azaya | Fritter: 8.2

Man I've tried to write this update like six times and it is just not cooperating, I am sorry for taking so long.

I love the potty training face but I gotta say, if my crotch spawn was reluctantly pooping in a potty in front of me I wouldn't be looking so pleased.

Greer is eager to clean up as it gives her an excuse to be in the same room as Chelsea! Shannon is eager to give her a mess to clean up.

Chelsea: Now say 'mommy'!

Shannon: NO.

Miss Pretty: Why are you bothering to teach it to talk? It will merely use that language to slander you when it is a teenager and you refuse to let it stay out all night listening to eight-track tapes and drinking moonshine.

Zola: Yessss. Once I have mastered bipedal locomotion, the world will be my oyster.

Chelsea: Say 'mommy'. Say 'mommy', Shannon!

Miss Pretty: I wash my paws of this foolishness.

Shannon starts sucking up to his Gangy Almond in the hopes of becoming a warlock one day.

Gangy Almond: *evolves her bulbasaur*

Miss Pretty: *stares distrustfully*

Disapproving Frog: *disapproves of Miss Pretty's negativity*

Zola: Today, I conquer the potty. Tomorrow, the world.

Almond: FUCK YEAH, SHINY LAPRAS!

Greer: Who's a good kitty? Who's a good girl?

Miss Pretty: My god, cover yourself. Have you no sense of propriety? If not for yourself, think of those who must look at you.

Must be reading about sex organs.

Greer: Heh. Clitoris. Heh. Heh heh. Vas deferens.

I guess Shannon's attempts at getting Almond's attention didn't go to waste after all.

Zola: I'm just glad it's not me.

Almond: Yes... this one shall be my apprentice, and I shall mold him in my image.

D8 RUN, SHANNON

Shannon: I can't, no one taught me to walk yet!

TRY

Zola: Shannon still can't walk? Ha! That peasant. *struts*

Meanwhile, in Expectedlandia

Fireflies, what are you doing

There's three feet of snow on the ground

How are you alive

If there was a purpose to this picture I don't remember what it was. I'm going to assume I just took it as an example of the fact that the Fritters are fucking weird.

Capital.

Chelsea: Come on, Shannon! Walk to mommy, you can do it!

Shannon: NO.

Best idea for a pregnant sim!

idk, the endless spouse-stalking is cute when Greer does it.

Greer: I'm having a baby.

Almond: Oh, good. Just what we need, more useless warm bodies clamoring for a piece of the family fortune.

Almond: Zzz... blow torch...

Miss Pretty: Soon.

I sort of miss when Almond was the one with the skeevy, inappropriate thoughts.

...No, I don't.

Shannon: I choose to believe that this plastic toy is, in fact, a sugar cookie.

Cleanbot: This will end badly.

Zola: No, no! As mayor, I believe we can resolve this truckers' union dispute peacefully and without resorting to a strike.

Chelsea: ...and if you elect me president, I promise to put an end to rectal thermometers!

Heh. 'End'.

Chelsea: I will also reduce the amount of balls in the country by half! There are far too many tennis balls at large, for instance.

Greer: *lurks*

Chelsea: HELLO? ALIENS?

Greer: *lurks*

Almond: Hello there, Shannon! How's Gangy's favorite boy?

That poor, poor kid.

Zola: Thank fuck it's not me!

Then Greer took seven autonomous bubble baths, because Chelsea was still working on charisma.

Seven. Her hygiene and comfort were full the entire time.

Lushie O'Spectral: I don't get paid enough to work here.

I don't think you get paid at all.

Lushie O'Spectral: It's a problem.

Then it was birthday time!

Wow Almond that is so incredibly helpful of you

Zola: HEY HELLO EVERYONE PAY ATTENTION TO ME NOW

This is maybe not the best time for showing off though, Zola.

Chelsea: Curse that Almond, why does she have to be so attractive? Can't she see my wife is in labor?!

Oh god damn it.

Malachi, who looks exactly like Shannon.

And Cerridwen, who looks exactly like Zola. Exciting.

Cerridwen: Are you my mommy?

Miss Pretty: I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS

Shannon: So I was thinking that now that there's those new babies around to suck up all the attention, you and I should charter a rocket ship to the moon.

Zola: I am so on board with that.

People in this room with a sense of propriety and restraint: ...

Chelsea: Oh my god, finally! Get me out of here. I can't take care of four children!

Greer: *helpfully tries to thin the herd*

Zola: This tiny muffin is so tiny and existential.

Cerridwen: Hey, bro. I see you have a bottle. Mom obviously meant to give that bottle to me, though. That's okay. Easy mistake. Let me fix it.

Cerridwen: WHY

Almond: I have this strange feeling that I'm not alone.

Greer: HOORAY! Chelsea's back.

Chelsea: Sheesh, ever heard of a ramp? Or even a ladder?

Chelsea: All in all, though, what a friendly bunch!

Greer: Isn't it great to have Chelsea back, Miss Pretty?

Miss Pretty: What the hell was that in the sky?!

Miss Pretty: Jumping rope indoors. Disgraceful. GO OUTSIDE, HIPPIE.

This would be cute, except I know Cerridwen's trying to suffocate Malachi with her hair.

Malachi: *helpfully tries to bathe himself to save Chelsea the trouble*

Miss Pretty: Soon.

Zola: Whoa, Miss Pretty was right! Jumping rope is more fun outside.

Shannon: Gangy Almond, when I grow up, can I be a witch and wear a big hat?

Almond: That's the plan, sugar pea!

Chelsea: Yeah, about that... we'll talk. :|

The twins grew up. And it becomes ever clearer that I must not have randomized the genetics properly, because their faces are identical to the other twins'. :\

They're still cute though. Unnecessary ~~and unloved~~, but cute.

Sup, Greer?

Greer: Sup.

What're you doing there?

Greer: Spying on Chelsea.

Whoa. Really? You're not going to try to pretend you're examining those towels or anything?

Greer: Why bother? I know better. You know better. Chelsea knows better. Why make a big thing of it?

I'm proud of you! It only took seven generations to get here.

Malachi: Hello older, more interesting-looking version of me!

Malachi: Sigh. I wish I had socks too.

At some point I invited the headmaster to dinner and then completely forgot about it. But! Let's welcome, once again, our friend Headmaster Rosycheeks.

Headmaster Rosycheeks: Hey.

Chelsea and Greer are, of course, completely prepared for the interview and dinner to come!

Zola: Hi! I'm Zola. My moms are busy playing doctor, so I'll show you around instead.

Headmaster Rosycheeks: Okay, cool.

Headmaster Rosycheeks: I see you favor the giant of partying! Right on. ;D

Cerridwen: Can't you do it faster with magic?

Almond: I'll magic you if you don't quit bugging me.

Zola: So, yeah. I'm really into dissection lately, figuring out how stuff works. If you don't let us into your school, I might take up vivisection. On you.

Almond: That's not a bad threat, sweetie, but you could streamline it a little.

Zola: Oh, there's mom. I guess the 'checkup' is finished.

Greer: Yeah, hi, sorry. My wife and I were playing doctor.

Headmaster Rosycheeks: 8O ... 8D