Stories from the Savvy Simmer: Halloween Special Edition

Stories from the Savvy Simmer: Special Edition

Pinups' Place: Marilyn Monroe

 Today I'm gonna take a break from my current story for a holiday post! Autumn is my favorite time of year. I love the coolness of the air and the leaves changing colors; bonfires and hot apple cider; harvesting and Halloween parties. Thanksgiving is my all-time favorite celebration, but I like gearing up for Halloween right before it just the same! With a little holiday spirit in mind, I bought the newest expansion pack for TS4. I haven't even had it a week yet and I already love it! But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Above you see my newest edition to Pinups' Place: Ms. Marilyn Monroe. Obviously, I did the best I could with her facial features. I've found that if you want to stick with the original hair that Maxis provides instead of downloading custom content, that short sort of bob 'do was the closest they had. She simply doesn't look just like Marilyn without it. The first CAS clothing photo on the far left, her "Everyday" outfit, was my Maxis-clothing version of Marilyn's iconic white dress. It's not spot on, but I did what I could. I love the curly retro updo in her red formal gown, but I think her little workout outfit, especially with the pigtails, makes her look almost like any other Sim who could be jogging down the street. Her pajamas are fun, because the shirt she's wearing says "Mordor Fun Run," if you look closer, and the last picture on the far right is an outfit for, what else, a Halloween party! She makes a cute little red witch in her batty tights, doesn't she? ^-^;

Marilyn Monroe is a singing sensation in Pinups' Place. She has a beautiful house and she decided to throw a Halloween party. By request I've taken pictures and posted them here to show you guys how much fall fun my pinup Simmies have been having! Here goes:

Marilyn dressed as a green witch for this party. She has something of a green thumb.

Our resident royal bombshell was a little peeved that some other chick dressed as a witch for her party, too, but she was gracious enough not to say anything. 

But she seemed unable to resist changing her costume.

A little later in the evening, however, one of the party guests could not resist commenting that Marilyn shared a costume with someone else, so she had to go all out and completely change. She became Aayla Secura, while the young lady who encroached on her "oh-so original" costume idea graciously changed into a meadow fairy. Note that Cherry Dollface is getting her catering credentials on in the background, and a spooky candy bowl on the counter next to the fairy!

The pumpkin carving station is decked out in spiderwebs!

Unfortunately, our biggest resident diva spotted another Aayla Secura at her party...and so, in keeping with a Star Wars theme, Marilyn changed into Princess Leia. Here you can see her at the pumpkin carving station her boyfriend James set up for the guests in his photo studio.

Marilyn carved a cat!

Here you can see greater detail of her masterpiece. That's what the game calls it when another Sim views it, haha. Mari and James have had to be pretty handy, because although they're rich, I do not feel like replacing everything their stupid asses break on a daily basis. Seriously, they're dumb as hell. Sinks (bathroom, kitchen, doesn't matter, they're not choosy), dishwashers, multiple tubs, toilets, TVs...anything they can break, they've broken it. I've gotten so pissed that I make them fix everything now, on principle. Now they can craft wooden dragons and shit. ^_^;

 

Marilyn has another identity crisis...

Our diva refuses to be outdone and changes costume yet again. The pumpkin beside the sea of drinks on the island behind guzzlin' Cherry is puking with disgust.Seriously, this chick just needs to get it together and commit to something. At least she's loyal to her hubby, who looks totally badass in his Darth Maul costume over there. He was going with Marilyn's theme, but he lost track because she could not make up her freaking mind - and why should he have to change at all anyway, right? Darth Maul is awesome. Half of the house has been redone in spiderweb wallpaper.

Yes, that's a flowing chocolate fountain and a glowing white pumpkin with an owl carved into it.

And if you'll notice, this shot is from before Marilyn's pirate-change, because the little icon at the bottom of the shot shows Leia next to Darth Maul. Wonder what he's so focused on?

A cheerful, smiling Darth Maul is inspired to destroy the Rebel Alliance? What the hell is he grinning about?

Oh, right, he had some kind of idea while he was in his photo studio. The walls are covered with photos in various sizes, of Marilyn in various poses. James McCracken is her chief photographer. She met him in Pinup Park and the rest, as they say, was history. James was a futures trader in the stock market when they met, but since he has a nerd brain, he quit his job when they moved in together and settled for half the amount of pay he was used to so he could become a scientist instead. He still has to work a bit to advance to the pay he used to receive, but overall he seems much happier with his new career choice - or rather, MY new choice of career for him. I like going to work with him and watching him invent things; it makes me wish EA would give us the option to make all the careers interactive. I'd love to see Marilyn at work singing and entertaining other Sims.

Shh. We caught the Darth enjoying a delicious chocolate-covered strawberry...that'll go straight to his thighs.

There's a whole crowd of drinks in front of James, and he's sitting at his bar just sipping, and eating strawberries, all by himself. Why is he left to chat up the bartender in his crazy face paint? He gets all these drinks AND the candy bowl to himself...probably because there are multiple bowls of candy and plates of spooky cookies scattered throughout the house, and everyone else is too busy being entertained with other delightfully ghoulish things! Still, if I were a Sim I might've grabbed one of those to sip on...

The dining room is decked out.

I love the spooky haunted house centerpiece. There's a plate of Halloween cookies sitting next to it, and a spooky ghost armchair on the far right. Beside the plate of cookies is the carved wooden dragon I mentioned earlier; Marilyn crafted it at a woodworking table, herself. I thought it would look pretty good for the party chilling right there. And Pukey the Pun'kin makes a cameo appearance in the background again.

Proof that Sim-Emily is a blue llama.

This is one of my favorite screenshots. Emily Doll-McSims showed her true colors in blazing geek fashion when she attended a Marilyn Monroe soiree in a blue llama suit, complete with a giant head. You can see that while Marilyn is busy being Aayla Secura, her husband has had a little costume change of his own and becomes a gladiator!

Leia's classic jack o'lantern.

These shots are clearly in no particular order. Leia-Marilyn is admiring her finished pumpkin here.

Watch out for all the candy bowls around here...

In this shot we see Marilyn in her red witch costume, which is my favorite. I think she looks really cute in it. Watch out for the zombie hand shooting out of the candy, Marilyn! I jumped the first time that happened, haha. ^-^;;

This portrait is called "Lord Lycan." It's frightening enough, but make sure you keep an eye on the lovely lady beside him...

Pirate-Marilyn is admiring - and "critiquing," because she's a snob (that's one of the personality traits I gave her in CAS; mostly I've seen that it just makes her kind of snooty and materialistic and she likes to hang out with other Sims who are snooty and materialistic, as well. It also means she prefers to watch the news over most other channels, because they're "too simple" or something and they give her a headache and a grouchy moodlet. Ain't nobody got time for that) - a portrait of Lord Lycan, who was apparently cursed upon the onset of the full moon. His girlfriend next to him has a whole new set of issues, though.

Mm. Pretty.

Lady Sanguina used to look so sweet, and now she just looks kind of...well, psychotic. Check out Lord Lycan before he went all fur-face, though! Side note: WHY, Maxis, don't you have a Chewbacca costume?! It's a CRIIIIIME! >.<;

A laser show and an outdoor bar with neon lights on the side of the house. <3

Darth Maul's brushing up on his bartending skills and watching a laser show from a sturdy cauldron in his backyard. At the bottom of this photo you can see that Marilyn is between costumes right now. Whew. She's pretty high maintenance.

Entertainers like to go all out for parties!

Marilyn spruced up her living room with spooky style for the occasion, replacing her chic sofas with ghostly ones and her clean, fresh wallpaper for drastic spiderwebs. Her pretty curtains have been switched out for Gothic black tatters, and even the end tables have been decked out in tattered black draperies to match.

Emily had a great time at Casa de Marilyn Monroe, and nobody gave a damn that she was decked out as a head-to-toe llama. The gracious hostess only remarked that next time she throws a costume soiree, she wants to see Mrs. Doll-McSims' lovely face! (After all, Emily didn't show up in a costume that Miss Diva wanted to wear, did she...?) It is worth mentioning that Mr. McSims - Norman, that is - was noticeably absent from what was known as the Party of the Year. It is also worth mentioning again, perhaps, that Marilyn's charismatic, ambitious husband has just become a scientist. Astronauts aren't the only Sims who like to explore outer space...

That's all for now! ^_^ Thanks for reading, and have a safe and happy Halloween!

Stories from the Savvy Simmer - Chapter 7: A Growing Sixami

Stories from the Savvy Simmer

Pinups' Place: Emily Doll

Chapter Seven: A Growing Sixami

Just a few short weeks following Norman and Emily McSims' wedding, Mrs. Doll-McSims figured she'd better wax domestic and try to max out her cooking skills. She'd been doing the stay-at-home thing for awhile, and Norman was supporting her. The least she could do was figure out how to feed him without putting that desperate look on his face every time he ate. That look that said he wanted to die just a little bit, and did humans really eat this? Much to her surprise, the first time she made ice cream, it turned out pretty good. She found a recipe for caramel ice cream and garnished it with cinnamon sticks, and when Norman smiled at her and said it was "delicious," she thought for once she could believe him. 

She found a recipe for caramel ice cream and garnished it with cinnamon sticks.

"Why is it," she complained to Cherry over the phone one late afternoon, "that I can make sweets no problem, but the second I try to fix up a hearty main course, it's like something died in the food right after I made it?"

"You've been watching way too much Simthia Child," said Cherry through the speaker, and Emily imagined she could hear her friend rolling her eyes. "You're worried about the way she does everything and not thinking about coming into your own groove."

"You're way too confident sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

"And you're not confident enough," Cherry argued. "Why don't you get into your baking thing, and once you've mastered that with confidence you can try cooking again?"

"I can't just do that," Emily disagreed. "Norman still has to eat dinner and stuff."

"You have that nice grill right out there on the patio, Em. Tell him to use that if he wants dinner."

"Would you tell Jackson that?"

"Oh, all the time."

The women laughed together, but Emily sighed shortly afterward. "I don't know," she lamented. "Maybe it's me."

"What do you mean?" Cherry asked.

"I mean, lately, all I want to eat is sweet stuff, anyway. Ice cream and baked goodies and all that. Norman loves when I bake."

"You should start your own business," Cherry insisted. She was still thinking like an entrepreneur and couldn't seem to get off that little train of thought. Emily, on the other hand, was on a whole other train entirely...

"Listen, Cher. I don't know for sure, but I think I might be pregnant."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and then Cherry finally said, "...What do you mean, you don't know for sure?"

"I mean I still have to take a pregnancy test. I mean, I've never been pregnant before, but I feel...different."

"How long have you felt 'different'?" Cherry pressed, her voice rising a bit.

"I don't know, a couple weeks."

"For the love of Will Wright, you need to pee on a stick, Emmy. Right now. Right now."

"I can't just pee on a stick right now!" she hissed.

"Why not?" Cherry argued. "Is Norm home?"

"No, he's at work, but I don't even have...oh, look at that. There's one right here, in my inventory."

"Yeah. You're totally pregnant."

"Would you shut up? I still have to use the thing to be sure."

"Well, hurry up!"

There was a long, awkward pause during which Emily used the bathroom. She was still on the phone with Cherry, but the redhead had become a good friend of hers, a friend who didn't seem to mind in the least. In fact, she seemed every bit as eager for the results as Emily was.

There was a long, awkward pause during which Emily used the bathroom.

Suddenly, she looked up and confetti was showering her out of nowhere. Then she looked down, and noticed a tiny bump underneath her oversized striped pajama shirt.

"I'm..eating for two, I guess!"

"Oh my God," she whispered into the receiver. She'd forgotten she was even on the phone.

"What?" Cherry squawked. "What, what, what?!"

"I'm...eating for two, I guess!"

"Oh my God, you're pregnant!" 

Emily didn't have to screech with excitement, because her enthusiastic friend did it for her. Of course she wanted to know how Em was going to break the news to Norman, but she hung up with Cherry. She needed some time before Norman got home, to figure out how to tell him she was going to have a baby. And with everything she knew about Norman, she needed a lot of time just to think. Again.

How were they going to do this? Was an alien baby growing inside of her? Would it even be able to grow to full term inside a human womb, if it was? Would it be taken away from her? Would it kill her? All these thoughts spinning through her head made Emily worried and fretful, and she finally fell into an exhausted sleep sometime after midnight. 

Norman tried to creep into the bedroom without waking her when he got home from work, but Emily was suddenly a much lighter sleeper than she used to be. The slightest noise could wake her now, and she had not slept well at all while she waited for him. "Hey, baby," she greeted Norm with a tired smile. "How was work tonight?"

"Work was good," he told her, peppy and enthusiastic. That was his way, probably a big reason he got promoted all the time. "They told me to keep it up, today. That's exactly what I plan to do so I can install that basement. I want another bathroom down there, and a little living room area with a flat screen TV on the wall. Maybe I'll have a personal gym in one corner, you know, like with a punching bag and a treadmill and a weight machine. Maybe another flat screen to put in front of the treadmill so I don't get bored. I could put an office down there with one of those huge fish tanks, I've always wanted an aquarium."

"Norman?"

"I want my own bar with a speaker in the wall, and a little corner with a personal steam room. We could have a yoga mat on the floor and--"

"Norman!"

"Yeah, babe?"

 "All that sounds...wonderful..." Emily made a face and clapped her hand to her mouth. She ran to one of the upstairs bathrooms as fast as her legs could carry her, and Norman distinctly heard the sound of her retching as she wrecked the porcelain toilet. Good thing he hired a maid. He never really expected Emily to take care of cleaning this whole huge house from top to bottom by herself. Good thing, too, because he also knew she just wouldn't have. Even a tiny little whirlwind like his wife could use a little help now and then. Actually, now that Norman thought about it...

"You look exhausted, honey," he called to her through the bathroom door. "Have you been waiting up?"

"No," she called back, sniffling. Her voice was thick as though she'd been crying, but he knew it was from forceful vomiting. "I'm just not sleeping well. Your work boots sound like an elephant parading through the bedroom."

"I'm sorry, Em. I took them off."

She opened the door and walked back to their room, and he followed her. He sat down on the bed and looked at her expectantly, but she couldn't sit down beside him. Now that he saw her without the covers pulled up to her chin, though, something began to dawn on him. "You look a little different..." he said slowly.

What she said was, "I'm pregnant." No bells and whistles. And no ifs, ands, or buts, obviously, because he could see the bump under her shirt, evidence of a growing baby. 

Norman didn't say anything...mostly because he wanted to avoid saying something stupid. What he said was, "How do you know?"

And he wished he hadn't, because Emily looked at him like he was the biggest idiot on the planet. "I had sex with you. And then I peed on a stick and it told me we've created offspring, and sooner or later I'll be shoving it out."

"That's...graphic."

"Well, you weren't complaining when we got naked, were you, Blue Man Group?!" She rushed from the room, sobbing hysterically.
Leaving Norm still seated on the edge of the bed, wondering what the hell just happened.

"I'm pregnant."

 

After a moment of bewildered silence, he sighed, heaved himself up, and went off down the hallways of his house in search of his wife. He should not have been surprised in the least to find that she was back in the bathroom, hurling and crying intermittently. Norman knocked softly on the door.
He was met with a forceful, "Go...away!"
"Emily," Norman said softly, not giving up, "you're overreacting. When did I ever complain?" He tried to reason with her. "I just asked how you knew, which was a stupid question, I guess. I'm happy about this! Aren't you?"
He heard nothing from the other side of the door, so he tried again. "Aren't you?"
After a minute, the bathroom door opened and he took a step back. Emily's pale cheeks were flushed a warm pink; she had her hands on her hips and she was watching him like she was trying to X-ray any lies right out of his head. "Really?" she asked. She tried not to sound quite so suspicious, but her lips were pursed and she couldn't really help it. Her hormones were on overdrive.
Still, he did not hesitate to reassure her. "Really. I'm happy. How could you think I wouldn't be happy? I can't wait."
"Really?" Emily sounded like a broken record again, but she was slowly smiling despite herself.
"Of course." Norman put his pale human arms around her and kissed her, and she found her smile widening against his mouth - but it quickly died on her own lips as she pulled away.
"But, Norm..."
"Hm?"
"I'm...I'm pregnant with an alien baby, aren't I?"
"I've...never procreated with another species before..." Norman sounded a little awkward as he skipped over this little bit of information. "...but logically we can assume that the baby will be half Sixami, yes."
"Sixami?" Emily tried the unfamiliar word out on her tongue.
"You asked about my race before and I made that stupid Blue Man joke I'm starting to regret." He paused to purse his own lips, but continued on. "I'm Sixami, meaning 'of, or from, the planet Sixam.'"
"Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"You pissed me off," he said simply. "Now that you'll be giving birth to a member of my race, you should probably know what we're called. And stop referring to that dumb joke, because it wasn't that funny to begin with and it's getting old now."
Emily sighed and moved past him, shuffling back to the bedroom in her bunny slippers. Life seemed so normal and humdrum on the surface, to anyone who chanced a look through the windowpane...but there were layers upon layers underneath it all, and she was beginning to wonder if her situation could possibly get any more complicated. Oh, if she only knew...

Stories from the Savvy Simmer - Chapter 6: Dangerous Little Differences

Stories from the Savvy Simmer

Pinups' Place: Emily Doll

Chapter Six: Dangerous Little Differences

Norman took three days off after the wedding so that he and Emily could spend quality time together. He'd said he loved when she baked, so she whipped up a quick plate of pre-mixed brownies and spent a little time out in the backyard with her entry-level baking book, Let's Mix! It wasn't a hefty volume; by the time she was finished she understood how to make bagels, tarts, muffins, and pies.

Reached Baking Level 3!

Norman joked that she was going to make a glutton of him and ruin all his hard training for yet another promotion at work. He did not seem satisfied to remain at one level for too long, and to a homebody like Emily, she wondered how he could do it all. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she still wanted to be her own boss.
"I hate the idea of a nine to five," she told her new husband as they sat out in the front yard together in front of the campfire one late afternoon. "But I'm not a very good writer."
"Bull," Norman said instantly. "I've read your fan fiction. The Werewolf Sim Strikes Again, by Emily Doll."
"You read it?" She laughed and rolled her eyes. "I'm going to have to protect my documents with a password! Don't tell anybody I write Werewolf Sim stuff."
"You're such a freaking geek," said Norman with a chuckle. But there was love in his eyes; she could plainly see it. She privately thought that she might just let him continue to read her silly fan fiction, if he wanted. That was why she beamed at him instead of punching him in the arm.
"I like your stories," he insisted. "Don't stop writing them. They're interesting and detailed. I want to know if Jasim Statham gets out of that crazy bind with that ogre. And why there's an ogre in Desiderata Valley in the first place."
"Something interesting," she said with a shrug. "It's not really that good." But she was proud of herself, of Norman's opinion of it. Truth be told, Emily missed writing, but she stopped because she never really thought she'd get anywhere with it. She was pulled from her memories of pessimistic people telling her she'd probably never achieve her dreams when she realized her husband was speaking to her.
"...stories, you know."
"Er...what?" She quirked a finely arched brow and tried to look innocently sheepish, as if she'd at least heard some of what he said.
He shrugged it off in that easy, carefree way of his and repeated, "I write my own stories, you know."
"Oh, yeah?" That eyebrow lifted. His admission surprised her. It seemed there was no limit to surprises with the man she loved. The alien she loved. She was still coming to terms with her everyday life.
"Uh-huh." He nodded his red head and skewed a fat marshmallow on the end of a long stick, holding it into the crackling orange flames that leaped from the fire pit.
"How come I've never seen any in your documents on the computer downstairs?" Emily asked.
"It's in my tablet. That stays on me."
Before Emily could think of something to say to this, Norman said, "You wanna hear it?" without waiting for a reply. "Once upon a time, okay. There was this young Sim who survived a terrible attack as a baby. He was dumped on his aunt and uncle's doorstep with a message after his parents died. His aunt and uncle didn't want to take him in. The boy's aunt and mother had fallen out of touch over the years and didn't like each other. Still, his aunt took him in out of pure obligation, and do you know where she kept him?"
"Let me guess." Emily pursed her lips.
"Under the stairs!" gasped Norman, his voice hushed.
"...That's Henry Puffer and the Enchanted Chalice, Norm," interjected Emily.
"No, come on. Okay, so he's eleven years old now, right? This Sim."
"Yeah? What's his name?"
"...Harold."
"Harold?"
"Yeah. Harold...Palmer."
"Give me a break." Emily snorted and started to laugh.
"As it happens," said Norman, frowning and pressing on stubbornly, "Harold is eleven years old and..."
"...and he goes to a fantastical boarding school for witches and wizards?"
"No! You didn't let me finish."
"Harold is eleven years old and he's taken from his unkind aunt and uncle's house by a grizzly giant-Sim, who takes him to a magical zoo. Okay, and at this magical zoo, there's a black zebra with white stripes."
"Zebras are white with black stripes," said Emily.
"This one was black with white," insisted Norman. "And he told Harold that he could have anything he wanted if he only wished for it."
"This story sucks," said Emily with a laugh.
"Hey, I didn't make fun of your story!" Norman mock-frowned and shoved Emily's shoulder.
"Ahh! Norman!" Emily's hazel eyes bugged as her pale arm shot up in glowing orange flames. She screamed and flailed her arm wildly, then stopped, dropped, and rolled in the grass. By the time she caught her breath to scream at Norman, she realized he was running for the house, giggling.

She screamed and flailed her arm wildly...

Giggling? "What the FUCK, NORMAN?!" Emily tore after him. She half wished her arm was still on fire so she could beat him with it. She could swear she had just heard laughter. 

Yes. He was laughing as she cornered him against the wall in the kitchen, shoving a finger into his chest. "Why would you shove me into the fire?! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I'm sorry," he gasped in between peals of laughter. "I'm...sorry. It was just...hilarious...the way you...screamed and dropped...to the...ground like a...gravity...dependent...OOMPH!"

He lost all breath to laugh or to taunt her as she sent a petite foot straight into his groin. 

"It's hilarious that you set me on fire?"

He didn't answer her for a few minutes. He couldn't. He was too busy holding himself, and rolling around on the kitchen floor just as she had been rolling in the grass. She stomped away from him before she could think of something worse to do. What a way to begin a honeymoon. 

When he came to their room, he found her seated on the edge of their bed. "I...guess that didn't tickle," he said weakly.

"Tickle?" Emily turned to stare at him in astonishment. "Burns hurt!"

"They hurt?" Norman actually sounded dubious. 

"What, you've never seen someone catch fire in the movies?"

"Yeah, but...those are actors. I don't hurt when I get burned."

"Well, isn't that good to know," snapped Emily. "I do!" 

He had a weird flashback to their recent wedding vows and sighed, putting his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Em," he said in a muffled voice. "I feel so stupid." 

"I'm going to go make spaghetti sauce," she growled in response, pushing past him. Living with an alien was a lot more than she'd bargained for. 

So was cooking. She spent an hour and a half in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and swearing as the sharp blade sliced into her once or twice. Norman just busied himself with his basement blueprints and decided he'd build himself a man cave down there. 

"I'm gonna learn how to make ice cream," she growled when she finally presented him with a plate of spaghetti for dinner. Norman thought he'd better shut up and eat it, even though it tasted like feet. He said, "Sounds great, babe!" even as he wondered whether her ice cream was going to be horrible, too.

"Might even take up gardening." 

"Awesome."

"Will you make space outside for some fruit trees?" Emily asked with a resigned sigh. She might as well accept that while she was a decent baker, she'd probably always be a terrible cook. She could see the way Norm's human mouth puckered up in disgust when he ate the forkful of spaghetti he'd spent five minutes twirling around on his plate until she said something. When he saw her watching him he quickly tried to hide it, and she spent a brief moment wondering why he tried to hard to please her. She was moody and irascible at her worst, but mellow-mannered Norman seemed to be able to handle it. More than that, he did so with a smile and a good attitude most days. 

"Sure, babe. Whatever you want."

"I want apples," she said. "And plantains. And Norman?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for putting up with me the way you do. But I swear if you ever push me into the fire pit again, I'm going to punch you right in your human junk as hard as I possibly can."

"Yep. Okay."

"You can stop eating that," she added.

"Thank you," he said with his mouth full. He took her plate, too, and went to scrape them both into the garbage. 

Emily dialed up Cherry Dollface and headed to the living room to watch the cooking channel. Maybe her good buddy could teach her how to make Goopy Carbonara without wanting to hurl.

Stories from the Savvy Simmer - Chapter 5: Wedding Bells

Stories from the Savvy Simmer

Pinups' Place: Emily Doll

Chapter Five: Wedding Bells

It took Emily a few hours to return to the house; she went for a jog around Pinups' Place to clear her head. She couldn't believe Norman could just invade it like that. Even if she was marrying him, she should be privy to her own private thoughts just like anyone else. What couldn't he understand about that? He was asleep by the time she finally came back, and she was glad of it. She had so many things to sort out mentally, and she just didn't want to hash it all out anymore. Emily fell into an exhausted sleep on the couch, and woke up to Norm standing over her the next morning with a slightly apprehensive look on his face. "I bet your back hurts," he greeted her softly.

"I've never felt better," she snapped. Her back was screaming, but he wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing that. 

"You're mad at me again," he said with a heavy sigh. Human women turned out to be so much more than he'd expected - in ways that were good, bad, and ugly. And judging by Emily's seemingly random triggers and behaviors, it didn't matter how long Norman had lived in Sim Nation. He still had a whole lot to learn.

"You're used to that telepathic link thing, Norman." Emily sat up wearily and tried to explain. "It's normal for you, but it's not normal for me. Humans have private thoughts that are all their own, all the time. I need solitude in my own head, it's important to me. Maybe one day I'll get used to that mind-reading stuff, but in the meantime...just don't do it, okay?" She paused, frowned, and then added, "It really freaked me out. If you need to do it for some reason, then I need you to ask first."

Norman nodded. She hadn't been prepared for what he'd done, and he had just done it without asking if she was okay with it. "That's fair," he agreed. "I'm sorry. You're still gonna marry me, right?"

Emily pursed her lips. Her favorite shade of bright red had smeared off onto his couch in the middle of the night, but he said nothing about it. He could hire a maid to have it steam cleaned. "Yes," she said. "I'm still gonna marry you."

He was wearing his human skin, getting ready to go to work, and she saw his normal human smile blossom brightly over his face. He put on his hard hat and gloves, bent down to kiss her cheek, and headed out the door whistling a tune. The assurance of her love was all he really needed, and Emily was beginning to feel a little strange and hollow for needing so much more. The house was beautiful, but she didn't need things. Her soul thirsted for answers, and she was starting to realize she had more questions than Norman wanted to answer. Maybe more than he was capable of answering. Still, that didn't make her love him any less. Em sighed, wishing she could talk to Cherry about all this. They were becoming pretty good friends; they often called each other to chat and Cherry stopped by a lot. Emily didn't visit Cherry and Jackson's house much, but in a House Beautiful like Norman's, she had everything she could possibly want or need. 

Norman was late coming home that night. He was so late, in fact, that Emily began to worry about him. 

She found Norman passed out on the sidewalk in front of the house.

She found Norman passed out on the sidewalk in front of the house; he'd overworked himself into a sort of exhausted torpor. It took awhile for her to wake him and lead him back to the house, but once she did, he promptly fell asleep in bed, and snored so loudly that she had to sleep on the couch again.

Emily was sore again the following morning, but she didn't complain. Norm was awake when she got up, staring down at her again. Emily experienced a brief but keen feeling of deja vu. 

"I don't remember coming home," he said.

"You passed out on the sidewalk in front of the house," she informed him groggily. "I woke you up and brought you inside." 

"Thanks," he said awkwardly, yawning hugely and rubbing his eyes. "Guess I just ran out of steam last night."

Emily sat up and frowned with disapproval. "Your boss overworks you like that?"

"I overwork myself like that," he gently corrected her, taking a spot on the pristine white sofa by her side. She was always terrified she might spill something on it, but she was starting to understand that Norm was the type who wouldn't have cared. "I'm ambitious, I'm a go-getter, Emily. I wouldn't live here otherwise." After a pause, he said with determination, "I want that basement. And I got promoted again yesterday, so I'm going to get it!"

Norman has been promoted to Technician!

 

"Did you go out drinking again?" Emily asked, keeping an accusatory note out of her voice. 

Norman shook his head, though. "No, I didn't. I just came straight home, and I guess I passed out right in front of the street. Maybe I need a few days off."

She nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think so. What were you promoted to?"

"Technician," he answered, his chest puffing up with pride. "They said they 'value my expertise' over at NASSA." 

"That's great, Norm!" Emily smiled. He really was moving up, and she thought she might be just as proud as he was. "Maybe I'll bake you a 'congrats' cake and invite Cherry and Jackson over!" 

"I love when you bake," said Norman with a grin.

"Does Cherry know? Does Jackson know?"

"Know what? That I got promoted?"

"You know. Do they know that you're an alien?"

Norman was silent for a second. Then he said, "Y'know, has it ever occurred to you that to me, you're the alien? That to my race, humans are the aliens?"

"Yes," she shot back without missing a beat. "It has. But when you don't tell me what your people are called, what else am I supposed to call you but 'alien'?"

"No," he replied, somewhat forcefully. "They don't know. And you'd better not let it slip, either."

He turned to walk away, but Emily got up and followed him. "You don't trust Cherry and Jackson with your secret."

"I don't trust anybody but you," he answered bluntly, hoping like hell she'd just leave it at that. He poured himself a cup of green tea and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He was going to use a couple of his vacation days. "Wanna get hitched while I'm off work?" he asked hopefully. She seemed to want the wedding to be a quiet, simple affair anyway, so he hoped Em wouldn't be offended by his hasty suggestion. He was surprised again and reminded of why he was so attracted to her when she simply said, "I do."

"I do."

 

The wedding was unassuming, simple, and quietly elegant, just as Emily wanted it to be. Norman kissed her under a beautiful, flowering arch, in the sort of scene she'd always pictured since she was a little girl. Their friends Cherry and Jackson were there to celebrate their love with them, and when the couple broke apart from the kiss that signified they were finally husband and wife, Emily finally decided that she was content. For now.

Emily finally decided that she was content. For now.

Stories from the Savvy Simmer - Chapter 4: Questions

Stories from the Savvy Simmer:

Pinups' Place: Emily Doll

Chapter Four: Questions

Norman wasn't sure what made him do it the next morning. Earlier than the sun, before Emily was awake, he donned his human skin and headed over to the jewelry store. He'd been in Sim Nation long enough to understand that human females liked shiny circles around their fingers, set with glittery stones. It didn't take him very long to find the perfect one; Emily was still sound asleep when he returned to the house. For a moment he stood at the end of the bed and watched her...until it occurred to him that she might wake and consider that a little creepy. He turned around and ran his fingers through his fiery-hued hair, wondering just how he was going to propose to her. He thought it might have a greater impact if he popped the question in his own blue skin.

Emily woke to the rather unsettling sight of Norman shedding his human skin like a serpent. She rubbed her eyes (whether to rid them of sand or confirm what she was seeing, she wasn't entirely certain) and tilted her head, wondering if she was actually awake when she saw him hang it up like a fine designer suit at the very back of the walk-in closet. She managed to snap her mouth shut by the time Norman turned to find her sitting up in bed. "You're awake," he said, cheerfully stating the obvious.

"I think so," she replied weakly. Seeing him there in his alien-robot getup just confirmed to her that the events of the previous night had not been a dream. "Norman," she asked suddenly, "am I going crazy?"

"No." He frowned at her, and she couldn't help reflecting on how very odd it looked on a face without eyebrows. "Why, do you feel like you're going crazy?"

"You're an alien," she sighed, as if this should be an obvious testimony to madness. "And I was abducted by other aliens last night. Why didn't they take you, too? Why did they take me, and leave you asleep in bed?" She pushed the covers back and stood up in her lacy blue bra and panties, perching her hands on her hips. 

"I don't know," Norman replied wearily, but he couldn't help smiling somewhat; she looked like she might be ready to kick some intergalactic ass. "What I'm really worried about is what they might have done to you."

"Why don't you call them up and ask them?"

"Call them up and ask them?" Now Emily noted how strange it looked that he seemed to raise a brow, without having one. The fine, thin bone above his eye moved a bit, anyway. "We don't have alien cell phones, or telepathy. I mean...we sort of have telepathy, but..." 

"But what?" 

He wanted to say I shouldn't be telling you this, but if he wanted to share his life with her, then he should be willing to share anything. Well...almost anything. So, what he said was, "But it doesn't work the way I know you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking, if you only sort of have telepathy?"

He rolled his strange black eyes in a very human gesture. "I can guess, because you humans watch a lot of television shows to entertain yourselves. You come up with some pretty wacky theories and ideas. Our telepathy works a little differently. I can read what you're thinking and feeling, but I have to be touching you to be able to do it. Not only that, but you have to be open to it as well."

"Open to it?" Emily just stood there in her underwear and didn't appear to care about getting dressed.

It was very distracting. "I can read your thoughts and feelings as long as you don't have a shield up. The kind of mental shield that keeps me out. Some people can learn to develop those."

She wanted to ask how, but didn't get the chance because Norman decided to act on his distraction. He reached for her and she went to him, but instead of pulling her into a passionate embrace and kissing her as she expected, he started to tickle her. Emily hated being tickled!

"Stop it!" she shrieked in a high, feminine pitch. "Norman, stop!" She forgot all about playing 20 Questions and fled from him, down the stairs and toward the kitchen.He chased her all the way out the door and into the yard. 

"You don't have your skin on!" she gasped in between shrieks, while trying to kick Norm in retaliation. She was too busy trying to fend him off to care how utterly weird that sounded.

"The yard is fenced," he argued reasonably. Emily would never have known he was an alien if she hadn't gotten close to Norman and gotten involved in his life. He still thought she wasn't close enough yet, though. 

He got down on one knee, just as he'd seen human males do in all the movies...

He got down on one knee, just as he'd seen human males do in all the movies...and Emily gasped as her hand flew to her throat, just as he'd seen so many human females do. Norman held out the shimmering gold band with its diamond winking in the sunlight, and asked the question he most cared about the answer to: "Emily Doll, will you marry me?"

The little Doll froze. Honest to Will Wright, she thought her heart might have stopped beating right then and there and she didn't know what to say. The silence lingered, but he didn't repeat the question. He didn't seem to tire of being on one knee, either. Norman looked like he could have waited there forever for her to answer him. She marveled at the fact that he didn't seem frustrated or insecure with her lack of immediate response. He was one confident individual; it was just one of the incredible things about him. 

"Will you be honest with me when I ask you things?" she asked slowly. "Will you tell me anything I want to know?"

His hairless brow wrinkled again, displaying the first sign of consternation. "...I'll tell you anything I can," he replied, just as slowly. 

"Will you tell me anything you know?" she pressed. She couldn't let this go. She had to know more of him, all of him if she could. Especially if she was going to be his wife. If her questioning annoyed him too much, Norman had the chance to walk away right now. 

"Yes," he told her. This time he didn't hesitate, and it paid off as he watched a beautiful smile bloom over her scarlet lips. 

"Then, yes," she finally said. His hearts swelled, because Emily didn't hesitate anymore, either. 

"Then, yes," she finally said.

He picked her up, just like he'd seen the men do in the movies, and carried her over the threshold into the house. Thankfully, she'd dropped her alien questions now and wanted to talk about the impending wedding. 

"Let's just invite Cherry and Jackson," she said thoughtfully, settling onto the couch to watch her favorite show. Simthia Child was giving instructions in Sim Nation's native Simlish. "Dis wompf es fredesche!" she insisted enthusiastically.

"I don't want to make it a big deal. Two witnesses should be enough."

He thought women usually wanted to make a big production out of wedding ceremonies, but he didn't bother to ask her about it. Emily could have whatever she wanted. He was content to nod and smile along with her plans. 

He picked her up, just like he'd seen the men do in the movies...

"She always cuts the vegetables like a pro," Emily complained of Simthia Child on the TV set. "Every time I dice veggies I cut myself. Every freaking time." 

Norman reached out and touched her hand. Her hazel eyes shot wide as he detected her lack of mental barriers and tapped into his empathetic abilities. He discovered that Emily was changing the subject and nonchalantly discussing the Food Network because she was nervous about getting married. That was to be expected...but he couldn't help wondering...was she nervous like most women were, with pre-wedding jitters? Or was she nervous about these nuptials because they weren't the same species? Norman had no chance to probe any further before Emily shoved him away, back against the couch. 

"What are you doing?!" she exploded.

"I told you we're kind of telepathic," he explained defensively. 

"You could ask first! I don't even know how to put up mental shields!"

"You shouldn't have to," Norman sighed quietly. "Not with me." 

His romantic proposal did not quite end the way he wanted, with hugs and kisses and promises, and perhaps another impromptu trip to the bedroom. Instead Emily rose and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. Maybe asking her to marry him wasn't the most inspired idea..

Stories from the Savvy Simmer - Chapter 3: Secrets Spill Out

Stories from the Savvy Simmer

Pinups' Place: Emily Doll

Chapter Three: Secrets Spill Out

He woke with a start while she was still watching him. "Whoa! What...what are you doing? Em? Why are you staring at me like that?" But the moment he asked, her eyes told him all he needed to know. "You were abducted," he said. It wasn't a question.

"You're an alien," she accused. That wasn't a question, either. 

"You were abducted?" Now the questions came spilling forth, even if this one already sounded like a broken record. 

"Did you have a hand in it?" Emily shouted suddenly. "Did you? Who put you up to this, Norman?!" Now the questions came out like rapid fire, with claws. "Was it that green one with the fly eyes? He tried to say something to me, I--"

"I didn't put anyone up to anything," he protested, holding his hands out, palms up. He stood and tried to reach for her hand, but Emily pulled away. She turned around to pace the bedroom like a caged animal, and all Norman could do was watch helplessly. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed they shared - probably not for too much longer.

 

"Why would They abduct you?" he asked quietly.  "What did They say?"

The way he said 'They' made Emily pause...but she had bigger, more pressing questions. "Never mind what and why!" She exploded. "I have some 'whys' of my own, Norman! Like, why the hell didn't you tell me that you're an alien, for God's sake?! What the hell are you doing here? What do you want with me? God, what am I doing here..." She stopped pacing and pressed her hands to the sides of her head, closing her eyes. When she spoke again, he could hear a little catch in her voice. 

"You don't know what it was like, Norman," she moaned, trying to hold back tears. He responded with silence, and she paused again. "You...do know what it was like," she said then, slowly. "You do know, because you're one of them! I bet your name isn't even Norman McSims!" Now that she thought about it, the moniker made Emily laugh with derision. "'Norman McSims.' That's an alias if I ever heard one. It's seriously like naming yourself 'John Everyman.' I don't know why I didn't see it."

"How could you have seen it?" Norman asked quietly. He hadn't moved from his spot on the bed, and when Emily asked herself, she really didn't understand why she hadn't left yet. Just packed her bags and walked out. The little Doll was in way over her head, and she was not trying to play with intergalactic fire. 

"I don't know," she burst out suddenly, before she could stop herself, "because you have a pretty damn good disguise there, don't you? What's your real name? What do you really look like?" For a second, she thought she might be sick. "You don't have like...tentacles and shit, right?"

"I'm an alien, Em. Not an octopus." Norman rolled his blue eyes and Emily wondered what color they really were. "I don't have tentacles and shit." 

Emily responded with a stony glare, crossing her arms over her chest. She'd said all she needed to say until he started answering some damn questions.

He sighed again, running his ordinary looking fingers through his ordinary looking hair. "I can't tell you my real name," he said.

"Why not?" she demanded, just as he knew she would. "Why do you have to hide it from me?"

"It's a cultural thing," he tried to explain. "We don't utter our given names aloud. I'm referred to by a serial number."

"A serial number," she repeated blankly. "So what, the others call you like...Six-Two-Two-Four or something? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

She could see a flash of very human anger crossing his freckled human face. "I don't come up into your house talking about your customs being stupid. I don't say anything about that weird hand-grasping thing people like to do. I don't say anything about the funny clothes everyone wears here. And don't even get me going on the way humans relieve themselves. It's ridiculous." 

Emily still found that all she could do was stare. "Your house? Is this really your house? Do aliens live in nice two-story houses in space, Alien Two-Four-Three-Nine?"

"Okay, first of all," he interjected, holding up one finger. "I'm not called Alien Two-Four-Three-Nine. Check your language, because that's extremely rude. I'm known on Interstellar Pod Oh-Four-Eight as Glorb Five-Five-One." 

"Your name is Glorb?"

"No. It's a sort of rank. Look, I can't be explaining all this to you. The less you know, the better."

"Well, I know a lot more now than I knew a day ago! They beamed me the fuck up, Scotty, okay? So you better start talking. What do you really look like?"

Norm was silent for a long minute.

"What color is your skin for real?" Emily tried again.

"Blue," he answered softly. "My skin is blue."

"And what?" she pressed, clearly unwilling to let it go. "Do you have a tail or something? Do you have an extra set of eyes?"

"I look mostly like you do. Not that different. Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes. Just like you. A mouth, a nose, two ears. Just like you. I don't have any weird appendages. I doubt you saw anybody with weird appendages, depending on where you were taken and which pod picked you up."

Now it was Emily's turn to sigh. She just wasn't sure what to say anymore.

"Why did They pick you up?" Norman asked again.

"How should I know? I'm the one asking you why."

 "This isn't a good sign," said Norman, more to himself than to Emily.

They were both quiet for a few long moments, and then Emily said, "Let me see your face. Your real face."

 Norm only paused for a minute. He understood now that if he hesitated any longer, Emily would be ready to walk out that door. And he didn't think he was ready to let her go yet.

So, he lifted a hand and prepared to peel off his face.

Emily would have screamed if she hadn't seen some truly eye-popping things just a few hours before. Still, her mouth was wide open as she watched the man she thought she loved peel off his face and step out of his own pale, freckled Irish skin like a serpent. A toned, tall, masculine blue figure stepped out of Norman's flesh. His body parts weren't very different from a human's, but his dark blue skin set him apart. Pointed ears and glittering black eyes would ensure he stuck out, as well. This blue alien was actually a lot more toned than the Norman Emily knew; he looked like he might be able to crush her if they embraced. And he wasn't wearing clothes she was familiar with anymore; the alien wore a strange sort of white suit that lit up and appeared almost robotic. She couldn't help but notice that it was also pretty form-fitting. Actually, his true face didn't shock her as much as she worried it would. Sure, it was unsettling that his skin was blue, but the shape of his face was rather nice. He had sharp cheekbones and a strong chin. Somehow she'd worried that he wouldn't be a humanoid alien. 

"What are you called?" she asked softly.

"What?" He frowned.

"I mean, like...what's your race? What are you called?"

"We're called Moondancers, but most people know us as the Blue Man Group."

"...Are you kidding me?"

Norman laughed and rolled his eyes; Emily noticed that their solid blackness, without the separation of an iris or pupil, was broken up with rivulets of silvery-white. "Yes. Moondancers. Blue Man Group. Come on, am I losing you? I wasn't serious, that's some crazy shit."

He'd meant am I losing your sense of humor, but the gravity of the actual words settled heavily upon them both, causing the pair to lapse into an odd silence.

"What are you doing here?" Emily asked yet again. He seemed to always avoid answering her there.

"Spending time with you," he answered, in such a simple way that she didn't really know if she was flattered or furious. 

"That's your mission?" she asked dubiously. "That's what you're supposed to be doing here, Glorb Something? Spending time with a hapless human girl?"

"Please call me Norman," he responded patiently. "I'm still Norman. I'm supposed to be blending in. My mission is in human studies. I found you...particularly interesting."

Emily pursed her lips. Once again, she really didn't know what to say. She didn't want to be some alien's experiment, and more than that, she couldn't understand why an alien race would be attracted to her, of all people. "Because I keep my head down and mind my own business?" she asked. "I guess that's a very human thing to do."

Norman shook his head, and she frowned at his pointed ears. "Because I love you," he said bluntly, and it hit her like a ton of bricks. "You help me understand Abbott and Costello movies. You're the only person I know who can beat me at video games. Your laugh is contagious, and I like when your eyes leak. I know your face crumples up and you think it makes you look ugly, but I think after your eyes start leaking, you open up more. It takes you awhile, but it's worth it when you do. I haven't enjoyed time with another human like this before, and I've been on this planet for awhile."

"How long?"

"Does it matter? Do you need all the answers right now?" Norm sounded a little snappish, but he was hurt that she didn't reply to his admission. "I just laid the cards out on the table and you can't even acknowledge it? We live together, Emily. You can move out tonight if that's what you want, but I don't want you to leave. It's not like I wanted to keep this from you. Who knows what They'll do when They find out..." 

"Uh, what? They abducted me. They weren't exactly cloak-and-dagger about it." Emily crossed her arms.

"No, I mean when They find out I'm feeding you information!" He sounded very distressed all of a sudden. For some reason it tugged at Emily's heartstrings, but she resisted her urge to go to him. He'd lied to her. He'd kept things from her. That wasn't okay in any universe. Was he even being truthful about things now? How could she be sure? With a jolt, she realized she couldn't. 

"They...sound like a pretty dangerous group," she finally conceded weakly. 

"They can be," he affirmed quietly. She could see his skin slowly turning a paler shade of blue. He was nervous, possibly even scared. "What did They do to you?"

"I...don't know," she admitted slowly. "I was totally knocked out during some of it."

"Maybe they didn't do anything." But Norm didn't sound convinced. It worried Emily, and despite her misgivings, her anger, her mistrust, she rose from the bed and went to him, took his hands in her own and realized that he had five fingers and five toes, just as she did. 

"I can run a series of tests," he began, "and we can..." He stopped, though, when she crossed the length of the room and reached for his hands. He marveled as she placed her own small hand palm up against his, raising them both to eye level and studying them in silence. "I love you, Emily," he said again. He wasn't trying to pressure her or talk her into saying it, but she shocked him when she mumbled, "I know, you said that. I love you, too." And he could feel both of his hearts plummeting when she said, "But I don't know you, Norman. I don't know who you are. I call you by a name that isn't real."

"You do know me," he assured her. "You do. We spend every day together when I'm not at work. I like my job, but I love to spend time with you. I've been here long enough to acclimate into human culture pretty decently. You didn't guess until They took you, did you?" He plowed on before she could attack him with that again. "I wanted to tell you but wasn't allowed. Now that you know, we could both be in danger. To tell you more would only endanger you further."

"I don't care," said Emily stubbornly. "If I'm going to love the real you, I need to see the real you. Not the mask you hide behind."

Norman wasn't sure what else to say, so he just kissed her...and to his immense surprise and quiet delight, the human girl he loved didn't pull away. Instead, she began to undress, and when he embraced her, he made sure to be careful.

When they pulled apart from one another, Emily found that she could stare into those strange, glittering black eyes without flinching, because she could see the truth in them. Even if he hadn't been totally up front about it all, he did love her - and she had fallen in love with him, too. She didn't feel right about walking out the door and leaving him to deal with Them all by himself. Whoever the hell They were. So, with both of their five-fingered hands intertwined, she led him to the bed they shared and didn't give a damn if They were watching.