starlightingmysims

[starlightingmysims]

100 Baby Challenge - Water Works

Lena woke up in the early dawn light, starving.

Not just hungry—starving, like she hadn’t eaten in days. Her stomach clenched and twisted beneath the too-thin blanket, and for a moment, she was worried something was wrong. Then again, everything was a little wrong lately. She sat up slowly on the sagging sofa, blinking blearily at the morning light pushing through the grimy windows. Her head didn’t ache, and her mouth wasn’t dry. This wasn’t another hangover. Just… hunger.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her eyes. “Breakfast first. Then work.”

She reached for her notebook, where she’d been scribbling down plans and repairs. Yesterday had been a win. But today, the list loomed again: she needed to get the water going, and then she needed a way to cold store food and cook it. Having a working stove again was useless if she couldn't use it.

The list was overwhelming if she looked at the whole thing at once. So she broke it down the way she always did. Shower. Food. Library. She'd worry about the rest when her hangover headache was gone. She threw on clothes that didn’t smell too terrible and grabbed her bag to go get her shower and meal in the places that had become the usuals.

No sign of Roy when she passed the gym's front windows, thank god. The shower was scalding and glorious—burning off yesterday’s grime and giving her a few precious moments to pretend her life wasn’t hanging together by duct tape and hard-won luck. She lingered longer than she meant to, then dressed and made her way to the food stand.

Her usual order barely touched the edges of her hunger. She ate quickly, wiped her mouth, and ordered more. She didn’t even care if the vendor thought she was weird—whatever this was, it wasn’t going away with one round of pasta and juice.

Finally, she walked to the library, dragging her notebook and crumpled notes from yesterday’s session. She needed schematics, basic plumbing guides, anything that could help her figure out what was wrong with the water system. She stayed until her back ached from the stiff chairs, and her hands smelled like dusty photocopies.

Having a new idea of where she might be able to get a few things for the house on the cheap, she began to look up second-hand stores and the like and found Anchorpoint Antiques in San Sequoia and decided to take the bus there.

The place was a sprawling, two-story converted warehouse tucked along one of San Sequoia’s older waterfront streets. Inside, it was a chaotic treasure trove of the past: mismatched furniture leaning against chipped dressers, crates of tangled cords, framed paintings stacked beside vintage toys, threadbare rugs, and dented appliances that had clearly lived long lives. The air smelled like dust, old wood, and espresso from a tiny coffee shop tucked into one corner.

She wandered through slowly, soaking it all in. On the second floor, tucked between some larger appliances, she found a mini-fridge that looked like it still had some life left in it. She tested the plug with a borrowed extension cord, and it hummed weakly to life. Good enough. She bought it and made a mental note: this place was a goldmine. If she could fix up junk and sell it back, or trade for things she actually needed, it might be just the edge she was looking for.

Back at the house, Lena changed into her “work clothes,” which really just meant the oldest, most beat-up pair of jeans she owned and a paint-smeared t-shirt and apron. The mini-fridge was lugged inside and tucked into a corner of the kitchen with some effort, not yet running, but it still felt like a small, stubborn victory.

Then it was time to face the water situation.

She spent hours combing through every inch of the property, crouching under sinks, prying open wall panels, and crawling through the overgrowth around the housewhere the old exterior piping snaked along the house. The sun had dipped well past its highest point by the time she finally found it: a blocked segment of exterior pipe near the back of the house, crammed full of dirt and what looked suspiciously like a desiccated squirrel nest. Lena gagged but got to work, using a combination of sticks, water, and sheer spite to flush the obstruction out.

When the last of it gave way, she ran to check the tap.

A shaky trickle, then a gush—cold water came roaring out, splashing into the basin of the kitchen sink. No hot water yet; she didn’t even have a heater installed, but she had water.

Real, running, drinkable water. Lena slumped against the wall, soaked and filthy, but grinning as she watched the ice-cold water clear up.

She would take this as a victory!

[starlightingmysims]

100 Baby Challenge - Unexpected Meetings

⚠️ Content Warning: Roy makes an appearance in this post. TL; DR: They just talk, and he says he would like to keep going out. Lena says she is still figuring things out, and he leaves.

The morning after Gia’s visit, Lena was still dazed.

She’d cashed the check first thing, half expecting the teller to laugh in her face, but they hadn’t. The money was real. Four thousand simoleons, just sitting in her account like it belonged there. Like she wasn’t still sleeping on a camping bed under a leaking roof.

She headed straight to the big warehouse-style home improvement store and started walking the aisles. She didn’t even have a list, just this hungry sense of possibility. Insulation rolls. Buckets of paint. Actual plumbing parts. She didn’t know how to use half of it yet, but she was learning. She was trying. That’s when her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number. Roy?

She frowned and answered. “Hello?” The voice was smooth, polite, almost too polished to be real.

“Miss Marlowe? Good day. I’m calling on behalf of a private benefactor. You’ve been selected for a unique opportunity. Our client is known for supporting promising Sims in difficult circumstances, and your name came up in our candidate list. If you’re interested, please meet us at the Laguna del Abrazo Lounge in Vista Hermosa by tomorrow evening.”

That was it. No sales pitch. No strings. Just weird enough to make her think scam, but not quite enough to hang up. Still, something in her, some battered instinct, whispered: What do you have to lose?

She went.

The place was as surreal as the phone call. Neon lights flickering off mirrored glass, it looked like the kind of bar where dreams either start or fall apart completely. A man in a tailored burgundy suit met her at the door. His smile was dazzling. So were his rings.

“You must be Lena. You look just like your file.”

That should’ve been unsettling, but he handed her a fizzy drink and started talking. About life. About odds. About how some Sims had every advantage, and others had to climb just to get out of bed in the morning. He spoke in riddles and poetry and maybe a little nonsense, but she listened.

Eventually, he slid an envelope across the table.

“This is for you. A gesture. Our benefactor believes in people who fight. People who rise. Use it wisely.”

When she got home and opened it, she just sat there and stared.

1,000 simoleons.

Real money. No catches. No sign-up forms. Just a signature that was a little more than a flourish of initials.

She placed it where she'd stored the check from the law firm.

§5,000, all told.

She didn’t know if it was the universe balancing its scales or just a glitch in the matrix of her life, but she wasn’t going to question it. Not today. Not when she could finally patch the roof. Not when she could finally sleep without the wind howling through the broken eaves.

By early evening, the warm glow of her strange, charmed day was starting to fade. Her skin felt sticky again, her muscles ached from stress and the lingering hangover, and the memory of last night still clung to her like smoke.

She went to the gym first. No sign of Roy. Just the usual hum of treadmills, the low thud of music through the speakers. She ducked into the shower, fast and hot, and tried not to think. Not about the velvet lounge. Not about him. Not about anything.

Clean, dressed, and with her hair pulled back out of her face, she headed to the food stand and ordered something heavy and fried—comfort food. She took it with a cold drink to the bench by the sidewalk and sat down, watching the sky shift to a soft orange-pink. The world had slowed, and she was letting herself breathe.

“Lena?”

The voice made her shoulders lock. She looked up. Roy. Looking the same—unreasonably handsome in gym clothes, smile easy, eyes sharp behind aviator sunglasses.

“Hey,” he said, like nothing was off. Like nothing had happened. “I was hoping I’d run into you. Didn’t see you at the gym.”

She blinked, halfway through a sip of her drink, and lowered it slowly. “Yeah. Just showered. In and out.”

He stepped a little closer and then took a seat on the bench next to her. She found herself wanting to shift away, but stayed put. “You okay? I was thinking about last night. I had a really great time. You… did you get home okay?”

Lena gave a small, unreadable smile. “Yeah. I got home just fine.”

There was a pause. He let it stretch, like he wanted to fill it but wasn’t sure how. Then he dropped his voice just a touch, warmer, coaxing.

“Listen, I really like you, Lena. I know things moved fast. Maybe too fast. But I’d like to see you again.”

She watched him carefully, unsure of what her face was doing. Her body felt stiff. She was acutely aware of her body and that nothing was moving.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I’m still figuring some things out.”

Roy nodded like he'd expected that response. “Of course. Take your time. I just didn’t want to vanish and leave things weird between us.” He gave her a smile that could’ve disarmed a bomb. “You’re not like other girls around here.”

That landed oddly. She wasn’t sure if it was meant as flattery or a warning.

He stood, giving her space. “I’ll be around. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”

With that, he walked off down the sidewalk, hands still in his pockets like he’d said something perfectly casual. Lena didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched the fading sunlight blur across the pavement and felt the cold edge of something crawling back up her spine.

She didn’t move for a long time after Roy walked away. Her drink had gone warm in her hands. The sky above was shifting—dusky blue melting into darker purples, with stars beginning to wink into place one by one.

Eventually, she set her cup down and lay back on the bench, arms tucked under her head. The city lights cast a dull glow, but above them, the sky stretched wide and open. She stared up into it, and it was only then that she realized her heart was still pounding.

She watched the stars appear. Some part of her wanted them to mean something—guidance, or comfort, or even just a sign. But they were just stars. Still, watching them made her feel a little steadier. Small, but not lost. She could exist here. She could breathe again.

And that had to be enough for tonight.

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Notes: For the §1,000, I sold everything that I got as gifts from the Wealthy Weirdo (§886) and then made up the difference with UI cheats (§114). For the curious, the game chose Geoffrey Landgraab, and I may have laughed until my sides hurt. He definitely qualifies as one!

[starlightingmysims]

100 Baby Challenge - Morning Lights

⚠️⚠️⚠️ Content Warning: This post contains references to alcohol use, impaired consent, and non-consensual sexual activity. It starts in the aftermath and follows a character's internal rationalization of a harmful experience. Please take care of yourself and skip if needed. TL;DR (For readers who wish to continue the story without reading the above scene, also spoiler for the post): Lena wakes up the morning after her night out, hazy and struggling to process the evening. She goes to the gym to clean up, visits the library to research repairs, and stops by the hardware store. Back home, she successfully fixes her stove. Just as she's feeling proud of herself, a lawyer arrives to inform her that she's inherited §4,000 from a deceased stranger who wanted to help orphans starting out—like Lena.

Lena woke to the gritty feel of the old sofa's fabric against her cheek and a stabbing pain behind her eyes. For a few long moments, she lay still, disoriented, breathing shallowly through the cotton-stuffed dryness in her mouth. Her stomach twisted miserably, threatening revolt, and her head pounded in slow, vicious waves. The room smelled faintly of stale alcohol, mildew, and whatever lingering decay clung to the house itself.

She groaned and shifted, wincing as her party dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Everything felt wrong—rumpled, sticky, sour. Blinking against the morning light slanting through the grimy windows, she pushed herself upright slowly, her purse falling from the sofa beside her. The contents spilled out across the floor—and among them, delicate and humiliating, were her panties, crumpled and out of place.

Her heart stuttered.

For a moment, she simply stared, struggling to piece together the broken shards of memory.

Roy—smiling at her across the dance floor. The dizzy spin of lights and music as she laughed and leaned into him. The burn of alcohol turning her limbs heavy and loose.

And later—his lips trailing heat against her neck. The feeling of him sliding her panties down her thighs, his hands sure and coaxing. The hard press of the bathroom wall against her back. His body and voice warm and low as he kissed her, touched her, moved against her.

A part of her remembered liking it—the heady, thrilling rush of it all. A part of her remembered—

—Roy steadying her with a glass of water after she almost toppled over. —His hand guiding her gently into a cab, murmuring soft words she couldn’t quite catch. —Her stumbling into the house and collapsing face-first onto the sofa without even making it to her bed.

Lena pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as a deep, queasy sadness bloomed inside her. It wasn’t how she had pictured her first time. Not drunk, not in a grimy bar bathroom, not half-remembered through a haze of alcohol and exhaustion. She had imagined tenderness, trust, maybe even love.

But... she had wanted him. She had said yes... hadn’t she? She remembered wanting to be close to him. She remembered feeling safe, at least for a while.

Maybe it was messy and awkward because it was her first time. Maybe next time would be better. Maybe Roy would kiss her slower. Hold her longer. Maybe he would want her the way she wanted to be wanted.

Lena clung to the idea like a lifeline, pushing away the uncomfortable pit in her stomach that whispered something uglier, something she wasn’t ready to look at. There was still so much to fix in the house. So much to build. So much to do. So much to hope for. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now. Not when her new life was just beginning.

She wiped at her damp cheeks and forced herself to her feet, gathering her scattered things with trembling hands. A shower—she needed to shower. Clean up. Then maybe she could make it to the library and figure out what came next. But her steps faltered when she remembered: the only shower she had access to was at the gym.

And the gym meant Roy.

Her stomach turned with both the hangover and anxiety, and for a moment, she considered just staying in the filth. But the sticky, sour feeling on her skin pushed her past her hesitation. She pulled on some less-dirty clothes and headed out the door before she could talk herself out of it.

Peering through the gym windows, she scanned the space quickly. No sign of him. She slipped inside, walking fast, eyes down, straight toward the women’s locker room. Only once she was locked inside the shower stall did she let herself breathe.

The water was hot—too hot—but she didn't turn it down. She stood under the spray for a long time, letting it scald her shoulders, her scalp, the backs of her hands. She didn’t think too hard about why. After 45 minutes, her fingers were pruned and her skin felt raw, but the fog in her head had cleared a little. At least now she felt human again.

Still, her stomach twisted with lingering nausea and hunger. Without a fridge at home, her options were slim. The food stand again, then. At least that was familiar. She slipped out of the gym as quickly as she’d entered, half-running until she turned the corner and saw the vendor ahead. Her mood wanted cupcakes, but her hangover demanded something solid. Pasta won.

Meal in hand, she wandered behind the nearby buildings, hoping to avoid anyone she knew. There, unexpectedly, was a view of the harbor: glittering water, a soft breeze, gulls circling lazily above. She sat on a sun-warmed bench and unwrapped her food, letting the quiet wrap around her.

She tossed her empty food container in a nearby bin and wandered back to the water’s edge. The harbor was calm, lapping softly against the shore, the breeze just cool enough to raise goosebumps on her arms. She sat down on the grass and stared out at the shimmer of light on the waves.

At some point, she realized tears had started slipping down her cheeks. She didn’t even remember when it began. But she let it happen. No sobs, no drama—just a quiet, steady leaking of everything she hadn’t let herself feel.

Then, somewhere in that stillness, something inside her clicked. A switch flipped. Crying wouldn’t fix anything. Sitting here wouldn’t fix anything. She needed to do something—anything—to remind herself she had control, she had choices.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she stood abruptly. That stove, she thought. That useless, sparking piece of junk in her kitchen. Today, it either worked or it left; its days as an eyesore were officially numbered. With a new sense of purpose, she marched toward the library.

She spent a few hours there, poring over repair guides and appliance manuals, watching videos with subtitles, jotting notes. She photocopied a few diagrams, printed out step-by-step guides, and left feeling not quite like an expert, but more than just a girl with a broken stove and a bad night behind her. At a certain point, her phone buzzed with a call, and, looking down to see Roy's number, she didn't answer; she just let it go to voicemail before continuing to work. A stop at the local hardware store later, her backpack clanked with borrowed confidence: a basic toolset, new screws, heavy-duty gloves.

Back at the house, the familiar wave of gloom rolled over her as she stepped inside—but this time, she didn’t let it settle. She dropped her bag with a thunk, pulled out her brand-new screwdriver, and pointed it squarely at the offending appliance.

“It’s you and me, buddy,” she muttered.

Then she got to work.

She had to shove aside a pile of warped planks and old junk just to reach the stove, but once the space was clear, she got to work. For two long hours, she crouched, prodded, adjusted, and cursed under her breath—fighting stubborn screws, referencing the diagrams, double-checking connections.

Eventually, she found the problem: a single burnt-out wire, blackened and frayed near the base. With shaking hands and laser focus, she replaced it, careful to follow every step she’d read. When she finally plugged the stove back in, she braced for sparks—but there were none. She turned the knob on one of the burners. A soft click, then the slow, steady glow of heat curling up from the coil.

She stared. Then she laughed.

“I did it… I did it! HA!”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but these were different—hot with pride. She’d fixed something. She had fixed it. In this ruined, broken little house, she’d carved out one corner of victory. Suddenly, the place didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. She was still beaming, basking in that fragile but glowing sense of accomplishment, when a knock came at the door.

Peering through the streaked window, Lena spotted a sharply dressed woman on her porch—a dark suit, leather briefcase, and a small badge glinting on her lapel. Lena cracked the door open, uncertain.

“Hello? Can I help you?” The woman offered a polite smile. “Are you Lena Marlowe?” Lena opened the door a little wider, still wary. “Yes, that’s me.” “I’m Gia Caruso, with Strickland & Holt, a local law firm.” She held out her ID, which Lena examined with mild bewilderment. “I’m here on behalf of a former client,” Gia continued. “May I see some identification?” “Um… yeah. Just a second.”

Lena hurried off, retrieved her wallet, and handed over a slightly bent ID card. Gia scanned it with her phone, nodded once, and reached into her briefcase.

“Thank you. I have some documents for you to sign—and a check.” “I’m sorry… what?” Lena blinked.

Gia opened a folder and pulled out a neatly clipped stack of papers. “A client of ours recently passed away. He started with nothing—no family, no safety net, just determination and hard work. In his will, he asked that his estate be divided among young, upstanding Sims who are starting out in life—especially orphans, like he once was. People like you. We worked with the City to identify potential recipients, and your name was among them. That makes you one of the beneficiaries.”

She paused, then added, “You’ve been awarded four thousand simoleons, post-tax, as per his instructions.” For a moment, Lena just stared, unsure if this was a scam, a dream, or some cosmic administrative error. Gia remained patient, then offered a reassuring nod. “It’s real. I just need your signature on a few documents, and I’ll be on my way.”

Still half in disbelief, Lena nodded and stepped back. Gia climbed the creaking porch steps with practiced grace and flipped open the folder. She pointed out the relevant lines, and Lena, moving through a fog, signed where instructed. Once everything was complete, Gia tucked the forms away. “Be sure to deposit that check soon. You don’t want to misplace it. Have a good day, Ms. Marlowe.” With that, she gave a courteous nod and turned, her heels clicking against the cracked pavement as she strode down the street and disappeared.

Lena closed the door and leaned against it, the envelope still clutched in her hand. She stumbled to the kitchen table and sank into the rickety chair.

The check was inside. Exactly as promised. Four thousand simoleons.

Hot tears welled in her eyes—not the kind born of helplessness, but of raw, dizzying relief. She pressed the envelope to her chest, letting herself cry. For the first time, she had something to build from. A foothold. A chance. Maybe this place could be a home after all.

[starlightingmysims]

100 Baby Challenge - Lena Joins The Gym

The sunlight woke her before anything else—an unfiltered, blinding stripe of it cutting across her face from between two slat boards over the window. Lena groaned and rolled onto her back. For a few seconds, she lay there in the quiet, letting herself pretend she was anywhere else. Then the smell hit her again: stale air, mildew, garbage, and reality settled over her like a wet blanket.

She sat up, blinking against the morning light. Her sleeping bag was rumpled in the middle of a room that barely looked better for all the sweeping she'd done the night before. Trash still clung to the corners. The walls were still cracked and peeling. Somewhere nearby, something buzzed faintly—electrical and wrong. There was so much to do, so much broken and destroyed, she was becoming overwhelmed.

She pulled herself to her feet and crossed to the kitchen. The stove was sparking, little angry pops of blue light shooting from the burners whenever the wind rattled the windows. Definitely a death trap. The bathroom was worse. No working plumbing—just a wooden structure over a bucket, a wooden excuse for a tub, and a sink stained orange from god knows what. And the kitchen cabinets? Completely empty, except for a half-used can of moldy beans.

No food. No water. No way to clean herself up.

For a second, panic clawed up her throat. It would be so easy to crumble here, to throw her hands up and scream that she couldn’t do this, that she wasn’t built for it, that they were wrong to think giving her this place could ever fix anything. She began to hyperventilate before she took a few deep breaths.

"One thing at a time," she whispered to herself. First: find a working bathroom and shower. There was a gym next to the library, so maybe they would let her shower there. Second: food. Third: Get back to the library and find a way to fix this stove because she did not have money for a new one.

It wasn’t a plan. Not really. But it was movement, which was better than panic. With that in mind, she moved to change, packed fresh clothing and her toiletries, and made her way down to see if the gym would let her clean up.

Stepping inside, Lena's nerves prickled under her skin. She spotted one of the staff members and made her way over, clutching the strap of her bag for courage. In a low voice, she explained that she'd just moved into her house, but the water wasn’t hooked up yet—both technically true, if not the whole story—and asked if there was any way she could take a quick shower here.

The woman, who introduced herself as Tessa French, looked genuinely sympathetic. "I'm really sorry," Tessa said, her voice regretful. "But I can't allow non-members to use the facilities. I'd lose my job." Lena nodded, resigned; she'd figured as much, so she did not fight it. Instead, she murmured a thank you and was already turning to leave when Tessa seemed to have a sudden thought.

"Wait," she said, brightening. "So, I can’t let you in as a guest... but we just had a new promotion start last week. If you sign up for our classes, you’d be considered a member. Then you can use everything whenever you want." Lena hesitated. "How much would that cost?" Tessa smiled encouragingly. "It’s §20 to sign up, and each class is §15. You only have to take one class every three months to stay active." She added, almost conspiratorially, "There’s actually a beginner yoga class starting in an hour—out on the back patio. First-timers love it."

Lena’s skepticism softened. She could afford §20, and she had no idea how long her plumbing situation was going to take. Plus... she'd always wanted to try yoga. A real smile tugged at her lips. "Okay," she said. "Sign me up." Tessa led her over to the front desk and quickly got her registered, leaving Lena just enough time to dash home for some workout clothes. She made it back just as the instructor was setting up outside, the early sun warming the patio stones.

The yoga class turned out to be a lot of fun—and a lot harder than it looked. By the end of it, Lena felt more pretzel than person, very Bent out of Shape. Her muscles were protesting in places she hadn’t even known existed. Still, she was grinning as she rolled up her borrowed mat. The best part? With her §20 membership paid and her first class completed, she was now officially allowed to use the gym’s showers whenever she needed. It was a huge relief—especially since, as she headed upstairs, she realized her timing couldn’t have been better.

Her period had decided today was the day to start. Without somewhere to clean up, it would have been an utter disaster. Instead, she stepped into a steaming hot shower, scrubbing away the grime, sweat, and the lingering weight of the past few days. Fresh clothes clung to her clean skin, and for the first time in a while, she felt almost human again. As though waiting for a cue, her stomach growled loudly as she laced up her sneakers.

Next on the agenda: food.

She stashed her bag in one of the lockers and stepped out into the bright midday sun. Scanning the neighbourhood, she realized she didn’t know many places nearby—until she remembered the food stand by the waterfront. Last time, the fish tacos had been incredible. Today, she decided, she’d try the popcorn shrimp. It was almost lunchtime anyway.

Perfect.

Enjoying her meal on a bench near the food stand, Lena let herself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. The soft breeze, the warmth of the food in her hands, the fullness in her stomach—it almost felt like a normal day. She knew the reality was that a disaster was still waiting for her at home, and she still needed to grab her things from the gym, but at least this day wasn't a complete write-off.

She tossed her trash and made her way back, slipping through the glass doors into the lobby. As she crossed the room, she caught sight of someone and froze mid-step. One of the most handsome men she had ever seen was standing near the punching bags. He had the lean, strong build of someone who lived at the gym, and it showed. His tank top clung to broad shoulders and an easy confidence that practically radiated across the room.

Then he turned—and it was over.

He had that strong jawline and cheeky smile that made her knees weak. He spotted her almost instantly, as if he’d been expecting her. Before she could decide whether to keep walking or duck behind a potted plant, he smiled wider and walked straight toward her.

"Hey," he said, his voice warm and easy, like they already knew each other. Lena blinked, caught off-guard—but smiled back, feeling her cheeks warm despite herself. "Uh... hi?"

He introduced himself as Roy, flashing her a grin that could probably light up the whole gym. "I’m here all the time," he said easily. "But I know I’ve never seen you before... I’d remember." Lena ducked her head, smiling shyly. "I, uh... just joined today." Roy’s face lit up even more, like that was the best news he’d heard all week. "No way! Well, if no one's given you the grand tour yet, I volunteer."

Before she could overthink it, she found herself following him around the gym, listening as he pointed out the equipment, the best places to stretch, even where the vending machine had the "good" protein bars. He was charming without trying too hard, and every now and then, he tossed her these sideways smiles that made her stumble over her own feet. He asked her questions about herself here and there, and she knew she answered, but could not tell you what she said.

Eventually, after a few minutes of easy banter, he paused by the exit. "I know this is kind of fast," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking somehow both confident and a little nervous, "but... would you maybe want to grab a drink tonight?" Lena blinked, caught off guard. Part of her brain shrieked 'What are you doing!?' but another, quieter part—the one tired of lonely nights and harder mornings—spoke up louder. "Sure!" she said, surprising herself.

Roy beamed like she'd just made his whole day. They quickly sorted out the details—an easygoing bar downtown, nothing fancy—and as he leaned in to say goodbye, he brushed a warm kiss against her cheek. "See you tonight, Lena," he said, before striding off like he had the whole world at his back. Lena stood there for a moment, stock-still, trying to remember how to breathe.

Lena arrived at The Blue Velvet just after six, her nerves jangling beneath her skin. Roy was waiting out front, flashing that same easy, heart-melting smile. He swept her into a warm hug before stepping back to look her over, a spark of approval in his eyes. She was very glad she decided to dress up a little instead of wearing jeans. He looked even more handsome tonight, casual but sharp in a fitted polo and dark slacks. "Glad you made it," he said warmly, guiding her inside.

He insisted on buying the first round—a fruity cocktail he promised she’d love—and they settled into a small table near the bar. Conversation came easy; Roy was charming and attentive, laughing at her jokes, asking questions that made her feel interesting, important. When the music picked up, he offered his hand with a grin. "Come on. Dance with me."

They moved out onto the dancefloor, and Lena lost herself in the music, the lights, the heat of his hand on her waist. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so carefree. The drinks kept coming, too—Roy always ready with another round before she could finish the last. Sweet drinks, light drinks, but they stacked up quickly, making the room tilt pleasantly around her.

Somewhere between a laugh and a spin, she realized she was more tipsy than she intended—but Roy’s arms steadied her, his voice murmuring reassurances she couldn’t quite process through the warm fog in her brain. Later, they collapsed together on one of the upstairs sofas, Lena’s head resting trustingly against his chest. She giggled at something he whispered, feeling drowsy and safe, a little buzzed and a lot happy.

She didn’t notice the way Roy’s hand lingered on her hip longer this time, or how his smiles had sharpened slightly at the edges. To Lena, it just felt like a perfect night. She didn’t see the darker intentions hidden behind those warm, patient eyes...

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Well, I wasn't expecting mature themes to happen this quickly, but here we are...

⚠️⚠️⚠️ Upcoming Content Warning: The next post will involve themes of alcohol use, impaired consent, and the aftermath of sexual assault (handled with care but potentially upsetting). Please prioritize your well-being and feel free to skip the next post if necessary. If you don't want to read but still want to know what happened, there is a very basic TL;DR at the top. ❤️

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Nightclub: The Blue Velvet Nightclub (reno) from Myszykiszki

[starlightingmysims]

100 Baby Challenge - Lena Moves In

"Well, I guess this is it."

Lena stood on the curb in front of the rundown house, a cardboard box of everything she owned cradled in her arms. Next to her feet sat a bulging garbage bag stuffed with all her clothes.

The house had been part of a transition program for youth aging out of the system. They gave it to her for free, along with reduced taxes and discounted utilities, as long as she stayed. At the time, she'd been too relieved to ask why anyone would just give a house away. Now, staring at it in the cold light of a rainy Sunday morning with only §1000 to her name, she was starting to understand.

She walked up to the door and let herself in.

The smell hit her first—damp, sour, old. Then her eyes adjusted. She nearly dropped the box.

It was a dump. No two ways about it.

There were no lights, just bare wires where the fixtures had once been. The stove sputtered uselessly, the fridge lay gutted in pieces across the floor. The whole place looked like it had been squatted in—graffiti on the walls, broken glass underfoot, every surface coated in grime. The air was thick with the sour tang of mildew, the kind that clung to the back of your throat and settled in your clothes. Everything was filthy. Grody. Broken.

Lena stood in the doorway for a long time, just breathing. The box in her arms felt heavier now, like it had soaked up all the disappointment in the room. She let out a slow breath and turned to set the box on a table that looked like it might survive one more use. She pulled out a camping cot she'd been given as part of a summer camp a few years ago and set that up in the only clear space she could see. Placing her things down on it, she sat down to look around.

This wasn’t what she imagined. Not really. She had pictured something rough, sure. A little dusty. Maybe missing a cabinet door or two. But this? The fridge was in pieces. The floors were sticky. Every surface looked like it had been soaked in grief and left to rot.

She glanced around at everything for a very long time, just taking it all in. Eventually, she readjusted the grip holding her hair. “Okay,” she whispered to the silence. “Start with one thing.” She took off her current outfit and changed into old clothes she had with an old and paint-splattered apron.

It was time to get to work.

She found a broom half-hidden behind a broken door and began to sweep. Glass first, then whatever mysterious crumbs had collected in the corners. She opened a window, and fresh air cut through the mildew; for the first time, she didn’t gag when she breathed. She kept going for a few hours, not sure how much progress she was making, but it was better than doing nothing. Eventually, she took a seat on her cot to take a break.

It wasn’t much, but with every little thing, the place started to feel a little less hostile, and something flickered in her chest. It wasn’t a home yet, and it was still a ruin. But it no longer felt insurmountable.

She realized, with the stove on the fritz and the fridge in pieces, she would need to leave to get some food. She also didn't think she could use the bathroom yet, so she'd need to find somewhere else to take a shower. She changed back into her clothing as she was getting ready to leave, and there was a knock at the door.

A man stood there, looking concerned. She had no idea who he was and cautiously opened the door. He introduced himself as a neighbour, Bob Pancakes, and wanted to know what she was doing in the run-down house. She let him know that she was its new owner and they had a short and awkward conversation about how this place finally having an owner would affect property values before he excused himself and wandered off.

Deciding to find out what else was going on in Willow Creek, she made her way to Crawdad Quarter that evening to see what the town's nightlife was like. Walking up towards the main center, there was a market stall opening that seemed to sell all kinds of foods. Deciding that being in the Crawdad Quarter, she may as well, Lena ordered the Fish Tacos to see what they were like. As it turned out, the food was pretty tasty!

Stepping into The Archive was a little disorienting; the place was very busy for a small-town library. Making her way through, she stepped into a room that made her smile: the children's section. The kids' section of the library was the one place where she never felt unwelcome. There was a story there for everyone, and so long as you were quiet, everyone left you alone. She pulled one of her favourite books from the shelves and began to read it, just enjoying the nostalgia of the place. Paging through these and some other old favourites, a passing thought floated by.

You know, I could write one of these.

A few hours went by, and she realized it was getting too late to find somewhere to shower. That would be tomorrow's problem. Using the washroom here, she made her way back... home. Yes, home.

Getting back, the dire situation hit her all over again as she changed into her sleepwear and then slid into her camping bed. The floor creaked with every movement. The wind whistled through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Closer, maybe even inside the house, something scurried.

Lena pulled her blankets tighter around her, curled up in the sleeping bag, and stared at the ceiling. No stars. Just old water stains like bruises in the plaster.

She thought she might cry. She didn’t; instead, she counted her breaths. One. Two. Three. The rhythm was something she could control. This wasn’t a home yet. Not by any stretch. But it was four walls and a roof. It was hers, for better or worse.

Tomorrow, she’d clean the bathroom. Tomorrow, she’d see if she could fix the stove. Tomorrow, she’d start over.

With that as a thought, she drifted off to sleep.

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Poses with boxes: Request_poses_09 by Simmerianne93 Look of dismay: Anxiety Emotions Pose Pack by electricwhims Cleaning poses: Cleaning!!! by Pandorassims4cc

[starlightingmysims]

100 Baby Challenge

To kick off my first challenge on this blog, I decided to try the 100-baby challenge. For this challenge, I thought I would document the story as it progresses because otherwise, it becomes difficult to track.

Some Setup

I usually play with mods, and I do not plan for this to be any different. For this challenge, I have decided to install Pandasama's Childbirth Mod, Sims3melancholic's Better Babies Mod, and Lumpinou's RPO. For RPO, I did not install everything, just:

M00 - Core

M01 - Pregnancy Preferences & Impact

M12 - Pregnancy Side Effects

M13 - Miscarriage & Pregnancy Loss

M14 - Pregnancy Tweaks & Special Pregnancies

A Note of Warning

In addition to the above mods, I also play with adult mods installed, including those made by Turbodriver, Basemental, and others. While I don't intend for this story to become raunchy, heavy and mature themes come up in my stories regularly and will likely come up in this one. I will add content and trigger warnings as necessary, but if you prefer a story without any of this content, this one may not be for you.

Now, onto the character!

The Matriarch

Meet Lena Marlowe, my Matriarch, to kick this off.

Aspiration: Big Happy Family Traits: Carefree, Baby Maker*, Neat

Lena is a lonely woman who has spent most of her childhood bouncing from one foster home to another. While she was lucky in that some were lovely and none were outright cruel to her, some were less than warm, and too many made her feel like a burden. While she once hoped to be welcomed into someone's family permanently, that never happened; she learned early on to keep her heart guarded and her expectations low. Since finishing school, Lena has been struggling to find a sense of direction.

The Set Up for The Story

She starts her story at Potter's Splay in Willow Creek with §1,000 to her name and nowhere else to go.

To try to address homelessness among those in her situation, the city of Willow Creek has given her a piece of property. This was part of a government program for those who have just aged out of the foster system and have no job or safety net in an attempt at a 'Housing First' approach. Lena and others like her don't pay for the house and get a discount on their taxes and utilities as long as they live there. (The lot is marked as a Tiny Home Residential, which is where the discount is coming from.)

However, this program was combined with another program. Abandoned properties are a problem for cities as they can cause all kinds of issues. In the name of efficiency, the house she was given was abandoned and reclaimed by the city, leaving her in an unenviable position.

The place is a wreck.

It is drafty and smells like mildew, and has clearly been vandalized several times. While shocking and disheartening for someone expecting a little more, for the first time, she has somewhere that is all her own. If she can turn this into a really little home for herself, she might have a shot at a future.

So, here is to a new life.

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Here is her lookbook: Everyday 1, Everyday 2, Formal, Athletic, Sleep, Party, Swimming, Hot Weather, and Cold Weather.

CAS Background: Playroom by ellcrze

The House

I didn't want to spend time building a ruin just to 'undo' all that work, so I pulled a house from the gallery and modified it to work for this. It is the "abandoned starter house" by ftorri200161. I have modified it to be Potter's Splay in Willow Creek and to take the entire lot. I have also removed three tiles, which makes this the largest type of tiny house (100 tiles).

The concept is that this was once a small family home, but was abandoned several years ago. Since then, it has fallen into ruin, been vandalized several times, and seen rounds of squatters. All of this has left the building heavily damaged. There is a program to rehabilitate these kinds of buildings and clean neighbourhoods, so the city has decided to combine two programs, giving these houses to kids aging out of the system with an incentive in utilities and property taxes for them to stay there.

The idea is to have Lena renovate it as she earns money until it is a cute house for her and her kids.

Right now, the house has three Lot Challenges to add to the 'charm' of the place. They are:

Filthy - From clogged sewers to grimy counters, this place seems to get dirty really easily.

Grody - Sims have a chance to get nauseous when eating, drinking or using the bathroom.

Mold - There is a dampness in the air here that just doesn't feel right. Keep puddles mopped, trash from overflowing, and plumbing objects clean or mold piles will start to appear, and beware of the deadly black mold pile!

I have also changed out some of the interior so that it looks even worse. Everything was base game, but I have used Werewolf things to add to the ambiance, as well as tiles from Syboulette's Cheap & Chipped CC collection. Honestly, I might be using a lot of this as the house is slowly being renovated.

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That is everything for now. Hope you enjoy the challenge!

* Babymaker Trait from Vicky Sims - 100 Base Game Traits Pack v1.7

[starlightingmysims]

Welcome to my Simblr!

I have wanted to start a Simblr for a very long time, and decided to take the plunge! This post is to help navigate through what I plan to post here.

[EDITS TO COME]