/Screenshot-335.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Lo-ser!" she yelled out, taunting him. "What are you, chicken?"<br />
<br />
"Ah, dearie...you couldn't handle seeing my bug guns in all their glory," he said, admiring his arms. "Sorry."<br />
<br />
"Liar!" She splashed him from the pool and started pulling on his boots. "C'moooonnn!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvFA4Wb8YmvnrDDFwdOUdRD9Al0VlesN25ats00PntFjtTw4GndkXwaqqptUR0jAWy5Gy22Nk_Eoqf0EbS0Zk2pHNSuHoyqcmOavAP_5p_ctQAM5psvM2M4dGfC-q1yg2cBKylRFLlA4/s1600/Screenshot-336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvFA4Wb8YmvnrDDFwdOUdRD9Al0VlesN25ats00PntFjtTw4GndkXwaqqptUR0jAWy5Gy22Nk_Eoqf0EbS0Zk2pHNSuHoyqcmOavAP_5p_ctQAM5psvM2M4dGfC-q1yg2cBKylRFLlA4/s640/Screenshot-336.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> With a defeated sigh, Jordan began disrobing and cannonballed into the pool. "Better?" he asked sarcastically.<br />
<br />
"Much. You have a cute butt."<br />
<br />
"Yeah yeah yeah, I'm getting out now."<br />
<br />
"Fine then, spoilsport!" she pouted. Ella attempted to climb out of the pool, but her grip was clumsy due to having four too many beverages. Jordan helped pull her up to safety.<br />
<br />
After they put their clothes back on, they relaxed on the deck and looked at the stars.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQoQLmpXGdXy32ofWXXAt_fPXsvRepn0FmBbqETNUjl_7SlEWwnGez-WT_zlxUjDRKxqQTwsTddT-w3Kf98AkGBDkzPJI_jvbqgm8mMKnZKv4s8iLow7u17qiKy-9rLFjVWOdPyV4iPSg/s1600/Screenshot-337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQoQLmpXGdXy32ofWXXAt_fPXsvRepn0FmBbqETNUjl_7SlEWwnGez-WT_zlxUjDRKxqQTwsTddT-w3Kf98AkGBDkzPJI_jvbqgm8mMKnZKv4s8iLow7u17qiKy-9rLFjVWOdPyV4iPSg/s640/Screenshot-337.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"You know, I used to do this with Mark." Jordan groaned at the mention of his name. "You know, you should start letting go of him now."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I should huh? Maybe I should just snap my fingers and he'll disappear," she said jokingly.<br />
<br />
"I'm just trying to help you out here, Elle. That man is no good."<br />
<br />
"And you should know, right? After all, there's nothing morally questionable about skinny dipping with your girlfriend's sister." she replied.<br />
<br />
"Ella, this is different, and you know it." he said sternly.<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah? How so?"<br />
<br />
Jordan rose to his feet and started pacing slightly. Unsure of what he was doing, Ella stood up as well. "It's different, because...it's different."<br />
<br />
"Oh come on, I'm going to need a better explanation than <i>that.</i>"<br />
<br />
"It's different because he lied to you, stole money from you and committed crimes in various countries, whereas all I've ever wanted to do is be with you! That's how it's different." he admitted.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrNbeAQzghAnpT7UQZ6q82FlRO4c_uuug7zTNG9B7UavxPl0Ekusa5eBn6NBPPDey0C3r5Tl7FK9PMWf2jIUmldRF5WjnPof3FhA-0VKrjFifaTqush9Q5eHBQGgPLC5Jtq1ZZ8_oFcQ/s1600/Screenshot-340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrNbeAQzghAnpT7UQZ6q82FlRO4c_uuug7zTNG9B7UavxPl0Ekusa5eBn6NBPPDey0C3r5Tl7FK9PMWf2jIUmldRF5WjnPof3FhA-0VKrjFifaTqush9Q5eHBQGgPLC5Jtq1ZZ8_oFcQ/s640/Screenshot-340.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ojtryVXtkV1g1aMRK-lItHbpf_l9EnKiX2ViGoPjIyrDEHsSFP34k6Z8jWLfhFn6fiTHYS_Ks6oEB3kWrGbGxXRvPXDGk7Mrbr0wfU-GHZ6GZ1wYegWwEfBPUTfdke3wMXepmjmyM2Q/s1600/Screenshot-341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ojtryVXtkV1g1aMRK-lItHbpf_l9EnKiX2ViGoPjIyrDEHsSFP34k6Z8jWLfhFn6fiTHYS_Ks6oEB3kWrGbGxXRvPXDGk7Mrbr0wfU-GHZ6GZ1wYegWwEfBPUTfdke3wMXepmjmyM2Q/s640/Screenshot-341.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrXLUVbfj_Myv5aN01szFHpbRY6eXC9SMWeyYlqd24HhTb-2AZGjKoQyToe8Z1z_lM4zrH7axVDcbMqb_sGtxDzprm1rSWE2TraXh7EV0rY-MeMXnFbqFyyca_wCD1wx391fy19CTV8Y/s1600/Screenshot-342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrXLUVbfj_Myv5aN01szFHpbRY6eXC9SMWeyYlqd24HhTb-2AZGjKoQyToe8Z1z_lM4zrH7axVDcbMqb_sGtxDzprm1rSWE2TraXh7EV0rY-MeMXnFbqFyyca_wCD1wx391fy19CTV8Y/s640/Screenshot-342.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Wow," she whispered breathlessly. "I...I..."<br />
<br />
"Too fast?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah," she laughed nervously. "I'm just now getting over Mark, and you're still with my sister...so this is definitely a little 'fast' for me. I think I just need to be single for awhile and sort some things out, you know?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I know," he nodded. "And it's a little fast for me too, because I'm still in love with your sister. If she found out, she'd hate us both. Bonnie would be absolutely devastated." he frowned. "My poor Bon Bon..."<br />
<br />
"I'm still capable of getting jealous, you know." she teased. "Well then, now you'll know how I felt while you were dating Mark."<br />
<br />
And with one last kiss goodnight, they went to their respectful beds to sleep off the remainder of the juice intoxication, avoid the suspicion of Bonnie, and pretend the night never happened; just like the first night.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgocGNGMBEWFn2qTLcuz912xlHsNN_lSSpTP0Up8NS6Oshh5eIjzbJbJmkCqM0d81tireQUHtIu1AeIbepoXvUKR9Pt8OkVZ0B6o1f5djUDhAHitXk1hV1o-i6ZVB9uwsnmh2dK_rH04Uc/s1600/Screenshot-344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgocGNGMBEWFn2qTLcuz912xlHsNN_lSSpTP0Up8NS6Oshh5eIjzbJbJmkCqM0d81tireQUHtIu1AeIbepoXvUKR9Pt8OkVZ0B6o1f5djUDhAHitXk1hV1o-i6ZVB9uwsnmh2dK_rH04Uc/s640/Screenshot-344.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>And once again, Ella had gotten herself in a sticky situation...one that could quite possibly get even stickier.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Chapter commentary <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2011/07/chapter-4-commentary.html">here.</a> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><b>Next Chapter:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/beautiful-thieves.html">Beautiful Thieves</a> >></i></span>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-18935798755845492552011-07-06T11:23:00.000-07:002011-07-10T13:46:37.553-07:00Fallin'<<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">< <b>Previous Episode:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/lovefool-pt-2.html">Lovefool, Pt. 2</a></span></i><br />
<br />
<i>Optional Soundtrack: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Urdlvw0SSEc">Fallin'</a> by Alicia Keys</i><br />
<i><b>Content Warning:</b> strong language</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3eXMkJM-0K7WAhM_NPRZqctLGSbfq5uNW9oCfVkdk89qrFIdg7zBFCqwmT5Bu0-SRCJS0R1ErOoMDNw_fruGYJzORBjyN_vpLswDztFtKU7_zWtIVHWm6sdztvJFTi2gUV8yoo_Du_QA/s1600/Screenshot-289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3eXMkJM-0K7WAhM_NPRZqctLGSbfq5uNW9oCfVkdk89qrFIdg7zBFCqwmT5Bu0-SRCJS0R1ErOoMDNw_fruGYJzORBjyN_vpLswDztFtKU7_zWtIVHWm6sdztvJFTi2gUV8yoo_Du_QA/s640/Screenshot-289.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "So...how was it?"Alex asked nervously. He and Michele both knew that this was his first time woohooing, but he didn't have the pride to admit it. It's not that he was completely incapable of "getting" girls, since some of them seem to like the "socially awkward" thing, but he didn't <i>want</i> any of them. And now that he finally got the woman of his dreams, he wasn't too sure if "waiting " was such a good idea.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGjHoiIRkHJ8zdO5hNotBGwSUjWYYIoCmS-GcvJzRB520F95TPIazcGJeoMto4yc_QO26n8gg37VfwmQcsLwaVVQhYC0FumNGc99L8gHHPXr3PvEGWIOMmu0R2uA9S9AklJjQK4KpB-0/s1600/Screenshot-290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGjHoiIRkHJ8zdO5hNotBGwSUjWYYIoCmS-GcvJzRB520F95TPIazcGJeoMto4yc_QO26n8gg37VfwmQcsLwaVVQhYC0FumNGc99L8gHHPXr3PvEGWIOMmu0R2uA9S9AklJjQK4KpB-0/s640/Screenshot-290.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Michele recognized the anxious expression on his face like the back of her hand and laughed politely. "It was fine, Alex. This was your first go at it. I didn't expect you to be a regular Don Lothario."<br />
<br />
"Don Lothario himself wasn't really a 'Don Lothario', according to some of his past lovers." he grinned.<br />
<br />
"See, that's the spirit!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijlQIWywJsqhNpJ_TlririYhS_PtEV5fejESHI9hAdbyBBcafQAGIPvpUDIyXG3wk51q2g6P-MP9C-3ylO8-1_aIVfIjs-90gTcoF-wvtSKkokqVh1zrjRsUBkq4byI_iyMGZ3v1DFUSU/s1600/Screenshot-291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijlQIWywJsqhNpJ_TlririYhS_PtEV5fejESHI9hAdbyBBcafQAGIPvpUDIyXG3wk51q2g6P-MP9C-3ylO8-1_aIVfIjs-90gTcoF-wvtSKkokqVh1zrjRsUBkq4byI_iyMGZ3v1DFUSU/s640/Screenshot-291.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Besides, practice makes perfect."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApUYRF4N3EIa5WHY01kWdzXb6Z7w3jah5WE3GB1OT05gDCJpYYVg-5cqrnlgRTavFO_W1_pHQx_RnriJ7W9I6o8kpIXmfjRihVXJikH6BQ7E3Ef8kJvDEkNJSmhAAiId1fwoCN_Musuc/s1600/Screenshot-296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApUYRF4N3EIa5WHY01kWdzXb6Z7w3jah5WE3GB1OT05gDCJpYYVg-5cqrnlgRTavFO_W1_pHQx_RnriJ7W9I6o8kpIXmfjRihVXJikH6BQ7E3Ef8kJvDEkNJSmhAAiId1fwoCN_Musuc/s640/Screenshot-296.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Mark took a beer from the kitchen and sat down on the sofa next to Jordan, much to his dismay. He groaned quietly and sulked in his chair. It's not that he was <i>jealous</i> or anything, of course not. He just didn't like Mark, and he didn't like the way that Mark stared at Ella.<br />
<br />
Plus, his manners were revolting.<br />
<br />
"Hey dude, thanks for the beer." he belched appreciatively. "I'm just gonna apologize right off the bat if we woke you up last night. I tried to keep Ella quiet, but you know how that goes..."<br />
<br />
"Quite frankly, I'm more offended by your choice of attire," he scowled. "And seriously, who drinks their beer out of a straw?"<br />
<br />
Ignoring the question, Mark stared at Jordan and laughed while taking another sip of his beer. "You like Ella, don't you? Bonnie won't too happy about that."<br />
<br />
Jordan was about to beat some manners into Mark, when he caught sight of his new tattoo. He simply laughed quietly and looked away while shaking his head in amusement.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxELl07dzZZK8e218jQqeIK-1UoR_B-wcDQjmAlJwqF12QMmEDqv_kuCi9Ym2PY_7oZ4sJHvtAd39BylZiaJlzGBQYeG_sfqMy_rdbqHcZ_eNcPZe2YJDD9CYYxabWsFiFrSX0sr1Enkk/s1600/Screenshot-297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxELl07dzZZK8e218jQqeIK-1UoR_B-wcDQjmAlJwqF12QMmEDqv_kuCi9Ym2PY_7oZ4sJHvtAd39BylZiaJlzGBQYeG_sfqMy_rdbqHcZ_eNcPZe2YJDD9CYYxabWsFiFrSX0sr1Enkk/s640/Screenshot-297.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"What's so funny, big guy?" Mark asked defensively.<br />
<br />
"Oh nothing...except the tattoo on your shoulder says 'asshole'." he snickered.<br />
<br />
"What?! No it doesn't! What are you, blind? This is Simanese for 'beautiful Ella'."<br />
<br />
"Well, I studied Simanese in high school <i>and</i> college and I can tell you right now that it says 'asshole'. You shouldn't fret, though. I think it suits you well." he grinned.<br />
<br />
Mark could do nothing but scowl at him, mumble a few insults, and go sulking back to his sleeping girlfriend. Jordan sighed happily as he sunk back into his sofa and watched his favorite sitcom.<br />
<br />
"Asshole," he said to himself while chuckling. "I honestly couldn't have thought of a better word myself."<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhl4hC0lYuCCB6vkfhK682qZcQbbiDd6h6ZFxydPmZhxZUX6A3_59QDPHearqednJB127X1I0DPfAo4tSPxx8iL98olVi83eFLwXHZf2cLU42uigp6HnxYebttNijo-NefB4sRXTYSnk/s1600/Screenshot-298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhl4hC0lYuCCB6vkfhK682qZcQbbiDd6h6ZFxydPmZhxZUX6A3_59QDPHearqednJB127X1I0DPfAo4tSPxx8iL98olVi83eFLwXHZf2cLU42uigp6HnxYebttNijo-NefB4sRXTYSnk/s640/Screenshot-298.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Alex furrowed his brows as he thought of the phone call he had with his mother few minutes ago. <i>"Why don't you ever visit us?"</i> she nagged. <i>"We won't live forever, you know!"</i><br />
<br />
He had always been close with his family, but he started "falling out" with them when he moved out. He simply didn't have time for them back then, he convinced himself, when really, he had plenty of time; whatever time he didn't spend writing, he spent sleeping, eating, or chasing after Michele. That had been his whole existence.<br />
<br />
"Creator, I'm starving." she giggled sheepishly. They had been woohooing for three hours, with few breaks in-between.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, we did work up a pretty good appetite," he smiled. "Did you want to go to the new bistro on Elm Street?"<br />
<br />
"No, I don't think that one opens until 11. How about we go to the SimDonalds at the Laundromat? It's early, so we can avoid the lunch rush."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXagRn5el2wz4nD2NcyvI5egEdPjCNg2NCBwvSOdUCvwLN_qZ-_arr6BJMZlTvGrmCwIMROM6eYBVbnigwGkWqHxjbAPY9dWnEiPKnashM647EYcoZ9BF7K8MhPrFLZLsjf9mnm0Bqiw/s1600/Screenshot-299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXagRn5el2wz4nD2NcyvI5egEdPjCNg2NCBwvSOdUCvwLN_qZ-_arr6BJMZlTvGrmCwIMROM6eYBVbnigwGkWqHxjbAPY9dWnEiPKnashM647EYcoZ9BF7K8MhPrFLZLsjf9mnm0Bqiw/s640/Screenshot-299.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Well, you tore through those pancakes rather quickly." she smirked.<br />
<br />
"What can I say? They're my favorite! By the way, there's been something I've been wanting to ask you."<br />
<br />
"Shoot."<br />
<br />
"Well...my parents are having a dinner this Thursday, and I was wondering if you wanted to come."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WrXZ22LuOcQP98U-8ytgfVtIOsjufFTYmZt5rPqbysgEzN7gSt2nVXKUq0NFOEkljR3k-ti-cUEgmw_QJOZaXL1FSvhf-40pukL91dSwnDu0Nd29DdHPd5WkY7mBeuOtw8JBsjAq7BU/s1600/Screenshot-300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WrXZ22LuOcQP98U-8ytgfVtIOsjufFTYmZt5rPqbysgEzN7gSt2nVXKUq0NFOEkljR3k-ti-cUEgmw_QJOZaXL1FSvhf-40pukL91dSwnDu0Nd29DdHPd5WkY7mBeuOtw8JBsjAq7BU/s640/Screenshot-300.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "I was afraid you'd say that." he sighed as she gagged on her food.<br />
<br />
"What?! We just started dating yesterday and already you want me to have dinner with your parents? Are you <i>insane</i>?" she shrieked.<br />
<br />
"I don't get it, you've had dinner with us before..." he mumbled, discouraged by her response.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIpvhEK-TA_vf_fG1UOvREuQQPl9nIwXKoDDcbK7fetd2L3RqTULny9H9sZDBrDbSyJ_LKkDycIx2XeEQB4hLUCcsaxsxjPawIluO8Y-oXJf3K76JcbpCjWV_tqWdPJpwbsfpxcp9eps/s1600/Screenshot-301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIpvhEK-TA_vf_fG1UOvREuQQPl9nIwXKoDDcbK7fetd2L3RqTULny9H9sZDBrDbSyJ_LKkDycIx2XeEQB4hLUCcsaxsxjPawIluO8Y-oXJf3K76JcbpCjWV_tqWdPJpwbsfpxcp9eps/s640/Screenshot-301.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Michele took a deep breath and softened her expression. "But this is <i>different</i>, Alex. When I had dinner with you guys, it was very friendly and casual...because we were only <i>friends.</i> Now that we're dating, I'm going to be subjected to a completely different type of scrutiny!"<br />
<br />
"My parents aren't like that and you know it. They've always liked you." Alex paused for a moment to study her anxious fidgeting. "What's this really about?"<br />
<br />
"Why don't we just discuss this again in a few weeks, okay? I think that would be best."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1kkgQw3M6xMFUpLY6sl3IJQM0FUpIsegWrS0XJUSm9fap4Uio71oL6ASx89G6sMHyd3jGIsK1WRCDqoTcKt7ITmh9qPyooGAYvV0mairfZCoAsrQytASsQobP1XrNlZjLjcuCQdaaks/s1600/Screenshot-302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1kkgQw3M6xMFUpLY6sl3IJQM0FUpIsegWrS0XJUSm9fap4Uio71oL6ASx89G6sMHyd3jGIsK1WRCDqoTcKt7ITmh9qPyooGAYvV0mairfZCoAsrQytASsQobP1XrNlZjLjcuCQdaaks/s640/Screenshot-302.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Hey, look! A blonde is actually reading a book!" he yelled.<br />
<br />
"Bite me, Strawberry!" Mark pretended to be offended and finger-combed his strawberry-blonde hair. "I resent that, Platinum."<br />
<br />
"I know," she grinned. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK85QcqbmpiSgnvIV07ZqI2UGe0FSRSeswzfRH1fubBXUGXKSgFChHbPGlwI0TpM4tCRV7uOeap1yUexACaMj77rys-GdiJh-oNTDxxxTSKss1ee-SeiNLMjLBmhU41xQkZB39szAlK6w/s1600/Screenshot-303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK85QcqbmpiSgnvIV07ZqI2UGe0FSRSeswzfRH1fubBXUGXKSgFChHbPGlwI0TpM4tCRV7uOeap1yUexACaMj77rys-GdiJh-oNTDxxxTSKss1ee-SeiNLMjLBmhU41xQkZB39szAlK6w/s640/Screenshot-303.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "It's been too long since I've seen you."<br />
<br />
"Sweetheart, it's only been six hours." she smiled. Ella didn't know what she did to deserve such a wonderful guy, but whatever it was, she'd do it again. Everything about him overwhelmed her and left her wanting more. He has so much power over her, and he doesn't even know.<br />
<br />
Or at least, she didn't think he knew.<br />
<br />
"Six hours? Like I said, it's been too long. Might as well be a month."<br />
<br />
"Well, it's beautiful here. Thanks for taking me, Mark."<br />
<br />
"It's no problem." Mark stared contemplatively at the infamous Pinochle Pond, where the waters were teeming with life such as fish and frogs. "You know, I used to go here all the time with my dad when I was a boy."<br />
<br />
"Really?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah. We used to fish here all the time. And man, we caught some huge fish! Some of them were as long as my arm." he beamed. "Then one day, he died of the mummy's curse, and I stopped visiting...until yesterday, that is. Yesterday I went fishing one last time to honor his memory, and...the fish seemed a lot smaller. I'm probably just being silly, huh."<br />
<br />
At the mention of the mummy's curse, the same affliction that killed her mother, Ella's eyes began to tear up. "No, not at all," she replied solemnly. "I'm so sorry about your dad."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVGmaIWmVFAuSgXSPJ5akeOqn8Bif21XUO0By0gUeQRZtwJ4FMUAuL5DrGS8s_cWt0XzXoKyNowL3UJcZUpb0WgDOAryVY_CVMq2ZSN1UNxU1mC49XHTzN5sTdz0SMDp9hiYVs42_qmQ/s1600/Screenshot-304.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVGmaIWmVFAuSgXSPJ5akeOqn8Bif21XUO0By0gUeQRZtwJ4FMUAuL5DrGS8s_cWt0XzXoKyNowL3UJcZUpb0WgDOAryVY_CVMq2ZSN1UNxU1mC49XHTzN5sTdz0SMDp9hiYVs42_qmQ/s640/Screenshot-304.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Mark brushed the tears away from her face and ran his fingers through her hair. "Hey now, I didn't mean to make you cry..."<br />
<br />
"No, it's-it's fine. My mom died of the same thing, is all. I'm fine, really." she tried to smile, but her lips trembled and more tears came falling down.<br />
<br />
"Shhh," he cooed as he held her close to him. After a few minutes, her heavy sobs subdued and the tears finally stopped. "Thanks," she muttered weakly. "I'm a little embarrassed. I don't usually cry in front of people. I'm just so-"<br />
<br />
"-Afraid of exposing your weakness?" he asked, finishing her sentence.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, that."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldjEwTLzKLWW2Yj-Tbz4PN7fEy3wTSP2jq5GQ6RVaNdlDYZoNvgAKQdjq-uPq7CATnnl_IlMtp1g3ZdX8jFb7xmcQ_ShzcaVU63mD9OvN83hiyZF1X0Pz4_LS1cicFUnvtQjS4ya59Zc/s1600/Screenshot-305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldjEwTLzKLWW2Yj-Tbz4PN7fEy3wTSP2jq5GQ6RVaNdlDYZoNvgAKQdjq-uPq7CATnnl_IlMtp1g3ZdX8jFb7xmcQ_ShzcaVU63mD9OvN83hiyZF1X0Pz4_LS1cicFUnvtQjS4ya59Zc/s640/Screenshot-305.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "I honestly didn't mean to make you cry, darling. I just wanted to let you know why I brought you here."<br />
<br />
"Well, continue explaining." she croaked, grinning weakly.<br />
<br />
"This is a really painful place for me, as you now know. I thought that maybe, if I brought you here and asked you this question, it would become a place of new beginnings instead of faded memories."<br />
<br />
"W-what question are you about to ask?"<br />
<br />
"Ella, will you go to Shang Simla with me? My plane leaves tonight. I know this is really sudden, but I don't want to leave without you. I love you, baby."<br />
<br />
"I-I love you too, I guess." she stammered, unsure of how to reply. She bit her lip and managed to let out a series of answers while grounding her voice. "Okay. Sure. Let's go. Why not?" He smiled widely, and all of her worries turned into dust. The butterflies in her stomach rose and fluttered up a storm as he leaned in for a kiss.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyh0ruvfyBdaPk_ru5K90kE1PiZ6lD8-4iEPQcsZ88UNDrPhejRd4LLKLeTVbKrGw6ADQTNDRPQpeel8vXKagbjPVrvoiJwNU5MjUZeC2v6m83h-XJ0RJFz_TKsxRWMRv3lnzCpI1NZo/s1600/Screenshot-306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyh0ruvfyBdaPk_ru5K90kE1PiZ6lD8-4iEPQcsZ88UNDrPhejRd4LLKLeTVbKrGw6ADQTNDRPQpeel8vXKagbjPVrvoiJwNU5MjUZeC2v6m83h-XJ0RJFz_TKsxRWMRv3lnzCpI1NZo/s640/Screenshot-306.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><i>"The grass is always greener on the other side"</i>, they say. But to Ella, her grass couldn't possibly be any greener.<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCrKYkOXVKmeJerJzRpEev8p5SRBiyILDGhcf9PQpc7QHanHizCIvxMZFbFOTkR4Vrt22z34N9ximX83MwA6pbsEGsFeiw6vdj7bHLCFntgN5mnSqBCfIrP0vssVSFGhLXpELhJxUot_Y/s1600/Screenshot-310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCrKYkOXVKmeJerJzRpEev8p5SRBiyILDGhcf9PQpc7QHanHizCIvxMZFbFOTkR4Vrt22z34N9ximX83MwA6pbsEGsFeiw6vdj7bHLCFntgN5mnSqBCfIrP0vssVSFGhLXpELhJxUot_Y/s640/Screenshot-310.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Finally, we're here! I thought the plane would never land." she whined. The flight had taken 12 hours, so they didn't arrive until morning. At some point, neck pillows just don't cut it anymore; even if you're flying first class. Mark simply closed his eyes and counted to ten. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjXNHpLqRNF2iNJVDgIcT0-PtHl8K1T3-ey9GPk2QFU2x0qUn5Xx8-BJF4J76rcryO0fKkgYVVCj5oQo_8hibwxLCKWu6jUooa7cPgIl1uXs5qB7r2np30TwRumBuzGqAVtHimUrGs5o/s1600/Screenshot-309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjXNHpLqRNF2iNJVDgIcT0-PtHl8K1T3-ey9GPk2QFU2x0qUn5Xx8-BJF4J76rcryO0fKkgYVVCj5oQo_8hibwxLCKWu6jUooa7cPgIl1uXs5qB7r2np30TwRumBuzGqAVtHimUrGs5o/s640/Screenshot-309.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"What the hell is in these pillowcases? Bricks?! I thought you said you got a honeymoon suite," Ella pouted.<br />
<br />
"I did, dear. This is the fanciest room they have available at the moment.<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah, because Shang Simla is in <i>such</i> high demand. This surely isn't Champs Les Sims, I'm just saying-"<br />
<br />
"Hey, do you wanna take a hike?" Mark chirped, interrupting Ella. He couldn't take any more of her whining. <i>"I'd rather starve to death,"</i> he thought to himself.<br />
<br />
"Now? But we just got he-"<br />
<br />
"I promise, it's somewhere <i>really</i> special. Now come on, unpack your workout gear! Let's go!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHaMQD1e9TV6mIPeaTXRWxTpvuJ_awUJ3blAFZwjW04irR7bJaoejB4B93zoeibZwBMqL5-tNw8fQ5iuG1UluJb938j0GQeJRVkb_nlyru8oa6mLWAGiUTQGY6EsIA9PKfXWjM_XY8As/s1600/Screenshot-311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHaMQD1e9TV6mIPeaTXRWxTpvuJ_awUJ3blAFZwjW04irR7bJaoejB4B93zoeibZwBMqL5-tNw8fQ5iuG1UluJb938j0GQeJRVkb_nlyru8oa6mLWAGiUTQGY6EsIA9PKfXWjM_XY8As/s640/Screenshot-311.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Maaarrk? Are we there yet?" she whined.<br />
<br />
"No, not yet dear, but we're getting close. Did you want to stop for water and snacks?"<br />
<br />
"Ugh, no. Let's just get there as soon as possible. I'm so sick of walking." she huffed. "You're gonna have to carry me home after this." Mark smiled and continued trekking along, showing her landmarks along the way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnm1Lh_b3Vy7vEe-jC-TIQO0b8vkbyXhA4rVbhYdkCyuoBDVNWw0fUeWvk1qMGlbtdGx3pwBujzdBoIqI6JYNmOl0qsmDA60azcgQJqD6YNcokpQpYUck6n__SU6ZwCJrz-6o5xdzLioA/s1600/Screenshot-313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnm1Lh_b3Vy7vEe-jC-TIQO0b8vkbyXhA4rVbhYdkCyuoBDVNWw0fUeWvk1qMGlbtdGx3pwBujzdBoIqI6JYNmOl0qsmDA60azcgQJqD6YNcokpQpYUck6n__SU6ZwCJrz-6o5xdzLioA/s640/Screenshot-313.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "This plot of land right here is what I wanted to show you." <br />
<br />
"What, is there a story behind this one too?" she smirked.<br />
<br />
"Not much of a story, no, it just has a really good view of the city."<br />
<br />
"Aw, well, that's disappointing."<br />
<br />
"But, if you'd like," he winked, "We could make a story of our own."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvxsCvOzpYF-rawNCUhPzhUkx_0XeowwTk8urK0ZAn6N8O8nnSwZ7tzTWq1_TuMRzcLC_mSBRThiSVtMquVr1sjcyjYs-JBnS7DnsYZp1-Rp94HI7ojhLJltlCq7n5TI4ZDwh88VpU-Q/s1600/Screenshot-315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvxsCvOzpYF-rawNCUhPzhUkx_0XeowwTk8urK0ZAn6N8O8nnSwZ7tzTWq1_TuMRzcLC_mSBRThiSVtMquVr1sjcyjYs-JBnS7DnsYZp1-Rp94HI7ojhLJltlCq7n5TI4ZDwh88VpU-Q/s640/Screenshot-315.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>They sat down and took a moment to enjoy the sunset, and the view of the colorful town. Mark felt Ella's hand sneak over to his and grinned widely. The sunset trick worked. <i>"The sunset trick <b>always</b> works,"</i> he assured himself.<br />
<br />
Mark had been going over the plan over and over again in his head. He had drawn it out on paper a million times, and double checked it two million times. But now, it was time for the true test. And it's not like someone as far up her own ass as Ella could see what was going on.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYySJOGY122sZQ4aQsVpKPIoh0rpuTojyfMkddYgG-Djz9um8TKu8lRyNNzoHFtFWLOUK6cmzAAvuJpB7mrELpWl1t9tqZjCkyuSRtJvkfyYN9K-JNErjSj7twxAiRA384i6awo2QUbU/s1600/Screenshot-316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYySJOGY122sZQ4aQsVpKPIoh0rpuTojyfMkddYgG-Djz9um8TKu8lRyNNzoHFtFWLOUK6cmzAAvuJpB7mrELpWl1t9tqZjCkyuSRtJvkfyYN9K-JNErjSj7twxAiRA384i6awo2QUbU/s640/Screenshot-316.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Hey, isn't that the Dwarf Simfarcius constellation? I can just barely make it out, but it looks familiar."<br />
<br />
"I thought you hired a nerd to do your astronomy homework," he joked.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, and I thought you didn't believe me when I told you I did. So, I guess now we're even."<br />
<br />
Mark looked down at his watched and sighed heavily. "Ah shit, it's seven o'clock! I've gotta get going, okay doll?"<br />
<br />
"But we <i>just</i> got here!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPW821tnqftf2KaKHfAugpH4xC917hctMyCSoxzMncolPOvGlL1_X9ebHHtyrraGQBT7LLd2C8APpBq1fcobhMCH1HoSY5XAOAgCRHQx_qAaR8YXxowidqZKkCBX-d1uwq0NVCUsxvDzM/s1600/Screenshot-317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPW821tnqftf2KaKHfAugpH4xC917hctMyCSoxzMncolPOvGlL1_X9ebHHtyrraGQBT7LLd2C8APpBq1fcobhMCH1HoSY5XAOAgCRHQx_qAaR8YXxowidqZKkCBX-d1uwq0NVCUsxvDzM/s640/Screenshot-317.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "I know babe, and I swear I'll make it up to you later. I just- I need to go buy some gems for my boss."<br />
<br />
"Boss? You have a job now?" she asked, clearly confused. He quickly gave her a peck on the lips and mumbled "I'll explain later" before running off into the sunset.<br />
<br />
"Be back in an hour! Don't move until I get back, okay?" he yelled.<br />
<br />
"Okay!" <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNT4nB3zPsPqAskwb2dyhBzzmliVCEaTCKGL0MxcbP4zG82BYaJblF8_tgPr6Qv-TvFy37Ww0gILaFNFrxvB6vx0LxBofY5zDfb6Owkz9wBoGaJCZRkam2oMzd4XruDTD8PDw0aeUqqOU/s1600/Screenshot-318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNT4nB3zPsPqAskwb2dyhBzzmliVCEaTCKGL0MxcbP4zG82BYaJblF8_tgPr6Qv-TvFy37Ww0gILaFNFrxvB6vx0LxBofY5zDfb6Owkz9wBoGaJCZRkam2oMzd4XruDTD8PDw0aeUqqOU/s640/Screenshot-318.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Bye, Mark!" she chirped. She sat down on the grass and continued watching the sun set over the mountains. Then, she counted stars and identified constellations. After a few hours, she started pulling at the grass.<br />
<br />
Five hours later, she was no longer amused and was starting to freak out. Mark would never stand her up...right?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmAL8BofMRaix1KGeryRWRDn8NPC_isykDAPScQwFrDI1gmwRvR1P69FT1sMxve47EYoViKM7kS-CWqHbG7ngUM7XbRiNBGCYhtqZcoeyoq0YFZb_QWLIWNStZlWwYDwnl2oyDZLY7kc/s1600/Screenshot-319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmAL8BofMRaix1KGeryRWRDn8NPC_isykDAPScQwFrDI1gmwRvR1P69FT1sMxve47EYoViKM7kS-CWqHbG7ngUM7XbRiNBGCYhtqZcoeyoq0YFZb_QWLIWNStZlWwYDwnl2oyDZLY7kc/s640/Screenshot-319.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"S-Strawberry?" she whispered, as if the cruel night sky would humor her with a response. The wind was as cold as the frost that began to stake its claim on her heart again.<br />
<br />
Quietly sobbing, she walked back to the hotel to re-pack her bags.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Next Chapter:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-deep-is-your-love.html">How Deep Is Your Love?</a> >></span></i>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-65517774516053446762011-07-05T09:30:00.000-07:002011-07-10T13:47:53.458-07:00Lovefool, Pt. 2<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><< <b>Previous Episode:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/lovefool-pt-1.html">Lovefool, Pt. 1</a> </span></i><br />
<br />
<i><b>Content Warning:</b> Strong language </i><br />
--------------------------------------------------- <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mQYLcknf9nFAv2khGtJxQDCg9ZuLnuuOaa9voPJC-3nviNjmQAvCJa-eJvIsbvb37sn_rmCGNTATc9ObNJ1Xp4xSmbtBOv8dP1kzX0H893qiL7xTK2HxzhUoOfSr3QD8lfW4HqtQRVw/s1600/Screenshot-264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mQYLcknf9nFAv2khGtJxQDCg9ZuLnuuOaa9voPJC-3nviNjmQAvCJa-eJvIsbvb37sn_rmCGNTATc9ObNJ1Xp4xSmbtBOv8dP1kzX0H893qiL7xTK2HxzhUoOfSr3QD8lfW4HqtQRVw/s640/Screenshot-264.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "So, did you hear about Mr. Hot Lips? He got himself a date with a socialite tonight." <br />
<br />
"What? <i>Nooo!</i> Mark?! Our Mark?" Alex nodded his head. "Oh my Creator, who's he dating?"<br />
<br />
"Get this: Ella. Freaking. Cartez."<br />
<br />
Alex and Michele stared at each other, attempting to keep a straight face. Finally, they began laughing hysterically at the thought of Mark dating a high-class socialite.<br />
<br />
"H-how is that even possible? Wasn't she dating Eric Cromic?" she snickered.<br />
<br />
"Not anymore, I guess. If I knew she was that easy, I would have tried for it myself!" he bluffed.<br />
<br />
"Haha, no you wouldn't have! You're way too shy." Alex nodded in agreement, and changed the subject.<br />
<br />
"So, I just have to ask...<i>why</i> is Mark staying with us again?"<br />
<br />
Alex Camden and Michele Turner have been friends since high school and roomies since graduation, but he always felt something more for her and she never seemed to notice. Instead, she had eyes for Mark Filroy.<br />
Mark was the popular guy in school, and a lady's man to boot. Mark would always make fun of Alex and push him into lockers, but Michele never noticed that either. When they headed off to college, Alex felt an air of relief when he could escape Mark and the "high school loser" life he had along with it.<br />
<br />
Except now Mark's back, and so is all of Alex's insecurity.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSDbIWwF5fDqJM6BNONnYyJy32Awxvs6puBUMM-iISZrWiOySC0I7oxu8Om8Suk7WBcSJ3dQnatEzot9sUSmh4U80exSinLYx-EPOSv6Joigt1-fCykq120A0ntHJgR6IgRXptRW0p-o/s1600/Screenshot-265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSDbIWwF5fDqJM6BNONnYyJy32Awxvs6puBUMM-iISZrWiOySC0I7oxu8Om8Suk7WBcSJ3dQnatEzot9sUSmh4U80exSinLYx-EPOSv6Joigt1-fCykq120A0ntHJgR6IgRXptRW0p-o/s640/Screenshot-265.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"He was our friend in high school, remember? Friends have to stick together."<br />
<br />
"Um...Mich? He was <i>your</i> friend in high school. If you can recall, he was a total asshole to me. Are you trying to get another shot at him or something?"<br />
<br />
"What? Don't be ridiculous, Alex! I've outgrown that crush. Besides, seeing him in those worn-down sneakers completely killed the fantasy," she joked. "By the way, have you seen my mother's earrings? I was looking for them this morning, but I couldn't find them."<br />
<br />
"Mother's..earrings? Come on, Mich. Guy speak."<br />
<br />
"Right<i>.</i> Have you seen two red shiny things with the little black dangly bits on them?"<br />
<br />
"Oh, <i>those.</i> I liked those on you," he smiled. "No, I haven't. Did you try looking under your bed?"<br />
<br />
"Why would they be under my bed?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know. Hey, maybe <i>Mark</i> knows where they are," he teased.<br />
<br />
"Alex, stop!" she laughed as she playfully swatted him on the arm.<br />
<br />
"I swear, I'm not crushing on him anymore. He's...just a friend. That's all."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, okay...and pigs will dance on the moon tonight."<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnA0azeD05t9B38esojwtUP9lgob83tylyRGxVo51aS0s_U-Y7s1s5D9Sn_HBvynJx_hOKhtgvBk-mie3XwZ49Qk-NJgET-ikvdA9EQTNWlRQUPE1ebO3P18NEKEKUeW1iCAkNIYQwSmE/s1600/Screenshot-266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnA0azeD05t9B38esojwtUP9lgob83tylyRGxVo51aS0s_U-Y7s1s5D9Sn_HBvynJx_hOKhtgvBk-mie3XwZ49Qk-NJgET-ikvdA9EQTNWlRQUPE1ebO3P18NEKEKUeW1iCAkNIYQwSmE/s640/Screenshot-266.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"You know, I um...I don't usually woohoo on the first date," she giggled nervously. "Last night's date was so amazing that I just..let go, I guess."<br />
<br />
"Well, I'm always happy to be a first."<br />
<br />
"So, ah...um...wanna go downstairs for breakfast?" <br />
<br />
"Ella, I'm not going to bite you. Not unless you ask me to, anyway." he joked. She didn't know why he made her so nervous, but it was simultaneously thrilling and frightening. She hadn't felt so awkward since the first night she spent with Eric when they were teens...<br />
<br />
Ella was snapped out of her thoughts when Mark began kissing her passionately, probably trying to start another woohoo session. And the first words that came out of her mouth in response made her want to slap herself.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8X-TAPJ7YfZNTI5aufK99CO0Y22MFF2ZKHD3VY7EwxoWSEdTlTC9QMDO5Jr4Hb9LL6Hssb3vyyvdzcQUO3CSCkJo68V8GjHMp7RMJRBUFLg8uhow5GcPa6sx-DxoCVqpZv1kzjNPnbDI/s1600/Screenshot-267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8X-TAPJ7YfZNTI5aufK99CO0Y22MFF2ZKHD3VY7EwxoWSEdTlTC9QMDO5Jr4Hb9LL6Hssb3vyyvdzcQUO3CSCkJo68V8GjHMp7RMJRBUFLg8uhow5GcPa6sx-DxoCVqpZv1kzjNPnbDI/s640/Screenshot-267.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "You remind me of my ex-boyfriend."<br />
<br />
"...what? Is that a good thing?" he asked, mildly amused.<br />
<br />
"Yes. Well, no. I mean, you make me feel the way he used to make me feel. It's a good thing. Can we just pretend I never said that?" <br />
<br />
"Tell you what, I have somewhere I need to be in fifteen minutes, so I need to leave soon anyway. I'll be back either tonight or tomorrow night, and we can resume our 'conversation' from there. Sound good?"<br />
<br />
"Sounds great," she chirped, forcing a smile.<br />
<br />
"Okay, I'll see you later then, cupcake." He flashed a wide grin before grabbing his clothes and making his exit.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHne6XxBvrTwVgBI-x1JAqG0wm_loYV2ZQD3t5Y_y1Jz5j4p8sVfRRgnrulzxvvQUZ4K5jUUCLKSasDEEJJVmSc_dGgn5vwR9Kr7Eg-YMaJCjwp5RxLW6ik24nHGHr38cXZ4GOo44E8I/s1600/Screenshot-268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHne6XxBvrTwVgBI-x1JAqG0wm_loYV2ZQD3t5Y_y1Jz5j4p8sVfRRgnrulzxvvQUZ4K5jUUCLKSasDEEJJVmSc_dGgn5vwR9Kr7Eg-YMaJCjwp5RxLW6ik24nHGHr38cXZ4GOo44E8I/s640/Screenshot-268.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><i>"Did you seriously just say that he reminded you of your ex?"</i> she muttered to herself.<i> "What the hell is wrong with you?"</i><br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeVN3FnYFUEeCifEMBgsKN2mg-FroWXvHpejHVTKN0Y5JdXcSAzD4t106JDILcaKAFfm9eIzv1SiTIb07Qimx2eA40OAOAnE_SFFkvfKQAKjGglm5j2IjpUo7KuPZOpF57k4uAj0aTFI/s1600/Screenshot-271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeVN3FnYFUEeCifEMBgsKN2mg-FroWXvHpejHVTKN0Y5JdXcSAzD4t106JDILcaKAFfm9eIzv1SiTIb07Qimx2eA40OAOAnE_SFFkvfKQAKjGglm5j2IjpUo7KuPZOpF57k4uAj0aTFI/s640/Screenshot-271.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Look who's decided to come back home, it's Mr. Hot Lips!" Alex said sarcastically without bothering to look up from his laptop.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, poke fun at me all you want pipsqueak, but you could learn a thing or two from me."<br />
<br />
"Like what? How to manipulate rich girls into dating me? No thanks."<br />
<br />
"First of all, manipulation wasn't needed," he grinned naughtily.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaYedBnZIMRmvnn4Mfrw7nZ4UTbqTJyBys9e6aSq5T7jvShBmiKosIU9QlNl1FpWLLqpyASC4A71Co39Afr3eLpQcz8GL8TSAXj9CWRsx0OxU-g59UTdFH3177mbTi55gn-JjkFAS2ZfM/s1600/Screenshot-272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaYedBnZIMRmvnn4Mfrw7nZ4UTbqTJyBys9e6aSq5T7jvShBmiKosIU9QlNl1FpWLLqpyASC4A71Co39Afr3eLpQcz8GL8TSAXj9CWRsx0OxU-g59UTdFH3177mbTi55gn-JjkFAS2ZfM/s640/Screenshot-272.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"And secondly, you and I know very well that I wasn't referring to seducing hot chicks."<br />
<br />
"Mark, please. I don't have time for this."<br />
<br />
"I've seen the way you look at Michele. You've got the hots for her. I bet that maybe if you made a move, you'd finally know if she feels the same, instead of being in the romantic limbo of 'just friends'."<br />
<br />
"Mark-"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotHj-r-bXgpJzGj6G5XWX0tSwOuaO8cspuuFrX3HlYhBrgR8TbO4BSClUnKZc-7rDUjzLGhEjeqQnjMTV4V_APviOCQaPQUdTUtF14hEsuSKtyZmBznmLXGmUSvQDEcG_6HGzO_Osc9w/s1600/Screenshot-273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotHj-r-bXgpJzGj6G5XWX0tSwOuaO8cspuuFrX3HlYhBrgR8TbO4BSClUnKZc-7rDUjzLGhEjeqQnjMTV4V_APviOCQaPQUdTUtF14hEsuSKtyZmBznmLXGmUSvQDEcG_6HGzO_Osc9w/s640/Screenshot-273.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "But I bet you like it there, don't you? Sure there's a good chance she may not be interested, but there's an equally good chance that she <i>is</i> interested. That's the beautiful thing about limbo. There's hope in 'maybe', but there's no hope in 'no'."<br />
<br />
"Don't even pretend to know how I feel about Michele, okay? That's none of your business. I don't need your stupid advice."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoh5po325Cm115DMb0RcgDeIErAL__fBJlVszaebUEZ_sBSEckn-RicmnqLu6l46H7swsJwr_w82eUPv0WmiH4gpMtucqsfuXOoNPeQIB4K3nd1LBKNzgacWumV-sIhQ2JwjZZkEAQqs/s1600/Screenshot-274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoh5po325Cm115DMb0RcgDeIErAL__fBJlVszaebUEZ_sBSEckn-RicmnqLu6l46H7swsJwr_w82eUPv0WmiH4gpMtucqsfuXOoNPeQIB4K3nd1LBKNzgacWumV-sIhQ2JwjZZkEAQqs/s640/Screenshot-274.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You're right, who am I to give advice on these things? All I did was bang a wealthy socialite. Anyway, have fun following Michele around like a lost puppy, alright kid?"</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Ah, bite me."</div><br />
"No thanks," he smirked, "You're not my type."<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------- <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2BbTRc3gE-teWGwcfydrJ44ieHjIswwAGkvH31id45-FF3aEaXjCQER4Vx2wdtGn2KNenoPNkXPA9vTMoa9uQP99v7iXuRWsNfDZJ9qwVQLTRuELl5-ICacJ9l3bNDhRc30J7XQn1-2U/s1600/Screenshot-275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2BbTRc3gE-teWGwcfydrJ44ieHjIswwAGkvH31id45-FF3aEaXjCQER4Vx2wdtGn2KNenoPNkXPA9vTMoa9uQP99v7iXuRWsNfDZJ9qwVQLTRuELl5-ICacJ9l3bNDhRc30J7XQn1-2U/s640/Screenshot-275.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Look who finally decided to join the land of the living," Jordan joked. After Ella's 'mouth diarrhea' fiasco, she went back to bed to try to sleep off the memory like a bad hangover. "You hungry for some brunch? I'm making autumn salad."<br />
<br />
"Autumn salad? That's your favorite meal, you usually reserve it for special occasions."<br />
<br />
"I know," he beamed.<br />
<br />
"Well, what happened?" <br />
<br />
"Guess who has two thumbs and might be getting a promotion in the near future....this guy!" The smile on Jordan's face grew wider and wider by the second as he danced around the kitchen.<br />
<br />
"Congrats Jordy! I'm proud of you!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTVIo3uvN31QeXhkqEnjufbG7lzck965_D2ZfJtxSe8Uy3ZLQFfzy8uJ3-7p-yAdg0XvQ1iRnPLblGYzKltQaCOR1cGL3314AVSVin5cFeN6qFFKmakeeeaNmI0KUwm1U7iU5he7HbTQ/s1600/Screenshot-276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTVIo3uvN31QeXhkqEnjufbG7lzck965_D2ZfJtxSe8Uy3ZLQFfzy8uJ3-7p-yAdg0XvQ1iRnPLblGYzKltQaCOR1cGL3314AVSVin5cFeN6qFFKmakeeeaNmI0KUwm1U7iU5he7HbTQ/s640/Screenshot-276.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"What did he do?" Bonnie asked while grabbing a barstool.<br />
<br />
"He might get a promotion!"<br />
<br />
"Finally! You've only had that same position for what, two years?" she joked.<br />
<br />
"Hey, be proud of me."<br />
<br />
"I am <i>very</i> proud." she purred.<br />
<br />
"Oh Bonnie, have you seen my diamond earrings? I was wearing them last night and I think I may have...misplaced them." she asked, interrupting the love fest. Ella hated being the third wheel, and most importantly, she hated feeling jealous.<br />
<br />
"How can you misplace your earrings?"<br />
<br />
"Maybe they flew off her ears during that woohoo session last night," Jordan joked. He and Bonnie high-fived as Ella gave a pitiful sigh and a defeated look. "Nooo, I still had them on! I don't know where they are. I searched under my bed, in my clothes, in the pool...I checked <i>everywhere!</i>" she whined.<br />
<br />
"Well, I don't know what to tell you, hon. Maybe they just got up and walked away."<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYGedslh_DhgNCnoLT4OCL6GhRaEhSxYPis9YW3zr9TTiklwB39MGiWBYA-wcByP0KLl8Dz8G-lDDF5JNdjSkEXaUZWwRCojFKQ8uXDYMt5APWB3IoRSwjwD9uPV6C06w8c-Pdh3Y5OE/s1600/Screenshot-281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYGedslh_DhgNCnoLT4OCL6GhRaEhSxYPis9YW3zr9TTiklwB39MGiWBYA-wcByP0KLl8Dz8G-lDDF5JNdjSkEXaUZWwRCojFKQ8uXDYMt5APWB3IoRSwjwD9uPV6C06w8c-Pdh3Y5OE/s640/Screenshot-281.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Hey Alex! Are you ready for our movie night?" Michele asked excitedly. Every Friday, she and Alex watch old classics to help Michele dissect different acting methods and observe the habits of the greats. Alex was never really into it, or at least, not as into it as Michele, but he always relished the time that they spent due to their busy schedules. Well, her busy schedule, with auditions and whatnot. He just stayed at home and attempted to write novels.<br />
<br />
"Alex, hellooo?"<br />
<br />
"Oh, right. Yeah, I put in Rhubarb Knights, so it's ready to watch..."<br />
<br />
"Rhubarb Knights? That old romcom? Wow," she laughed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSv5Sf90jQlGvxsUg15oRYMDWNKzx__XfJBgvmWAkifwvEA6MeJiOgWjmujeECX5BeQQx8F2sKqqU_JnhBZhHfcZYge2NG_YcCQ1TXsRlVVL3JMhYgTetOcy4_NONb09wB2G9Widur_I/s1600/Screenshot-282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSv5Sf90jQlGvxsUg15oRYMDWNKzx__XfJBgvmWAkifwvEA6MeJiOgWjmujeECX5BeQQx8F2sKqqU_JnhBZhHfcZYge2NG_YcCQ1TXsRlVVL3JMhYgTetOcy4_NONb09wB2G9Widur_I/s640/Screenshot-282.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "You know, I'm shocked. This movie actually isn't half-bad," she whispered. "Don't you agree?" Alex absentmindedly nodded his head, staring blankly at the screen. <i>"Should I do it?"</i> he thought to himself. <i>"Maybe Mark was right. Maybe I'm stuck in romantic limbo because I'm afraid of her answer to my question."</i><br />
<br />
And after admitting to himself that Mark was right, he felt an overwhelming urge to prove him wrong. An urge so strong, that it defied his own cowardly instincts. He discreetly moved closer to Michele, and tried to put his arm around her. It was going well until she caught him, that is.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtwLRqOtY3eV9ha1nnhSZGt6mZaMer6R69a07iHz0155TNo64QJn47tPFn1RrnNqCHCJWYKSC50W3e95qXXt226Un6Lw-n5Xg3xo0KisncdIFg_gF34IGD6ZEi5sfpWyIjk8GYIHnvGQ/s1600/Screenshot-284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtwLRqOtY3eV9ha1nnhSZGt6mZaMer6R69a07iHz0155TNo64QJn47tPFn1RrnNqCHCJWYKSC50W3e95qXXt226Un6Lw-n5Xg3xo0KisncdIFg_gF34IGD6ZEi5sfpWyIjk8GYIHnvGQ/s640/Screenshot-284.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Mark? What are you doing?" <br />
<br />
"I-uh...it's...it's a half-hug. Yeah, it's a couch half-hug. I wanted to hug you, so..."<br />
<br />
"Oh, okay. Continue then." she smiled. While he was cuddling her, she pulled herself closer to him and winked.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk1paNw9AEIPuEyH_or1VOQ0Ce4mfvLJQpcdl58cHdHZJcA0FUs_AmKGCeqXqXT8NLdZwqn4UcW779AbVhJQ_ybJwLEa0A3I_Mg5HODIo_cy1QvNdY-dYQ3cAY1oRTT7Oe-3YIefAa-eo/s1600/Screenshot-286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk1paNw9AEIPuEyH_or1VOQ0Ce4mfvLJQpcdl58cHdHZJcA0FUs_AmKGCeqXqXT8NLdZwqn4UcW779AbVhJQ_ybJwLEa0A3I_Mg5HODIo_cy1QvNdY-dYQ3cAY1oRTT7Oe-3YIefAa-eo/s640/Screenshot-286.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"I'm not that dumb <i>or</i> that gullible, Alex. I know what you're trying to do. All I want to know is what took you so long?"<br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
"Dude, I've crushed on you for the longest!" she laughed. "I just wanted you to make the first move because I could never tell if you liked me or not."<br />
<br />
"What? I thought I made it obvious enough! The stuttering, the blushing...the nervous belching," he added with a smile. They both laughed while recalling his initial reaction to her in 9th grade. "I don't think I was ever that much of a wreck before you."<br />
<br />
"Well, to be fair, you acted like that around <i>everyone</i> back then, not just me."<br />
<br />
"True enough."<br />
<br />
"Now stop talking," she whispered with an impish grin.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9FCGy8mMj2jHL5gU-hCNhg1llVcyzoBzh5ZH5I3ndiuCpk3ONNwWjP3FjTev3mG8XYI9IB4lSh5kznbFjFlPoEvhAsUeEw3qGbsj57BE2JSH6afo47vOONofqRau7DUxvr636-WHZuU/s1600/Screenshot-288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9FCGy8mMj2jHL5gU-hCNhg1llVcyzoBzh5ZH5I3ndiuCpk3ONNwWjP3FjTev3mG8XYI9IB4lSh5kznbFjFlPoEvhAsUeEw3qGbsj57BE2JSH6afo47vOONofqRau7DUxvr636-WHZuU/s640/Screenshot-288.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Well I'll be damned," he mumbled with a small grin. "I guess he grew tired of limbo after all."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<i>Lovefool, Pt. 2</i> <i>Commentary <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2011/07/lovefool-pt-2-commentary.html">here</a> </i> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Next Chapter:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/fallin.html">Fallin'</a> >></span></i>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-27673463238825155482011-07-04T07:37:00.000-07:002011-07-05T09:42:15.607-07:00Lovefool, Pt. 1<div style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><<</span> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Previous Episode:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/06/barricades.html">Barricades</a> </span> </i></div><br />
<i>Optional Soundtrack: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9zpnLBtwwg">Lovefool</a> by The Cardigans</i><br />
<i><b>Content Warning:</b> contains strong language</i><br />
<i>---------------------------------------------------------- </i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiG52Nik_XHuZY9T6vgjhL8L2OcUXP1OJa9TXhtMqjJ-6wqX3lqydJC5f9QvC-hL2tYA7A_VACnmMlWskG_fm95uJIbvQWZob41gw8GaVoxC17AMWuWpgtG04nC3u80RCLsHp7EYcuckQ/s1600/Screenshot-225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiG52Nik_XHuZY9T6vgjhL8L2OcUXP1OJa9TXhtMqjJ-6wqX3lqydJC5f9QvC-hL2tYA7A_VACnmMlWskG_fm95uJIbvQWZob41gw8GaVoxC17AMWuWpgtG04nC3u80RCLsHp7EYcuckQ/s640/Screenshot-225.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Ella kept replaying that disastrous encounter in her head like a broken record. Why didn't things go as perfectly as they did in movies? Why didn't her paternal family engulf her with hugs like they do in after-school specials on SBC? She continued to stare at the wall ahead of her until her half-sister, Bonnie, broke her thoughts.<br />
<br />
"Hey Transplant, what's up? You're burning holes through the wall with your laser-vision."<br />
<br />
"I just...I wish the dinner went a little more smoothly."<br />
<br />
"Oh hell, you're still dwelling on that? That was four days ago, hon. Sit on it any longer and it'll hatch." she joked. Ella glared at her and gave a defeated sigh.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_l5flcUaZKR-7JXWo9jHslEQAD1pTzPR3g7njgl0Hvw9a-N6N4DjTbj5ylLXgvz39G8lX5vzkfVYzq8M9IdA1nGP9okSuQYrF9hj8MulwezteV3xvVWQy-HV6nDAxdb4moX2Je3SY1Y/s1600/Screenshot-226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_l5flcUaZKR-7JXWo9jHslEQAD1pTzPR3g7njgl0Hvw9a-N6N4DjTbj5ylLXgvz39G8lX5vzkfVYzq8M9IdA1nGP9okSuQYrF9hj8MulwezteV3xvVWQy-HV6nDAxdb4moX2Je3SY1Y/s640/Screenshot-226.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"How am I supposed to forget it, Bonnie? You saw the way your mother glared at me when I got to the door. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so offended before."<br />
<br />
"My mom is a bit of a snob Elle, much like the rest of our family. Much like <i>us.</i> You and I know very well that when a snob's pride is wounded, we don't easily recover. I mean, come on! You're my dad's extra-marital lovechild! No one's going to forget that anytime soon."<br />
<br />
"I understand that, but...can't I get <i>someone</i> to like me?" she whined.<br />
<br />
"Well...<i>I</i> like you, Grandma likes you, and Dad likes you...I think. Elle, seriously, don't stress. Things will fall into place eventually."<br />
<br />
Ella gave a small smile and quickly changed the subject. "Hey, by the way, thanks for moving in with me. I shouldn't need to be babysat for much longer, I just need a native to show me the ropes around this suburban nightmare."<br />
<br />
"It's no problem really, this is a kickass pad you've got here! A little bland, but the retro decor gives it a little life. Ancient and outdated life, but life nonetheless." Ella laughed and playfully punched Bonnie on the arm.<br />
<br />
"Hey, what are you two skirts gabbing about?" Jordan asked, standing in the doorway. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGJ8Z2WwrSuyRHlG4xK1alnwAvPBoE_P9VfIIWqLPKABR0V6iZu1Cb1ydwRmyCejbFP8rY_x1QL3Xl9h26yT1YTEjjTNnwxe686guGbS4vMrqKaJ8dX2hAJEL-AeI9Zdq9LAuCvil0SA/s1600/Screenshot-227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGJ8Z2WwrSuyRHlG4xK1alnwAvPBoE_P9VfIIWqLPKABR0V6iZu1Cb1ydwRmyCejbFP8rY_x1QL3Xl9h26yT1YTEjjTNnwxe686guGbS4vMrqKaJ8dX2hAJEL-AeI9Zdq9LAuCvil0SA/s640/Screenshot-227.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Well, I was just telling Transplant here to stop stressing out over the ill-fated family dinner we had four days ago. She keeps worrying about it for no reason."<br />
<br />
"Really? Come on, Elle! The first time I met Bonnie's parents they hated me, too. It's not something that should bother you, it's just a given."<br />
<br />
"But you weren't there Jordan, and you aren't blood-related to them. Tiffany called me a bastard! How can that not bother me?"<br />
<br />
"Well...technically you <i>are</i> a bastard."<br />
<br />
"Jordan!" Bonnie exclaimed, scowling at him. He gave a quick apology and looked down at his knees.<br />
<br />
"Anyway, don't let my mother's name-calling bother you. Like I said, she's wounded. Deep in here." she whispered the sentence again while pointing at her heart, and Ella scoffed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FR7D5ZRczEMd_HhaJPU65917Kmg0sS3gR8gxQXrd-VWmO_9XJ4_AsuZ4TjjDeq5KL4ICv2XF7R-qZ0csSwPISePFzqw4FgeXXhTRtGyJ8ULukN4mL09__rhc4JYzQCu8IpCco3W0a7U/s1600/Screenshot-228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FR7D5ZRczEMd_HhaJPU65917Kmg0sS3gR8gxQXrd-VWmO_9XJ4_AsuZ4TjjDeq5KL4ICv2XF7R-qZ0csSwPISePFzqw4FgeXXhTRtGyJ8ULukN4mL09__rhc4JYzQCu8IpCco3W0a7U/s640/Screenshot-228.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Look, if it's bothering you that much, maybe you can just suck up to them for the next couple of months. You know, buy them fancy presents, hire some maids for them, teach your new teenage siblings how to drive..."<br />
<br />
"Clyde and Lorena just got their permits, actually, so that could work. Ooh, she could also babysit Jesse!"<br />
<br />
"That's a genius idea, as always Bonnie." Jordan winked. Bonnie blushed and fluttered her eyelashes at him while saying "thank you". <br />
<br />
"Um, guys? Hey, yeah, listen; I'm happy you guys are in agreement on what <i>I</i> should do to win over my new family's love and affection, but hello? I am not babysitting. Do I look at all maternal to you? Those are all stupid ideas."<br />
<br />
"Well Einstein, can you think of anything better?" Jordan high-fived Bonnie over her "clever" quip, and as usual, Ella gave a deep sigh of frustration.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIbSXXjaHEwWHj2Lk_nZHr-AGNVCkx5BHa_wBsL6L1O5fwlb92hJK197F95K34hTrLNP7lHFCPP5qmBOyzHAmtbaWj081vrZqZX72O9M0A-oEgxXQAvyFY-5CeKE10RZEWNxy5hPp4Ck/s1600/Screenshot-229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIbSXXjaHEwWHj2Lk_nZHr-AGNVCkx5BHa_wBsL6L1O5fwlb92hJK197F95K34hTrLNP7lHFCPP5qmBOyzHAmtbaWj081vrZqZX72O9M0A-oEgxXQAvyFY-5CeKE10RZEWNxy5hPp4Ck/s640/Screenshot-229.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Actually no, I can't think of anything better, which is why I am going to start letting it go, starting tonight." Bonnie and Jordan both looked at each other, knowing very well that Ella was hardly the type to "let things go".<br />
<br />
"No seriously, guys! I'm done with it. Finito. If they don't like me, they can kiss it."<br />
<br />
"Mmhmm. Well, it's been a long day for me. I think I'm going to go ahead and get to bed." Bonnie gave a stretch and a yawn, and slowly got off the loveseat while groaning. "G'night, guys."<br />
<br />
"Goodnight, Bonnie."<br />
<br />
"Goodnight Blondie!" Jordan chuckled.<br />
<br />
"For the last time, Jordie! I'm not blonde!"<br />
<br />
"Well, maybe your hair isn't." Bonnie pretended to pout and threw a pillow at him while exiting the room. Jordan got off of the loveseat and joined Ella. "You sure you're okay?" Ella gave yet another melodramatic sigh. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdDK8RT-QuoNvwu9UrQQjV1BSBAeYE5THk-Mu4KQw_SO2wSr8ScT9I1Hecp_gG0CgaD1bqAyr5z4DLRlycxBRbT3YMySEThxlDQ1rQ5Srf79XXY_qIpHUNerdz7G2zetnTF4hkNCNmxY/s1600/Screenshot-230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdDK8RT-QuoNvwu9UrQQjV1BSBAeYE5THk-Mu4KQw_SO2wSr8ScT9I1Hecp_gG0CgaD1bqAyr5z4DLRlycxBRbT3YMySEThxlDQ1rQ5Srf79XXY_qIpHUNerdz7G2zetnTF4hkNCNmxY/s640/Screenshot-230.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Yeah I'm fine, Jordan. I just..."<br />
<br />
"I know. If you need anything, I'm here-"<br />
<br />
"Don't, please." she pleaded, cutting him off. "I-I can't. This is such a giant mess. I haven't even been here for a week and I've already fucked up more than I'd care to admit."<br />
<br />
"I understand, but I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what. Okay?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, sure. Um...thanks."<br />
<br />
"No problem," Jordan smirked. "I know how hard it is for you Pinciottis to admit that you've fucked up."<br />
<br />
"I'm a Cartez, thank you very much!" she yelled, amused, as Jordan walked away.<br />
<br />
"Not anymore", he said with a wink. <br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9Qr99MWyEF9jvvEcAUuTQGVLdUQV5DgAgIGcHPDCCUjiQcgXf8FsChZURg9y7FuYigEVejtqWSurj5kFm-TrHpMW_6y21x6H1ZipApH5tFB5XaU3sb21cWrFJK59p_luMzeC_bymuaQ/s1600/letterhome1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9Qr99MWyEF9jvvEcAUuTQGVLdUQV5DgAgIGcHPDCCUjiQcgXf8FsChZURg9y7FuYigEVejtqWSurj5kFm-TrHpMW_6y21x6H1ZipApH5tFB5XaU3sb21cWrFJK59p_luMzeC_bymuaQ/s640/letterhome1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <i>"Dear Mom and Dad, </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>It's me. Mark. I've moved to Bridgeport and I'm working as a performer under the stage name Bobby Sanchez. I'm rolling in cash, so don't bother to send money."</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9VIwIhBCKjaJckNxZPHEDTOgJEOqcaMV1Syi9AT-WR1htv_dnetMdza9mI7FcMCwhmRPhAHbBIJxdZNl3RT6r_U4heWMqe-mekqEii-5OcTZZO-OJ9m9v5-yuo7ozodTstQF4lC7Wsqo/s1600/Screenshot-232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9VIwIhBCKjaJckNxZPHEDTOgJEOqcaMV1Syi9AT-WR1htv_dnetMdza9mI7FcMCwhmRPhAHbBIJxdZNl3RT6r_U4heWMqe-mekqEii-5OcTZZO-OJ9m9v5-yuo7ozodTstQF4lC7Wsqo/s640/Screenshot-232.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Zzzzzz...."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiFgjRm3Yfs21K2wWuLMAPkcokQw6enHXRDGBLw2QAj7PNpXiB_bk_5ZjDQ_cjE2fh7XQ828Q7M-_tpAd0CtKlGF9D-jDJwrfe33tn4Q_esbP9mvdADNg6ixZ7CG-mzlHYTzgzd5iZX4/s1600/letterhome2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="78" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiFgjRm3Yfs21K2wWuLMAPkcokQw6enHXRDGBLw2QAj7PNpXiB_bk_5ZjDQ_cjE2fh7XQ828Q7M-_tpAd0CtKlGF9D-jDJwrfe33tn4Q_esbP9mvdADNg6ixZ7CG-mzlHYTzgzd5iZX4/s640/letterhome2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><i>"Also, don't look up my stage name because it's kind of obscure. How can I be wealthy and obscure at the same time, you ask? Hell man, what can I say? Thank Creator for hipsters."</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYnTmCl2gMEGxOaU5hmWivFaF6i5M56_EsOjgfu4fx_11-JJhbILESiIHFtt5nvTdBo0eM8mNVm6Dt3Ir55yx9aA74WR9jUoWtfww8blCcdc216zjaR2YJlz4oKxeIlgPz8c8VNgS47zo/s1600/Screenshot-233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYnTmCl2gMEGxOaU5hmWivFaF6i5M56_EsOjgfu4fx_11-JJhbILESiIHFtt5nvTdBo0eM8mNVm6Dt3Ir55yx9aA74WR9jUoWtfww8blCcdc216zjaR2YJlz4oKxeIlgPz8c8VNgS47zo/s640/Screenshot-233.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><i> </i>"Hey kid, get up. You and I need to have a little 'talk'."<br />
<br />
"Yeah yeah...five more seconds, Johnny."<br />
<br />
<i>"Now."</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1oTCfJyVepiw8nYehlO7eKzzVxOVuiwhhEqUcrzDJq8Vs9vCj8qKQ8I95itmV_1jPvAGza68vfgY0EmTDrF140pjCIsX4STJH2dqlAhmy4geO4HPozRpux7WWyMq7yVE6jS57OtWowbA/s1600/letterhome3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1oTCfJyVepiw8nYehlO7eKzzVxOVuiwhhEqUcrzDJq8Vs9vCj8qKQ8I95itmV_1jPvAGza68vfgY0EmTDrF140pjCIsX4STJH2dqlAhmy4geO4HPozRpux7WWyMq7yVE6jS57OtWowbA/s640/letterhome3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><i>"Anyway, I'm sure you think I'm stuck in a dingy apartment in some suburban town, but I'm perfectly fine out here. In Bridgeport. In my penthouse. On an unnamed street. You don't have to write back.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Sincerely,</i><br />
<i>Mark Filroy"</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyl1ATJl0SXu2BXzSnynjXKMxmmYoXztbO_9-mrDhNeGEwzHeZQSsK_okG7uY1qDw5GXnMXm7N8XnFuJVhewUIuV_Q4HCg1a0j7LzDHI0l6fAwFKCqDGE7h1r3QnhjG7-X4zxl3GF3Dwk/s1600/Screenshot-235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyl1ATJl0SXu2BXzSnynjXKMxmmYoXztbO_9-mrDhNeGEwzHeZQSsK_okG7uY1qDw5GXnMXm7N8XnFuJVhewUIuV_Q4HCg1a0j7LzDHI0l6fAwFKCqDGE7h1r3QnhjG7-X4zxl3GF3Dwk/s640/Screenshot-235.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Where's my fuckin' rent?"<br />
<br />
"I-I'll get it back for you Johnny, I promise. Just give me five d-"<br />
<br />
"Uh-uh. None of that 'iou' bullshit you give me every week. Pay up now, or else."<br />
<br />
"But I don't have the money..." Mark whimpered<br />
<br />
"Well then cupcake, I guess that's where the 'or else' comes in." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7r4Tnw8Y9ss9nZ5j3BG_Y9nx0Fnh3nkfeCVWuAnC7A8sgZ59xywIzNeacwLxIvMt3-hIpUyTt3AojGkZT1f6GcqtdnxX0M-qkA4UFi0VdsqBehO01bC9mNaFwQT3pGONoJpSHl3TbBQ/s1600/Screenshot-236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7r4Tnw8Y9ss9nZ5j3BG_Y9nx0Fnh3nkfeCVWuAnC7A8sgZ59xywIzNeacwLxIvMt3-hIpUyTt3AojGkZT1f6GcqtdnxX0M-qkA4UFi0VdsqBehO01bC9mNaFwQT3pGONoJpSHl3TbBQ/s640/Screenshot-236.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"And don't show your scrawny ass here again, kapeesh?" <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0kTG5Mxg9dIOb9uKak_6tYEmLqDicMK6ujLnltuR6uNXj-MDLwDi_SkiJLkikjHdhp11O4m7B1G2T4USQesIOcJ19cwBhpfGHhMZFPnLcNa_eIiIDoOEXowxYPbiChg3SNXTgZShdtI/s1600/Screenshot-237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0kTG5Mxg9dIOb9uKak_6tYEmLqDicMK6ujLnltuR6uNXj-MDLwDi_SkiJLkikjHdhp11O4m7B1G2T4USQesIOcJ19cwBhpfGHhMZFPnLcNa_eIiIDoOEXowxYPbiChg3SNXTgZShdtI/s640/Screenshot-237.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Yeah? Well I don't fuckin' need you <i>or</i> your shitty rental! You think you're so big and tough. All you're doin' is slowin' me down, man!" Mark yelled. Yes, he just got his ass handed to him, but he was obviously taking it like a champ. That is, until he heard angry footsteps coming towards the door.<br />
<br />
"Oh shit", he muttered under his breath. 'Now would be the perfect time to start running."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Onn8h-bZsPVqSEilmeqZ2mzcxMYc6Sn-adxm4v6Wrmw8i4muKktUR5wSbIrPdKkoUagZyV11eKFbBFdsoFEblMYJMGr7iDVAWF_Se5qfPrIO30CjDodQuT3JDv7YhgJ5TNBPzW7sClY/s1600/Screenshot-238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Onn8h-bZsPVqSEilmeqZ2mzcxMYc6Sn-adxm4v6Wrmw8i4muKktUR5wSbIrPdKkoUagZyV11eKFbBFdsoFEblMYJMGr7iDVAWF_Se5qfPrIO30CjDodQuT3JDv7YhgJ5TNBPzW7sClY/s640/Screenshot-238.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Hey, thanks for letting me crash here Mich...I really appreciate it. Nice place you got here."<br />
<br />
"It's no problem, what else are friends for?" Michele smiled. Her face quickly grew sour as they discussed what his previous landlord had done earlier that morning. "Ugh, I honestly can't believe he would just throw you out for no real reason."<br />
<br />
"You're telling me, I was absolutely shocked when he did. Landlords these days...where's the courtesy?"<br />
<br />
"No, Mark, I mean I honestly <i>can't believe it.</i> I know you did something to make him throw you out like that. So, what did you do?"<br />
<br />
"Nothing. I was the perfect tenant! Even if I forgot to pay the rent for six months."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2EJSRUh4Y5PaUeoxYyoFMTrrP7M1Dzy5uzcrBzM5ru2POiQ2y0qZcpCPhLGCyfcTrdIVEdgPnBO4jsLlYFT7EzBa6eV2PXXQQDg904flsSB7VYBGmb-xnGRm5AzkzjvO1MtB_6BHRjk/s1600/Screenshot-239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2EJSRUh4Y5PaUeoxYyoFMTrrP7M1Dzy5uzcrBzM5ru2POiQ2y0qZcpCPhLGCyfcTrdIVEdgPnBO4jsLlYFT7EzBa6eV2PXXQQDg904flsSB7VYBGmb-xnGRm5AzkzjvO1MtB_6BHRjk/s640/Screenshot-239.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"What?! You didn't pay the rent for six straight months? How in the world did you get away with that?"<br />
<br />
"Look, I may or may not have convinced him that I had a fatal illness, alright? It's not a big deal."<br />
<br />
"It's a huge deal, and I honestly don't know if I should let you move in with us. We can't afford to be delinquent in our payments, unlike some." Michele lectured.<br />
<br />
"Geez Michele, the reason I wasn't paying the guy was because he was a douche. I have the cash, I swear."<br />
<br />
"Fine, you can stay...but clean yourself up and take a shower before leaving the house, okay? I love you, but you look like a bum and smell like a skunk. There's no way I'm taking you to that casting director's party with you looking like...<i>that.</i>"<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMD8F0xj2JImnsr83wT2Mc-o-i_kIC47wu4Ktws-tnyKzZ-1e9JqMuzt8UdiGhukBLMsZy9U99C7RItqDSJXD0chN73PgrQb7TRA5qtukHser13LhACH_pca-OfnqoGN6w52KoAYQVeiI/s1600/Screenshot-240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMD8F0xj2JImnsr83wT2Mc-o-i_kIC47wu4Ktws-tnyKzZ-1e9JqMuzt8UdiGhukBLMsZy9U99C7RItqDSJXD0chN73PgrQb7TRA5qtukHser13LhACH_pca-OfnqoGN6w52KoAYQVeiI/s640/Screenshot-240.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Well, I guess the nightlife here isn't so bad after all." Ella grinned. Tonight was the night of the casting director's party, and she invited only celebrities that were of her stature, as well as a few amateur actors. Not that Ella really cared about who attended, she'd happily go to the party of a 7-year old if it had expensive liquor and a good view.<br />
<br />
"Not bad at all," Bonnie chirped happily. "Don't look now, but there's a hunky strawberry blonde right behind you, and he's heading your way."<br />
<br />
"Hunky? Blonde? Sign me up!" she exclaimed. Bonnie quickly shushed her as the handsome stranger began to get closer. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZHZMRHZ2wzMzOr3wKbx4UQ0xFF_se_7ef2b81GXxIXvJM7NCEcZ-VICqQkhUsRIcvvXBzgXZ1OMhRrf4D6j7D1gNv9moB8qWK8v2G5iNA2XmyXr_b3Lb26Ho7pSxQQ_nvxaLeVpbaOY/s1600/Screenshot-241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZHZMRHZ2wzMzOr3wKbx4UQ0xFF_se_7ef2b81GXxIXvJM7NCEcZ-VICqQkhUsRIcvvXBzgXZ1OMhRrf4D6j7D1gNv9moB8qWK8v2G5iNA2XmyXr_b3Lb26Ho7pSxQQ_nvxaLeVpbaOY/s640/Screenshot-241.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Hi there, I couldn't help but notice your lovely...sunglasses." he grinned.<br />
<br />
"Well, I like the size of your...feet", she retorted. "My name's Ella Cartez."<br />
<br />
"I don't think there's a single person on this beach who doesn't know who you are."<br />
<br />
"Oh really? Well, I don't know who <i>you</i> are."<br />
<br />
"Ahh, right. My name is Mark. Mark Filroy."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwsykWIyfLEy_uzFBaiAySimAwsYU1sT9fwy-XgtbtGTzudntDbDsghaUQ-2TlaBAV_u07eiKP3mxbtAVKEvtjtQl71ThRRX_S7pJ8cDFsNQN3z9EXCgASPNPsCVudv2SWL8wlD_pV8s/s1600/Screenshot-242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwsykWIyfLEy_uzFBaiAySimAwsYU1sT9fwy-XgtbtGTzudntDbDsghaUQ-2TlaBAV_u07eiKP3mxbtAVKEvtjtQl71ThRRX_S7pJ8cDFsNQN3z9EXCgASPNPsCVudv2SWL8wlD_pV8s/s640/Screenshot-242.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Alright, <i>Mark.</i> What do you do for a living?"<br />
<br />
"Right. I, uh...well...if I'm being honest with you, I'm just a Twinbrook trust fund baby. I moved away from my parents to discover life without their immense wealth, and I'm sharing an apartment with one of my best friends, Michele Turner. She's one of the amateur actors that the casting director invited to the party."<br />
<br />
"Twinbrook? Hmm. Where's your accent?"<br />
<br />
"I've suppressed it for so long, I don't really have one anymore." Ella gave a suspicious look, and finally decided that he was genuine.<br />
<br />
"Ohmicreator, it's so nice to finally meet a fellow trust fund baby! People underestimate us so much, you know? We're capable of doing normal sim things too! I could totally get a job and work hard at it if I wanted to, it's really not that difficult...it's just that being a normal sim is no fun", she said with a wink.<br />
<br />
After some lengthy flirting, Mark finally felt confident in asking her out on a date tomorrow night, to which of course, she said yes. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UmvUHteCoPhRyJPCSDSD38yMSN6UsgI3oD6G69_-XwKZKvST7MrF3qte1BZtnj-hHlJ1yjzkxl_xNqnwx-gVkt8GU6MzhALxxj25P3q9iFNDFsDPyMyQ5PQpS8Hy_nIg-1LfizS_aEg/s1600/Screenshot-244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UmvUHteCoPhRyJPCSDSD38yMSN6UsgI3oD6G69_-XwKZKvST7MrF3qte1BZtnj-hHlJ1yjzkxl_xNqnwx-gVkt8GU6MzhALxxj25P3q9iFNDFsDPyMyQ5PQpS8Hy_nIg-1LfizS_aEg/s640/Screenshot-244.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "You know, the sky is beautiful tonight. Not as beautiful as you, of course, but close." Ella scoffed and looked at him with a sarcastic grin. "Flattery will get you nowhere."<br />
<br />
"I beg to differ, sweetheart. It got me a date with a really hot girl, so who knows where else it might get me." he smirked.<br />
<br />
"Ha, not even! I'm not that easy, even when drunk."<br />
<br />
"Of course you aren't, lovely. Now, do you want to look at those stars or what?" <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7YOScq4_auLByJidubGw0REMGXkwGLBBdPViyX20TogY84IVE1rtbC94d6qAuKMt42UsSSRpaJ_MpARIRr1uOCB0XEBD4Th41knximdyGPCCygNAWvaHL7SWFhooViqi8YP8TTCVnXM/s1600/Screenshot-245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7YOScq4_auLByJidubGw0REMGXkwGLBBdPViyX20TogY84IVE1rtbC94d6qAuKMt42UsSSRpaJ_MpARIRr1uOCB0XEBD4Th41knximdyGPCCygNAWvaHL7SWFhooViqi8YP8TTCVnXM/s640/Screenshot-245.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "I honestly can't believe that I'm stargazing with you right now, this is so cheesy! I haven't done this since junior high."<br />
<br />
"Well, maybe you should do it more often. It might ground you a little."<br />
<br />
"Are you trying to say that I'm stuck up?" she questioned, pretending to be offended.<br />
<br />
"Well...maybe a little," he joked. "I mean, can you even <i>see</i> anything with those shades on?"<br />
<br />
"Of course I can!"<br />
<br />
<i>"Right."</i><br />
<br />
"What's that supposed to mean?"<br />
<br />
"It means 'I don't believe you'." he smiled.<br />
<br />
He sneakily moved closer to her body, and she reciprocated. <i>"Good sign,"</i> Mark thought to himself. <i>"Maybe this one won't be so hard to crack after all."</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-33dWEBrBlc-PO1d11o0J8lHZ1DzAOVOw9oDbvHPNYM_8lRqDxsP-LXETyNHxa4bgC1_4s2lXj8FGv4b6SWe59x-__IVueTO3n6PIOhHX2sRhew6Oh5Sd_TYax75AfvGSFfm-SmgRk4/s1600/Screenshot-246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-33dWEBrBlc-PO1d11o0J8lHZ1DzAOVOw9oDbvHPNYM_8lRqDxsP-LXETyNHxa4bgC1_4s2lXj8FGv4b6SWe59x-__IVueTO3n6PIOhHX2sRhew6Oh5Sd_TYax75AfvGSFfm-SmgRk4/s640/Screenshot-246.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "So you can see the stars in those glasses."<br />
<br />
"Yes! Why do you keep asking?"<br />
<br />
"Okay then, what's that constellation?" he inquired while pointing at the night sky.<br />
<br />
"I don't know, I paid some nerd to let me cheat off of him in astronomy class." Mark stared at her in utter disbelief after her "confession".<br />
<br />
"Whaaat?" she whined playfully.<br />
<br />
"I think you're lying again."<br />
<br />
"I think you need to get off my ****."<br />
<br />
"Creator, mouth of a sailor!" he joked. Ella playfully punched Mark on the arm, a sign of affection she seemed to be doing a lot of lately.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXI5HALU0ghx-GThlSBEwRa85jDCEQvr9UIXKy-cHAtZ0_Xy_1uPFIjQPJfpFlnyW_eDWV029DXLq5SoNNiI1WcrisTtFzjbRUEbbnetLFoSJYVCTHqIUYFYOh1igeitcjZpu68NqQgmc/s1600/Screenshot-247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXI5HALU0ghx-GThlSBEwRa85jDCEQvr9UIXKy-cHAtZ0_Xy_1uPFIjQPJfpFlnyW_eDWV029DXLq5SoNNiI1WcrisTtFzjbRUEbbnetLFoSJYVCTHqIUYFYOh1igeitcjZpu68NqQgmc/s640/Screenshot-247.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Well, regardless of whether or not you can see it, the stars are all shining brightly tonight." Mark said, gazing wistfully. "It's a shame that they never seem to stay."<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir51ltjaMvk6hxOBbQDKeac1gHndwwfsTyEghzh8qRvSC7wvoXuHYHn0a0VHcfJ6OgXT_YzOct6FMT-xOacEJm84NWX339LLcN_Bo47XDLX-uG9PwwVW64DX03BmJyz-OctC8pSKcEZRs/s1600/Screenshot-248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir51ltjaMvk6hxOBbQDKeac1gHndwwfsTyEghzh8qRvSC7wvoXuHYHn0a0VHcfJ6OgXT_YzOct6FMT-xOacEJm84NWX339LLcN_Bo47XDLX-uG9PwwVW64DX03BmJyz-OctC8pSKcEZRs/s640/Screenshot-248.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Finally decided to come home, eh? Don't you think you're a little late?"<br />
<br />
"Chill, pops. It's only 5AM. Now shhh, I'm almost past the evil goblin boss."<br />
<br />
"Fine. Listen, can we talk?"<br />
<br />
"Helloooo, did you not just hear me? Defeating. evil. goblin. boss. <i>I'm busy.</i>" she muttered through clenched teeth.<br />
<br />
"We need to talk about what happened."<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQC8py0H4tEaC-j1waAJeBV70nPYFxrM-R_-0gnIuKBM_ayTx5gr0s6x45WgFr6yW1Oj-3Gs6hbZcITyX7CNE5a6RrDD593uaKmVspH_O8Db2XKJN66A_8TnRwgN8p7TsWYRDdfXhDNA/s1600/Screenshot-250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQC8py0H4tEaC-j1waAJeBV70nPYFxrM-R_-0gnIuKBM_ayTx5gr0s6x45WgFr6yW1Oj-3Gs6hbZcITyX7CNE5a6RrDD593uaKmVspH_O8Db2XKJN66A_8TnRwgN8p7TsWYRDdfXhDNA/s640/Screenshot-250.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"And that is my cue to leave," she sighed. Ella turned off the gaming system and headed towards her bedroom.<br />
<br />
"What, so we can't just talk anymore?" he called out in frustration. She turned around and frowned at him.<br />
<br />
"I don't want to talk about it, obviously."<br />
<br />
"Why not? We need to discuss it eventually. Besides, you chicks are supposed to be into discussing feelings and shit."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6a8v0tUiSsiHP7pR-B2Sspt5-8CZaaQHlyvtPihoRx0P3X4J1lvUm9f_FMLbNf2jI5YW8nGbLXV5zaJko4agpwR9fga8E5fdvcBDh3uCnPexazuu2JRH9d5sdkOh2hJKzKqTA7VT4gg0/s1600/Screenshot-252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6a8v0tUiSsiHP7pR-B2Sspt5-8CZaaQHlyvtPihoRx0P3X4J1lvUm9f_FMLbNf2jI5YW8nGbLXV5zaJko4agpwR9fga8E5fdvcBDh3uCnPexazuu2JRH9d5sdkOh2hJKzKqTA7VT4gg0/s640/Screenshot-252.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"You wanna know why I don't want to discuss it? Alright then. I don't want to discuss it because I have Mark. We're actually scheduled for a date tonight."<br />
<br />
"Mark? Who the hell is Mark?"<br />
<br />
"He's a guy I met at that party we went to. He's really sweet. Slightly sketchy, but sweet."<br />
<br />
"What about that Eric Chronic dude?"<br />
<br />
"Eric <i>Cromic</i>, and we were on our last legs anyway. Eric is flighty, slutty, and insecure. Mark seems a lot more stable, and Creator knows I could use some stability right now."<br />
<br />
"I just don't understand how you can throw away a three-year relationship in less than a week for a guy you spent five hours with!" <br />
<br />
"Really? I thought you of all people would know. And why do you care, anyways? It's not like you know the guy."<br />
<br />
"First of all, you can't keep throwing that in my face if you're not willing to discuss it," Jordan scowled. "Secondly, to be honest with you, you're my girlfriend's sister. You're also kind of a friend. So, excuse <i>me</i> if I'm a little concerned about the way you live your life, I guess that means I'm in the wrong."<br />
<br />
"Ha! There's so much bull in your little 'explanation that I don't know where to start." Ella muttered, seething with anger. The only thing keeping them from yelling at each other was Bonnie sleeping upstairs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP3dbni1SgVBAOnJ0hDsnmYxcxNEVOG3-exyY6VOc1EiCtQgQzmBXWLTIWAKZRr3mJtc4uRfkrTccwtY1znPIB3qACXR1pg94oHRhCqCd-erieIoYFu8x54i0KEyZEMX-0HdyPW58qf_0/s1600/Screenshot-253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP3dbni1SgVBAOnJ0hDsnmYxcxNEVOG3-exyY6VOc1EiCtQgQzmBXWLTIWAKZRr3mJtc4uRfkrTccwtY1znPIB3qACXR1pg94oHRhCqCd-erieIoYFu8x54i0KEyZEMX-0HdyPW58qf_0/s640/Screenshot-253.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Then don't."<br />
<br />
"Don't what?" she inquired, still furious. Jordan said nothing, but replied by turning his head.<br />
<br />
"So what, then. That's it? You're not going to talk to me anymore?"<br />
<br />
More silence.<br />
<br />
"Ugh, you're such a child! This is just like you, Jordan. You start something, and you don't finish it when you don't like the way it's going. Even in my short stay here in this Creator-forsaken place, I've already noticed that about you. And see, Jordan, <i>that</i> is why you will die a lonely, miserable man. No one has the patience for your kid games."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpoww_SSlm3AQJpO7hyphenhyphen0xci-KP2z2zA2za5EZsK8nx5rV_9yjOiRy4oMvzupDxA81bZeUW54K3APgX_FnMGAaG5jgi7CdLkibZoYwD_0G5hJ-HulFdFb8Zp02RgHQNMTdYTTQfavrNTU/s1600/Screenshot-256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpoww_SSlm3AQJpO7hyphenhyphen0xci-KP2z2zA2za5EZsK8nx5rV_9yjOiRy4oMvzupDxA81bZeUW54K3APgX_FnMGAaG5jgi7CdLkibZoYwD_0G5hJ-HulFdFb8Zp02RgHQNMTdYTTQfavrNTU/s640/Screenshot-256.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Have fun staring at the carpet, Mr. Howitt. Come talk to me when you're ready to have a <i>real</i> conversation."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Chapter commentary <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2011/07/lovefool-pt-1-commentary.html">here.</a><br />
<br />
<i> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Next Episode:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/lovefool-pt-2.html">Lovefool, Pt. 2</a> >></span></i>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-44464167897457368572011-06-03T11:00:00.000-07:002011-07-04T12:26:36.336-07:00Barricades<i> Optional Soundtrack: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WwAqdS-bSBg">Starstrukk - 3OH!3</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3VufmZXyTQ">Barricades - Fyfe Dangerfield</a></i><br />
<i><b>Content warning:</b> Strong language </i><br />
<i>Every sim starts out with a story. Sometimes these stories are published onto a blurb, blog, or forum. Sometimes, these stories stay within the creator's game. The story that is rarely told, however, is how the sim's story affects another sim's story. A butterfly effect, if you will. You place one little thing where it doesn't belong and it sets off a catalyst of unexpected events.</i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>Let's meet our butterfly.</i><br />
--------------------------<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MRcCHUr5jQMZiWTj2xGv8BmFxVLrU73RNrkk2Bg25wY9LbmVpNRPVAuh7gPxPpbce4XPtgvdgCnwh_PSzZ5lHb0qiR1cf9xQZme0yFLfnlGVKNAeiTLWXBSdU2mcJCnKBVb7ABEbXQM/s1600/Screenshot-176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MRcCHUr5jQMZiWTj2xGv8BmFxVLrU73RNrkk2Bg25wY9LbmVpNRPVAuh7gPxPpbce4XPtgvdgCnwh_PSzZ5lHb0qiR1cf9xQZme0yFLfnlGVKNAeiTLWXBSdU2mcJCnKBVb7ABEbXQM/s640/Screenshot-176.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Ella Cartez is back in business!" the blonde yelled over the music. The crowd whooped and cheered as everyone's favorite heiress drunkenly proclaimed her new found freedom. Her 18th birthday party was going splendidly, it was bound to be an event that would land in the papers. She smiled widely at the thought of it. Finally, she'd be something other than "the late Matthew Hamming's daughter". She could come out of the shadow of her father's legacy.<br />
<br />
As everyone began to dance, she surveyed the crowd for her mother. Yes, Selima said that she was stuck in Egypt with a cold, but maybe, <i>just</i> maybe, she came anyway to welcome her daughter back from that Plumbbob-awful prep school.<br />
<br />
No such luck. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZUfZoleMHGP0fohTTbxAkfckZzXwL1d573xFSiXxgPedRTDADA1QoevF5Gt6Z9qsZRcdZmWjhPdpA8IMOE7VBTkmazFQBjkmURBGAJk8CFVFR5KbUxlS6WqeYsINg4Zb2N5S9iex-u0/s1600/Screenshot-173.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZUfZoleMHGP0fohTTbxAkfckZzXwL1d573xFSiXxgPedRTDADA1QoevF5Gt6Z9qsZRcdZmWjhPdpA8IMOE7VBTkmazFQBjkmURBGAJk8CFVFR5KbUxlS6WqeYsINg4Zb2N5S9iex-u0/s640/Screenshot-173.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Ella!! Ohmigod, are you okay? What did they do to you?" Deila said with concern. Ella quickly silenced her thoughts and brushed off her concern.<br />
<br />
"Yeah Del, I'm fine. Prep school wasn't <i>that</i> bad, but I missed you guys sooo much!" she whined. All the girls started complaining about how much they missed each other and how unfair parents were, when Asiah noticed a handsome friend staring at Ella.<br />
<br />
"Um, sweetie...I think someone wants to speak to you."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcC45_Rvp_9bTTR0n77_dsBiiBn1jzpRanK1qKZ1zxmkvXSW2s1Bdc3ET8NkQB2YTm1kw-xzes3jegE83YFNVUV-UDlD2PINKyBoanTJs7UvqwPmyTx47vxvhvjkpC7Yv8G_RxoxhMYy4/s1600/Screenshot-181.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcC45_Rvp_9bTTR0n77_dsBiiBn1jzpRanK1qKZ1zxmkvXSW2s1Bdc3ET8NkQB2YTm1kw-xzes3jegE83YFNVUV-UDlD2PINKyBoanTJs7UvqwPmyTx47vxvhvjkpC7Yv8G_RxoxhMYy4/s640/Screenshot-181.jpg" width="640" /></a> <br />
"Well well well, if it isn't little miss Blondie, fresh from her castle." he teased.<br />
<br />
"Eric, you really shouldn't stare at me like that...you're scaring my friends."<br />
<br />
"I scare everyone, babe. That's what I'm good at."<br />
<br />
"Good point", she winked.<br />
<br />
Eric Cromic was the lead guitarist of the indie band <i>Chromic Acid Panic!</i>, which was currently on tour. Ella hadn't seen him in ages, and didn't expect him to come to Bridgeport for another two months. Apparently, he changed the band's touring schedule so he wouldn't miss her big bash. If only her mother were so considerate.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EiYBT2s7-_EyUYcPHE23dGbuEStTwPvtF648NE2u7VXkKjgBZc1JqaEa0MZEItra6S_xuDT4HqBdQMbEif1LK-P2hiDE8kQdQRi8w9dbQfBlJz71yDSRNUltB32eWQk8kwMdSCJZVMA/s1600/Screenshot-180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EiYBT2s7-_EyUYcPHE23dGbuEStTwPvtF648NE2u7VXkKjgBZc1JqaEa0MZEItra6S_xuDT4HqBdQMbEif1LK-P2hiDE8kQdQRi8w9dbQfBlJz71yDSRNUltB32eWQk8kwMdSCJZVMA/s640/Screenshot-180.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "So are you a goody goody now, or do you still have that rebel streak in you?" he teased once more, this time showing teeth. Why oh why did he have to grin like that?<br />
<br />
"I'm still a rebel, no amount of prep schooling will change that."<br />
<br />
"I dunno, you seem kinda wimpy to me."<br />
<br />
"Not possible. Besides, the prep school wasn't as clean as you would think. I even learned a few things while I was there."<br />
<br />
"Oh really, like what?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-f0vwFGy0ZWk_tX4ApWC4JfKKsBSggvuoPbpPycsI-u5Z-trOFJuT97mVcRlqHajc-jVHAW9P3zC8HVnzayEQPbISaRtZ-b8dEwle084pgwE9oyOcK1VQ_57NUICQu3OX_VNqVjBCc8/s1600/Screenshot-182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-f0vwFGy0ZWk_tX4ApWC4JfKKsBSggvuoPbpPycsI-u5Z-trOFJuT97mVcRlqHajc-jVHAW9P3zC8HVnzayEQPbISaRtZ-b8dEwle084pgwE9oyOcK1VQ_57NUICQu3OX_VNqVjBCc8/s640/Screenshot-182.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Let me take you home, and I'll show you."<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">---------------------------NEXT DAY---------------------------</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXX4Hx6yNM6HtHPEEHEhspM06irFU4s-D7JZzHEqkfk1KB3oU-be3Q2F_7OK_B0NxXa6tYJmsbJfXQ4P3drgdatqLaqV93eSgP26HFym0V4R3LiVxah7QyeryT8U6Tu47lJSjTIh-wHZQ/s1600/Screenshot-183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXX4Hx6yNM6HtHPEEHEhspM06irFU4s-D7JZzHEqkfk1KB3oU-be3Q2F_7OK_B0NxXa6tYJmsbJfXQ4P3drgdatqLaqV93eSgP26HFym0V4R3LiVxah7QyeryT8U6Tu47lJSjTIh-wHZQ/s640/Screenshot-183.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Ella woke up with a pounding headache and a temporary cluelessness as to where she was. Did she really drink that much juice? She turned to her right and saw Eric. She quietly congratulated herself on not drunkenly picking out a stranger from the crowd.<br />
<br />
"Eric, wake up", she whispered as she attempted to nudge him awake.<br />
<br />
"Eric?"<br />
<br />
<br />
"...ERIC!!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yMQHs8I5ksr5LklBk1utCVP9in9pRjOmNkVS_K1KF-h7KdRVFD3aVH0bXwt25hRX9ZLLY3xV2GDREGfvhz4H7jJoVGwHFC7ghBYU8ReFkiZ2-1xtRsWq262bYospqQP9MaSSjxVYaEE/s1600/Screenshot-185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yMQHs8I5ksr5LklBk1utCVP9in9pRjOmNkVS_K1KF-h7KdRVFD3aVH0bXwt25hRX9ZLLY3xV2GDREGfvhz4H7jJoVGwHFC7ghBYU8ReFkiZ2-1xtRsWq262bYospqQP9MaSSjxVYaEE/s640/Screenshot-185.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Hmm? What's going on? What'd I miss?" he drowsily mumbled as he jolted out of bed.<br />
<br />
"It's not about what you missed, it's about what you <i>will</i> miss if you don't wake the freak up."<br />
<br />
Ella pulled him close to her and kissed him lightly on the lips. As he began to wake up, the kisses grew more and more intense.<br />
<br />
Soon, they were all over each other. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlutDpdm98Y-89T0pUg4MJ3WMRy-6vTHodCHTqcHjBj5drEVitURD9eXjJmM2NayUc7qCFL3YpRK8t27s_WzEkgdxuVV54rzrc2IQqeFlT3fXCu_JUip6698NKiU7th_sCcN31dVUr9I/s1600/Screenshot-186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlutDpdm98Y-89T0pUg4MJ3WMRy-6vTHodCHTqcHjBj5drEVitURD9eXjJmM2NayUc7qCFL3YpRK8t27s_WzEkgdxuVV54rzrc2IQqeFlT3fXCu_JUip6698NKiU7th_sCcN31dVUr9I/s640/Screenshot-186.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "You know, you're not so bad for a snobby rich girl", he said breathlessly.<br />
<br />
"I don't know what your bandmates teach you in that tour bus, but that's not exactly what you say to a girl you're about to woohoo." Ella joked.<br />
<br />
"No I mean it. You're not like the other girls, you're not like your friends. You're not all about cars and money or status, you're a lot...you're a lot <i>easier.</i>"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqRJ0CDsIhsvHRJNKAoA8T6pJFOts30TkuaMqaBmAG2cpGnB6Uje97iAt1Nh1nMFuLKSqjwmkW9w0p9mxgUPq7tMY7Q7LZGNWezTkFetXOls9Esc_IunUzXvdHx7mbQr_H9Zybs0jlDc/s1600/Screenshot-187.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqRJ0CDsIhsvHRJNKAoA8T6pJFOts30TkuaMqaBmAG2cpGnB6Uje97iAt1Nh1nMFuLKSqjwmkW9w0p9mxgUPq7tMY7Q7LZGNWezTkFetXOls9Esc_IunUzXvdHx7mbQr_H9Zybs0jlDc/s640/Screenshot-187.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "What's that supposed to mean, Eric?"<br />
"Nothing, I just-I just meant-"<br />
<br />
Ella's phone began to ring, and Eric let out a huge sigh of relief. "Feel free to take your time answering that, babe."<br />
<br />
"I could say the same for you." she chuckled. "Don't think you're off the hook yet."<br />
<br />
"Yes ma'am." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxRn7UcCpa78RSUHtt72tIm4WM5TU-uIa2JPHpwkB0q4-3n6VOh4F07YMehdRQVMO2J_OrrvD7sVpvWwoiVp6mFKMPja1nOWXnIEjAZDshmpitmyCeso_0VrQZkXtMXe1YA53vSktnkaE/s1600/Screenshot-190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxRn7UcCpa78RSUHtt72tIm4WM5TU-uIa2JPHpwkB0q4-3n6VOh4F07YMehdRQVMO2J_OrrvD7sVpvWwoiVp6mFKMPja1nOWXnIEjAZDshmpitmyCeso_0VrQZkXtMXe1YA53vSktnkaE/s640/Screenshot-190.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"> "Phillip? Why the hell are you calling me so early?" Phillip Jones was the family attorney who rarely ever called unless her mother had a legal "issue" involving illegal crime rings and scams. She was never a criminal, but always desperate for money..even when she had plenty of it.<br />
"<i>Please</i> tell me that Mom didn't do something stupid while she was in Egypt."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
"Ella, this is not a joke."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Um, Phillip? I'm not joking."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
"Are you alone?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ella paused for a second, looked back at Eric, and swiftly moved to the bathroom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtCVwMZCAiMN7YPNXxqEpjnWkP03G-kn2k3FZgl7hXA4Sbt3l7Z5ekmGpDjeZAXnzjsV1ySX-LfTnEIpJy7wQqCHoxfojyfWJNJPMDYZRvthrVpWUcsjIZurgGc6DbkXBRZ9EL395IEE/s1600/Screenshot-191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtCVwMZCAiMN7YPNXxqEpjnWkP03G-kn2k3FZgl7hXA4Sbt3l7Z5ekmGpDjeZAXnzjsV1ySX-LfTnEIpJy7wQqCHoxfojyfWJNJPMDYZRvthrVpWUcsjIZurgGc6DbkXBRZ9EL395IEE/s640/Screenshot-191.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Whatever this is, it's life-changing, isn't it?" she sighed<br />
<br />
"I'm afraid so. Your mother caught the Simius Fluvarian virus while exploring tombs in Al Simhara, and was hospitalized four days ago."<br />
<br />
"The Simiflua-whata?"<br />
<br />
"The 'mummy's curse'. It's a life-threatening, rare disease that usually appears asymptomatic in the beginning stages and only shows its symptoms when it's too late in the disease to cure it. Your mother died last night."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwp6_VS58xgGeQkVHItdi6x6PYDp91mXTIe1a2W24ROkekvs7WBLypdFWofkh1a8omLuYZENdC__AdvETTv9z6yNxJsZTeGkLwK1ghG-DOF7Hgsn5KLqjErjswavqmQ-kiKJt-rc1Z90/s1600/Screenshot-193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwp6_VS58xgGeQkVHItdi6x6PYDp91mXTIe1a2W24ROkekvs7WBLypdFWofkh1a8omLuYZENdC__AdvETTv9z6yNxJsZTeGkLwK1ghG-DOF7Hgsn5KLqjErjswavqmQ-kiKJt-rc1Z90/s640/Screenshot-193.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "...oh."<br />
<br />
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Ms. Cartez. If you can, please come by my office sometime today. When I found out your mother was sick, I flew out to Egypt to collect the personal possessions she wanted me to hand down to you."<br />
<br />
"Right. Okay." Ella hung up the phone and stared blankly at the wall. She and her mother never had the best relationship, but she had no clue how to react. She loved her mom with all her heart, even if she never acted like it. Did her mom ever love her? In her final days, she didn't even make the effort to fly down to Bridgeport to see her daughter become a woman, so why should she care if she died?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NahnPTUk_2Rm69P3aZR2PPyKG4nM9yi9lYF3xY58p-FHhV5t-i4X4oH8zzCtijIT9KdxYNV9MS4ku-yV0kdvbwSfYSwP3Cj6aTs_UHsxzlZ7Y3vUM5Z3bDK-JA_mP0oAf95i7VpjIt4/s1600/Screenshot-195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NahnPTUk_2Rm69P3aZR2PPyKG4nM9yi9lYF3xY58p-FHhV5t-i4X4oH8zzCtijIT9KdxYNV9MS4ku-yV0kdvbwSfYSwP3Cj6aTs_UHsxzlZ7Y3vUM5Z3bDK-JA_mP0oAf95i7VpjIt4/s640/Screenshot-195.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> She turned around and looked in the mirror, but all she saw was her mother. Her dead mother. Her selfish, snooty, uptight mother. She was so much like the woman that put her in that hellhole, that it hurt to even look at herself.<br />
<br />
Then the tears began to pour out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7Va0u48WN0Y7J4A7EwHA5x-dPmZF7cM-jCaynmnZBEfVcYes_OXGjkjpPhaXXJZYXIh6Lf9_Hf5aD0m9YqI2nutf5fPJnrC1sXliIBth_UCaCsVa-PQzwybCuhbENUKB59d_wPbu3YU/s1600/Screenshot-196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7Va0u48WN0Y7J4A7EwHA5x-dPmZF7cM-jCaynmnZBEfVcYes_OXGjkjpPhaXXJZYXIh6Lf9_Hf5aD0m9YqI2nutf5fPJnrC1sXliIBth_UCaCsVa-PQzwybCuhbENUKB59d_wPbu3YU/s640/Screenshot-196.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Baby? You okay in there?" he questioned, concerned for his friend. Girlfriend. Whatever the hell she wanted to call herself.<br />
<br />
"No, I'm not okay. Go away."<br />
<br />
"...sweetheart?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZol80fmsrVK6u8USz97Mt85xkiDcZj1at0xQuVccK-dV6HaAnqlqHQC7RqkSnVbqJ0feweHgz-SwsJq0kcIb9R_ZiicoPWJ9DhCmXII4tEpzQRm7zObAHgpVBMmChT_XQvvu8989Co8c/s1600/Screenshot-197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZol80fmsrVK6u8USz97Mt85xkiDcZj1at0xQuVccK-dV6HaAnqlqHQC7RqkSnVbqJ0feweHgz-SwsJq0kcIb9R_ZiicoPWJ9DhCmXII4tEpzQRm7zObAHgpVBMmChT_XQvvu8989Co8c/s640/Screenshot-197.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "I <b>said</b> I'm not okay! I also told you to go away. What's wrong with you, do you not understand Simlish anymore? You fucking toad."<br />
<br />
"Look, I don't know what happened, but you don't have to call me names. I'm sick of you acting like a spoiled bitch. I should have known better than to come here last night."<br />
<br />
"Oh, so I'm a spoiled bitch now? But just a few seconds ago, you talked about how <i>'wonderfully different'</i> I was! Make up your damn mind!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXnVKNgTnNltfw-oxzR5XetGxwRX2yQSGSkW07Zh-dIKySE0XbbYbgJh_mbkg5bexfvVa2_gxXXlWfDvro8_2J-xrNMltxOOTULsilQD7S2PsXK2D9hLhGVNZLC0uL_WNAcSFLyUaSmA/s1600/Screenshot-198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXnVKNgTnNltfw-oxzR5XetGxwRX2yQSGSkW07Zh-dIKySE0XbbYbgJh_mbkg5bexfvVa2_gxXXlWfDvro8_2J-xrNMltxOOTULsilQD7S2PsXK2D9hLhGVNZLC0uL_WNAcSFLyUaSmA/s640/Screenshot-198.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "You know what? I <i>have</i> made up my mind. We're over."<br />
<br />
"We were never together, dimwit!" she yelled angrily.<br />
<br />
"Oh don't give me that bull, you were in love with me! You were obsessed with me! When you were fifteen, you'd camp outside of my fucking house for Pete's sake!"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, and I'll never forget the night I first got drunk with you, pervert! Didn't anyone ever tell you that impressionable teenage girls were off-limits?!"<br />
<br />
"Ella, what is this <i>really</i> about? 'Cause the last time I remember, I just turned eighteen when that happened."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDMuGPdIOxfwwADr0UGjROUKK5FvV_o7hTukz-SxK0bbR0sDKqYiS5aRwN03dcH6yqKtHdIrNEEgW-_yepXOnmoY8K-20q-eBQry7uUxjT8hlinr3MiW5d4bbMH0N9ej5aepKKp4MG6Q4/s1600/Screenshot-199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDMuGPdIOxfwwADr0UGjROUKK5FvV_o7hTukz-SxK0bbR0sDKqYiS5aRwN03dcH6yqKtHdIrNEEgW-_yepXOnmoY8K-20q-eBQry7uUxjT8hlinr3MiW5d4bbMH0N9ej5aepKKp4MG6Q4/s640/Screenshot-199.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"> "I don't even know why I have to explain shit like this? You don't deserve an explanation. You don't deserve anything!"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>Ella, answer me!</i> What is going on?! Why are you you so intent on pushing me away all of a sudden?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"My mother died, Eric! That's what's going on. Happy now?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Ella, I'm so sorry..."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"I don't need your apology, actually, I just need you to <i>get the fuck out!</i>" she screamed.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"You don't actually mean this..." Eric said, almost pleadingly</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"I do."</i>"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Fine! Just push me out. Perfect, Ella! Now you're all alone. Good luck with that."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Eric stormed out and slammed the front door as Ella washed her face and reapplied he makeup. "Stupid girl," she muttered to herself. "Stupid, stupid girl..."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8sdLaLQcg8O-Z3K6s4wyJ4BZtvGugDWjuq00MFjPmsy9LxW17fxFyGPZ4iupZOMmMI7TCoD63fvSEjgTfemXZJyf1_MF0ffGyGKxQtj062PK52eCt5VwbjrzWPZFg9GetUwqHA9auQs/s1600/Screenshot-206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8sdLaLQcg8O-Z3K6s4wyJ4BZtvGugDWjuq00MFjPmsy9LxW17fxFyGPZ4iupZOMmMI7TCoD63fvSEjgTfemXZJyf1_MF0ffGyGKxQtj062PK52eCt5VwbjrzWPZFg9GetUwqHA9auQs/s640/Screenshot-206.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ella arrived about an hour after Phillip's call, taking extra care to make sure she didn't look like she had been crying. She hates it when people cry, they look so weak and defenseless. Maybe that's why she screamed at Eric, she didn't trust him. She didn't trust that he wouldn't hurt her in such a vulnerable position. That dumb bastard, does he know nothing about psychology? And why did she always go running back to him, anyway? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Ella!" Phillip's voice screamed on the intercom.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"What do you want?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"What do <i>I</i> want?! You've been pressing that damn button nonstop for the past five minutes. I already buzzed you in the first time!"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Oh...I'm sorry Phil." Ella quickly removed her finger from the intercom and stepped into the elevator. <i> </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"Once again, way to go self."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8aFjnD2Q9yA3fX5eWYIcamwgmalDyMnPLFpEj6nAw6-ZcZGk8y_gPlHdOx48Kp9rGnN7ykkmkW5huznLj4xSD2gxxjNaZqV4SrxpYRYDVSlnVBCYi31ccvfm3pg6U3fQm3hxRzzOioqM/s1600/Screenshot-207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8aFjnD2Q9yA3fX5eWYIcamwgmalDyMnPLFpEj6nAw6-ZcZGk8y_gPlHdOx48Kp9rGnN7ykkmkW5huznLj4xSD2gxxjNaZqV4SrxpYRYDVSlnVBCYi31ccvfm3pg6U3fQm3hxRzzOioqM/s640/Screenshot-207.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">"So, I'm sure you see the stack of notebooks I have for you, right?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes Phil, I'm not blind. My question is, why the hell did my mother leave me with a stack of notebooks? Was it revenge for not studying in school?" she smirked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"These aren't just any notebooks," Phil explained, "They are filled with writing and include a handwritten note from your mother to you. She wanted you to have them."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4t6-76cNCM_6q9dwjmz6EEEnOSw2mOVxcGYmUWEFdbaZaALJbtK2RPOzFuDdmqJ2XsOqJSAlzuzvlnAeBsZN2d2psBIGiffJRsUF_-yVaUJQdxurHjiEGpa_ZpDfGpCsLc3CnRAKSRM/s1600/Screenshot-210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4t6-76cNCM_6q9dwjmz6EEEnOSw2mOVxcGYmUWEFdbaZaALJbtK2RPOzFuDdmqJ2XsOqJSAlzuzvlnAeBsZN2d2psBIGiffJRsUF_-yVaUJQdxurHjiEGpa_ZpDfGpCsLc3CnRAKSRM/s640/Screenshot-210.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">"So, she left me with <i>notebooks</i>, and no money, because...?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'm not sure, Ms. Cartez. I <i>do</i> know that this is what she gave me. You do have some property, however."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Property? Now we're talking! How much is it worth? Where is it?" Ella asked excitedly.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"I bet it's some beach house on the coast of Simwaii, she talked about buying some property there the last time we visited."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"...I'm afraid your property is nowhere near Simwaii, Ms. Cartez."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Then where the hell is it?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"It's in Sunset Cove, or as you probably know it, Sunset Valley." </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmYwI5bqgUNDRJ7yEKVK35Pd6n4qT_sPRrZ-uSO10FEPISaJVoJyLDmGDEgr83Adnd-IfJg_Swq0ngs0nejP23_JGEkzKo9AqXcwW5oyEgx5AJ0ad499ig_kxM6Ww7JpCOratxSUfbDA/s1600/Screenshot-211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmYwI5bqgUNDRJ7yEKVK35Pd6n4qT_sPRrZ-uSO10FEPISaJVoJyLDmGDEgr83Adnd-IfJg_Swq0ngs0nejP23_JGEkzKo9AqXcwW5oyEgx5AJ0ad499ig_kxM6Ww7JpCOratxSUfbDA/s640/Screenshot-211.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Sunset Valley? Sunset fucking Valley?! That stupid country full of uncultured morons? They have <i>no</i> nightlife there, <i>no</i> proper city buildings, <i>nothing</i>! It's like one huge suburban nightmare! <i>Why</i> on <i>Plumbbob</i> would my mother buy property there?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'm afraid it gets worse, Ella."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"...she wants me to move there, doesn't she?" Phil's silence was enough to answer her question, and Ella's fury was enough to chill the air. "That horrible witch! First, she decides to send me to a boarding school, then she decides to die on the day I come back home, and now <i>this?</i> Why does she hate me so much, Phil?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"I can't tell you why she wants you to move to Sunset Valley, but it's for a very good reason, as you'll read in the letter she wrote for you. Just read it, okay?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Sigh, all right Phil." Ella got up from her chair and exited his office while carrying the heavy stack of notebooks. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Mom, this had better be good." she muttered as she looked towards the sky.</div><div style="text-align: left;">--------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ella sighed as she plunked down the stack of notebooks onto her desk. She searched for a letter to start with, so she could figure out why the hell she had to move to a country full of spoilsports on her whim. She could tell by the way Selima started off the letter that she wasn't kidding around. Damnit.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"Dearest Ella,</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>If you are reading this, I have died. Let me begin this letter by saying this; I know I was not the best mother, but I did the best I could for both of us. And now that I have said this, I need to tell you that Matthew Hamming was never your father. Not by blood, anyway. Your real father is named Jack Pinciotti, a man of a...'questionable' profession."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGzQKgTLiFvKvIxe79l55EIpLwBkuDQ2NdTrN6ZeBhyDqltw89zgyAmucfgPf9ic827SKqTnaosQChzRI_9AdL8kTsPzJV2jUiibfTurH-fAZjaIK2FQhT9_9Y3iw8AnPNBRFHGBJGNk/s1600/Screenshot-144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGzQKgTLiFvKvIxe79l55EIpLwBkuDQ2NdTrN6ZeBhyDqltw89zgyAmucfgPf9ic827SKqTnaosQChzRI_9AdL8kTsPzJV2jUiibfTurH-fAZjaIK2FQhT9_9Y3iw8AnPNBRFHGBJGNk/s640/Screenshot-144.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"You see, I worked for Daddy Bigbucks in his woohoo-house during my late teens, which Jack was a frequent visitor of. His wife was so devoted to her career as a stylist that she completely neglected him, and on top of that, he had the added stress of needing an heir to his family's fortune. He had only one son, one incompetent son, that screamed every time he saw a TV and refused to leave his room. The rest were girls. They were running out of space quickly, meaning that the last baby his wife delivers <b>must</b> be a boy."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"Anyway, I never loved him, in case you haven't figured that out yet. To him, I was a goddess of some sort, but to me, he was simply a client that got a little too close. It was perfect for me, because he'd spoil me with money and lavish gifts whenever his wife wasn't looking."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUl6oA5PzQINU-OnSqyl036wT17aYUv6n2MQh_ozIC7n_aQq7WgShIcMgp18JCDFDE4C3W9JLkUhkv-pBl8BckZfU2zV-D8p_5LGfMCVhW2syyrWOp5rWJbIb9zKjOf-fOePxKtMmg4OA/s1600/Screenshot-145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUl6oA5PzQINU-OnSqyl036wT17aYUv6n2MQh_ozIC7n_aQq7WgShIcMgp18JCDFDE4C3W9JLkUhkv-pBl8BckZfU2zV-D8p_5LGfMCVhW2syyrWOp5rWJbIb9zKjOf-fOePxKtMmg4OA/s640/Screenshot-145.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"Unfortunately, his wife was a smart woman, and he was a man who thought with the wrong head. When she found out that he had cheated on her with me, she absolutely lost it and threatened to take all of the children, including his unborn son, and move to Twinbrook. Ugh, Twinbrook. I shudder at the thought."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8d5qwFY31jVlGIc8MGXRnQltlqKnf3_aI0a5J76thbX_dxFd5lvc-lLBtC7LgQQNGMQ5A6JnPHMiwzrj9yVwTyU1eYj-E20Kix-cSiHtRvK7ZVjNqcu9_3fEnosEfwDoMGYMsiTg974/s1600/Screenshot-148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8d5qwFY31jVlGIc8MGXRnQltlqKnf3_aI0a5J76thbX_dxFd5lvc-lLBtC7LgQQNGMQ5A6JnPHMiwzrj9yVwTyU1eYj-E20Kix-cSiHtRvK7ZVjNqcu9_3fEnosEfwDoMGYMsiTg974/s640/Screenshot-148.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"And to add insult to injury, Daddy Bigbucks screamed at me to leave his brothel as soon as he noticed I fell pregnant with you. I had nowhere to go, and your father needed to prove to his wife that he no longer loved me, so we both thought that it would be best if I simply moved away and started anew with you."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy04NWSQEgBkPmv_9bNzX4F_bQAxpV0rudWdUO_GD9UlLu8he6a9rqko0Rz7kmeugxAU27QTT9rLIf3-JmFoJTCyX5tDFYsl4NHq-7ztlc0MwPrnVVVudYJl6JbIJNJ8ft2Xjv_xFx6v8/s1600/Screenshot-153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy04NWSQEgBkPmv_9bNzX4F_bQAxpV0rudWdUO_GD9UlLu8he6a9rqko0Rz7kmeugxAU27QTT9rLIf3-JmFoJTCyX5tDFYsl4NHq-7ztlc0MwPrnVVVudYJl6JbIJNJ8ft2Xjv_xFx6v8/s640/Screenshot-153.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"The penthouse he purchased for us was beautiful and lofty, although as spoiled as you have been, you probably wouldn't appreciate it now. I knew that I couldn't tell him how I honestly felt about him, since he would send thousands of dollars a month to support us purely out of his love. I needed that money, and I refused to woohoo on the streets for a living again. So yes, I used your father. If I hadn't, I would have been poor and panhandling for money. I had gotten used to being taken care of and I refused to have it any other way."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBA5HERemcfAwclOhZzQ9RZD9VUTC4t_XVuNHGj1jzOq-46xrlOmnqglea-PqAZG84ma9OxdILmcRJNw_GJLL1zuu5m9IZg-4QSGSfeYbzMoOCGdH1W17Z0xPHsFD32gVizANzPXA4eQ/s1600/Screenshot-151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBA5HERemcfAwclOhZzQ9RZD9VUTC4t_XVuNHGj1jzOq-46xrlOmnqglea-PqAZG84ma9OxdILmcRJNw_GJLL1zuu5m9IZg-4QSGSfeYbzMoOCGdH1W17Z0xPHsFD32gVizANzPXA4eQ/s640/Screenshot-151.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"Jack wrote many letters to me, speaking of how much he missed me, how much he loved me, how rotten his wife was, and how horrible his children were being. I honestly saw him as a little child, a very immature man. I truly doubt his children were all that awful, he just simply complains and whines when things don't go his way. I do believe that his wife was rotten, but only because he was unfaithful not once but twice. They stayed married for the image, and nothing else."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPT2HaF4phWCdt97bQPEHq0x1o9rae68Y2qz-2Es2T15Ywgy94La1qsca9W3gCogrjtcxVfwYUcfKqyIXWR-X6vdgbNB05Xj2QgmI9OfLl_IQAY-3KDEpdf7XBzqfXIo7JsylXEaFdVoI/s1600/Screenshot-167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPT2HaF4phWCdt97bQPEHq0x1o9rae68Y2qz-2Es2T15Ywgy94La1qsca9W3gCogrjtcxVfwYUcfKqyIXWR-X6vdgbNB05Xj2QgmI9OfLl_IQAY-3KDEpdf7XBzqfXIo7JsylXEaFdVoI/s640/Screenshot-167.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"Sometimes I'd reply back to him, often including a small picture of you, or a funny word you said, anything that involved you. It was the only way I could be...'personal' with him. It was so hard for me to feign interest over paper, although I could easily do so in person. He said that one particular picture of you, a picture of you holding the bear he bought, moved him to tears. I'm sure it killed him inside not to be able to see you grow and flourish into the lovely young woman you are today, for it hurt me deeply not to see it myself."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9iJnf1QxpzrmomGuErhKqe8QWIXi2rK9OXRJD-ifoA5s04OoFTsA-hW00hGZTGV1MEdtOAa5vjsEX3sFFikZPfy65v8uv8qL5LKZGu7Vj4WNLTySz88O2y8wAxorwhm3tqu5BHmS9HM/s1600/Screenshot-168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9iJnf1QxpzrmomGuErhKqe8QWIXi2rK9OXRJD-ifoA5s04OoFTsA-hW00hGZTGV1MEdtOAa5vjsEX3sFFikZPfy65v8uv8qL5LKZGu7Vj4WNLTySz88O2y8wAxorwhm3tqu5BHmS9HM/s640/Screenshot-168.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"When I became engaged to Matthew Hamming, I developed the courage to cut off my steady supply of simoleans by telling your father. As I expected, he was furious, and refused to send us anything else. No money, no letters, nothing. I'm sure he half expected me to die in Bridgeport as an old spinster for a man I never loved! Although to be fair, I never loved Matthew either. Love does not truly exist dear, or at least, not for the Cartez women. For us, love is simply a means to a fiscal end."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"And this, sweetheart, brings me to why I want you to move to Sunset Valley. My one regret in life is that I never had the strength to admit to you that you were a mistake. You were something that wasn't supposed to happen, and probably would not have happened if I listened to Bigbucks and got an abortion. Over the years, you have proven yourself untrustworthy of being out on your own. You are only eighteen, Ella. I refuse to throw you out into the wolves so early in life, as my parents did to me. I refuse to let you have a little mistake of your own. You <u>will</u> stay in Sunset Valley, over the close watch of your father's family, no arguments allowed. I already contacted him as I sit on my deathbed, and he's very excited to meet you. The property I purchased in Sunset Valley is a very classy abode, so I expect you won't complain.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I never told you that I loved you while I was alive, but I do. I love you very much, Ella. I trust that you love me as well. I hope you learned some life skills at that boarding school of yours, because you will need them.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Sincerely,</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Mother."</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">-----------------------------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcvse6z5hxxtbDtbqKKeXT1HBzTj4PIMEko3WCMqmCP7fXDjzjL540xlYHT23PZ2GBaKFOWnYB4gB103G43pp1D0Pk0grf-1w3I5AYV5Bz6WuY_-RTicH5REKCSWZHf2aiwso5uQbXMs/s1600/Screenshot-200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcvse6z5hxxtbDtbqKKeXT1HBzTj4PIMEko3WCMqmCP7fXDjzjL540xlYHT23PZ2GBaKFOWnYB4gB103G43pp1D0Pk0grf-1w3I5AYV5Bz6WuY_-RTicH5REKCSWZHf2aiwso5uQbXMs/s640/Screenshot-200.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "So, you're really leaving us, aren't you Blondie?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I think I am Eric. I want to meet my 'dad', and his family. <i>My</i> family. I think I deserve the closure, and my mom..."<br />
<br />
"Oh, who cares about the old battie anyway, she never cared about you."<br />
<br />
"Everything she <i>did</i> was for me! Don't you see?! If she hadn't moved here, if she didn't have me..." Ella trailed off as she stared at the wall, fighting back tears.<br />
<br />
"Oh, hey now...I'm sorry. It's just, you always told me-"<br />
<br />
"I know what I always told you. How I always told you she hated me, and everything I stood for. I was wrong, Eric...I was so wrong. She never hated me, she just had a different perspective of love." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8qt0CzJtQYxJ5sAILbaOAZJ0PjB4kjwirm7cxSYNvhwnWqJQjKhH4KlQPRa59YMuziiVbb6TqwCUl7syLkNESWFJoomC_H90BnAoolpRg6Qgo6HDN7rdkHOG7G4jqMR9lmkrdm0Nn2o/s1600/Screenshot-201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8qt0CzJtQYxJ5sAILbaOAZJ0PjB4kjwirm7cxSYNvhwnWqJQjKhH4KlQPRa59YMuziiVbb6TqwCUl7syLkNESWFJoomC_H90BnAoolpRg6Qgo6HDN7rdkHOG7G4jqMR9lmkrdm0Nn2o/s640/Screenshot-201.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "I'm also sorry for what I said to you earlier, I should have realized that something was extremely wrong for you to be acting that way." he said apologetically, while grabbing her hand.<br />
<br />
"Well, I shouldn't have yelled at you. I've just-"<br />
<br />
"You had a rough day, I know."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiDQNDN8nkb1N_27MqyyzdzvwND2WEi8TJqwv-U13ZB-xgQAlohuwnd4Ciioav9sSxcj5-iT7hgIHQlQvrbSvGaLSUoSDq1tDyfETmKlsWk5x7KRRilNHQBQ7KikTgofs4jxO-Dv_5oPw/s1600/Screenshot-202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiDQNDN8nkb1N_27MqyyzdzvwND2WEi8TJqwv-U13ZB-xgQAlohuwnd4Ciioav9sSxcj5-iT7hgIHQlQvrbSvGaLSUoSDq1tDyfETmKlsWk5x7KRRilNHQBQ7KikTgofs4jxO-Dv_5oPw/s640/Screenshot-202.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "Babe, stay with me. Please?" Eric begged. Even after all these years he was never sure of Ella was a lover or a friend, but he was definitely sure of one thing; he didn't want her to leave.<br />
<br />
"I can't, Eric. There's a whole world out there for me to explore! I've been holed up in my city slicker ways for too long. Plus, my mom doesn't 'trust' me here alone." They both laughed together, remembering the nights when Ella would sneak away and hide in Eric's backyard, where he'd let her in and they'd spend the night together.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jobRDM9mesrovyyYFLdDWoG1vptfSWoX8Myi5qCJxf_Z_EC0Dz9d7WzfchGdrhrB1SxFWRwrthpDzzKQIkuDqf5JtKXMehCDbc0F2VXeFQvOplLmC2Ro-9OoFij245ndLU_kkN7Dq7c/s1600/Screenshot-203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jobRDM9mesrovyyYFLdDWoG1vptfSWoX8Myi5qCJxf_Z_EC0Dz9d7WzfchGdrhrB1SxFWRwrthpDzzKQIkuDqf5JtKXMehCDbc0F2VXeFQvOplLmC2Ro-9OoFij245ndLU_kkN7Dq7c/s640/Screenshot-203.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> "She really hated you, you know. You were the reason I was banished to prep school."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I figured. What was it that drove her off? The long hair, the dingy jeans...the hipster boots?" Ella laughed hysterically. "You know, now that you've said that, you really haven't changed your style much. You should work on that while I'm away."<br />
<br />
"I will, but before you leave, I want you to have these..."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisNwg4yZSVYyR01daLH1Qhts64aRooYjoWNXodyFstCHNkSFyIEIxEOhbz_h1zKbU9DJtieTuuvVCo_D_PVFy8nJpcUUu6tMp6HLzpwHRsRBKGnzWWtEtU0UdHL-RCAJSQqVvTnD_ZzZU/s1600/Screenshot-204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisNwg4yZSVYyR01daLH1Qhts64aRooYjoWNXodyFstCHNkSFyIEIxEOhbz_h1zKbU9DJtieTuuvVCo_D_PVFy8nJpcUUu6tMp6HLzpwHRsRBKGnzWWtEtU0UdHL-RCAJSQqVvTnD_ZzZU/s640/Screenshot-204.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Eric whipped out a bouquet of red roses, with a special note just for Ella. She gasped loudly and snatched the flowers from his hands. "Ohmigod, they're <i>gorgeous!</i>"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yeah, just like you Blondie. Promise me you'll put them somewhere special when you get to your new place."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"I pinky swear, ohmigod Eric!!! I just, ohmi-"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yeah I get it, 'ohmigod'." he smirked. "Now, let's move out these boxes, kid."</div><div style="text-align: left;">She looked at him with a huge grin on her face, and simply said "thank you". And with smiles on their faces, they began preparing Ella for her new life, with her new family.</div><div style="text-align: left;">---------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><u>- Author's notes - </u></i><br />
<br />
<i>I know this is starting out as a legacy usually would, suddenly moving to a new world/country with nothing but the skin on your back and all that jazz, but this won't be a legacy...or at least, not </i><i>that kind of legacy. ;) I'm trying the "six degree" thing again, where six main sims are connected to each other somehow <span style="font-size: x-small;">(not romantically, that's cheating)</span>, allowing us to see how one sim's actions can affect another sim's life. This chapter introduces our first main character, Ella. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>I'm actually going to create "bonus content" at some point, which are basically just extra blog posts that have little fun facts about the characters. And gosh darnit, I </i><i>will finish this story this time. My stubborn game can't stop me. I've backed up the sims and everything.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>As always, thank you for reading, and happy simming! :)</i><br />
<br />
<i> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Next Episode:</b> <a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2011/07/lovefool-pt-1.html">Lovefool, Pt.1</a> >></span></i></div>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-16426481429749562542010-11-06T08:04:00.000-07:002010-11-06T08:04:00.326-07:00In Another Life...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Season One Finale</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">"</span><span class="body">There's no point in living in an alternate reality.</span> <span class="bodybold">-Jessica Cutler"</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="bodybold">-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="bodybold"> </span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="bodybold"> </span></i> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIw7HUnICm-NxgYNA2i4aMpPA4923DYDu009HwLzhleZiuX0rzJk_RFSKuUwWiAdpQWiYRxD-_0bnfeJ1LKjAPBwo7cRvlcT_8Hg19DA49xDSvWzLyASLQAfUW-L7Fke7MDaDqEL6mB5A/s1600/Screenshot-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIw7HUnICm-NxgYNA2i4aMpPA4923DYDu009HwLzhleZiuX0rzJk_RFSKuUwWiAdpQWiYRxD-_0bnfeJ1LKjAPBwo7cRvlcT_8Hg19DA49xDSvWzLyASLQAfUW-L7Fke7MDaDqEL6mB5A/s320/Screenshot-9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"What are you thinking about?" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Nothing, just wondering what I did right." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Well, you proposed to me instead of those skanky girls you met in college, for one." Kyle laughed at her clever quip. Even though she ditched the "goth look", Jia still had the same dry wit that he learned to love when they were teens.</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Well, if you want to be smart about it, I could always say that you did well in marrying <i>me</i> instead of those jerks you used to woo..." Kyle retaliated. She just chuckled.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"You're pretty cocky, you know that?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaE6FCIaXHb81wPnTh_GGXjbSD1EhbV3A75qsj8ltZNploOep5aHWXAvkynVcN7ZNIcODwc0Q-sCm79c8q3quUwuR7gfsyHgqes3zNogTAmJpv199bUbTU_XdHHf9c7bVfaIP4l9QVDHg/s1600/Screenshot-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaE6FCIaXHb81wPnTh_GGXjbSD1EhbV3A75qsj8ltZNploOep5aHWXAvkynVcN7ZNIcODwc0Q-sCm79c8q3quUwuR7gfsyHgqes3zNogTAmJpv199bUbTU_XdHHf9c7bVfaIP4l9QVDHg/s320/Screenshot-10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">She leaned in to kiss him, while enjoying every second of it. She thought she would never settle down, but here she is, about to become Mrs. Jia Kai Lin-Dillard (because she was too stubborn to get rid of her old last name). He understood her, and he didn't smother her. She knew this was the man she was meant to be with.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4R8UGC7jYxUs4vZtE1wpeLyPNXMaIrR4Im1LpEjYQ4k5k1pxk8fXja0PwAVRao0LCW0UYC3F6eQZeNHiHkOy0lC7ktApzX6yvI2VM83TYznhubIwmN1_o4SKnl6-TzuS5sh3q3vQDas/s1600/Screenshot-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4R8UGC7jYxUs4vZtE1wpeLyPNXMaIrR4Im1LpEjYQ4k5k1pxk8fXja0PwAVRao0LCW0UYC3F6eQZeNHiHkOy0lC7ktApzX6yvI2VM83TYznhubIwmN1_o4SKnl6-TzuS5sh3q3vQDas/s320/Screenshot-11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> They had a private wedding ceremony nearby the coastline, because they both wanted something low-key. Jia was raised in the lap of luxury, and although the glitz and glamour was nice, she enjoyed simplicity. Kyle just didn't want to waste money, much like his frugal father.<br />
<br />
The next few months were absolute bliss for the happy couple. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_MttsHgH6rHbzB30NWEynth_ogn7ZRnmePWqWxiIWo6o8SthFe8sVLfrEWLqHAU6Dv0mmHUHjn_UuL6kBNyuQxK84cL47oGNMXnHv1Nj6gwkHDRKqYZ-M5RIjxyFAfejeIae1J_gXXjU/s1600/Screenshot-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_MttsHgH6rHbzB30NWEynth_ogn7ZRnmePWqWxiIWo6o8SthFe8sVLfrEWLqHAU6Dv0mmHUHjn_UuL6kBNyuQxK84cL47oGNMXnHv1Nj6gwkHDRKqYZ-M5RIjxyFAfejeIae1J_gXXjU/s320/Screenshot-13.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">However, that bliss soon turned into a fright when Jia became mysteriously ill. It started innocently with slight nausea, but soon she found herself practically bedridden; the only time she got up was to rush to the bathroom and vomit.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Kyle was concerned, but Jia refused to see a doctor. She believed that if she tried ancient Sim Shang herbal recipes, her illness would subside. The herbal teas only made her sicker however, and she appeared to be standing on her last legs. Kyle made sure to spend every moment he could with her, but she noticed when he occasionally had to leave the room and cry. Or paint. She was never sure of which.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">One day, Kyle found her in the bathroom, looking as radiant as ever. She had a huge grin on her face.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggygGRNxfoZ7izyRQC2nhmgJDUv4ftNWSGkk9MJSsl6NfocG2asRu9JcUqZH6u8S6ufV67BYeG5MM4nK_uhP6l_4LtenRrYd1QNmmuca5GpSkz46D_wgofNNc0Uh0G6MUGPoU_yzQ7u7k/s1600/Screenshot-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggygGRNxfoZ7izyRQC2nhmgJDUv4ftNWSGkk9MJSsl6NfocG2asRu9JcUqZH6u8S6ufV67BYeG5MM4nK_uhP6l_4LtenRrYd1QNmmuca5GpSkz46D_wgofNNc0Uh0G6MUGPoU_yzQ7u7k/s320/Screenshot-14.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"What's up?" he questioned, wondering why Jia wasn't lying down. She turned around and faced him with tears welling up in her eyes. He immediately began to panic. Why was she crying? Was she really dying? <i>No, if she were dying, she wouldn't look so alive...</i> he thought to himself. She walked towards him slowly, and cupped his face with her hands. "Kyle, sweetheart.."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR-XN_kbtAuWHOvWqBp8R8d92cvG2sOAXHSZS_DobSiBXxSNy6vz41E-XGWYwci6kRE3DAA4hPkgULjllY05RUrWDI-xEOzquPhw_IecDNZx7Bkg_1TD3dRxfy1S6msHoN1PVrlCztqVY/s1600/Screenshot-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR-XN_kbtAuWHOvWqBp8R8d92cvG2sOAXHSZS_DobSiBXxSNy6vz41E-XGWYwci6kRE3DAA4hPkgULjllY05RUrWDI-xEOzquPhw_IecDNZx7Bkg_1TD3dRxfy1S6msHoN1PVrlCztqVY/s320/Screenshot-15.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"...I'm pregnant."</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSztYbxoxd8v_K2lj9SEa8oocsZSUCCPnUMqXHs0yQzPxQzuPZJLGwwFtU3X-dYTpX_J_P6eJc3tlnzVKpAB1snbfDm1pFN2gPhKWSQnsKNYdcGRQo32PJ-De-JFMgW_knaWPauRIqnw/s1600/Screenshot-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSztYbxoxd8v_K2lj9SEa8oocsZSUCCPnUMqXHs0yQzPxQzuPZJLGwwFtU3X-dYTpX_J_P6eJc3tlnzVKpAB1snbfDm1pFN2gPhKWSQnsKNYdcGRQo32PJ-De-JFMgW_knaWPauRIqnw/s320/Screenshot-16.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">He woke up in a cold sweat, wondering what just happened. He was in bed, and his alarm clock just went off. Had he been dreaming? <i>If that was a dream, it was a pretty realistic one.</i> No, he hadn't been dreaming. He couldn't have been. Jia's death was a dream...the life he had with her was real. He turned to the other side of the bed.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">No one was there.</div><div style="text-align: center;">-----------------------------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The End</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVgzKrA9G2DdxO68XTDPJdi5bctkWG8fR07UVxLoJrPPM1Eq-WbkpK_f1g0Wms5yFNPIccuOqYmN3Le0B52jeMa5eBOYSphb5AWK_0X05IlFvOjViFpf0UMLU5ZyapEpW8fPzSJPdx00/s1600/Screenshot-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVgzKrA9G2DdxO68XTDPJdi5bctkWG8fR07UVxLoJrPPM1Eq-WbkpK_f1g0Wms5yFNPIccuOqYmN3Le0B52jeMa5eBOYSphb5AWK_0X05IlFvOjViFpf0UMLU5ZyapEpW8fPzSJPdx00/s320/Screenshot-12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-14929506392996769652010-09-20T16:21:00.000-07:002010-09-20T16:28:25.564-07:00Accidents<span style="font-size: x-small;">"<span class="body">A beautiful lady is an accident of nature." - </span></span><span class="body"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Louis Nizer</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="body"><span style="font-size: small;"> It's been awhile since they spoke. What Kyle did was stupid, and he knew it, he was just happy that things didn't go as far as he and his buddies said it did. Jia was nothing but trouble, and he was beginning to realize that. But then again...Jia wasn't an ordinary girl. She was deeper than that, and she was special. So what mattered more to him, Jia, or his family's safety?</span></span><br />
<span class="body"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="body"><span style="font-size: small;">He cringed when he remembered Charles' message to him after school that day...</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yo44u93k5XVN2eK3wrFxkEW-DNnmE5ap1pFfJXJ8ULHyU1TrDsGpZ7KG7f4xr-EXr46O2lmQGTd_dq2BehrtCuwnvHE3GwtTlLcMGcyOhrYRO2ngs5p-iezgIxjXmdAIgi-_IMWpY18/s1600/Screenshot-491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yo44u93k5XVN2eK3wrFxkEW-DNnmE5ap1pFfJXJ8ULHyU1TrDsGpZ7KG7f4xr-EXr46O2lmQGTd_dq2BehrtCuwnvHE3GwtTlLcMGcyOhrYRO2ngs5p-iezgIxjXmdAIgi-_IMWpY18/s400/Screenshot-491.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span class="body"><span style="font-size: small;"> "Listen d-bag, I know all about what you did to Jia that night. Mark my words, if I ever see your face outside of school again with MY Jia, you're gonna pay."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="body"><span style="font-size: small;">"Whoa man, you have the wrong idea..."</span></span><br />
<span class="body"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpybbX8_znZUv27cBpqEv0cVPlEAqu5Z3fxEDvqR6zuX0doUNgU5jme2SLaE6nRJdze59nag2zdtkJEG15ZgeiH6VAxNov46JfZv9EPThBe6CQAB5rzM0jXdOHU50dS3-R-SxdfkQzHA/s1600/Screenshot-490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpybbX8_znZUv27cBpqEv0cVPlEAqu5Z3fxEDvqR6zuX0doUNgU5jme2SLaE6nRJdze59nag2zdtkJEG15ZgeiH6VAxNov46JfZv9EPThBe6CQAB5rzM0jXdOHU50dS3-R-SxdfkQzHA/s400/Screenshot-490.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span>"You're going to pay, your family is going to pay, and Jia will pay. You will all pay, so help me Plumbbob!"</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"My...my family?"</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Charles grinned a wicked grin and said "Have you ever heard of 'death by fire'?"</span><br />
<br />
<span class="body">And that still sent chills up Kyle's spine, two months later.</span><span class="body"> </span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGonQBm3r3kLq-J0N-Y6E1u7wOF4qSzvqI-th77QGFDLDTkqPTF8LRCaqUxhViXWKjVHM5FsvwGmF2iQZSzBYAU6XmLye4uyyuPezxJkbx4qqtvg1CT6blFvi_fbqYO3zx2X_ZJZzATfA/s1600/Screenshot-492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGonQBm3r3kLq-J0N-Y6E1u7wOF4qSzvqI-th77QGFDLDTkqPTF8LRCaqUxhViXWKjVHM5FsvwGmF2iQZSzBYAU6XmLye4uyyuPezxJkbx4qqtvg1CT6blFvi_fbqYO3zx2X_ZJZzATfA/s400/Screenshot-492.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">As for Jia, she grew tired of it. Being the girlfriend of a mafia family was no longer thrilling to her, just boring. </span><span class="body">And the only reason she and Charles connected in the first place is because they both have ridiculously argumentative parents</span><span class="body">. But now, because of the rumors, the guys won't come up to her and flirt with her anymore out of fear. And whenever she'd flirt with them...well...Charles wasn't happy. Of course, knowing Sim Fu came in handy, so she could knock him down at any moment. But she didn't want to. If you have to fight your boyfriend to save your own life, is that even a relationship? Why did she have such an awful history with men?</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Except Kyle. Kyle was different. He was sweet, funny, smart...or at least, in the intellectual sense. He was everything Charles wasn't. And he was flirty, just like her. He understood her.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Kind of.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGZfeGaMg5C757oDAHL7BwjgX27j21DMJYqsRxmpxNfOEeRqmbaQUAOuQekLJpXXcDTSvK6ggusjz4djJnihxybf8275F0BCX2V5K6ptug-7SoqEfiuv_DUNThmJtWQcbX3Lulrpho44/s1600/Screenshot-493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGZfeGaMg5C757oDAHL7BwjgX27j21DMJYqsRxmpxNfOEeRqmbaQUAOuQekLJpXXcDTSvK6ggusjz4djJnihxybf8275F0BCX2V5K6ptug-7SoqEfiuv_DUNThmJtWQcbX3Lulrpho44/s400/Screenshot-493.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">She could hear them outside of her door, arguing. Again. She sighed under her breath and slowly walked up the stairs, wondering why they can't just call it quits. For everyone's sake.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXjegPxxwpwBuMxTHUE_97izIUlud2lD11uz9Y_xz5f92lvFzChDadnkGwbo2hEeJDbi0eOuDRAL8GYKsXeLWkeQl5JRObjdLEoAKNA43aSP2OmjWGU1uWlivMYlt4wosOGI51aMs5R08/s1600/Screenshot-494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXjegPxxwpwBuMxTHUE_97izIUlud2lD11uz9Y_xz5f92lvFzChDadnkGwbo2hEeJDbi0eOuDRAL8GYKsXeLWkeQl5JRObjdLEoAKNA43aSP2OmjWGU1uWlivMYlt4wosOGI51aMs5R08/s400/Screenshot-494.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">"You're worthless!! Absolutely worthless!" Nasa screamed in her impossibly high-pitched voice. She then saw Jia come in, and quieted down a bit. "Let's go somewhere else and discuss this."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"<i>I'm</i> worthless?! The only reason we're still arguing is because you can't get over one flirt I had with a girl in China. One!! You, my dear, are the worthless one and when I die, you're not getting a penny!"</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"Ooh, you-" Nasa bit her tongue. "Not in front of Jia, dear."</span><br />
<br />
<span class="body">Pao looked at their daughter and her chosen attire for today. With a disgusted look on his face, he said</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"I have no daughter. Jia is dead to me."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
And that's when she ran.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gqLhy9fViqgHSvW2eHs0pD4y1ZehspeQ5pqs-7OfNjU59e-AXnl5lBEZspqW013M0pT6MRrjwIhh8mcpX8vuv-st00a_SNlNtsTG-zOCcN5JvBBwePcRUiVnsDqkfJaYahannxzpHXg/s1600/Screenshot-495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gqLhy9fViqgHSvW2eHs0pD4y1ZehspeQ5pqs-7OfNjU59e-AXnl5lBEZspqW013M0pT6MRrjwIhh8mcpX8vuv-st00a_SNlNtsTG-zOCcN5JvBBwePcRUiVnsDqkfJaYahannxzpHXg/s400/Screenshot-495.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">Her dad is sexist. Her mom is a gold-digger. Her brother was a nerd. She's a whore. She's heard it all before, and none of it hurts her. Pao was right, he has no daughter. His daughter died a long time ago.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Now, all that's left is a shell. A shell that is bulletproof, and well-guarded. Nothing matters anymore. </span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTRbdzXpsf60EsxZrcZAm9YkXi2qymv9Z3l29drbdpVW64Tsr_mzRUldDhpUy6BaHRu9uYvOLPLXlpi6KrI8lnu_QcEmCPvtfHm7oE4RULByGqE8wyTmO4OxdaG0bH89gOdpOV2Q59to/s1600/Screenshot-496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTRbdzXpsf60EsxZrcZAm9YkXi2qymv9Z3l29drbdpVW64Tsr_mzRUldDhpUy6BaHRu9uYvOLPLXlpi6KrI8lnu_QcEmCPvtfHm7oE4RULByGqE8wyTmO4OxdaG0bH89gOdpOV2Q59to/s400/Screenshot-496.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">She sat down in a little jungle gym the house next door to Kyle's had. She felt just like a little kid again. She wasn't expecting much, but just knowing that she was physically close to Kyle's home made her feel better somehow.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFiw7Vk0aPmhUlxzC1kjZCJPArpUmyaJv9i9DbYUaFeF3-hP0jWL9uO1bxqOhh8j8YPvnf7jIUQB3YwQSh8bHoIQw48Y2RE38FC_AdDZHL-nu7QK1HUW5J8376hJopX3ze8y0rLyJNb8E/s1600/Screenshot-497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFiw7Vk0aPmhUlxzC1kjZCJPArpUmyaJv9i9DbYUaFeF3-hP0jWL9uO1bxqOhh8j8YPvnf7jIUQB3YwQSh8bHoIQw48Y2RE38FC_AdDZHL-nu7QK1HUW5J8376hJopX3ze8y0rLyJNb8E/s400/Screenshot-497.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">Kyle spotted her and started climbing up the ladder. He chuckled and said "Jia, what are you doing here? You might want to get out of here before your boyfriend pummels me."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"My parents were fighting again, I just needed somewhere to go." She said, after chuckling a little herself.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="body">"Okay, I'll bite. Tell me about it." </span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"No, you wouldn't get it."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"Then explain it to me."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVnOSIAcz39jdlAsAeDCBQSsuPtwrA767t0-xG2w7AKV9T9hY6w6ybArbHPPpNTmAbrjjwwRoANa0CB-EcztKctVlRRtZyzZ32cQXIufAW3-0mNRA1Gc7CX37UMALrit3ltqqCIblkeU/s1600/Screenshot-498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVnOSIAcz39jdlAsAeDCBQSsuPtwrA767t0-xG2w7AKV9T9hY6w6ybArbHPPpNTmAbrjjwwRoANa0CB-EcztKctVlRRtZyzZ32cQXIufAW3-0mNRA1Gc7CX37UMALrit3ltqqCIblkeU/s400/Screenshot-498.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">"...and the schoolwork, augh! My parents push the importance of grades so much, you know? I try my best, and it isn't enough. I get an A+, and they ask why it isn't an A++. I finally gave up trying to be perfect for them, so I purposely started getting Cs. And they argue about <i>everything! </i>Sometimes, I think my mother only married my father for the money, and he only married her because she was the 'perfect, submissive woman' that would cook and clean all day. I just can't understand sims. I can't."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Kyle and Jia (well, mostly Jia) continued to rant about their problems, and it made her feel a lot better. Like she wasn't alone in this, and someone actually knew what she was talking about.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCd91HC1H3CzidBXVOU0MQ4lDDcTeUquaM550G6w6ws7i9tpaRyWLvWHIA641SCvYrOCc_2fv8w7wytNUIu0L2P6SWxBe_KJIfRQms_t0qjbCjIrnVAVk3j_ojx7NKBFMhyOlkhk95e8/s1600/Screenshot-499.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCd91HC1H3CzidBXVOU0MQ4lDDcTeUquaM550G6w6ws7i9tpaRyWLvWHIA641SCvYrOCc_2fv8w7wytNUIu0L2P6SWxBe_KJIfRQms_t0qjbCjIrnVAVk3j_ojx7NKBFMhyOlkhk95e8/s400/Screenshot-499.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">"Well, I've gotta go, but thank you for listening." she said gratefully.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">And with that, she was gone.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZunZfGAX2gzHGllC9qbqBEqpoIoAYrN1-ZrqwxV35QN-WFU8lLWJxP0BEuTrgE0z5rd9EueBbgPCGOX3NDUv1Q2JIdLaTGNC8Vx-KxQTPEQQ6Yjn9InPlm3c-17VEfYXshVwqJE87eo/s1600/Screenshot-500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZunZfGAX2gzHGllC9qbqBEqpoIoAYrN1-ZrqwxV35QN-WFU8lLWJxP0BEuTrgE0z5rd9EueBbgPCGOX3NDUv1Q2JIdLaTGNC8Vx-KxQTPEQQ6Yjn9InPlm3c-17VEfYXshVwqJE87eo/s400/Screenshot-500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">The arrival of the baby was an overshadowed one. Sandy was so wrapped up in her novels that she forgot she was even pregnant, and Brandon was so wrapped up with work that he forgot as well. Everyone was caught up in their own little world, their own little problems, and Lily's birth was a wake-up call. </span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOd1rN6u7TmdN3ZgZZ0CFUf1ZTnEOecGGNdUAKDUeZAVgh0l80Rfj8Ps_KfA0hD-ZqfNivFQwTn7bi-7ymOoaDMd94nDW8_k0L23CTwI9i4daSVDT4lGWzuoKYhfCQyI3ueB9IZlCOELs/s1600/Screenshot-502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPVIXR6sHVGw4SkOv9bYyX9eGUmRtaXAVi1TiSZH8XGMTmRAB-RxOCo78sjnCC46jUSTVDbynMqmJbErZz47uXyHfIE901uDNtr8KTOoxTJYMYTg-ogjECc81DX68glbiV6PmAJHtfEE/s1600/Screenshot-501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPVIXR6sHVGw4SkOv9bYyX9eGUmRtaXAVi1TiSZH8XGMTmRAB-RxOCo78sjnCC46jUSTVDbynMqmJbErZz47uXyHfIE901uDNtr8KTOoxTJYMYTg-ogjECc81DX68glbiV6PmAJHtfEE/s400/Screenshot-501.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">A little while after Lily's birth, Kyle decided to venture down to a local club. "Damn, look at all the hot chicks!" he thought to himself. He even danced with one, her name was Eliza. Eliza was such a pretty name.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">That's when he heard laughter.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOd1rN6u7TmdN3ZgZZ0CFUf1ZTnEOecGGNdUAKDUeZAVgh0l80Rfj8Ps_KfA0hD-ZqfNivFQwTn7bi-7ymOoaDMd94nDW8_k0L23CTwI9i4daSVDT4lGWzuoKYhfCQyI3ueB9IZlCOELs/s1600/Screenshot-502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOd1rN6u7TmdN3ZgZZ0CFUf1ZTnEOecGGNdUAKDUeZAVgh0l80Rfj8Ps_KfA0hD-ZqfNivFQwTn7bi-7ymOoaDMd94nDW8_k0L23CTwI9i4daSVDT4lGWzuoKYhfCQyI3ueB9IZlCOELs/s400/Screenshot-502.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">"Well well well, look what we have here." Charles cackled. He had his two "henchmen" beside him, one of them had their face partially covered by the lamp. That made Kyle chuckle.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Bad idea.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"What's so funny prettyboy, huh? We told you not to come near us again! You're just askin' for it now!"</span><br />
<span class="body"> "Boys, pull out your knives." Charles commanded.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Kyle began to protest when he saw them pull out pocket knives. He tried to explain, but all that came out were incomplete sentences and stutters.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhArViFNhKo5-JmIpvlGRi63crCVZsw86dyaGSpkqbQRnY88Ph1ZASpdtfQTcB86NvkyCTUhnnrMlljzC_j43VoWs5jUgm6hGQ9_tiHQj7NrPjue785S_9hMJd6Q6pH_9wr5-EprnyJqgY/s1600/Screenshot-503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhArViFNhKo5-JmIpvlGRi63crCVZsw86dyaGSpkqbQRnY88Ph1ZASpdtfQTcB86NvkyCTUhnnrMlljzC_j43VoWs5jUgm6hGQ9_tiHQj7NrPjue785S_9hMJd6Q6pH_9wr5-EprnyJqgY/s400/Screenshot-503.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">"Look, you wanna cut me, fine! Go ahead, do it! I don't give a ****, just don't hurt my family. Fine, I deserve it. How <i>dare</i> I walk into a place, when I know that there's an off chance you guys will be there. Go ahead. Cut me in front of all these witnesses."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">And so they charged at him with their knives, but it wasn't Kyle that they stabbed.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Laying down on the floor, in a pool of blood, was Jia. She had watched the entire thing, and ran in front of Kyle just as they were ready to stab him. Charles and his lackeys looked down on her, and all they could manage to say was "Oh ****."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">And with that, they ran, leaving Kyle to stare at Jia's dead body in pure shock and muddled confusion.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHa0tQ3QMyNp8QQArWEiqvLh_NdlJg5Dc0atfTIl8t1lA90uoAtE7lmxOJi7X6ZSPK48E_2BH9_DbB4EjyibLf-dslfdHhCYly5nK6U3p67f5RMxfcYUC14yS2nD3b8V-xL6WT3z6chZY/s1600/Screenshot-505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHa0tQ3QMyNp8QQArWEiqvLh_NdlJg5Dc0atfTIl8t1lA90uoAtE7lmxOJi7X6ZSPK48E_2BH9_DbB4EjyibLf-dslfdHhCYly5nK6U3p67f5RMxfcYUC14yS2nD3b8V-xL6WT3z6chZY/s400/Screenshot-505.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">"You guys know I didn't do it, right? They came at me, and Jia got in the way. I didn't stab her, I swear!"</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Sandy sighed, and Brandon put his head in his palm. They hadn't told the kids yet, and they were sitting right beside Kyle. "What happened? Someone got stabbed?" Issac said in shock. "Oooooh, you stabbed Jiiaaaa" Julie sang.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"Kids, that is ENOUGH!" Sandy screeched. She could hear Lily crying upstairs, probably because she was sleeping.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"The evidence is compelling, Kyle." Brandon said coldly.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"That's because Charles' gang is a rough and violent gang, they're not above setting fire to people's houses and stabbing their peers' parents. They bribed everyone! I swear, I'm innocent!"</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">"Well, innocent or not, the SHPD will be coming after <i>you</i>, Kyle, based on the testimonies of those who were there."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_KB8gELGIGLiOLRY50_ttM5ZxucP91jx_QiqNfhKCMh0cWSaHCuEWeqmo0qBhRF_8rOg3PTqormhMiEyYGs7UrXOPekzXoynoikHsZCmsBIrtMX31Pvk2wvzCd2T217IH6VvxVjd-jk/s1600/Screenshot-504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_KB8gELGIGLiOLRY50_ttM5ZxucP91jx_QiqNfhKCMh0cWSaHCuEWeqmo0qBhRF_8rOg3PTqormhMiEyYGs7UrXOPekzXoynoikHsZCmsBIrtMX31Pvk2wvzCd2T217IH6VvxVjd-jk/s400/Screenshot-504.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="body">With weak eyes, Sandy turned to Brandon and whispered "We have to do something. Kyle doesn't have it in him to kill. I know he's innocent, but they believe he's guilty."</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">Brandon looked at his kids, said a silent prayer for his wallet, and announced that they were moving.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body">For good.</span><br />
<span class="body"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="body"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">author's notes <a href="http://cheezysimscorner.blogspot.com/2010/09/re-accidents.html">here</a></span><br />
</span>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-27498064539099506882010-09-15T14:10:00.000-07:002010-09-15T14:12:33.073-07:00A Few Graphics Questions and UpdatesI've been gone for awhile, I know. *sigh*<br />
<br />
September 7th was my birthday (woohoo!), and also the day that I started school (not so woohoo), so I've been a little busy since then. Also, my wisdom tooth is killing me. And I don't think I can continue playing TS3 as much until I do something about my graphics card (and game), because the game itself has been crashing a lot (nothing new) and I predict my 9500 graphics card blowing out on me in the near future if I continue simming as much as I did. Seriously, I smelled the lightly masked smell of smoke after a couple of hours of playing. I'm so done with nVidia.<br />
<br />
So, my questions to you guys today are:<br />
<br />
1. Would you guys recommend ATI Raedon, and which card would you recommend? I want a really good one that will make my graphics show up a lot better, because I'm currently experiencing graphics envy. *sad violin*<br />
2. When/if you guys purchased Ambitions, did it improve your graphics any? I noticed that in the earlier stages of TS3's patches, my graphics improved <i>with</i> the patches, and the graphics kind of decreased with the installation of WA.<br />
<br />
Also, I'm going to add on another blog. Not to replace this one, but to use as an "Author's Corner". I want to tidy up this blog and make it pretty much exclusive to the Dillards and their world saga, and keep my random musings and unrelated game updates in a different blog. It'll look a lot neater, methinks. :)<br />
<br />
Again, thank you guys so much for sticking around and reading my updates, even after my frequent involuntary hiatuses. It means a lot.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm going to go catch up on some blog reading!mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-42115075966668067202010-09-01T20:24:00.000-07:002010-09-01T21:03:55.945-07:00Lightning-Quick Update!It's rambly time! I'm extremely hyper right now. Extremely. This is what coffee does to you, kids. Anyway, I really really want to make this post because I want you to get to know the residents of SH, and their personalities as well as their offspring. And plus there's a whole bunch of other crap that I wanted to tell you guys and never did so this will be the post to do it!! (P.S. if you're new to the blog, or you just want to be "shocked" the next update, there are *spoilers* in this post. Don't know where yet, but I have loose lips. Or is that fingers?) So...ready? Let's begin! <br />
<br />
<i> 1. Where do the Dillards live?</i><br />
<br />
So, I've been meaning to do a house tour for awhile now, but I wanted to wait until the living room and the kitchen were fixed up (it's very, <i>very</i> plain, and even a little messy since I'm interrupting the story). Oh well, I'll just let the kitchen be a surprise for readers/downloaders. btw, there will be no pictures of the 2nd story hallway. It's cramped up there, so trying to get a good pic of the hallway would be torture. And without further ado, I present...<br />
<br />
<b>The Dillard Homestead (click the link)</b><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s288.photobucket.com/albums/ll177/Cheezypuff_2008/The%20Sims%203/Dillard%20Family/?action=view&current=bcd9dea3.pbw">http://s288.photobucket.com/albums/ll177/Cheezypuff_2008/The%20Sims%203/Dillard%20Family/?action=view&current=bcd9dea3.pbw</a><br />
<br />
This sounds incredibly cheesy, but I'm so proud of them. They're living the simmy suburban dream. :') The house will be uploaded as soon as I get enough funds to update the kitchen, living room, and backyard. Thank God Brandon is at the top of his career now, woooo!<br />
<br />
<i>2. Who all live in Saskan Harbour?</i><br />
<br />
Saskan Harbour is populated mostly with my sims, and a little with sims the game spawned. I haven't grown attached to most of them, admittedly, since they were all just meant to woohoo like bunnies and throw pretty babies for the Dillards to woo. Also, I wanted the world to seem less...lonely, and more populated.<br />
<br />
Since I have enough sims to make me <i>not</i> want to do an entire world tour, I'm just going to show you my favorites:<br />
<br />
<b>(Some Of) The Residents: </b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuz7jpco1QXXzQJP_npGLtEgYpPVqAlnwbVia3hSJKt44hsgutaWh7ql4UlXWTdLONtRqP61aPmlhAjt6tE4SF9170vwN1WWtg03Yj9FxEJWEk2_vXx9cVb4m2WqJGyLR9W_lkTdduRM/s1600/Screenshot-441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuz7jpco1QXXzQJP_npGLtEgYpPVqAlnwbVia3hSJKt44hsgutaWh7ql4UlXWTdLONtRqP61aPmlhAjt6tE4SF9170vwN1WWtg03Yj9FxEJWEk2_vXx9cVb4m2WqJGyLR9W_lkTdduRM/s320/Screenshot-441.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also known as "Angelina's Nice Twin".</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Name: Geneva Watts </div><div style="text-align: center;"> Impact on story: none</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizi9CCmEFu9ae2xWruRygHKjOMJri4ZTRjMmGNSNTQR2FMF3QDGyA1_zRPwPcMDCd8vTGG4xJ9IPXEmpIiswtC0d1Igo9K96Y5SNK8yZA1DXL5erK1Cf86epI1Yl5uTNpFE_nYSUmz25I/s1600/Screenshot-447.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizi9CCmEFu9ae2xWruRygHKjOMJri4ZTRjMmGNSNTQR2FMF3QDGyA1_zRPwPcMDCd8vTGG4xJ9IPXEmpIiswtC0d1Igo9K96Y5SNK8yZA1DXL5erK1Cf86epI1Yl5uTNpFE_nYSUmz25I/s320/Screenshot-447.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dear Mandie, I'm so sorry I never actually played you. But you're awesome anyway.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"> Name: Mandie Jenner</div><div style="text-align: center;">Impact on story: minimal (Sandy's boss)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3Ghy8actGI5obp0oCW9m1uz2wqRWQMeU5tqJKJdx0oy08tK3TQoqfOkD8Edrr9CnsAiytbDxbeYdbfYOhhGHijaj16XPZUvHJD4W2pTKEX7EwgDZ4q4IZsVQdCxdhPXdfIDprpRvhlg/s1600/Screenshot-443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3Ghy8actGI5obp0oCW9m1uz2wqRWQMeU5tqJKJdx0oy08tK3TQoqfOkD8Edrr9CnsAiytbDxbeYdbfYOhhGHijaj16XPZUvHJD4W2pTKEX7EwgDZ4q4IZsVQdCxdhPXdfIDprpRvhlg/s320/Screenshot-443.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite family. After the Dillards, of course.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">Names: (from L to R) Allen Francois-Gale, Anya Francois-Gale, Trudy Francois-Gale, Kiana Francois-Gale</div><div style="text-align: center;">Impact on story: yes</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQEKDDGOeUk-EI7NCYINy6yEd-Qx6prMrw7cm5TyU10oASLSgJk4V8gDAThWSBXnsxWNPDg57LX7Hxdl_NNzht_SvaabVbiaC6sV9ltlT9RQ-nRl07A1mdagl3ABGTRsT1X1QeEUekOs/s1600/Screenshot-446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQEKDDGOeUk-EI7NCYINy6yEd-Qx6prMrw7cm5TyU10oASLSgJk4V8gDAThWSBXnsxWNPDg57LX7Hxdl_NNzht_SvaabVbiaC6sV9ltlT9RQ-nRl07A1mdagl3ABGTRsT1X1QeEUekOs/s320/Screenshot-446.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">side note - Chelsea sadly broke up with Dequan. *weeps*</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">Name: Chelsea Oliver</div><div style="text-align: center;">Impact on story: none</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 3. Where did Angelina go?</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Angelina took a hike, lol!</span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The rivalry is no more, I'm sorry to say. Angelina is a doting mommy (and a semi-faithful girlfriend) now, and Sandy seems to be preoccupied with cramming as many babies into her simmy uterus as she can at the moment.</span></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">3. Who is Jia Kia Lin? </span> </span></i>(spoiler alert, but it may help you understand "Kyle's Story" more)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Why, my dear friends, what a wonderful question! <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Jia Kai is the result of a fragmented thought of mine.</b></span><br />
It all started with a moral. A moral that if we loved with all our hearts, life would be better. But what if not all love is good? What if some love is obsessive, dangerous, toxic, and foolish? And what would you do with a love like that? Of course, there are faults in that logic (hence the "fragmented" part, since I didn't think it all the way through) but I figured it would be something interesting to attempt.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-n63phRvpWRufTeIiD_0o54Wgg1wj2yvqQrvS7lAMI5VePqp4ut-s1LJ1X_mp9jX7YOzVxu-5H7kM15OlW-OxkN26PfyYIiZ9B6OkbSSuDu1drpt35irGvpcZIvL65E_IsrhfweFGVk/s1600/Screenshot-448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-n63phRvpWRufTeIiD_0o54Wgg1wj2yvqQrvS7lAMI5VePqp4ut-s1LJ1X_mp9jX7YOzVxu-5H7kM15OlW-OxkN26PfyYIiZ9B6OkbSSuDu1drpt35irGvpcZIvL65E_IsrhfweFGVk/s320/Screenshot-448.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bad Jia! No drinking while your parents are gone!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Jia Kai is, in essence, toxic. Admittedly, she's also a greatly amplified manifestation of my own toxicity. I can't say that I have the same history as Jia, or the same "forwardness", but she's also a manifestation of the toxicity of others. She's a jumble of outside influences, lol. She's dark, manipulative, alluring, and violent. One surprising fact about her is that she can't stand liars. Don't let her exterior fool you however, there's a soft spot deeep deeeeeep down, and it'll take a special person to bring it out. I kind of look forward to unraveling the layers of her personality as well as Kyle's, they're both rather complex. And now that we're done talking about the mysterious Jia Kai....<br />
<br />
<i>4. Tell me more about Kyle, he's such a cutie! *more spoilers*</i><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRY39276CsNWodB5ptozXpAEsnu8l960ao7V499Pb8eO0h5uGkp3hyTXVnbez4EmX4WL982fk7OADJfdG0qWUlim8HQlS7OoZptcKgatx8I3wh5At8i4uxTQq36jMy-TOG1k5w82pcIw/s1600/Screenshot-449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRY39276CsNWodB5ptozXpAEsnu8l960ao7V499Pb8eO0h5uGkp3hyTXVnbez4EmX4WL982fk7OADJfdG0qWUlim8HQlS7OoZptcKgatx8I3wh5At8i4uxTQq36jMy-TOG1k5w82pcIw/s320/Screenshot-449.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liar liar, chess on fire</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Yep! But he's also a bit of a compulsive liar. He wants to be cool at SH high, but in reality, he's just as much of a nerd as his mother and his two younger siblings. He makes up lies to stay in with the "cool crowd", but the girls he makes up lies about don't mind because he's *oh so charming*. Even as a baby, Kyle was quite the attention seeker, so it doesn't shock me that he'd stoop so low. But boy oh boy, Jia will be pissed if she ever finds out.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div><i>5. Who is Shao Lin?</i><br />
<br />
No one. He doesn't matter. *stiff smile*<br />
<br />
And now it's time for...<br />
<br />
<i>BONUS QUESTION!!</i><br />
<br />
I need a bigger world. I need you guys to pick a world. Wait, that wasn't really a question. Okay, bonus request then.<br />
<i> </i><br />
Sooo, pick 'un!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://mysims3blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/orchard-new-neighborhood-by-babolat.html">http://mysims3blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/orchard-new-neighborhood-by-babolat.html</a><br />
<a href="http://mysims3blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/georgia-falls-new-neighbourhood-by.html">http://mysims3blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/georgia-falls-new-neighbourhood-by.html</a><i><br />
</i><br />
<br />
Pretty sure at least one of them needs Ambitions, but eh...<br />
<br />
Annnd,<br />
<br />
BONUS PICTURE<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixu0ZiS1XIS9NTni66TP8XaI7m8xjuflmF4ytl1nKCGAn8PybtbabnSrcSt9za26LltaHrCJEQVVmPDg7o4vxcY73vnkv0LeJP7RCnW1A_n6weuuSQl0N7kwFk13UG8hrGPE3uSF2sxJo/s1600/Screenshot-445.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixu0ZiS1XIS9NTni66TP8XaI7m8xjuflmF4ytl1nKCGAn8PybtbabnSrcSt9za26LltaHrCJEQVVmPDg7o4vxcY73vnkv0LeJP7RCnW1A_n6weuuSQl0N7kwFk13UG8hrGPE3uSF2sxJo/s320/Screenshot-445.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Everyone reacting to the doorbell. Hilarious.</div>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-21514052129336811552010-09-01T01:42:00.000-07:002010-09-01T02:46:06.425-07:00Wants<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" >"The heart wants what it wants.... There's no logic to those things." - Woody Allen<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Have you ever wanted something, or someone, so much that you're willing to go through great lengths to get it, and even greater lengths to keep it? Have you ever deceived someone or kept your dirty little secret hidden, because you know you're not supposed to have it? Have you ever cheated, manipulated, <span style="font-style: italic;">or stolen?</span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">They have. </span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br />------------------------------------<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Today is anything but a typical Sunday for the Dillards, if there is a such thing as "typical" for them. Something is always happening, no matter how mundane or how exciting. In this case, things happen to be more "exciting" than usual.</span><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAuDWjE_pSLXowdh4btumw7pzgafOQWWjgQ4eNYXzcsf8Sxr_ebS6e-4hTFzQiR6-417RsrYoFx0a0nIJKqLAtGs2tiaFYFYzdOttInx-brdGQr6ECJJOJKDHnFJxxFVYoCZx0viwq4l4/s1600/Screenshot-393.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAuDWjE_pSLXowdh4btumw7pzgafOQWWjgQ4eNYXzcsf8Sxr_ebS6e-4hTFzQiR6-417RsrYoFx0a0nIJKqLAtGs2tiaFYFYzdOttInx-brdGQr6ECJJOJKDHnFJxxFVYoCZx0viwq4l4/s400/Screenshot-393.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511760217330699618" border="0" /></a> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Hi there, little buddy." Sandy said breathlessly after checking the pregnancy test for the hundredth time. She just couldn't believe it. She was so overjoyed, she could have danced a jig right then and there! It was unbelievably hard for her to conceive compared to her more "youthful" days. She spent many nights coaxing Brandon into bed with her, sometimes unsuccessfully. But that was yesterday. Now she has a tiny bundle of joy inside of her again, and it feels terrific.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" > How would she tell everyone else?</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" > She doubted that they'd be as overjoyed as she is. They may even start to resent her for sneaking around and purposely avoiding birth control as she did. And what if Kyle's threats of moving out were true?<br /><br />With a sad sigh, she hid her pregnancy test underneath some debris in the trash can and shut the door behind her.<br /></span><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XB781Rlng_gkN1F8bE7ACx4LdB-RCZSmAjhuk173iwSssTPmGJ5ADXaNytuzOm12WxOoD5yg-jeCxa0Lh5JGmuDz2FgcSE8Q-ek09ZCG465t1-dwJR1j55rov5orzvOougGIl5adVVY/s1600/Screenshot-394.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XB781Rlng_gkN1F8bE7ACx4LdB-RCZSmAjhuk173iwSssTPmGJ5ADXaNytuzOm12WxOoD5yg-jeCxa0Lh5JGmuDz2FgcSE8Q-ek09ZCG465t1-dwJR1j55rov5orzvOougGIl5adVVY/s400/Screenshot-394.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511765594793532946" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Kyle spends most of his time in his room, focusing on his masterpieces or composing a new song. He's not a loner, but he can definitely identify with them. He likes being alone when creating, it gives him time to think. It also helps that between work, his siblings, and various appliances breaking, his parents have no time to constantly bug him. </span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhivckVoWn6csKkyvJpqPeDemk961eWZJ1EsVdYF6XXFjuRoFcKn9hXCvpQLj2P97fQ_zGl1yWPjsd4F6wXdPdBK6r5hrOrxidrJdCcvha9NvQ-zpITaoJTKQ9jyDqv4ZIB01rO6EdX-Pk/s1600/Screenshot-395.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhivckVoWn6csKkyvJpqPeDemk961eWZJ1EsVdYF6XXFjuRoFcKn9hXCvpQLj2P97fQ_zGl1yWPjsd4F6wXdPdBK6r5hrOrxidrJdCcvha9NvQ-zpITaoJTKQ9jyDqv4ZIB01rO6EdX-Pk/s400/Screenshot-395.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511792835124453298" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Issac and Julie enjoyed just being kids, playing tag together, hanging out with friends, and working hard in school. As much as they liked to pretend that they couldn't stand each other, they were best friends.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Secretly, Juliana <span style="font-family:verdana;">is dreading the day that Issac grows up and joins Kyle in the word of adolescence. Who will she hang out with when that happens?</span></span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw49gysRvA7mq5H5CgC4yIczZNDba8XI_GCDsybKsq1RpLywLewEF5fDFz09GITaMxee7b56ADTv-yxjWZ8NvmLvw8emZ1pp8AMNaxZSFm08_PsZ7-6n8qE_-w0RRsSz6-SKfFh5eBXFU/s1600/Screenshot-396.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw49gysRvA7mq5H5CgC4yIczZNDba8XI_GCDsybKsq1RpLywLewEF5fDFz09GITaMxee7b56ADTv-yxjWZ8NvmLvw8emZ1pp8AMNaxZSFm08_PsZ7-6n8qE_-w0RRsSz6-SKfFh5eBXFU/s400/Screenshot-396.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511803529970817682" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Brandon</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >spent</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >his Sunday morning fixing up the new plumbing in their brand new master bathroom. He loved the room, the colors were so vibrant and kind of manly. A welcome relief from all the fanciness and homey-ness of the rest of the house. He loved this home and the people in it, but sometimes he longed for the old bachelor pad he owned before he met Sandy. Sometimes, he even longs for the <span style="font-style: italic;">life</span> he had before Sandy. Before all the kids, and the odd mood swings, and all the expensive bills, and the private school tuition because Sandy wanted "nothing but the best" for their kids.<br /><br />But there was no turning back now.<br /><br /></span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwBa_tZwFMwiO0dkcdskNiN-wYlx15V7QIWu7TwtKITfREARugHeDsb31oDSGHCOd6U_5eTwpupzZqlqthMNWbPha9prNtIeHu5fmAh5gZ899r8nI_lWX0oDp-73P4rzg-734MB9u4Ko/s1600/Screenshot-397.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwBa_tZwFMwiO0dkcdskNiN-wYlx15V7QIWu7TwtKITfREARugHeDsb31oDSGHCOd6U_5eTwpupzZqlqthMNWbPha9prNtIeHu5fmAh5gZ899r8nI_lWX0oDp-73P4rzg-734MB9u4Ko/s400/Screenshot-397.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511803536249805426" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Sandy grabbed some Goopy Cabornara and joined her son for some grub. Plumbbob, she was starving. <span style="font-family:verdana;">She wolfed down the leftovers as Kyle looked at her quizzically, somewhat amused.<br /><br />"Hungry there, Mom?" he teased. Sandy looked back at him, smiled, and sarcastically said "No, you think?" with a mouth full of food.<br /><br />Kyle cringed a little at the poor table manners, but he brushed it aside. He wasn't too concerned about her sudden increase in appetite, he had much better things to worry about...like the party going on this evening.<br /><br /></span></span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRtLJhkj-9v2IWZ0gKk9w-MPQzIr8JPFsvsw1xpDaz2zlFPePagotqC-mlLqxEHmORvZ3YPVhB7b3VfBS8Engs8T9CH-TvyIrbSwIVEYVv-SNJ89aLRKbI74MfJqd1I9hzLNwCGkS3nw/s1600/Screenshot-398.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRtLJhkj-9v2IWZ0gKk9w-MPQzIr8JPFsvsw1xpDaz2zlFPePagotqC-mlLqxEHmORvZ3YPVhB7b3VfBS8Engs8T9CH-TvyIrbSwIVEYVv-SNJ89aLRKbI74MfJqd1I9hzLNwCGkS3nw/s400/Screenshot-398.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511815087134740354" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >It wasn't really a "party" party, actually, just more of a gathering for Saskan Harbour high school students. Although it was small, this party had it all: the musician, the fellow music lover, the lovers making out on the bench, and the deceptively quiet wallflower sitting at the furthest table in the park.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >But even in all of its cliche, there was something different about this girl. She didn't seem like all the other loners.<br /><br />She favored green and black, and kept to herself; although he could feel her eyes on him. There was an air of mystery about her, instead of the typical shy freshman.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" > The closer he got to her, the more enthralled he was with her dark yet alluring beauty. She also seemed a bit familiar, but he couldn't place his finger on it. Finally he made his way to her table, and ran out of words to say.</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy8Fkh63YkCC-rvNDG2SJlz8L3_-uUBedfKM662djpRcHphfa0VkSi1nRg0l2llVzxqYc1cEb13A96WH2tQBvElEpR-t_bfoc6vg-yq9klWYCO7ns1VuXCcubQec-UJGQ_AVxvW_eGbTs/s1600/Screenshot-399.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy8Fkh63YkCC-rvNDG2SJlz8L3_-uUBedfKM662djpRcHphfa0VkSi1nRg0l2llVzxqYc1cEb13A96WH2tQBvElEpR-t_bfoc6vg-yq9klWYCO7ns1VuXCcubQec-UJGQ_AVxvW_eGbTs/s400/Screenshot-399.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511816347287877106" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Um...hi. You new?" he questioned, wishing he just left it alone. He felt like such an idiot. She just laughed, and said "Yes, I am. Good to see you again Kyle."<br /><br />Baffled, he stared at her as if she told him she had wings. He knew her? Since when? Then, it all became rather clear. He gave her (another) once-over, and finally said "...are you Shao Lin's little sister?"<br /><br />"Yes, I am." Jia Kai said again, obviously amused at his shock. Kyle's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Damn girl, you grew up!"<br /><br />Kyle didn't even know what he said until Jia Kai reacted, and when he realized it, he mentally slapped himself. This was his friend's sister for Plumbbob's sake! He can't just treat her like all his other "toys".<br /><br /></span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoS_0SLYiH4Dz_VketJH3D8_2l6QJsXtmjUCfa-c958kWxZxUjjijIorXlauhkWWkj2PBMryb4uWFXAeW7A8EmEhEo5NZXBYp76M-z85doxPlmYTVuYbEg7lXuPXlsLwIlXyf0NS-T1G8/s1600/Screenshot-400.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoS_0SLYiH4Dz_VketJH3D8_2l6QJsXtmjUCfa-c958kWxZxUjjijIorXlauhkWWkj2PBMryb4uWFXAeW7A8EmEhEo5NZXBYp76M-z85doxPlmYTVuYbEg7lXuPXlsLwIlXyf0NS-T1G8/s400/Screenshot-400.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511818428370032146" border="0" /></a> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"I-I'm sorry, I meant that you have nice....nice...eyes? Very round and, um...pretty...and perky..." Jia just rolled her eyes, now Kyle was getting annoying. She dragged him by the arm behind a tree, leaving the "party" that has now died.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><br />"Ouch!" he squirmed in her grip "Hey, watch it! I don't need a bruise tomorrow morning!"</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEQgR-kdi1qlS_rH5rBBS2QlJlL54iQks_vXdGbpBK5OucEZuVHSscPGuzyXfgq1a0BQrIbwF0g3or4zKyrAphTMVojHIEg5NsDr8paYHRBq0egSlD3BTNmX45JYYiO7vBIIHYAnBWic/s1600/Screenshot-401.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEQgR-kdi1qlS_rH5rBBS2QlJlL54iQks_vXdGbpBK5OucEZuVHSscPGuzyXfgq1a0BQrIbwF0g3or4zKyrAphTMVojHIEg5NsDr8paYHRBq0egSlD3BTNmX45JYYiO7vBIIHYAnBWic/s400/Screenshot-401.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511820010568897362" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Rubbing his sore arm, he gave Jia a look and grimaced. He never met a girl so tough. "Hey, what was that for?"<br /><br />"I wanted to escape that 'party', I've been to better parties than that **** i</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >n Shang Simla. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you're a disgusting pig. You can't just treat women like objects." she stated in a rather monotone voice. Kyle didn't know how to react.<br /><br />"Well, they're willing-"<br /><br />"Don't. interrupt. me." she muttered through gritted teeth. Kyle nodded and let out a small "ok", not wanting to anger her any more than he already did.<br /><br /></span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVRDcbU_x30zH3kJhWQJ9EHanIB6yijZiFlbb4tG8fayQEF89ClzLvOID7_8sbCqUojHB_GUlcG_aXffyPwWFvI9AupfumZ-Bi8zdoMgziFeWGrnJWk5Bb2DlfuSRqwvN5yE-yzTrEs4/s1600/Screenshot-402.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVRDcbU_x30zH3kJhWQJ9EHanIB6yijZiFlbb4tG8fayQEF89ClzLvOID7_8sbCqUojHB_GUlcG_aXffyPwWFvI9AupfumZ-Bi8zdoMgziFeWGrnJWk5Bb2DlfuSRqwvN5yE-yzTrEs4/s400/Screenshot-402.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511821357528278690" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"As I was saying, you'd be better off with a girl that wouldn't make you feel like you have to 'roam around'. You'd be better off with someone a little more...</span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >exciting.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Oh really?" Kyle said in an amused voice. It's a pity that Jia was <span style="font-family:verdana;">Shao's brother, he could definitely see himself going for her.<br /><br />"Really." she purred.<br /><br /></span></span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4WNb2qK_9wgks7FQbhmvZ3Exou43JPbwuNrRFRedn9Pe-sXplJpeiXivYH5eDVNgVz4ax9lfde5PtBDEiGWOPI4Ijn_C_NZGLpQXaklJub_4Jb9xMciXwMglVg2vllvjpypeFnJtR1E/s1600/Screenshot-403.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4WNb2qK_9wgks7FQbhmvZ3Exou43JPbwuNrRFRedn9Pe-sXplJpeiXivYH5eDVNgVz4ax9lfde5PtBDEiGWOPI4Ijn_C_NZGLpQXaklJub_4Jb9xMciXwMglVg2vllvjpypeFnJtR1E/s400/Screenshot-403.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511823707454726626" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Tired of waiting for Kyle to take the hint, she grabbed him and kissed him. He was shocked at how bold Jia was, she was truly unlike any girl he had met (and wooed) before.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >He couldn't help but wonder if something was a little...off about her. No girl can be this perfect, right?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Kyle continued to let his thoughts go on and on while they were kissing. All of a sudden, Jia pulled away. </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"What?" Kyle said, afraid that Jia had sensed his suspicion. "Nothing, I just wanted to know if you wanted to go to the beach cliffs. You have a nice car, I thought we could maybe go together?" she suggested.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Sure, what day do you want me to pick you up?"</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Actually, I meant </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >tonight.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Tonight?! It's Sunday and almost past curfew! We have school tomorrow!"</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Awwww, what is it, is the little sophomore afraid of missing school and cutting curfew?" Jia teased.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"No, actually, my concern is for <span style="font-style: italic;">you.</span> You fresh meats need your extra sleep for all the tough freshie work." he teased back<br /><br />"Well I don't really give a ****, and you're not a freshman, so we can go...right?" Jia smiled innocently. Kyle reluctantly agreed and fumbled for his car keys.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Man, my parents are going to kill me for this."<br /><br /></span></span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwzXP4Jtb84DbUDu2sUJCZmsdETM6mnL-IFTJUwf35lGt0WWTfCjfhOYsCyY0JJqtWqrSGDel-mDd8U6YcONGmJT3GO7DbtQGJP0CKGftMQTX9o2lgFTz9YSgmi_5QWbftWZrkopsOhrY/s1600/Screenshot-404.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwzXP4Jtb84DbUDu2sUJCZmsdETM6mnL-IFTJUwf35lGt0WWTfCjfhOYsCyY0JJqtWqrSGDel-mDd8U6YcONGmJT3GO7DbtQGJP0CKGftMQTX9o2lgFTz9YSgmi_5QWbftWZrkopsOhrY/s400/Screenshot-404.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511832147731281202" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >When they made it to the beach cliffs, Kyle held Jia's hands as they watched the ocean rhythmically move back and forth. Kyle tried to pull a move or two, and Jia didn't reject him. If anything, she encouraged it. A strange specimen indeed.<br /><br />And that is when they heard sirens.<br /><br />Jia quickly ran toward the nearest street, leaving Kyle on his own and completely clueless as to what to do next. Unable to do much of anything else, he allowed the cops to come and take him home.<br /><br /></span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqyMHc_ip0ynz9hWud6e9yuD8jte9jdoOXf4ev-JIP-QU1czorQa-eHngbH70K0j-yWGONYjZlNKXWckUHyS-aXFdilnDpd_C6XM95x9CrdwMl7u_FwC9kpZEr5E1JWHuSOeaBl5mA2s/s1600/Screenshot-405.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqyMHc_ip0ynz9hWud6e9yuD8jte9jdoOXf4ev-JIP-QU1czorQa-eHngbH70K0j-yWGONYjZlNKXWckUHyS-aXFdilnDpd_C6XM95x9CrdwMl7u_FwC9kpZEr5E1JWHuSOeaBl5mA2s/s400/Screenshot-405.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511833028602359122" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"What on earth were you doing out so late, son?! Your folks got concerned and thought you died or something."</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Kyle smirked. That was a new one, usually whenever he leaves the house, his parents fear that he knocked someone up.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"It was a girl, sir. A girl I knew for awhile, but never really <span style="font-style: italic;">knew</span>...you know?" Officer Dequan nodded, and chuckled as he said "At this age, all girls are poison. All of 'em. Even the blonde, sugary sweet, blue-eyed, pink loving, pop devotees. I had to learn that the hard way." he sighed. "But if you cared about your future, you'd avoid her."<br /><br />Kyle looked down at his hands. He <span style="font-style: italic;">did</span> care about his future, and he also cared about his parents. But deep down...he cared about Jia more. A smart, witty, beautiful girl that won his heart when they were little kids, and again as teens. It's like she was the mirror image of him, his other half...<br /><br />...and he didn't want to let go of that. He wanted her in the worst way, and nothing else. Even if it meant breaking curfews.<br /><br /></span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1CNl1FTM5sDW7f8jCYgsDO5XshBcVOqV2MSB-xaiQ6Z4svinK573c8LQxMx2LNNFKuLokSWr3K1rPuiFf_GVobyn3lsO0hBjx6W3CA3l2zUl1JiqiXfH7JKg2fs_OsJuOjY2a8T5p_Sk/s1600/Screenshot-406.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1CNl1FTM5sDW7f8jCYgsDO5XshBcVOqV2MSB-xaiQ6Z4svinK573c8LQxMx2LNNFKuLokSWr3K1rPuiFf_GVobyn3lsO0hBjx6W3CA3l2zUl1JiqiXfH7JKg2fs_OsJuOjY2a8T5p_Sk/s400/Screenshot-406.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511835520817303970" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"What on earth were you thinking, Kyle?!" Brandon yelled furiously. "I've spent hours, HOURS trying to calm your mother down!! Do you KNOW how worried she was? You could have given her a heart attack! And the crying, oh Plumbbob the crying..."</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br />"I'm sorry Dad-"</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br />"Sorry doesn't cut it, Kyle. What's with the sudden irresponsibility? Can I no longer trust you?!"</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Of course you can trust me Dad..."</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br />"THEN WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?? Tell me, why did you do it son? Why?"</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br />"...it was a girl..."</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7__mrWVi572LLMtf7jH8cfi69wrkEC1Q7EsqBZeFApplfqpltpekrHCC98vTfWH24oybOWw3fyzvx9Q98ohbVPZWVhI_eAB-elwhW4SIBOnKsUcWr_csSbIDjA0oYvjWZmtif9CfNn-A/s1600/Screenshot-407.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7__mrWVi572LLMtf7jH8cfi69wrkEC1Q7EsqBZeFApplfqpltpekrHCC98vTfWH24oybOWw3fyzvx9Q98ohbVPZWVhI_eAB-elwhW4SIBOnKsUcWr_csSbIDjA0oYvjWZmtif9CfNn-A/s400/Screenshot-407.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511835773733759394" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Brandon let out a sigh of defeat. "A girl..." he muttered. "Another girl, Kyle?! ****!!!" he yelled</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br />"No, this is a different girl, she's-"</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br />"Forget it." he screamed. "Just...forget it. @#!@!, I'm way too old for this ****."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Brandon turned away and walked toward the house while muttering profanities. "What in the world got <span style="font-style: italic;">him</span> so worked up?" Kyle thought.</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCrYT97ipJh_ZQmwKki7Z8Mq8w5L4BtWSl06fjk5jv_he6xWUtNYF5w2Do_FGdvKYem3qayXtJrT8kiUtlXNQryLXt7TFpMdTdTvujoi7jKsBegKMGZvW9PnBC_ZrLjFL4HLVDWH_Oh0/s1600/Screenshot-408.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCrYT97ipJh_ZQmwKki7Z8Mq8w5L4BtWSl06fjk5jv_he6xWUtNYF5w2Do_FGdvKYem3qayXtJrT8kiUtlXNQryLXt7TFpMdTdTvujoi7jKsBegKMGZvW9PnBC_ZrLjFL4HLVDWH_Oh0/s400/Screenshot-408.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511845814204681234" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >The next morning, Kyle woke up and felt as if a bus hit him. He looked at his alarm clock and groaned. </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Of all nights to violate curfew, why last night?" he whined. But it was too late now, it was a Monday and he had school in an hour.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >The hardest part of today would be facing his parents after last night's incident. Or so he thought...</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >He saw his cellphone vibrate on his desk and got up to answer it.</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMPMeJurBXQB7Rrjahckg5tOVygOvvbAOUZNetd31T2k96wcy3dweVhFdV5J13zRBt1RmFHWyGL501KUIIQROKHEjaI0Fb-n-Okf6kC9ir6z24X2qWWM1orZt5ux3kLNPo1W6daisv_Q/s1600/Screenshot-410.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMPMeJurBXQB7Rrjahckg5tOVygOvvbAOUZNetd31T2k96wcy3dweVhFdV5J13zRBt1RmFHWyGL501KUIIQROKHEjaI0Fb-n-Okf6kC9ir6z24X2qWWM1orZt5ux3kLNPo1W6daisv_Q/s400/Screenshot-410.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511846631188269634" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"What the hell, man it's six in the morning! I'll talk to you at school." he said sleepily into the phone.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >"Naw man, I didn't call just to chat." Rocco said in reply. "Rumor's going 'round that you banged Charles' chick last night. Didya do it? Didya?</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Oh man, you're my hero!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >Kyle was disgusted, confused, and elated all at the same time. He loved it when there were rumors going around that he scored yet another chick (although he's still a virgin, much to his dismay), but Charles was a tough guy, someone you don't wanna mess with. And he had no clue who "Charles' chick" was.<br /><br />"Umm, who?"<br /><br />"Ahaha, that's my man! Scoring so many he doesn't remember the name!"<br /><br />"Right, right." Kyle said, playing along. "So, what's her name?"<br /><br />"Her name is Jia, you know, that girl you sneaked off with last night? The whole school knows about it. Rumor has it, Charles is angry. <span style="font-style: italic;">Very</span> angry. ***hole had it comin' to 'em if you ask me."<br /><br />Kyle dropped the phone in shock. He could hear Rocco yelling for him in the background. He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or destroy something in a fit of rage.<br /><br />All he knew is that Jia had some explaining to do.<br />--------------------------------------<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br />Haha, slowly but surely I'm learning how to make backups. :) Seriously, my game either crashes, freezes, or goes "error 12" on me every ten minutes. Not sure why.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> Fun facts: </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> 1. Jia Kai Lin (her full name, isn't it pretty?) was originally meant to be new to town, but I remembered that I had Jia and Kyle as friends already while Kyle was still a kid/preteen. Best friends. Oops?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> 2. "Jia" means "beautiful", "Kai" means "exceptionally bright", and "Lin" means "family name", all in Chinese. Or at least, that's according to the baby name sites I went on.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> 3. It was a huge, HUGE pain to get the pictures, with the game freezing and whatnot.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> 4. SH is seriously lacking teens!! I'm so disappointed.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> 5. I'm thinking about starting a few new pages dedicated to their traits, fun facts, SimTweet updates certain sims are featured in, etc.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> 6. The house is almost completely done with renovation and will be up soon!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">7. It was really hard to talk like a typical teenage "mac daddy". I kept cringing every time Kyle or one of his buddies would open their mouth. I really pity Brandon at this moment, it was actually not my plan to get Sandy pregnant. I do believe that SP did it while I was checking in on another family, ahaha. The one time I <span style="font-weight: bold;">did</span> try to get Sandy pregnant, it didn't work.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">8. If you're wondering who Rocco is, he's the blonde guy with the odd Chinese getup.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">9. If you remember the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKAxjnvCGDrKFU2b4E3ji8uKUGCdFWuwYmdPcXy0Kdj94G-Ay9YuZeZ42e8l4PJgUPMZH-k41gjvt12JsI7GdjtBqXL0RD_96VdEoeP_h3f_NmnAlUPSbC8CBwG9Qkxoyy2Zk2vzHeKQ/s400/Untitled.jpg">Crazy Hormonal Sandy</a> phase Sandy went through while pregnant with Issac, it might amuse you to find out that Issac is not only a pyro, but a neurotic pyro. ;)</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic;">Juliana turned out to be neurotic as well, which might be why they get along so well.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> P.S. - Did you catch the cop referencing to Sandy? ;)</span>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-67878717759994367182010-08-30T16:47:00.000-07:002010-08-30T17:02:55.672-07:00SimTweets! 8/30/10<span style="font-size:78%;">----------------------------------------<br /><a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2010/08/simtweets-82710.html">Check out the first SimTweet!</a></span><br /><br />More SimTweets. Disjointed, but a lovely little lighthearted peek into their lives. :) Especially since a rather intense update is on the agenda.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQb9FeKT4Ki_o-SoJcBfJFH02A7dxzj1ARG_nzHW8aCpLqkyY8X6Kh541HMSPZsAQZZ_ngmyRmWUa3hmAnv1KVHjWiu_7EpVROw2-fSPDDo84vn4rua28Wz8CdSZD8vB1OjA_yBcZImg/s1600/julie01.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQb9FeKT4Ki_o-SoJcBfJFH02A7dxzj1ARG_nzHW8aCpLqkyY8X6Kh541HMSPZsAQZZ_ngmyRmWUa3hmAnv1KVHjWiu_7EpVROw2-fSPDDo84vn4rua28Wz8CdSZD8vB1OjA_yBcZImg/s400/julie01.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511354962152099298" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX-gbVU6p1-2csLK6E6rPYH471OzG9MQTY2A5Cl6L9ahGH-1ckYfErcgJrC81A53KWUibBDBFHuU9tzbl06htAT79oWkIm07_1iJFH52YWU6w-74u5xAmTJPy1oYdcr5mdyN1sjgRK0U/s1600/faketweetbuilder.com.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX-gbVU6p1-2csLK6E6rPYH471OzG9MQTY2A5Cl6L9ahGH-1ckYfErcgJrC81A53KWUibBDBFHuU9tzbl06htAT79oWkIm07_1iJFH52YWU6w-74u5xAmTJPy1oYdcr5mdyN1sjgRK0U/s400/faketweetbuilder.com.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511354858068160802" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRfpjdAiQLcqF4snb17jf7NMEnldNTmHs42g6PRE-dfiKz9rFkS-y1utiuJPhLOedZ5puhDbgKTgG33pfpzZkos08U7HuauZ3bVr6qHarNtgXc7eZNIEOD4FS9caPDDkBvBL8GvXwsLHw/s1600/sandy01kyle01.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 388px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRfpjdAiQLcqF4snb17jf7NMEnldNTmHs42g6PRE-dfiKz9rFkS-y1utiuJPhLOedZ5puhDbgKTgG33pfpzZkos08U7HuauZ3bVr6qHarNtgXc7eZNIEOD4FS9caPDDkBvBL8GvXwsLHw/s400/sandy01kyle01.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511356198540396114" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDXHfyeNBgSpsltEukTdgBIN-tx4YOmIzOGPQgt5g7kO4dFAZHy81A1-qYimJ6Idz49L1rpsGVBURAIhpkT7xcxqe5KI3mVSzK_7c8wmizlWkJH1UQYbyi2vBdYZTw9cays8miE8PMIw/s1600/kyle01.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDXHfyeNBgSpsltEukTdgBIN-tx4YOmIzOGPQgt5g7kO4dFAZHy81A1-qYimJ6Idz49L1rpsGVBURAIhpkT7xcxqe5KI3mVSzK_7c8wmizlWkJH1UQYbyi2vBdYZTw9cays8miE8PMIw/s400/kyle01.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511356872237487954" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaNrJp_M7XYEFlPtkKDn7992gwrGHfVLKDAF30jptrFD96ll26CiWJGOGYEI3kNjo16dJ-FiDZafq7aWzj4JrZKSwZI40rrqACjRhZmmvF73cpxHM7o6zV0amGNRlPT5FnAN7xkaErk7E/s1600/issac01.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 255px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaNrJp_M7XYEFlPtkKDn7992gwrGHfVLKDAF30jptrFD96ll26CiWJGOGYEI3kNjo16dJ-FiDZafq7aWzj4JrZKSwZI40rrqACjRhZmmvF73cpxHM7o6zV0amGNRlPT5FnAN7xkaErk7E/s400/issac01.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511357557238896738" border="0" /></a>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-33385068204658390662010-08-27T18:40:00.000-07:002010-08-27T20:38:34.350-07:00SimTweets! 8/27/10When I found out that some sim heirs invaded Twitter and Facebook, I thought that was an absolutely brilliant idea. It seems as if tweeting through the viewpoint of a sim gives you an even deeper insight to their personalities, as in, how they behave in everyday life when no "drama" is present. However, I wanted to keep it "integrated" into the general storyline and world. I wanted the residents of Saskan Harbour to interact with each other, without needing to have multiple accounts. And that is when I found <a href="http://faketweetbuilder.com/">Fake Tweet Builder.</a> It's incredibly simple to use, it's very fun, and it's great for those minor updates that always seem to clog up story lines (for instance: ZOMG LOOK I REDID THE KITCHEN!!) Another thing that I find very useful for it is that they allow me to update you guys on the rest of the residents in a non-intruding manner. I'll probably be downloading some sims and update you on their progress through Saskan Harbour that way. :D They also have <a href="http://www.fakebookquotes.appspot.com/">Facebook Quotes</a>, which is basically the same thing as the Fake Tweet Builder, but Facebook style. Help on how to use them can be found <a href="http://fakebookquotes.tumblr.com/makeyourown">here.</a><br /><br />This may or may not be a "lasting" thing, but it's definitely easier than trying to blog, blog, blog. If I cannot give you an update, I can at least give you a SimTweet! :D<br /><br />Evidently, Blogger does not like particularly long SimTweets (or maybe I just goofed up the first SimTweet in MS Paint). You'll have to click and enlarge some of them, but hopefully that won't be a major problem. :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1KKUf5TalGTPU4KDxpBlqLAZFUpyg8iUJ-ZsUwo-z0qH-k5AmjHVMufxdA967cQOQfLxEmCZct6hER6caouCrxP8s0sDkmObr1MCDAcGQqiUK-3ITAuBlbhwIBWOI78B9tTfWsHUOZM/s1600/faketweetbuilder.com.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 122px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1KKUf5TalGTPU4KDxpBlqLAZFUpyg8iUJ-ZsUwo-z0qH-k5AmjHVMufxdA967cQOQfLxEmCZct6hER6caouCrxP8s0sDkmObr1MCDAcGQqiUK-3ITAuBlbhwIBWOI78B9tTfWsHUOZM/s400/faketweetbuilder.com.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510271723162095810" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigV4mSryjmnVGIS4wtptDzjRmQ0gEqabgp96DONg7-HBJZONGR-2c9wHVZCCqfqz0tHjhB64IatHgc5Gh0Fz9knwIizeGgJ5ZG8uxEViYJIKHcaBxdy5uNNBal-kgRhHUZnioE5AMmbbA/s1600/kyle01.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigV4mSryjmnVGIS4wtptDzjRmQ0gEqabgp96DONg7-HBJZONGR-2c9wHVZCCqfqz0tHjhB64IatHgc5Gh0Fz9knwIizeGgJ5ZG8uxEViYJIKHcaBxdy5uNNBal-kgRhHUZnioE5AMmbbA/s400/kyle01.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510296528491110066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzmMWd_KRREPzqbZjlGxlcSsrDazLIIdpR7hH42xWAPFljCTdRg6SP8gOaGdOqxmeZOMmetIA7uAdKaVHHrfgbbsBg95fRdvPlGo7cUBYyjlCF2crM28OhTGtR7k7RlkwzudSXFnZsaE/s1600/julie01.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 255px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzmMWd_KRREPzqbZjlGxlcSsrDazLIIdpR7hH42xWAPFljCTdRg6SP8gOaGdOqxmeZOMmetIA7uAdKaVHHrfgbbsBg95fRdvPlGo7cUBYyjlCF2crM28OhTGtR7k7RlkwzudSXFnZsaE/s400/julie01.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510274716545679506" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLf7b_oH-MBtguA80Wt6VuMckQe5J5X7PDJc0R8smfV4XjVH1FGQhD0SmLPR7jQWi6q3eTeaiRBfX0NMAr7gpsS2xITFux4ZP2hQIKtWL73ZslT_11Xn414FPAFJKmjtDuO6y5w_Wv2Ak/s1600/issac01.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLf7b_oH-MBtguA80Wt6VuMckQe5J5X7PDJc0R8smfV4XjVH1FGQhD0SmLPR7jQWi6q3eTeaiRBfX0NMAr7gpsS2xITFux4ZP2hQIKtWL73ZslT_11Xn414FPAFJKmjtDuO6y5w_Wv2Ak/s400/issac01.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510292775807987474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiFfllUxeLAQ5mWnVXcGuQP5n2EkTBZ1RaOt9WcW8DwAQ2NTZc4Qqxmre-MdIQeCMy44Th_Y9_yvfRu0FHCBA9XMgVHgBW9am8_-iMdx3iq6Bi92J0lgoEXrNJ6Z4eNr17bllc1jGhLis/s1600/issac01julie01.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 369px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiFfllUxeLAQ5mWnVXcGuQP5n2EkTBZ1RaOt9WcW8DwAQ2NTZc4Qqxmre-MdIQeCMy44Th_Y9_yvfRu0FHCBA9XMgVHgBW9am8_-iMdx3iq6Bi92J0lgoEXrNJ6Z4eNr17bllc1jGhLis/s400/issac01julie01.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510297925707861794" border="0" /></a><br />I need to stop now before I go crazy with the SimTweets, lol. Expect more SimTweets tomorrow! :)mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-41827548167668017862010-08-24T15:44:00.001-07:002010-08-24T17:03:08.821-07:00Enter: the confused ramblings of a sick person...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9OqYmrQhyphenhyphen236qBIBdRMncRPuMitgAhQwj_cNJR4FqKd4fMGFYzuZnARu17BLOXnd_GjpNNO_RRsqs1jiShK9ffQnYJTiMNYk7UAo3kaRTII7yPhe7UrSakVLdLypILU7JTQWit5TV2s/s1600/Screenshot-382.jpg"><br /></a><br />I felt the need to make this post because I haven't made one in awhile and I wanted it to be known that I'm not giving up on it. Just recently I got sick <span style="font-size:78%;">(again, I know. remind me not to hang around little kids without taking some vitamin c tablets first)</span>, but even before then, I wasn't making regular updates. That is because I experienced a feeling of "burnout", which I often get when playing or blogging too frequently and running into a wall, and I also got stuck on what way I should re-do their home. Thankfully I've got the home taken care of now, so when I start playing again that'll be done. :D Still needs some fixing up though, so I think I plan on skipping a little story-wise. Don't worry, you won't miss much. ;)<br /><br />Anyway, here are a few pictures from my last playing session...enjoy!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">p.s. Kyle = cutest thing ever, even as a kid</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX6SBgQYn2hxWwpl1rba5Bpoh4MbGGgDHaHm-6AN_2ubqsUiAZuDPqOe3osc1FaIOoJVX48bWxN9t10tByharTQo84n3-dVjQueMAaYza-rxkp792uYqDLbvM4GFGdTO0szLMUZm_cm04/s1600/Screenshot-375.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX6SBgQYn2hxWwpl1rba5Bpoh4MbGGgDHaHm-6AN_2ubqsUiAZuDPqOe3osc1FaIOoJVX48bWxN9t10tByharTQo84n3-dVjQueMAaYza-rxkp792uYqDLbvM4GFGdTO0szLMUZm_cm04/s400/Screenshot-375.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509112073342795458" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBebTEsN0jckUPTtQMb08nGYOOGBnIgh02TGQykHlKxW9L6I04SXgX1klBzELdvshyb7lsdYCxetpP95aKZ8sxFiB4c4ANkDTEOUMpnXi0bdkFCSLDyBfFlzmZTTd2PcycySZHLCLGXw/s1600/Screenshot-380.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBebTEsN0jckUPTtQMb08nGYOOGBnIgh02TGQykHlKxW9L6I04SXgX1klBzELdvshyb7lsdYCxetpP95aKZ8sxFiB4c4ANkDTEOUMpnXi0bdkFCSLDyBfFlzmZTTd2PcycySZHLCLGXw/s400/Screenshot-380.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509112060078263586" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwajl3vSNmEpb2iGTzndfaqxsJb3NhC6H1N-YUQ6-qvyGuwKUzKxK1vYNL8v1o1pVTagMuCG4_0nmnfirrjVmNYfpvHGHtc0bg-swwK-vLmLzRPGwXkFDyzcdmsLev8qEGGYIYbaIoQEo/s1600/Screenshot-381.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwajl3vSNmEpb2iGTzndfaqxsJb3NhC6H1N-YUQ6-qvyGuwKUzKxK1vYNL8v1o1pVTagMuCG4_0nmnfirrjVmNYfpvHGHtc0bg-swwK-vLmLzRPGwXkFDyzcdmsLev8qEGGYIYbaIoQEo/s400/Screenshot-381.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509112046217240226" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And last but not least, the result of their somewhat-limited funds<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9OqYmrQhyphenhyphen236qBIBdRMncRPuMitgAhQwj_cNJR4FqKd4fMGFYzuZnARu17BLOXnd_GjpNNO_RRsqs1jiShK9ffQnYJTiMNYk7UAo3kaRTII7yPhe7UrSakVLdLypILU7JTQWit5TV2s/s1600/Screenshot-382.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9OqYmrQhyphenhyphen236qBIBdRMncRPuMitgAhQwj_cNJR4FqKd4fMGFYzuZnARu17BLOXnd_GjpNNO_RRsqs1jiShK9ffQnYJTiMNYk7UAo3kaRTII7yPhe7UrSakVLdLypILU7JTQWit5TV2s/s400/Screenshot-382.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509130458251142610" border="0" /></a>Keep in mind that the inside is still basically nothing but walls and cement, lolmmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-73925065419620315852010-07-29T07:10:00.000-07:002010-07-29T15:30:18.063-07:00Unexpected VisitorIn the Dillard household, things were going smoothly and according to plan. Possibly, to the point of concern.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9BBpQ58VejE1pLtunoC3cINIVg7R1cF5PnG-rd_Rt_Nh1YZ2A29k7g5yZy9EOCePEliHfvS4dV5SIE2dksMUk2luxXYF9frXc4QPwkKLsymwsFIV9syzA3kx_hGl7shjs3ssYoxdQZs/s1600/Screenshot-355.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9BBpQ58VejE1pLtunoC3cINIVg7R1cF5PnG-rd_Rt_Nh1YZ2A29k7g5yZy9EOCePEliHfvS4dV5SIE2dksMUk2luxXYF9frXc4QPwkKLsymwsFIV9syzA3kx_hGl7shjs3ssYoxdQZs/s400/Screenshot-355.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499026870622976034" border="0" /></a>Much to their surprise, Sandy got pregnant rather easily...again. <span style="font-style: italic;">"Ugh, I don't think I can do this again"</span> she thought to herself before tossing up the leftover mac and cheese. What on sim-earth were she and Brandon thinking?!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoS357vkZ5L9A4kw92-H_WEYf0joC8knjfERzwtgZ1I0RHQ1Cy9Apsg_zJu8KqOTLlXAaKty3s7QIoZtN_QRJ-bRFCezq4DbSbsX_cakjr2aLdT6rRshcUzVZMkQn3cGOUJ3s54VmGbvo/s1600/Screenshot-357.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoS357vkZ5L9A4kw92-H_WEYf0joC8knjfERzwtgZ1I0RHQ1Cy9Apsg_zJu8KqOTLlXAaKty3s7QIoZtN_QRJ-bRFCezq4DbSbsX_cakjr2aLdT6rRshcUzVZMkQn3cGOUJ3s54VmGbvo/s400/Screenshot-357.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499055382337617810" border="0" /></a>Kyle was no longer the center of attention, just as he feared. If possible, Issac was even <span style="font-style: italic;">more</span> demanding than Kyle was, and the pregnancy distracted his parents as well. Thus, Kyle was left in a high chair for long periods of time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwuqxWShSDfCPgcQMcy-FpPyN-S9STEd6F2AlsjjipwfWnXmmzQIkB4AgBMtGaBKYceC79DU-ooQqZol_BMltJZkMvlAnDmIt0yDJeCCFP2jZ48znHQvNnhvnhoW1PIbqf1IYHUlWNa0/s1600/Screenshot-358.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwuqxWShSDfCPgcQMcy-FpPyN-S9STEd6F2AlsjjipwfWnXmmzQIkB4AgBMtGaBKYceC79DU-ooQqZol_BMltJZkMvlAnDmIt0yDJeCCFP2jZ48znHQvNnhvnhoW1PIbqf1IYHUlWNa0/s400/Screenshot-358.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499057943357653474" border="0" /></a>But even though she has two very young children and a very stressed out husband, Sandy was...<span style="font-style: italic;">mellow.</span> This pregnancy was a lot more calm than the first two. She wasn't beaming with unexplainable joy like she was during Kyle's pregnancy, but she wasn't moody and spiteful like she was during Issac's pregnancy. The baby drained a lot of her energy, but other than that, things were pretty peaceful.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHpctM_FkE3B9mHokLHV3notZu4urDxsolbEHaTP2mhx2NcOAksztOqO0M-Cujb1QBtsfnNS-v3F4ZYpdapwmIgoEav2E9uhPQr77JM6DxYb5i7jYMsFv-v_qca3D0SyVN4AaK0ArW0Ug/s1600/Screenshot-359.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHpctM_FkE3B9mHokLHV3notZu4urDxsolbEHaTP2mhx2NcOAksztOqO0M-Cujb1QBtsfnNS-v3F4ZYpdapwmIgoEav2E9uhPQr77JM6DxYb5i7jYMsFv-v_qca3D0SyVN4AaK0ArW0Ug/s400/Screenshot-359.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499072804294883346" border="0" /></a>Later on that day, she scheduled a play date at her house so that Kyle could interact with kids his own age. She invited over Desiree (she's expecting-again!), Alexander and his daughter Malissa (middle), and Anya and her daughter Kiana. Kiana is so adorable, she's going to break a lot of hearts, just like her mother.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYpXcMI7QMOOi3-3aJm19MWoYCdr_v4VD1sN_Dscj2ZWTkVmZE2s_GxiwVxLH7hyn6NTqeyBXhDdK81YKEx1yITTFeXVNNTXI_Y9Q54tT76SKqCRb-YPiLpdQRN7Ycah7M1nYSlCYJqmk/s1600/Screenshot-361.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYpXcMI7QMOOi3-3aJm19MWoYCdr_v4VD1sN_Dscj2ZWTkVmZE2s_GxiwVxLH7hyn6NTqeyBXhDdK81YKEx1yITTFeXVNNTXI_Y9Q54tT76SKqCRb-YPiLpdQRN7Ycah7M1nYSlCYJqmk/s400/Screenshot-361.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499072795858433010" border="0" /></a>Meanwhile, the adults were in the family room watching <span style="font-style: italic;">Romantic Rendezvous</span>, Anya's favorite soap channel. No one really seemed amused except from Alex, who was trying to lead a group analysis on the secret relationship Betty Lou and James shared.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqom46hfMOuOpo5rckadSSZ_s6f2Fnw6mMkp5HY9QPUTbzY4kxnCXfvPnMACla5RfVBVraD_WkEuE2XH-FO8-20f0IcdF-358Dk-yRyYx4fkCZLDyo8cmAsjD8EeBJR1r1WsZgRaNwAlE/s1600/Screenshot-362.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqom46hfMOuOpo5rckadSSZ_s6f2Fnw6mMkp5HY9QPUTbzY4kxnCXfvPnMACla5RfVBVraD_WkEuE2XH-FO8-20f0IcdF-358Dk-yRyYx4fkCZLDyo8cmAsjD8EeBJR1r1WsZgRaNwAlE/s400/Screenshot-362.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499087800458827762" border="0" /></a>After that, they stood in the walkway debating politics. Sandy was trying her best to look interested when out of the blue, the doorbell rang. That's odd, she wasn't expecting anyone else.<br /><br />"I'm sorry, if you'll excuse me..."<br /><br />"Oh no, that's fine." Alex reassured her with a trademark grin. She didn't even notice that her friend was hungrily staring him down. If Sandy were aware of what was happening, she would say <span style="font-style: italic;">"For Pete's sake, you're both married! <span style="font-weight: bold;">No</span> flirting."</span><br /><br />But right now, her mind was somewhere else.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8Z0H8b_faMpAp__y4CsZOIQiNTREQGlo6Gj8NwhcuHBtbEAXBboyTHTeEsHR9IA8ZF9Km563GUbUjI1Gw_hCKwXW2QPtkO-8P5rBmU7l9ieSdiyTidEN-gygDEQgZfqheEeoZ-I-fZ0/s1600/Screenshot-363.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8Z0H8b_faMpAp__y4CsZOIQiNTREQGlo6Gj8NwhcuHBtbEAXBboyTHTeEsHR9IA8ZF9Km563GUbUjI1Gw_hCKwXW2QPtkO-8P5rBmU7l9ieSdiyTidEN-gygDEQgZfqheEeoZ-I-fZ0/s400/Screenshot-363.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499089162732551698" border="0" /></a>"Oh, um...<span style="font-style: italic;">hello.</span> You look...different." Sandy said carefully. She was torn between admiring Angelina's guts for showing up to her doorstep, and wanting to destroy them for that very same reason.<br /><br />"Hi, you look lovely! Pregnancy suits you well. <span style="font-style: italic;">Love</span> that red lip!" she smiled<br /><br />Sandy wasn't buying it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6Uty-2MYgbev-TI8iKW1VaSRnHqtiWiUKW0QvZXzwc_MA9osRfXRT2geUMXRpcP7W2lbtM0uN96NnEwkjMh6PCOUFWapZZU_nqcZWvoqQnLfoJjbVuS0-k1I6Hoh2SKRfWuTH72NA2M/s1600/Screenshot-364.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6Uty-2MYgbev-TI8iKW1VaSRnHqtiWiUKW0QvZXzwc_MA9osRfXRT2geUMXRpcP7W2lbtM0uN96NnEwkjMh6PCOUFWapZZU_nqcZWvoqQnLfoJjbVuS0-k1I6Hoh2SKRfWuTH72NA2M/s400/Screenshot-364.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499089445116374914" border="0" /></a>"Look, what do you want? Sorry, Brandon isn't home yet."<br /><br />"Oh I know, I have him doing some of my paperwork. My job performance hasn't been the best lately. I just figured that you might want to know that I'm backing off."<br /><br />"Wh-what?"<br /><br />"I'm backing off. You're right, I was out of line. Anyway, you look tired. You should get some rest," she chirped.<br /><br />Plumbbob, she was the worst actress <span style="font-style: italic;">ever.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0MemzVSddpi2JLQailUyH2FOKXKRQFXYqxvsFvSwPx33_lagN041RSf31IUP2UPs3nfDoVht3J62hI764sMm_U2l5xy7517sJXtWFVxgqoN8dEdwkc8rjFlhkqIU8pxQemzHkPKFqfE/s1600/Screenshot-365.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0MemzVSddpi2JLQailUyH2FOKXKRQFXYqxvsFvSwPx33_lagN041RSf31IUP2UPs3nfDoVht3J62hI764sMm_U2l5xy7517sJXtWFVxgqoN8dEdwkc8rjFlhkqIU8pxQemzHkPKFqfE/s400/Screenshot-365.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499091365210379922" border="0" /></a>"Look, I'm in no mood for mind games." she said, closing her eyes. "You tried to steal him from me from day one. You crashed my wedding and tried to break it up. Hell, you even snuck into the house to flirt with Brandon while I was at a friend's house! I <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> you're not going to give up."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYph4-AD3R6Sr3DBmrMujiApW5imI8TF0KgyoUko_lEfHxjQcPiLf13uUrTb-al3XLJ7awkeaOS_-DY-q_oX5heAe0uYknUwyg2ady98jR_FYT_sQwTXPR3TXSp-0IftleZB9MFoWlH6A/s1600/Screenshot-366.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYph4-AD3R6Sr3DBmrMujiApW5imI8TF0KgyoUko_lEfHxjQcPiLf13uUrTb-al3XLJ7awkeaOS_-DY-q_oX5heAe0uYknUwyg2ady98jR_FYT_sQwTXPR3TXSp-0IftleZB9MFoWlH6A/s400/Screenshot-366.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499092332513516674" border="0" /></a>"Well fine, I guess you're smarter than I thought-"<br /><br />"Genius, actually." Sandy haughtily replied<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Show off."</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-YfbnhSq1t1sGkK5IIqY1A2sBh6hx7CWrLOEHTf_AQDzclekDWheN9HHC1uS7AHBcFJHEbNbiSzPUTI2Pdz7EDLeibVViqBZX0hDmhlZ6XkOKRKcpVb00DA9uVCx26Zkfv-gTYfPawuQ/s1600/Screenshot-367.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-YfbnhSq1t1sGkK5IIqY1A2sBh6hx7CWrLOEHTf_AQDzclekDWheN9HHC1uS7AHBcFJHEbNbiSzPUTI2Pdz7EDLeibVViqBZX0hDmhlZ6XkOKRKcpVb00DA9uVCx26Zkfv-gTYfPawuQ/s400/Screenshot-367.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499093246845117202" border="0" /></a>"Do you think that <span style="font-style: italic;">baby</span> is going to save your marriage?" she yelled, pointing at Sandy's protruding stomach. "Do you think it's going to keep Brandon from me? I think not, nothing can save your marriage, I don't care <span style="font-style: italic;">how</span> many babies you pop out. In fact, I'd like it if you popped out more. The fatter you get and the more stressed out he is, the sooner he'll run to me."<br /><br />Sandy stared at her in sheer anger, horror, and disbelief. It took everything in her power to restrain herself from beating the crap out of Angie.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqp3eiUyracCipoOWsl15okm2T0_bhaSa-iIhiVJCGIj4i7NSM-ViUEcUbbwlAO_uSDA9l2s4esyTWkuY3kY05Mi5gIEhAjWthG1FNWgx4zi0zZWt-jaxOWs5dqNYhTAI2yRvMd5Mx9So/s1600/Screenshot-368.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqp3eiUyracCipoOWsl15okm2T0_bhaSa-iIhiVJCGIj4i7NSM-ViUEcUbbwlAO_uSDA9l2s4esyTWkuY3kY05Mi5gIEhAjWthG1FNWgx4zi0zZWt-jaxOWs5dqNYhTAI2yRvMd5Mx9So/s400/Screenshot-368.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499094659664110290" border="0" /></a>"You...you <span style="font-style: italic;">must</span> be crazy. You must be <span style="font-style: italic;">out of your damn mind.</span>" Sandy shakily muttered, backing away. "He doesn't want you, just...please leave me and my family in peace, and we can all leave this alone. No harm no foul."<br /><br />"Oh, so that's it? What happened to those threats, hmm? Now you're just backing away like a coward-"<br /><br />Angelina was cut off not by words, but by Sandy's menacing glare. On one hand, she was happy. She had successfully gotten under her skin. On the other hand, Angelina was now frightened for her own life. But she wouldn't dare show it, and she knew that someone like Sandy could never lay a hand on her, let alone commit murder.<br /><br />So instead of making her fear apparent, she put on a smug grin.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSdvtBZxpPpDKXLNBG7cCDUR3RwugnOjGWmxrogPWeA5EttIaWovmh5fmuZoGF7OiBSlR5wrfBZ6010elByRYCV0pT11jVCynfPpY1U6nocnPuJeb0Kh2S5lNarksFI6OJwUxq1msIlng/s1600/Untitled.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSdvtBZxpPpDKXLNBG7cCDUR3RwugnOjGWmxrogPWeA5EttIaWovmh5fmuZoGF7OiBSlR5wrfBZ6010elByRYCV0pT11jVCynfPpY1U6nocnPuJeb0Kh2S5lNarksFI6OJwUxq1msIlng/s400/Untitled.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499095312104386114" border="0" /></a>They both knew that Angelina would never have Brandon, and neither one of them cared. This was about more than just Brandon. This was an all-out-war.<br /><br />Let the battle begin.<br />------------------------<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6gH-YWAkiq6OVj0W66CT0-U-Pkv5rPSFMkQNEO2LxesQ0TVYRktRZj6jZEETeHMN0z5F9FDKNzZ9VSi4MESn4NscO-MYNp7uiHlTMSE_PIwRk1ZzKnGX-vRdzXlukLaKH0O9Ht_eIO9E/s1600/Screenshot-369.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6gH-YWAkiq6OVj0W66CT0-U-Pkv5rPSFMkQNEO2LxesQ0TVYRktRZj6jZEETeHMN0z5F9FDKNzZ9VSi4MESn4NscO-MYNp7uiHlTMSE_PIwRk1ZzKnGX-vRdzXlukLaKH0O9Ht_eIO9E/s400/Screenshot-369.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499115270388519410" border="0" /></a>A few days later, Sandy gave birth to (hopefully) their final baby named Juliana. Finally, it's a girl!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-3LuxHngnhT1YKag8tgR81nKOyzHHYetEWCdqne6gkL46Jvdr_U2faoABc8yAncl3WsMHOytljRSYsrGoH4AEwY74-EaK07C9f0QDxKDrzyqxaeGKufLZrEn2A42UVQToUE_5rc3h2k/s1600/Screenshot-370.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-3LuxHngnhT1YKag8tgR81nKOyzHHYetEWCdqne6gkL46Jvdr_U2faoABc8yAncl3WsMHOytljRSYsrGoH4AEwY74-EaK07C9f0QDxKDrzyqxaeGKufLZrEn2A42UVQToUE_5rc3h2k/s400/Screenshot-370.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499115277006788866" border="0" /></a>Issac had a birthday and turned 4 days old the same night. Granted, he's not as much of a camera-lover as his brother Kyle, but he's adorable nonetheless.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwpXwm0pmhYT5hXlJ6TbNmeOkmVdwqtSllZomwtpQO2qNdi3US8xDtefxR6PKnDgZdCSfW5F1B9qk4KPpNYzjLd2802ms638D0GGESkDTwRBs4YEemvC8_kQZ42m28bwDPGXEcQPkIb_w/s1600/Screenshot-372.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwpXwm0pmhYT5hXlJ6TbNmeOkmVdwqtSllZomwtpQO2qNdi3US8xDtefxR6PKnDgZdCSfW5F1B9qk4KPpNYzjLd2802ms638D0GGESkDTwRBs4YEemvC8_kQZ42m28bwDPGXEcQPkIb_w/s400/Screenshot-372.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499121704152297954" border="0" /></a>And as for Kyle, well, he had a birthday party of his own. Completely ignored by his family members in favor of his "other siblings", Kyle grew up all alone.<br /><br />----------------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Where do I begin? So it turns out that whatever bug this is, it likes it when Sandy is pregnant. Then the picture shows up, and she can actually change out of her clothes. When she's no longer pregnant, she still can't do anything that requires changing clothes, including woohoo. I'm hoping that if I patiently wait until she turns into an adult or an elder, then the glitch will phase out.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh, and My game crashed on me so I lost everything from the fight with Angelina down. Oh well, we can just say that we got a glimpse into the future. ;)</span>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-3938310634300345952010-07-28T08:42:00.000-07:002010-07-28T08:42:00.234-07:00Baby Making Fever and Revenge TacticsIf Sandy thought Kyle was a crier, then he was nothing compared to the blood-curdling cries Issac would emit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQlWJArF_a_FwTIJUhKhpnEoSl0sSmhq66dd5SwmLLSIf9mjf1CoaOsgdl7OAMQtF2aKliIp_ry8rURrzHFx7IvM4JG1tstRdYtj0TMECCqRmc-T8n0QUR5yjFjicd1N4K7w8ZqEZTWY/s1600/Screenshot-347.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQlWJArF_a_FwTIJUhKhpnEoSl0sSmhq66dd5SwmLLSIf9mjf1CoaOsgdl7OAMQtF2aKliIp_ry8rURrzHFx7IvM4JG1tstRdYtj0TMECCqRmc-T8n0QUR5yjFjicd1N4K7w8ZqEZTWY/s400/Screenshot-347.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498039977062272770" border="0" /></a><br />"Issac sweetie <span style="font-style: italic;">please</span> give Mommy a minute!" Sandy yelled from the living room. She needed to catch up on her writing skills if she ever wanted to get that promotion. That is, if she ever went back to work.<br /><br />Issac was definitely a strange little baby, sometimes it seems as if he cries out of irrational fear instead of need. <span style="font-style: italic;">"What on earth would a little baby be so afraid of?"</span> she thought to herself.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6d7bKf0_DA34X7A1IFt4zVHqGoUkYnNesltnONHQRmcaLFgc3mTdxvP8D1z03vlc9hIe9JOycguXm1TWBp-DwMGLUuyUP2Ssu9LWO4avPeJIIfdjC-WR6riL_0Jdc45UYDgr6aWzdX3c/s1600/Screenshot-348.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6d7bKf0_DA34X7A1IFt4zVHqGoUkYnNesltnONHQRmcaLFgc3mTdxvP8D1z03vlc9hIe9JOycguXm1TWBp-DwMGLUuyUP2Ssu9LWO4avPeJIIfdjC-WR6riL_0Jdc45UYDgr6aWzdX3c/s400/Screenshot-348.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498760712339936098" border="0" /></a>She sighed and looked down at Issac, who was perfectly fine evidently, but would not stop crying. "You're <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> lucky that I love you."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6a5IBXdS9GAwHPHRuOn-ReVI8V550tewFYvhluQuK1MNWdD9O_6wpDmA4x7mAL8A7rXQcKTeDiI75QgoNmiYus_H1aDjy2OJQQK-5Z7h7IUvbkvRgbuMS7ncjj32hkytGZPMiTk0dKw/s1600/Screenshot-351.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6a5IBXdS9GAwHPHRuOn-ReVI8V550tewFYvhluQuK1MNWdD9O_6wpDmA4x7mAL8A7rXQcKTeDiI75QgoNmiYus_H1aDjy2OJQQK-5Z7h7IUvbkvRgbuMS7ncjj32hkytGZPMiTk0dKw/s400/Screenshot-351.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498760714534587538" border="0" /></a>Meanwhile, Kyle was busy being, well.<span style="font-style: italic;">, </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Kyle.</span> AKA a cute, adorable toddler that <span style="font-style: italic;">loved</span> getting into things.<br /><br />"Kyle, where are you? It's time for Mommy to give you a bath! Please come here!" Sandy pleaded while looking all over for him. Kyle peeked out of his toybox, giggled, and continued to hide for another fifteen minutes.<br /><br />While struggling to raise a rambunctious toddler and a constantly disturbed baby, you'd wonder how they keep their sanity. They don't. In fact, they're pretty much ill at the moment with the illness they call:<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /> "Baby Making Fever"</span>.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6S-yZAXWiMXfvMVX2ityVHvOsLXggICMsNrvhqUzMYoQwoGvLoUo4F3vbdX4nuOujRhkDqN5DDDMX2aYvG25sTbaUwBrB6WCPqBjM8GRWrQYOpfX7R81lGbxFyzqLmyix_phj6EOxqDQ/s1600/Screenshot-352.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6S-yZAXWiMXfvMVX2ityVHvOsLXggICMsNrvhqUzMYoQwoGvLoUo4F3vbdX4nuOujRhkDqN5DDDMX2aYvG25sTbaUwBrB6WCPqBjM8GRWrQYOpfX7R81lGbxFyzqLmyix_phj6EOxqDQ/s400/Screenshot-352.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498764210086366226" border="0" /></a>"I love you Sandy," he said with a smile on his face, "And I never want to be with anyone other than you. Are we okay now? I mean, it's been awhile since we've had an argument so I'd assume we're okay, but I never know with you-"<br /><br />"Yes, we're fine babe. I promise." she smiled back. "And um...I have something I want to tell you."<br /><br />"So do I."<br /><br />"Let's both say it at the same time, then." she offered. Brandon just chuckled at her childishness and said "Okay. Count of three, you count."<br /><br />Sandy counted to three, and they expressed their desires at the same time.<br /><br />"I want to have another baby."<br /><br />-----------------------------------------<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQfB2lH-L_NKcuZJ2YTyeXkoXd6jIGV2ifk-rJst9Kwm0fO71w6ts6NqNi86s9p95St-1Rt8g_cwkYliWnZVcFye1ai5DtdfzpdlaocNXMIzbFAPAN4i7Qks0laxmXyDkHkCYC3vuHi8/s1600/Screenshot-353.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQfB2lH-L_NKcuZJ2YTyeXkoXd6jIGV2ifk-rJst9Kwm0fO71w6ts6NqNi86s9p95St-1Rt8g_cwkYliWnZVcFye1ai5DtdfzpdlaocNXMIzbFAPAN4i7Qks0laxmXyDkHkCYC3vuHi8/s400/Screenshot-353.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498770174452135346" border="0" /></a><br />Meanwhile, Angelina was working hard at her physique as well as her seduction tactics. Truth be told, she did want Brandon, but she was very well aware of the fact that he didn't want her. And that would change. See, this wasn't even <span style="font-style: italic;">about</span> Brandon anymore, this was about Sandy. She wanted to show her that if Angelina wants something, Angelina gets it; no matter what dumpy old housewives have to say about it.<br /><br />Angelina didn't like rules, and she had a great distaste for people who tried to shove their "rules" and "boundaries" onto her. For her, there are no rules, and there are no boundaries. She wasn't evil, per say...<br /><br />...just a touch of crazy.<br /><br />-------------------------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I labeled this as a teaser because right now, my game is acting a bit odd. It's freezing randomly and Sandy's head has disappeared from the pie menu, as well as the main screen when it loads the household. I need to fix this problem before I wind up with another disaster on my hands. I tried Custard awhile ago, and it found no conflicting CC. If anyone else has been through this and figured out a solution, please let me know. :)</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">For some reason, I get the feeling that it doesn't like Twallan's mods...</span>mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-85486225622989719032010-07-27T17:40:00.000-07:002010-07-27T17:40:00.373-07:00Expect the Unexpected<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Continuation of "<a href="http://sunsetvalleyts3.blogspot.com/2010/07/in-possession.html">In Possession</a>"</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1DQjICXrZsu1PkHOB5VXPADF-V3ujB9FvZkCW_4g9a0dqz7wdEB4gb0iVcDkwb0VgKxOBSjBPom7R7aMz1Yq2DO3StOE7zjb2nm_z-qLW3qWD6-JF5lz-KXptRA3X-gZGiwUjkto9tU/s1600/Screenshot-344.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1DQjICXrZsu1PkHOB5VXPADF-V3ujB9FvZkCW_4g9a0dqz7wdEB4gb0iVcDkwb0VgKxOBSjBPom7R7aMz1Yq2DO3StOE7zjb2nm_z-qLW3qWD6-JF5lz-KXptRA3X-gZGiwUjkto9tU/s400/Screenshot-344.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498008752661232466" border="0" /></a>For the most part, things kind of fixed themselves. Brandon got promoted to Division Manager, and they now have a small fortune in their family funds. After a few more promotions, they'll be able to afford an extension for the house, or maybe even an entire renovation. Plus, Sandy was getting closer and closer to her due date. <span style="font-style: italic;">"Only two days left,"</span> she silently cheered to herself.<br /><br />Sandy finally forgave herself. She admitted that she went a little too far, but what's done is done and she absolutely refused to apologize for protecting her family, one of the most precious things to her. Anya had her baby, and she named her Kiara. Yep, a her! The Saskan Harbour boy curse seems to be over...for now. Hopefully it won't turn into a girl curse instead.<br /><br />"Kyle, can you say <span style="font-style: italic;">'Journalism'</span>?" Sandy asked enthusiastically. After careful deliberation that only a toddler could make, he answered with a short and simple "No.". Sandy sighed.<br /><br />"Don't worry honey, he'll get the hang of it." he said from behind them. He was making his signature autumn salad for the food competition at the Bistro.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3K8SmSHjA4wT1H5h8Ga-49INgmYg2UgrF8UNobuikz_RQpQI6_Is3-HG0EwOLcCCZlQ1mXmyIMIK2qEtTNIzObmqI-UW2aGbCXqobueFZoljGvELI9Jl3dgziZ2xQohTvh0Lnr0xPFc/s1600/Screenshot-345.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3K8SmSHjA4wT1H5h8Ga-49INgmYg2UgrF8UNobuikz_RQpQI6_Is3-HG0EwOLcCCZlQ1mXmyIMIK2qEtTNIzObmqI-UW2aGbCXqobueFZoljGvELI9Jl3dgziZ2xQohTvh0Lnr0xPFc/s400/Screenshot-345.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498032992579581234" border="0" /></a>I guess stress really was an important factor, because she gave birth later that night, making it two days early. They rushed to the hospital in a mad dash to make sure that they didn't end up late like last time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPpgVUL9QzpaOdGmV3tKxipNkU4Lmdq8pylvrQQRgwYC3r3Fp5M4T-a9BY9_awURiFcbornINlf1_x_YLzxh4vYydg_98Z9tnuGMcfQbop3vWBdN49zC4J6-pBNjGU29McQ48163kE_Ew/s1600/Screenshot-346.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPpgVUL9QzpaOdGmV3tKxipNkU4Lmdq8pylvrQQRgwYC3r3Fp5M4T-a9BY9_awURiFcbornINlf1_x_YLzxh4vYydg_98Z9tnuGMcfQbop3vWBdN49zC4J6-pBNjGU29McQ48163kE_Ew/s400/Screenshot-346.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498033298327869490" border="0" /></a>And so, little baby Issac Dillard was born. That's right, a boy.<br /><br />And boy oh boy, this boy comes with a <span style="font-style: italic;">lot</span> of surprises.mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767103893751197112.post-12807456278124661972010-07-27T07:07:00.000-07:002010-07-27T07:07:00.649-07:00In Possession<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">****That Same Night*****</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzVsdoYZUV-4IDT9o3REPl8pDz7lna-3lIAeRVjNsqyCzI1TJ_z_cBKbFrpXXsTfi42gM6jZHblxeXXC9qAiDM96Q3AYMbXJcIiPMSJ_i3F7bPhYfg60l4qjOVWbgOetIwRXVAB-m93U/s1600/Screenshot-332.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzVsdoYZUV-4IDT9o3REPl8pDz7lna-3lIAeRVjNsqyCzI1TJ_z_cBKbFrpXXsTfi42gM6jZHblxeXXC9qAiDM96Q3AYMbXJcIiPMSJ_i3F7bPhYfg60l4qjOVWbgOetIwRXVAB-m93U/s400/Screenshot-332.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497984724107032866" border="0" /></a>There it was. The home that haunted her nightmares, and housed her only enemy. It was all <span style="font-style: italic;">her</span> fault. <span style="font-style: italic;">She</span> works him too hard, <span style="font-style: italic;">she</span> tried to destroy <span style="font-style: italic;">their</span> relationship, and in Sandy's eyes, <span style="font-style: italic;">she</span> was trying to take <span style="font-style: italic;">her</span> family. Over her dead body.<br /><br />Would Sane Sandy do this? Nooo, she'd let it go. She'd trust her husband and realize that Angie can't be helped. She would never drive up to her house and do Plumbbob knows what. But this isn't Sane Sandy, not. at. all. Crazy Hormonal Sandy is not someone you want to mess with, and Angie is going to learn that the hard way.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmRw8ihdyYqcTezU_UWb0YaSpwGhQ8ffugtVwAX_zHsp3QMzZWizSSiTuAYxnFrLz-IF01bA18uKHMSSRIhKDM6WJKHAqhZmQJZ8k7AsdBXFF5ZDSVH6UcRXPqZK7dQUBJicLuFXdc40/s1600/Screenshot-333.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmRw8ihdyYqcTezU_UWb0YaSpwGhQ8ffugtVwAX_zHsp3QMzZWizSSiTuAYxnFrLz-IF01bA18uKHMSSRIhKDM6WJKHAqhZmQJZ8k7AsdBXFF5ZDSVH6UcRXPqZK7dQUBJicLuFXdc40/s400/Screenshot-333.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497984718435718450" border="0" /></a>She knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. It took awhile, so she assumed that she was freshening up. She was wrong.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF53HlZLSoxOEtHXhjY2s55k_FIUo39WUWbYscWaJQsSI3BAQs0kH85HjvWs4WM8J4nUo-yLvrvMQd18sOuv1HhkOr4RCsZMkgiPztDGJW53sTUhk9VfCPkODyZuxXn2R3gk57sZoExdk/s1600/Screenshot-334.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF53HlZLSoxOEtHXhjY2s55k_FIUo39WUWbYscWaJQsSI3BAQs0kH85HjvWs4WM8J4nUo-yLvrvMQd18sOuv1HhkOr4RCsZMkgiPztDGJW53sTUhk9VfCPkODyZuxXn2R3gk57sZoExdk/s400/Screenshot-334.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497987380746686866" border="0" /></a>"Oh, uh, hello..." she said, shocked at Angelina's attire. It looked awfully similar to Sandy's maternity lingerie, except from less trashy, and hopefully she didn't look like a beached whale in it.<br /><br />"Hi, nice to see you here. Looking for your husband?" she joked. Sandy didn't laugh, but instead kept the small, fake smile of tolerance on her face. "Angie, if I may call you that, let's keep this civil. Okay?" Shocked that Sandy stood up for herself, she nodded and invited herself in hesitantly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PDpUKZw8TkrZ9pfVZbDZ3R4J3ZxpfEsIO-HUjoPrZIV_Tc0pjUJvfGEEYoRIUV4Xat9NuGyxTAs_cpOdDNoMghAe_SgEnBdrXkdVOwlm1Y1GPZ7bzSDka2l45SvLG698J4HvTkirsZ4/s1600/Screenshot-335.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PDpUKZw8TkrZ9pfVZbDZ3R4J3ZxpfEsIO-HUjoPrZIV_Tc0pjUJvfGEEYoRIUV4Xat9NuGyxTAs_cpOdDNoMghAe_SgEnBdrXkdVOwlm1Y1GPZ7bzSDka2l45SvLG698J4HvTkirsZ4/s400/Screenshot-335.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497987382341281698" border="0" /></a>"So, in case you didn't notice, I'm with child." Sandy began, as if she were talking to an old friend.<br /><br />"Oh yes, your husband told me that earlier. Congratulations! Good thing, I thought you were gaining. Wouldn't want Brandon to go looking elsewhere..."<br /><br />That was it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLjbBMhxr51Bt-voDAcI6MSZb0Gbe2s54g1INmpsfoNyDLJutiNzMguzSGCgNBwUYrZUW0nbxBYGcBKbftaQLtxEvu9YNLGKLbsn2gBvPIOsUBPj4yNJk3UMFE-b1DFwJ0H0KrE2L5Olk/s1600/Screenshot-336.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLjbBMhxr51Bt-voDAcI6MSZb0Gbe2s54g1INmpsfoNyDLJutiNzMguzSGCgNBwUYrZUW0nbxBYGcBKbftaQLtxEvu9YNLGKLbsn2gBvPIOsUBPj4yNJk3UMFE-b1DFwJ0H0KrE2L5Olk/s400/Screenshot-336.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497987629398123490" border="0" /></a>"Oh, you think you're <span style="font-style: italic;">sooo</span> damn special, don't you? <span style="font-style: italic;">'Look at <span style="font-weight: bold;">*meee*</span>! I can get men even though I'm an obese ***** with fake **** and drag-queen makeup! I can boss your husband around as much as I want, and make him work as late as I want! If he passes out, who the hell cares? Not <span style="font-weight: bold;">meee</span>! The whole world of Saskan Harbour revolves around <span style="font-weight: bold;">me me me</span>!'</span> Well you know what? YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU'RE NOT THAT DAMN SPECIAL, YOU'RE JUST A ***** AND I WANT YOU TO BACK OFF OF MY HUSBAND!!"<br /><br />Obviously offended, Angelina scowled and backed away. Cockily, she smiled and asked "And what if I don't?"<br /><br />For a moment, Sandy paused. She had to think about what to say. Oh, the thoughts and words were coming, but they could all legally condemn her.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KVx85g9zn57ZHY9RkAFNb_cIWtB6xtC7LBvwZwRCL6zMukcrcxTR2GBq4vMm-M4KnhuS94T74zYbFNuD5Y09Z4MbZ1E9TPrUmfOJN1Sh5EDkfw9ICXxyZoo8QwT6B36Oz5Q-2CaZ1aU/s1600/Screenshot-337.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KVx85g9zn57ZHY9RkAFNb_cIWtB6xtC7LBvwZwRCL6zMukcrcxTR2GBq4vMm-M4KnhuS94T74zYbFNuD5Y09Z4MbZ1E9TPrUmfOJN1Sh5EDkfw9ICXxyZoo8QwT6B36Oz5Q-2CaZ1aU/s400/Screenshot-337.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497990529273397682" border="0" /></a>She pointed an accusing finger and muttered "You had better pray to simGod you don't have to find out. And if you tell <span style="font-weight: bold;">any</span> of this to Brandon, <span style="font-style: italic;">I will hunt. you. down</span>."<br /><br />And with that, she walked out of her house. A smirk of devilish satisfaction was painted on her face, and her eyes glowed an extremely pale blue. She looked so sinister, she looked absolutely possessed.<br />------------------------------------------<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBMOJSFaU1b6NMrIk3FaJest-bnEWAMlRrpKxRb-BeG9ju-OzJi8oWR7-A_RNt_UtAueuIDutOlmGmb8c8Y065bX_0YpTRfW1YRaT0I1feTLVyd2_ADITng1V4P1F68nW3V3P0MorftGE/s1600/Screenshot-338.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBMOJSFaU1b6NMrIk3FaJest-bnEWAMlRrpKxRb-BeG9ju-OzJi8oWR7-A_RNt_UtAueuIDutOlmGmb8c8Y065bX_0YpTRfW1YRaT0I1feTLVyd2_ADITng1V4P1F68nW3V3P0MorftGE/s400/Screenshot-338.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497994969281331778" border="0" /></a>Sandy spent the days following that event in complete denial. She felt awful for what she said and did, even if they <span style="font-style: italic;">were</span> things that needed to be said and done. What if the stress of her actions cause her to miscarry, or go into labor early, or worse? That is, if it could get any worse than that.<br /><br />"Yoo ok Mama?" Kyle asked, obviously concerned about his absent-minded mother. "Oh yes sweetheart I'm fine, Mommy's just thinking."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDS0acV44xCGStcx1cG8Sq98x3kI-bJCPw9cIWpuG6wlwszCsqYNdRdmQWeIeLjJvIu_pY4MyNEez7-rhTWz8bt8pbm59M8edYkZUgRgu39CGiKqJL47feelSqPXO1Ob2jTrWtBWCmKhM/s1600/Screenshot-340.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDS0acV44xCGStcx1cG8Sq98x3kI-bJCPw9cIWpuG6wlwszCsqYNdRdmQWeIeLjJvIu_pY4MyNEez7-rhTWz8bt8pbm59M8edYkZUgRgu39CGiKqJL47feelSqPXO1Ob2jTrWtBWCmKhM/s400/Screenshot-340.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497996804039675058" border="0" /></a>Angelina must not have said anything since Brandon hasn't attempted to chew her out, in fact, he's been a lot more affectionate since she flipped out on him for "not caring". He's trying really really hard to be a great husband and father. And that's the way it should be.<br /><br />So, why was Sandy so guilty? She could beat herself up right now. She stood up for her family and for the love of her life, what is there to regret?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKAxjnvCGDrKFU2b4E3ji8uKUGCdFWuwYmdPcXy0Kdj94G-Ay9YuZeZ42e8l4PJgUPMZH-k41gjvt12JsI7GdjtBqXL0RD_96VdEoeP_h3f_NmnAlUPSbC8CBwG9Qkxoyy2Zk2vzHeKQ/s1600/Untitled.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKAxjnvCGDrKFU2b4E3ji8uKUGCdFWuwYmdPcXy0Kdj94G-Ay9YuZeZ42e8l4PJgUPMZH-k41gjvt12JsI7GdjtBqXL0RD_96VdEoeP_h3f_NmnAlUPSbC8CBwG9Qkxoyy2Zk2vzHeKQ/s400/Untitled.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498002501150665362" border="0" /></a>All she knew is that she was definitely going crazy, and she wondered if the baby she was carrying might be the reason why...mmmcheezy225http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407993942912348033noreply@blogger.com8