🍋 I'm Trish. Gen X. Taurus. Jeffery Dean stan. Published author who procrastinates with Sims 4 like a boss. WCIFF.

🍋 NOTE: Sometimes my stories are wholesome, sometimes they're not. I try to use trigger warnings when possible, but keep in mind that I'm an adult writing for adults. Make your choices accordingly.

🍋 SIMS 4 GAMEPLAY:

🍋 BYRNE-HOWARD FAMILY TREE

🍋 SIMS 3 GAMEPLAY:

🍋 RESOURCES

I have a lot of other situational cc but these are foundational for nearly every sim. If you see something I haven't mentioned, feel free to hit me up in my asks or dm.

🍋 WCIFs | LOOKBOOKS | MY SIMS

As we walked across campus to her apartment in Gibbs Hill, I kind of word vomited all over Dr. Adams. Even though I have an actual therapist, talking to her felt kind of like talking to my mom. I didn't tell her that, because I was already embarrassed enough, but hanging out in her cozy little home, drinking herbal tea, and eating lemon bars, made my anxiety drop for the first time in months. I wasn't mad. I wasn't sad. I was just sitting there, enjoying myself as she told me an Omiscan folk tale.

When she finished, Dr. Adams asked me how I was feeling, and I confessed that sometimes I get so angry I don't know what to do. She meant how I was physically feeling after wiping out in her lecture hall, but like I said...word vomit. She just smiled, told me I was welcome to join her for yoga class, and complimented my sweater.

On the train home from Britechester, I laughed a little at how I thought she was my mom. I mean, there's definitely a strong resemblance, but I can't imagine Caimile Adomako finding contentment in the world of academia.

After months of spending time together either in secret or in very platonic-looking situations, I was shocked when Chris asked me to prom.

"How are we going to make this work?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But this is our last chance to go to prom together and I don't want to miss it."

"We could go with other people like it's a group thing instead of just us. That way you have plausible deniability if your parents ask."

"I hate that it has to be this way," Chris said.

It had been simmering in the back of my mind that it didn't have to be this way. He could come out to his parents. But I could also understand why he felt like he couldn't, and I didn't want to fight with him about it. Our time together was precious and not to be wasted.

Inside you the time moves, and she don't fade. The ghost in you, she don't fade. ~ Counting Crows 1994 (and The Psychedelic Furs, 1984)

"For more than three decades, discussion and debate in the archaeological community has centered on whether these Omiscan ceremonial centers were the mother culture that developed and spread—"

The lecture hall door swung open and Camille stopped abruptly as a young woman...no, a girl, really...rushed into the room. Late. Camille typically disliked tardiness because it was disrespectful of her time, but this girl was visibly pregnant, with red, swollen eyes, possibly from crying.

"I'm sorry," the girl began, but when their gazes met, she gasped and her eyes widened in surprise. "Mom?"

Before Camille could respond, the girl dropped in an ungainly heap to the floor, unconscious. Some of the other students stood up to get a better look, which sparked a strangely protective flare of irritation in Camille.

"Class dismissed. Now," she said sharply, as she knelt and gingerly touched the back of the girl's head to make sure she hadn't hurt herself when she hit the floor. The other students shuffled past too slowly on their way out of the room. "No rubbernecking. Get. Out."

"What happened?" The girl's eyes fluttered open and Camille helped her lean against the wall.

"What's your name?" Camille asked. "Is there someone I can call to come get you?"

"Etta Newberry, and no. My dad is at work and my brother's at school," she said. "I'm so sorry I disrupted your lecture."

"Child, you don't have to apologize for fainting," Camille said, gently. "But I do think you should see a doctor."

"I'm fine." Etta climbed to her feet and settled into the desk closest to the door. "I'm just embarrassed, exhausted, hungry, I might have peed a little when I fainted, and you, um...my mom recently died and you look a lot like her. So, um...situation normal, all fucked up."

"Well, since I find myself with some free time this morning," Camille said, "let's go have a cup of tea until I know for sure you're actually fine. How do you feel about lemon bars?"

Dad went with me for my ultrasound appointment with Dr. Sloan, which was kind of...I don't know. My dad's been through this before with Hendrix and me, but I always thought if I ever had a baby, my partner would be with me. Not my dad. But I'm glad he was there.

The other thing is that Dr. Sloan is like my mom's cousin's husband or something (our family tree is complicated), so I've known him since I was a little kid. I don't feel uncomfortable having Moses as my doctor, but it's still a bit weird to have a family member looking at your hoo-ha.

Anyway, seeing the baby on the monitor was pretty incredible and made everything feel real, and I have to make a decision soon. Before today, I was only thinking in terms of my baby or no baby, but there might be a couple out there somewhere who would love this baby. And Dad was really moved by seeing his potential grandchild, which he said should not influence my choices at all, but let's be for real. So, now the decision is even more complicated.

I think I spoke too soon about Etta, because she's absolutely losing her shit. One minute she's raging mad and the next she's crying, and on top of the swinging moods, she has morning sickness every single day. I can't blame her for being a mess because she's lost practically everything. I mean, I miss Mom so much it hurts sometimes, but the sadness gets pushed into the dark corners whenever Chris is around. Mom would want me to be happy. So, even though I'm sad for my sister, I'm also so stupid happy.

Who am I? Who am I? Don't remind me. Too alive, too alive, new arriving. ~ Kid Cudi & André Benjamin, 2016

Despite a clean bill of health from the doctor, Camille still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't right, which she hated because she'd always been a big fan of her own life.

She had lived in her cozy little apartment in Gibbs Hill for seventeen years. It was stuffed to the brim with books she'd read more than once, and plants that were on a complicated watering schedule so the succulents wouldn't drown and the nerve plant wouldn't wilt. But sometimes Camille would wake up with scattered fragments of dreams of a different place—one with a vibrantly painted garage door and a basketball hoop.

Camille was a bookworm who could get lost for hours in a good romance novel. She also liked reading thanatological theories on her old desktop computer. She enjoyed drawing deep breaths of crisp winter air on her walks around Britechester. She loved baking—especially lemon bars—with Latin pop music playing quietly in the background. But every now and then, she'd have a scent memory of acrylic paint or the sweetness of jacaranda trees, or be struck by an overwhelming urge to listen to hip hop. None of which made a lick of sense to her.

She had spent her entire adult life in academia—no spouse, no children—so maybe she just needed a change of pace. She could go adopt the most unwanted cat at the shelter. Or perhaps she should find herself a lover the next time she was on a field study in Selvadorada and get laid. Laughing out loud at that idea, Camille took one last bite of lemon bar and brushed the crumbs from her cleavage.

So, let's recap. I'm pregnant at 17. Noah dumped me because he couldn't cope. I failed Intro to Thanatology because I forgot to give my presentation. I went to a pregnancy counseling session that did not help me decide. Grandpa Soji, Auntie Coco, and Auntie LaRaye have all gone to the ancestors in a matter of days. And I've never needed my mom more.

WHAT THE FUCK, UNIVERSE?!

Y'all, Etta's pregnancy in this save is probably the realest I've ever experienced. Girlie had two servings of chocolate brownies before eating two plates of chicken and waffles. And her hunger meter was still not at 100%. She better not be eating for three.

I shared the news with Noah and...it did not go well.

"I don't even know what to say, Etta," he said. "I'm barely capable of taking care of myself let alone raise a baby. And I'm still in high school."

"I know."

"My dad's not like yours."

"I know."

"I just..." Noah ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not ready to be a parent or a husband, and I can't even help with ending the pregnancy because my dad would never give me that much money. I love you, Etta, but I can't do this."

"Are you...breaking up with me?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe. Yeah. I just...I gotta go."

And then he was gone. So, I guess that even if I decide to end the pregnancy or give the baby up for adoption, I'll be doing it alone. Well, not alone. But definitely not with Noah Peralta.

And so I run now to the things they said could restore me, restore life the way it should be. ~ Young the Giant, 2010

There was nothing physically wrong with her. Not a bump, bruise, or even a scratch from when she'd fallen. But Camille couldn't shake the feeling that something was still not right.

"I feel like..." She looked over Dr. Sloan's shoulder at the x-rays. Her bones, all right where they belonged. "Like my whole existence is a sweater that shrank in the dryer. Like it's too tight and the seams are starting to tear."

"I've known you a long time, Camille," he said.

"Have you, Moses? How long?"

A confused crease formed between his eyebrows. "As long as you've here at UBrite. Are you having difficulty remembering since the fall?"

"A little," she admitted. "But I'm also remembering unfamiliar things. For example, the other day on my walk I had a song running through my head that I'd never heard before and I started humming along."

"Can you hum it for me now?"

Camille did as he asked and the doctor nodded. "Everybody Loves the Sunshine. Roy Ayers passed on recently, so maybe that triggered the memory."

"And I'm telling you I've never heard that song in my life, but somehow I knew every word. I thought for a hot minute that I'd written it myself."

Dr. Sloan looked perplexed for a beat, then gave a little shrug. "Well, all the tests we ran today show no signs of head trauma, but maybe the fall shook you up emotionally. I'll prescribe something to help you sleep, so try and get some rest. Take a few days off, if you can. But if the feeling persists, let me know and I'll refer you to a therapist."

Prescription in hand, Camille left the doctor's office feeling no better than when she'd gone in. In fact, she felt worse. Like she might be losing her mind.

FUTURE STORY SNIPPET

I was tagged by @jayveesim and @pixeldistractions. Thank you! And I'm going to tag @itmeansiris, @jayplaysims, and @therichantsim. (No pressure.)

A whole lot more has been happening in Etta's life than mine, and I admire her for holding it together when she could absolutely be losing her shit. I feel kind of guilty that my relationship with Chris is solid, even if it's secret. I mean, we held hands in public once which was a huge step for him.

Dad was thrown by the news. He said he was disappointed that Noah and I had been so careless, which was worse than him yelling at me, because I was disappointed in me, too. But then Dad gathered me tightly in his arms and said he would support me, no matter what I decided.

Honestly, I have no idea what to do. I mean, Noah and I are basically still kids ourselves. I love him and it's fun being with him, but do I want to marry him? Or be a co-parent with him the rest of my life? And even though my dreams got sidetracked when Mom died, it doesn't mean I'm not thinking about my future. I was planning to live on campus next semester, but do I really want to be waddling around pregnant in a dorm?

It's early days, so I have options, and I still have to tell Noah.