Welcome to the Sharpesvale Chronicles, an ongoing neighbourhood story in The Sims 2!
Warning: this journal may contain uncensored nudity, violence, profanity and sexual themes.
Updates whenever I damn well please!
The House of the Rising Townies.
Ivy: Nobody can burn pancakes like my dad, right, lady?
Ivy: Ratfuck lady who lives with my dad?
I didn’t know those bottles were electric.
Let’s all bond over how Kelsey needs to put some fucking clothes on.
Alvin: Can we skip the bonding and go right to the clothing?
Kelsey: Clothes are gross.
No, kids are gross. And kids without clothes are worse.
Kelsey: Science is worse.
Than kids without clothes?
Kelsey: Than anything.
You’ll make a fine politician.
Bitches love a man who can make a stack of charcoal bricks.
Somehow this doesn’t strike me as a pregnancy activity.
What are you doing here?
Andrew: Just judgin’.
That ain’t workin’.
THAT’S the way you do it!
No, seriously, why.
Man, Ivy’s right, science is worse.
Alvin: Goodbye trustworthy spouse!
Iris: He’s gone, let’s do it.
William: Stupid self-improving townies.
You couldn’t at least have waited until he was gone?
Iris: How can we sneak around behind his back if his back isn’t here?
Alvin: -puts his foot through the floor-
Yeah, that’s definitely the front door.
Iris: You fucked my daughter.
William: Now to complete the set!
All my Sims have the same Turn-On.
“Married to Someone Else.”
Iris: Wanna go make out inside and then come back out here to fuck?
William: Inefficient! I like it.
Childhoods exist to be ruined.
Ivy: Bye! Don’t answer, you’re not real.
Baby: Hello? Who’s knocking?
Rebecca: Go find your own swings.
Ivy: These are my swings.
Rebecca: Great, you’ve found them! Now go away.
Baby: WHAT IS HAPPENING
I think my Turn-On is that hair model.
Kelsey: Alright, turd, into the bowl with you.
Iris: Pregnant blowjob miming!
Ivy: Coarse, but dessicated!
I’ve been saying that for years.
Kelsey: I’m gonna take careful notes for bribe-related reasons.
Iris: Isn’t it your bedtime?
Iris: All questions to children are rhetorical, Kelsey.
Kelsey: WELL THAT’S TRUE
Kelsey: Couch will never betray me.
Put your hands under the cushions and then say that.
♪ Rock lobster! ♪
Wait, no, that’s not right.
I don’t have a thousand ships, but if I did…
Stephen: OH SURE RUB IT IN
William: Yes, sir! Rubbing it in, sir!
Stephen: I’m telling.
Iris: ohhhhh what’s up with the shadows
William: They’re fucked too!
♪ A wasted youth is better by far than a wise and productive old age ♪
Yes, seriously, that’s a song lyric.
William: OHHHH I WANT ALL THE WIVES
Alvin: Stupid ghost, make a friend or something.
Iris: I can’t believe that fit inside me.
Iris: It’s all downhill from here.
William: Wait’ll you get arthritis.
Subtle backstabbing visual is subtle.
I don’t think there’s ever been a pregnant Bond girl.
A good spy always leaves evidence of his misdeeds.
William: Hey Ghost Dud, what’s up?
Alvin: The witch trials begin.
William: AAAAAAGH THANK GOD I’M WEARING GLASSES
William: Man, dead people suck.
William: Maybe I shouldn’t have made so many of them.
That’s what HE said.
Alvin: Who’s “he”?
Iris: Me to know, you to find out.
Iris: Except hopefully not.
Iris: Nine inches, Jesus Christ.
Stephen: You anglin’ for a heart attack, old man?
First you poke her, then you poker?
William: You came off hiatus for THAT?
No child has even enjoyed making their bed.
Ivy: What about building up a static charge to zap their sleeping sister, though?
Iris: You set the round timer, I’ll be the referee.
Apparently the shock shorted their brains out.
Stop making it a thing.
Next time: I reverse what little goodwill I’ve built up lately.