ILU2DEATH 1.9 // The Kohler-Wielle Legacy 1.9
CAUTION: Zombies. Just sayin' ya'll.
63 shots or thereabouts = 4Mb download approx ^_^
Death, death, fishfaces, horror style theatricals, death and a whole lot less swearing than one would expect
Need to catch up? Kohler-Wielle Archive
So what happened last time in the Kohler-Wielle house? We discovered BabyRhone™ had an enormous package and a penchant for RedRockets; Craven married his ZombieBride and she was AWESOME; Sienna FINALLY met her true love but dreamt of becoming a Bene Gesserit; Ochre got a whole lot of tail; Tigerlilly & Portokal became teenagers, Rhone grew up into a child, & Craven nailed Dagmar in celebration of an auspicious occasion: He got OLD.
There was a lot of Rhone hate going on last update, and so I thought I'd give the little champ some screen time that wasn't me yelling in his general direction. Especially as he was a toddler almost that ENTIRE time. Who do I think I am, hatin' on a toddler? Cube?
*blush*
So Rhone, he uh, he really ENJOYS a good shower. Not many kids do, you know, enjoy the cleaning process. Normally they're all up in the hates for the being clean. Its some kind of chore, they'd rather it was the middle ages and even then a yearly bath would be TOO MUCH of a bother. But no, not our Rhone. He's in that thing at every opportunity. Touch some sand? ZOMG TIME TO SING IN THE SHOWER! Dog brush up against your jean leg? I THINK I'LL CROON A COMPILATION OF POPULAR ARIAS WHILST TRYING OUT TIGERLILLY'S NEW SHOWER GEL, COFFEE & CARROTS..!
Its refreshing, really. ^_^
Rhone: Hello C-C-C-C-Craven's P-P-P-Pet's. Hey wake up, WAKE UP LIMEY FISH!!!
ZOMG!! My first ever treasure chest..!! Portokal you win at fossicking in your pajamas! I give you leave to never change out of them again, ever.
Port? You could look a little more excited about this whole event, just randomly digging five grands worth of gold and jewels out of the earth doesn't happen every day you know. And you didn't even have to spend thirteen years in the Chateau d'If learning fencing and mathematics off of an inexplicably tubby (are rats, gruel and laundry water really that high in cholesterol?) old Dumbledore to do it.
Me: BE LESS CLUELESS.
Portokal: What the HELL are you rambling on about woman?
The Fire of +42 to Endurance: IM IN UR BUSH, BURNIN, NOT CONSUMIN..!
Persia! It be time to go frolic on that great big farm in the sky. Craven, Midas & Pumpkin weep and howl and gnash their teeth like the well-paid dial-a-mourners they are, Persia is oblivious and just wants to play fetch with Death. Hey, he's ALWAYS visiting and they wouldn't let him into the house time and time again if he harboured any kind of malicious intent. Right?
Persia: AWESOME, INVISIBLE STICK..!! THROW IT FOR ME! THROW IT FOR ME! CAAARRN..? THROW! THROW! THROW IT..! CAAAAAARN..? I'm going to have NO trouble fetching that with my aged ectoplasmic legs and astygmatistic old eyes!
When life gives Craven lemons, he makes lemonade. But FIRST he's going to stock a wicker basket full of them and have them magically render as a cornucopia of produce.
Seriously, he ONLY put lemons in that bowl. And yet nothing in this bowl even LOOKS like a lemon. Sure that thing inthe middle is yellow, but I'm pretty damn sure its a squash.
MIDAS! Be careful where you dig, honey. That hole looks big enough for you to fall into and get trapped! We don't have any cats named Milo who can come and save you.
Uh, hey Cube? Where do you think you're going? That room is NOT FOR YOU, I put a door there so Angie or the random townie teen that wandered onto the lot uninvited would go in there. You really don't want to walk in that room...
Uh, I know you can see the insane piles of rotting plates that I've been stocking up from every meal and cake from the beginning of this legacy through the glass door (wth was I thinking glass door!?!? O_O Its window shopping for the consummate maid du jour) but you don't want to go in there. Trust me. You DON'T.
Cube: DON'T BE TELLING ME HOW TO DO MY JOB, WOMAN! I've got one job in this house, its menial but by jove! I'm gonna DO IT.
Me: Please don't?
Random townie teen that wandered onto the lot uninvited: *lights fires and wanders around on the beach inconspicuously*
Me: WTH?! O_O IT SHOULD'VE BEEN YOU IN HERE, RTTTWOTLU!
Cube? Please put that down. Its every girls dream for a guy to always do the cleaning up but just this once I'm BEGGING you, please, for all that's holy and the good of Valencia's as-yet-unplundered womb-age: STEP AWAY FROM THE FLATWARE..!
CANDYMAN, CANDYMAN, CANDYMAN, CANDYMAN, CANDYMAN Err... ^_^;;
Jeff Goldblum, Jeff Goldblum, Jeff Goldblum, Jeff Goldblum, Jeff Goldblum..?
*sighs* I know you're a city boy, Cube, but take it from a girl who grew up in the country? When faced with a swarm of ANYTHING, flies, locusts ... dust? ALWAYS. KEEP. YOUR. MOUTH. SHUT.
*cries* CUBE THIS HORRIBLE DEATH WAS NEVER MEANT FOR YOU! ;_;
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He'll get ressurected, 'else V's uterus rusts.
Poor Craven, he's so in tune with death now that he knows when it hits the household without seeing it or even being told. It wasn't a wife? Just your future son in law...
That's kind of better, right?
So the only person in the household since V was moved off to college that has any kind of relationship with Cube was Craven. And he was sitting on the couch bawling his eyes out in the front room so refused to run out and beg for Cube's life.
GO GO MIDAS! BEG FOR HIS LIFE! YOU CAN DO IT LITTLE BEAGLEMAN!
Just, uh, could you get your paws out of the pile of Cube, please? ^_^;;
Unsurprisingly, Midas didn't make a very good case, and to add insult to injury Death got rotten cake all over the hem of his robes. Cube, he went into the light! ;_;
Craven: Oh hey, Death? Yeah sorry to waste your time and all that, could've saved you the paperwork by getting off the couch and coming to let you know that actually, you can't have this one. Sorry bout that. Yeah. Can you send him back over? Cool? Yeah cool. Next time make sure you ask Angie for a couple of those little samosas she makes. Yeah they're really good, her pakoras are to die for, prolly cause of the fingers she keeps losing in the oil. Oh, really? Seriously Windex works for that too? Thanks for the tip I'll let her know. Oh yeah anyway, my future son in law? Great, see you next week.!
So even though he made the call to get Cube back, and even though he got a confirmation, and he's DONE THIS BEFORE, Craven still manages to freak out so bad he dislocates his back in an incredibly terrifying way that makes me believe he is part man, part snake. Melusine? Is that you? You reincarnate into a man, bb?
I'm also lead to believe that his glasses are MAGICAL, because looking at yellow glasses through green smoke does NOT turn them red. Yellow + Green makes... Yellow-green.
Cube: WOW AM I REALLY ALIVE!? HOW MANY FINGERS AM I HOLDING UP!?
Me: *headdesk*
I love you Cube, I do. But I'm thinking the really-near-death experience has left you a few straws short. I'm going to pretend that this is all just shock and you rediscovering that you have hands is a side effect. I get it, you're emotional, and there's pressure.
*air kisses*
Craven: Welcome back son!
Cube: Thanks 'Dad'! Need any shirts pressed?
Craven & Cube: *pat x3 release man hug*
Robot Valencia Made: *bes Valencia's proxy*
To celebrate saving his future son in law from arguably the most horrid death one can expire from within the Sims, Craven decides to fly the Hedwig kite. And it DELIGHTS him. Put. The. Kite. Down. Let. The. Bobbin. Go.
It is called a bobbin right? Spindle maybe? *looks it up*
What its just a handle? Wow, THAT's boring.
He did this four times before he gave up on trying to make the kite made of steel stay afloat. THANK. THE. GODS. I know you were all depressed that your celebratory wind was taken out of your sails, er, kite, but I really would advise a less possible brain-impaling way to celebrate your awesome...
...Like building sand castles! Yes Excellent! A perfectly cromulent past time for an aging Black Widower. Especially for Craven as sand is yellow. Well, it is on hallmark cards, and on illustrations by kids who've never been to a beach made of black sand. Or white sand. Or pebbles... I approve! So does the Mythical Burning Bush, don't you Burning Bush?
Burning Bush: :D
Craven: HOLY SHIT! THIS BUSH IS ON FIRE!
Me: *patiently* Yes, darling, it has been for about an entire SimWeek. Senility, it doesn't sit well with you, precious.
Burning Bush: On the contrary, I believe it becomes him in an entirely debonair fashion. All the greats turned to senility in the end. Nero, Nietzsche, George Lucas, George III...
Craven: HOLY SHIT THE BUSH IS TALKING! *heartattack*
Craven: *feels for pulse*
Craven: Oh crap. On my way, my wives!
Phe, he's so coming back as an incubus. You know it. How could the PTBs not find him a SHOE-IN for that line of work? Considering he had to say two words to a woman in life and they'd immeadiately marry them and beg to bear his babies, all fancy and supernaturally powered up he'd be the most unstoppable incubus in history. Forty three thousand served, this week..!
Icicles between the thighs? Craven was here. And you loved it.
*high fives choose for alerting us all to the mythological frozen penis*
*cries with all of Argentina* THE PANTS ARE DEAD! ;_;
Death: SIGH! I AM HERE. AT LEAST ITS DRY FOR ONCE AND THE GROUND ISN'T DIRTY AND BLOODY FROM HEAD CRABS. MMMMMMM CRABS. ARE THOSE PAKORAS READY? I HAD TO EXCUSE MYSELF FROM DINNER FOR THIS AND I'M A MITE PECKISH. YOU HAVE RAITA TO GO WITH THAT? MANGO LASSI?
Oh crap, now I'm hungry.
Awww! Midas is depressed, its the second death he's tried to undo today and failed both times ;_; Poor little dog. Why is HIS pixelated pain so much more moving? ;_;
*heartbreak*
Sienna shows us all how to mourn at her father's side the PROPER way. Unfortunately, she's a little upstaged by the presence of an undead dog. HAI LULU IN THE BACK THERE! :D HAPPY YOUR MASTER HAS JOINED YOU?
And then there were nine.
Au Revoir, Craven. We shall miss you and your jaundiced face of love! ♥ ♥ ♥
ONTO GENERATION TWO..!
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Although.. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this doesn't look like any dorm I've ever seen... And what's with half of the second story being devoid of windows?
And... That, right there, is a bat... Valencia? You didn't, by chance, get attacked in an alleyway outside of the UniBar by a mass of hairy neanderthals and then get hit by a truck out looking for your cat only to wake up in the morgue the poorly made-up Queen of all Vampires, did you?
OH! Hello Lyna! I love you! Gorgeous dress you've procured yourself there. Very... Golden. *smirks*
What are you up to my dear? Been out drinking the blood of fresh townies? Mayhap executing a King, then sneaking out and buy a brand-new King when no-one was looking so's to pop him back on the throne without anyone noticing?
You know, for shits and giggles?
Lyna: BLEH! *coughs* I mean, something like that... Yes. *mysterious*
Awww! Lyna has a delicious bustle butt. Bustle butt, bustle butt, salamat, bustle butt.
Oh look, Lyna has a hotline to Death too. They have a fire sale on these or something? Buy one book of the occult, get a free DeathPhone™ I guess she IS a vampire though, and who knows what she's been dabbling in while she's been waiting patiently for Craven to stop dallying with all these mortal chicks. 'Cept now he's the deads.
Though, in SimLandia, death is NEVER the end..! *tries to listen in on conversation* Sweetheart, you doing what I think you're doing?
Lyna is disgusted by the green smoke indoors -- that's going to be HELL to get out of the curtains -- but, YES! YOU GUESSED WHAT SHE WAS DOING!
Lyna: *delighted*
OH MAN she has the CUTEST delighted face!! <333333333 I LOVE YOU HONEY! Must recreate you in the future. ♥
Craven: Ta 4 rez
Lyna: np. U hearthin or stayin to grind?
Craven: gonna grind, wanna party?
Lyna: k, put me on follow...
Whaaaaaaaat is this? A golden grail perhaps? Oh Lyna, you win at yellow generation.
*feels the irony of a holy grail being in the posession of a vampire*
Because Lyna likes her blood fresh not vintage (old people taste like old spice, mothballs and soap) she tries to convince Craven that drinking from this rather large, possibly leadlined, suspect cup that's been sitting out on an altar in her backyard for god only knows how long and has probably been shat in and on by an unknown quantity of birds, beetles and the stray possum or two is PERFECTLY hygenic and is in no way a hazard to his health.
Though, since she just brought him back to life and is therefore unlikely to want to off him again so quickly, she does kind of have a rather compelling argument...
Craven: This sure doesn't taste like an iced tea.
Lyna: It's from Long Island. *beams*
Angela Lansbury: ♫Tale as old as time..! True as it can be, Barely even friends! Then somebody bends, Unexpectedly...♫
Lyna: *is pleased*
Craven's Guts: *go explodie*
Lyna's Tudor Cottage: *is off to see the wizard*
SUCCESS!! :D Through the magic of television, the drug of a nation Thanks to the efforts of Harrison Ford, Craven's pretty pretty features have been restored to his legacy-opening age of deliciousness.
Lyna's eyes, not to mention other assorted parts are EXCITED.
** FUN FACT! The horse back there? I had Lyna ride it for fitness on the night she moved in (she has an... interesting take on side saddle ^_^;;), stuck the game on fast forward and then toddled off to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.
When I came back, it was still night but there was no Lyna.
Um, WASN'T still night, Nett, it was the NEXT night. Guess who'd freaked out in the sun, tried to dismount and make it to her coffin before she burned to a crisp but didn't quite make it and so ended up a pile of ash two steps from her coffin? OOOPS!
THANKFULLY I'd had the forsight to have her move in with someone, and her flatmate was there to jump up and be the first to pop the cherry on this houses's direct line to the Time Lord Grim.
Craven's nubile, rehymenated, om nom worthy fleshes are too irresistable for Lyna to wait any longer, and she decides its time to fangoriously claim him as her own. And not just her own for a few years until she needs to get him to drink again from the beetle long-drop, I lied about the not wanting to off him again so soon thing. She's about to love him to some death of her own, FOREEEVERRRRRRR....!
CUE THE PRESERVATION OF OUR FOUNDER AND HIS HUNGRY PANTS'S YOUTH, FOREVERrrrrrrRRRRRrrrrrrRrrRRR, SPAM:
Lyna: LoOOoooooooOOook into my eyes..!
Craven: But your fingers are so pretty! You should always wear gloves, babe.
Lyna: Honey? Shush, are you always gonna not shut up and ruin the mood like an annoying historical romance heroine?
Craven: *shushes and enjoys the shiny*
LoL, Lyna "sparkles."
IIIITS ALLLIIIIIIIVE...!!! AAALLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE..!!!
RAWR!!!!!!!!!! =DDDDDDDDDDDDD
Lyna? KISSIN: UR DOIN IT WRONG. His lips are a little lower, baby. Unless you meant to snog his nose, if I were a vamp I know I'd try and eat it, its so buttonie and delicious. *presspress*
The mighty, they just got a hell of a lot mightier! Our humble founder, preserved for all time in undeath, accursed anew! Though this time instead of helplessly watching his wives die horrid, untimely deaths, to instead watch his legacy flourish and grow forever, entwined in the arms of the woman he's been obsessing about his entire life.
SUCKS TO BE HIM! xD
Yeah, I know I'd hate to be doomed to have pillow fights every night with this juicy crumpet for a thousand years. MhhmmHmmm that'd suck hard. And then it would suck hard. And that would be awesome.
I LOVE YOU TO DEATH IS OVER, CRAVEN IS LOVED TO DEATH! He loves it, Lyna loves it, and his pants love it. SHINIES!
TUNE IN NEXT TIME, WHEN WE HEAR OCHRE SAY: "Incest! It's fun for the WHOLE family!"
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