Getting laid




Time went on. Alice and Cersei were right: we couldn’t mourn our deads forever. Still, I wished I could stop to care as easily as they would, being like “Alea jacta est” and start doing stuff like fishing or robbing people’s house. If my tears didn’t stop to flow, at least, my body was regaining its health again. Things were starting to get better, slowly but surely.

Well, I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna hear some crybaby story about a soon-to-be old man complaining about his life, don’t you? So let’s move on with Aleister. Poor boy, after the tragedy, he lost what was supposed to be his proudest day ever.





Cersei: You know what, brother?  I think I’ll stay. Anyway I don’t feel like becoming a stupid NPC that will have nothing better to do than being a zombie bothering you during full-moon nights.

Aleister: That’s great!

Cersei: BUT…

Aleister: Butt butt what?

Cersei: I’ll make points, of course, but I won’t become a breeding cow just for that goddamn challenge. And I won’t raise your fucking kids, nor our little sibling’s. Is that clear?




Aleister: Clear like your Aquarium’s water.







As the only heir willing to procreate, Aleister registered on, one of the only website allowed by our dictators beloved gouvernment, as he decided he had to get laid, and the quickest, the best.

I told him it wasn’t a good idea, especially during sexy time, but this fucktard won’t listen. Shame on you, Aleister, I’ll have you know if Alice was willing to have 6 fucking children with me, it’s…






He also decided to get that body working out, doing like 5 hours a day of jumping jacks like his mom. I swear they aren’t humans, what the fuck. There is so much internet to do instead.

Aleister, singing: I’m a barbie girl, in a barbie wo-o-orld!





He then decided to go playing some guitar in one of the town’s bars. Because everybody knows girls wet their pants everytime they hear some guy playing guitar. It’s written in the laws of the universe, just like cows give milk and gravity makes apples fall and…

Aleister: La cucaracha… La cucaracha… lalalalala fuck, wrong tab.

Goddamn it, Aleister.





Hey, what’s that? Fawn Goodfellow sure looks like a good companion for your lonely nights. Plus you’re already childhood friends with her. Come on! Don’t be shy! Go for the daughter!





Instead that moron decided to go straight to the ugly, bitchy mom that has a yellow face. Goddman it.

Aleister: So, you like cheese? You have the face of someone who like cheese. Wanna hear my metal version of La Cucaracha? Oh, come on, don’t make this face. Here, take this, I’ll give you a ticket for a free feet massage. Call me anytime *winkle*

Smooooooth sailing, son. Smooth sailing.





Dahlia Goodfellow: I’ll have you known, I’m married. And your propositions are all totally unappealing. Now get out of my face before I call the police.

Aleister: Don’t you go a bit far? Didn’t meant to scare you, m’am, I just wanted to start a conversation with an innocent joke

Dahlia Goodfellow: Wait, aren’t you one of these crazy hobos from the Nogueira family living near the Van Gould castle?! Seriously, your ugly house ruin the whole town.

Aleister: … Hobos?

Dahlia Goodfellow: I heard there was a fire that killed half of your family. You know what is the saddest thing about this? That the other half wasn’t killed with them also. That atrocious legacy should come to an end.

Aleister: …. you fucking llama face… Take it back or…

Dahlia Goodfellow: Or else?






Aleister: Nobody can insult my family! NOBODY!

Old man in the background: Now that’s my fetish!





Fawn Goodfellow: That ass tho.





Well, that sure didn’t go well in there, so Aleister moved to the eternal festival of Moonlight Falls, a pathetic festival created by EA games just so people wouldn’t see how empty and a waste of money was the so-called Sims 3 expansion “Seasons”.

At least, he found Felicity MacDuff, a funny and cute, yet fat girl he got instantly along well with

It might have helped that he didn’t proposed a feet massage with a rapist face this time.






Ho, you’re not interested anymore by Felicity’s humour? Who caught your attention, son?





T’was Deedee Wynn, Alice’s old friend and Malcom Harris’s new girlfriend. Poor Malcom, if only he knew how cursed he was…





Because, for Aleister and Deedee, it was real love in the first sight. Poor Felicity, she thought she had a chance. Within only a few hours, she was long gone from the competition.

I know it’s quite weird, for you, the reader, that I can narrate what’s going on even though I’m not here. So, you must ask yourself who  took all of these photos? How could I relate what was going on in my son’s sexual life?


You know, there’s no better spy than a worried pregnant mother when it comes for these sort of things. She stalked him all day, afraid he would end up with an ugly, crazy, dumb girl like Marigold Magliano or Branch Timbley (he wears a pink jacket and tights, so he’s a woman). Happily for all of us, she was just dumb.






Alice, who was hiding behind bushes and trees all day: MY LITTLE HONEY WHO JUST GRADUATED IS ALREADY LAAAAAID! HOW CUTE!

Aleister: So, huh, wanna come lives with… MOM WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE??

Deedee Wynn: Why would I live with your mom? You won’t come with us? I don’t understand, Ali.







Deedee Wynn: OMG! ALIIIIIIICE!! It’s been so long. What d’you become? And why is your belly so big?

Alice: It’s because I’m having a baby, Dee.

Deedee Wynn: But that doesn’t explain why your belly is so big?

Alice: Nevermind, Dee.

Aleister: Mom, you’re embarrassing me…

And thus, Deedee Wynn ditched that faggot Malcom to come live with us, as Aleister’s mate and the holder of the next generation.



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