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Chapter Five: Trust

As Berries age their colors fade. Bright hues dim to pastels until they succumb to the grayish white that broadcasts their infertility. Survival of our race was the number one priority in Berry. Anyone who couldn’t contribute to our survival, our reproduction, was considered a burden. By the time a Berry faded they would have a family of their own and had earned their keep. Berries that were born faded were a different story. Unable to contribute to society, the Faded were put down like strays.

My stomach churned as I placed the thick tome down on my bed. Why would my parents thrust me into such a world? The culture they dragooned me to embrace was twisted and hateful, and just when I thought the ground beneath me was sturdy, I found myself in freefall instead.

I dialed my parent’s number for the sixth time that night and for the sixth time the reorder tone greeted me. The question weighed heavily on my chest. It stifled any hope of sleep.


Each day was met with the same monotone beeping and each night sunk me deeper into a hole I never meant to fall into. It dawned on me that I would not speak to my parents anytime soon. Perhaps, ever again.

I should have known. When Mom and Pops dropped me off at the private airport, they said their goodbyes. And while I had mentioned visiting during vacations and speaking to them on weekends, their smiles had turned tight-lipped. They knew. As I stepped into that private jet, they knew it would be the last time they spoke to me. They knew and they hadn’t bothered to tell me. My eyes stung. I swallowed the lump in my throat. For the first time in my life I felt truly alone.


“Maize!”

I knew the voice belonged to Cream long before I located her. I’d recognize that silvery voice anywhere.

“Do you live here?” She asked, eyes roaming up the three-story condo building. The unit had belonged to my parents before they left for Simtopia. I thought it strange they had held onto the property for eighteen years but everything was beginning to fall into place. My parents had always intended to ship me here.

“I do,” I answered, forcing a smile, “Wanna see it?”

“I’d love to but I’m going to be late to biology if I do. Next time?”

I nodded and joined her.

We had been bumping into each other more often the past couple of days and the more I learned the more I enjoyed her company. She was a sweet girl; the type whose worst transgression was the day she forgot to do her chemistry homework. The kind of girl who prayed for those who hurt her. She was my solid ground among the cave-ins.

I knew better than to stare at her too long now – her life had been hard enough – but that didn’t stop the burning in the pit of my stomach when I caught a glimpse of her. It couldn’t quell the delicious tingles that ran down my spine when her fingertips accidentally brushed against mine.

Cream says that we are attracted to the richest and brightest colored Berries instinctively. That on a biological level we know these are the mates that will provide us with the healthiest offspring. I must be defective because in a world full of color she is still the prettiest thing I have ever seen.


“Welcome to my lovely abode,” I said, stepping aside to let Cream squeeze in.

The condo was just under 600 square feet but had enough space for a full-sized kitchen. A lumpy sofa was tucked away in the corner and a run-down television was situated in front of it. Around the half wall was my bedroom.

“It’s more… yellow than I expected,” Cream said.

I laughed but only because it was true. If it was up to me the entire apartment would be shades of black and red, “Can I get you anything, Madam?”

“Just water.”

I sat beside Cream, handing her the remote and drink. She leaned away from me as she began flipping through the channels. The bridge of her nose was tinted pink, the color slowly bleeding into her cheeks. I let my knee press lightly into her own and her face deepened from medium well to rare.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I was no stranger to social anxiety but I did not want to draw more attention than necessary to her. I had been in her shoes before, and the embarrassment that followed often plagued my mind on sleepless nights.

“Yes…” She fiddled with the remote, unsure where to put her hands, “I’ve just never been alone with a boy before.”

Cream was too innocent for this world. Sliding onto the floor, I leaned back into the sofa and stretched out my legs, “Do you like horror movies?”

Neither of us spoke about what I had done, but the tension in Cream’s body relaxed and she curled her legs underneath her body. The sound of chainsaws lulled me to sleep. It was the best sleep I’d had in awhile.  

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Chapter Four: Faded

   Two days later and my nose was still swollen, though not the mess it had been yesterday. The bruises were yellowing, blending into my natural skin color, and I was beginning to regain my sense of smell. Pangs of discomfort ebbed from my nostrils, reminding me that I the last thing I wanted to do was show up for color theory. In fact, I had no intention of staying. I just didn’t know how else to track Cream down. She was always the first one in the classroom. Today was no different. Her books were clutched to her chest, head down as she navigated the busy halls.

   “Cream! It’s Maize.” I called out.

   Well, that was dumb. She probably didn’t even know who I was, “Er, I mean. I am Maize,” I corrected myself.

   Cream stopped, a small smile flickering on her lips. It lit up her eyes for just a moment before being snuffed out. “I know who you are, Maize.”

   “You do?”

   “I do,” She laughed.

   My heart soared, “Are you okay?”

   “I am. I wish you hadn’t done that, though. You’re only going to make it harder for yourself.”

   “I couldn’t just sit there and watch them hurt you.”

    “Why not? You let them hurt you all the time.” She stepped closer to me, arms wrapped protectively around her books.

    It didn’t feel appropriate to divulge my crush. I turned my head towards our classroom door, “Are you going to color theory?”

   “Yes,” She fiddled with the cover of a book, “You aren’t?”

   “Wasn’t planning on it.”

    “I’ve never skipped before,” She looked up at me through her eyelashes, “Where are you going?”

   “The world is our oyster,” I spread my arms dramatically.

   “Ours?”

   “Ours,” I repeat.



   In some ways, skipping in high school is a bigger deal than in college. There are no legal repercussions, no chain link fences reaching for the sky, no cameras to stalk us. Just the knowledge of the inevitable F that awaits should we miss three sessions.

   Though we could go anywhere, Cream suggests an ice cream parlor down the street from campus. It’s a colorful building, like most things in Berry are. The girl behind the counter stares at us like we have three heads and only speaks when addressed. Surprisingly, even then she only regards me. Cream seems unfazed. I will the boil in my veins to settle.  

   Cream and I talk about our classes; our ambitions. I’ve always wanted to be an artist – it didn’t matter the medium – but I didn’t have innate talent. Cream’s focus was biology.

   “I’ll never graduate though,” She said.

   My gut tells me her belief stems from the same hatred that turned our cashier’s eyes hard. Still, I don’t understand, “Don’t say that.”

   “It’s true,” She shakes her head, “I’m wasting my time. I won’t be able to complete my thesis. No one will mentor me.”

   “You shouldn’t say such things.”

   “You’re sweet, Maize. But I was born with my color faded. I’m lucky I’m even alive. I owe that to my mother, as well as my attendance at BU.” Cream finishes off her orange sherbert, dropping the spoon into her bowl with a plunk. Her self-deprecation cuts me like a blade.

   My mouth turns to sand but sick curiosity propels my tongue, “They kill Berries who are born faded?”


   Her gaze meets mine, uncertain if I am joking, “Yes.”

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Chapter Three: 10 lbs in a 5 lb bag

Ivy brought me out onto a balcony off of the third floor – a spot she said helped to clear her head. There were two wooden benches against either side of the wall, each flanked by a trash can. Ivy pushed one in front of the door, pulling on the handle to ensure that no one could surprise us as I had earlier. The sound of machinery drummed out the voices drifting from the courtyard below. It reminded me of my friends back home; of our hideout crammed behind dumpsters and trash.

“It’ll be faster if you tell me what you know and I’ll fill in the gaps,” Ivy said as she sat on one of the benches.

I leaned against the balcony and thought back to my parents; our small yellow home, with yellow furniture and yellow knick-knacks, “I know most Berries dress in their own colors. My mom always insisted that I wait until I came back here to date. Wanted me to date a yellow -”

“Not most. All. And of course your mother wants you to date a Berry of the same color. I’m sure she wants grandchildren.”

“Why would I have to date a yellow Berry in order to have a kid?” My eyebrows rose. Ivy sighed.

“I figured Sims wouldn’t teach Berry biology but I assumed your parents would have given you the basics.” She adjusted herself, crossing one leg over the other, “Intercolor relationships are forbidden for the same reason that same-sex relationships are forbidden; procreation.”


“Forbidden as in-”

“As in Illegal.” She interrupted.

“Why?” It didn’t make sense. There didn’t seem to be a caste in place for the different color of Berries. Each color was treated with the same respect as the last with the exception of white.

“I already said why. Procreation. If I slept with you a million times we could never conceive a child, Maize. There are lots of superstitions and stories about it, most involving magic, but realistically the Berry race almost went extinct a few centuries ago. Our population is stable now but the laws haven’t changed.”  

My stomach dropped as Cream’s delicate features popped into my head, “And what happens if you break the law?”

“The intercolor law? It hasn’t happened in decades but the punishment is death. They’re big on capital punishment here.” She said with a shrug.

“And you? They’d kill you too?”

“They send us to some camp to ‘fix’ us and then arrange our marriages. No one really knows what happens in those camps though and the Berries who go there aren’t keen to talk about it.” Ivy’s explanation was so casual I would had thought she was talking about the weather had I not been hanging on her every word.

“If the population is stable now why don’t they change the laws? It’s unfair to force two people who don’t love each other to marry each other. It’s wrong to force two people apart.” Heat flushed my skin as I spoke, hands flying out in front of me.


Ivy looked at me, eyes calm and voice hard, “You’d be smart to keep those thoughts to yourself.”

“How can you say that? I can see you aren’t happy.”

“Don’t presume to know me,” Ivy said, “Look, people are afraid of change. It’s no different here. If anything, it’s amplified by our genetics.”


“But-”

“Maize, I like being free and alive,” The bell tower chimed and Ivy stood. My mind raced, but before I could vocalize any of the thoughts tumbling in my head Ivy had cleared the doorway, pausing only to give me one last piece of advice, “Do yourself a favor and get yourself new clothes. Find yourself some pretty yellow girl and go make some pretty yellow babies like the Great Berry intended.”

And then she was gone.

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Chapter Two: Creep

Warnings: Bullying, cursing, and blood. 


I have never been a Casanova. I was tall, sure, but sweaty palms and sci-fi novels don’t exactly send the ladies into a tizzy and I was a chronic sufferer of both. I wasn’t particularly smooth either, but I had, in the past, been able to keep my creep level to a minimum. That wasn’t the case now.

Don’t get me wrong. I had tried on numerous occasions to gather my self-confidence and introduce myself to Cream. I would fidget from my place behind her, taking deep breaths, practicing my introduction under my breath like some kind of paranoid schizophrenic. Every time I finally got up the courage to do something simple – like ask to share her paint or borrow a brush – Royal would crush my ego with a sweeping crescendo of laughter backing him.

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Today was no different. I was behind Cream working our color theory project; only, I wasn’t really making much progress – probably because I spent more time looking at the woman in front of me than the canvas that attempted to block my view. I knew it was a creeper thing to do – hide behind a canvas and stare – but I couldn’t seem to make my legs work or my lips move at the moment so it would have to do.

The professor was a middle-aged woman who either had the bladder of a child or a bad habit of chugging coffee before class began because, without fail, she had to excuse herself every morning. On cue her monotone voice carried over the student’s whispers, “I’ll be back shortly.”

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Instinctively my gaze darted to Royal and Scarlett. They never missed an opportunity to harass me. It was an unpleasant ritual but a ritual nonetheless and as they headed towards my aisle it was clear that they weren’t going to break it. I ground my teeth together. Prepared for the insults. Braced for an ‘accidental’ elbow or shoulder.

It didn’t come.

He did glare at me as he passed and said something like, “Berries like you shouldn’t be here.” but that was surprisingly harmless compared to his usual behavior.

Scarlett giggled along as they made their way to the back of the room. I couldn’t help but be curious. Were they really going to use the time reserved for tormenting me for something more productive, like refilling their paints? Because that’s what they were doing.

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They were only in the back of the classroom for a few moments before they started back down my row. I stiffened as they passed but all Royal did was puff out his chest and raise his fist as he walked by. A mere display of aggression. I really hoped he got what was coming to him one day.

When they stopped next to Cream, who had never diverted her attention from her piece during the teacher’s absence, my stomach turned. I willed them back to me, more than willing to endure any abuse if it meant sparing her.

“Hey Cream,” Scarlett purred, “How are you today?”

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Cream nearly jumped out of her skin, white eyes wide as she looked between Royal and Scarlett warily, “I’m alright, Scarlett. How are you?”

Royal and Scarlett were in rare form today. Their normal interactions with Cream were crude at best. Today they sounded almost polite.  

“We were just wondering,” Royal asked, “if you wanted to become a normal berry.”

My stomach dropped.

“What-” Cream began before a whole cup of purple paint stained her porcelain face.

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“What the hell is wrong with you!” My guttural outburst melded with Cream’s cries.

I slipped between the easels, grabbing Royal’s arm and twisting until the contents of his cup splashed onto the floor.

Scarlett wedged herself between us. “Look, we’re just making her normal. You both should be thanking us!” She hollered, punctuating her sentence with a shove. Royal followed it up with a quick jab. There was a crunch, and then warmth as my mouth filled with copper.

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Thankfully the professor’s voice spared me from a second blow as I hadn’t had the forethought to fend off another blow, “What is going on here?” She asked.

My head throbbed, drowning out their voices. Through blurry eyes, I could see Cream had disappeared. I hoped she hadn’t witnessed my complete lack of athleticism.

“Mr. Spring, is that right?”  

“What?”

“Did you walk into an easel?” She repeated the story Scarlett had spun.

If I told the truth I would only get it worse later, “Yeah. Sure.”

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“Go clean yourself up.” She said, settling back into her desk.

The hallway was cold and empty; a sharp contrast to the warmth spilling from my nose. I gingerly wiped away the blood with the cuff of my hoodie, white-hot pain flooding my senses as I entered the restroom.

“Fern, I love you.”

“Stop it. You know we can’t-”

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The voices came to halt as I rounded the corner, both woman looking as startled to see me as I was to see them. I recognized the smaller woman from my first day, and like before, her face contorted into annoyance when she saw me.

“I thought you locked the door!” The other girl, Fern, yelled.

“I did!”

“Then how did he wander in here?”

“Shit, sorry, I’ll leave.” I began backing away, but Ivy caught me by the wrist and pulled me closer.

“Did you hear anything?”

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“There was nothing to hear. Okay. I told you it was a mistake.” Fern answered for me, face stoic as she pushed passed us.

Silence crept in as Ivy stared at the door, eyes glazed over in pain. Her grip on me loosened but remained. I cleared my throat, the oozing blood reminding me of my original goal despite my error.

“I’m sorry about your girlfriend, Ivy, and I’m sorry I went into the wrong restroom but-”

“You’re an idiot.” She scoffed, taking in my state for the first time, “You’ve been here for two weeks and still haven’t figured out a berry-dang thing have you?”

I didn’t know what she was talking about or how to respond. Luckily, I didn’t have to, “Go wash your face and then let me look at it.”

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I did as she asked, taking the time to rinse my mouth as well. When I turned the sink off, Ivy was waiting with paper towels in hand. “For the bleeding.” She explained before shaking her head, “It doesn’t look like you have a deviated septum. Who broke your nose?”

“Royal Endive.”

“Berry, you are an idiot.”

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“Why do you keep saying that?” I pressed the paper towels to my swollen nose.

“Because you have a lot to learn.”

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Chapter One: Infatuation

Warnings: Maize drops a few real curse words.


“Room 303, hallway B, Deluge building,” I repeated the words under my breath; both in an attempt to memorize them and drown out the whispers that haunted me down the hall.

The decision to stay in Willow Creek for an additional week was already biting me in the ass. I had missed Sugar Spring University’s freshman orientation in order to say farewell to my friends back home. and spend one last weekend with my parents. As a result, I found myself hopelessly lost. To make matters worse, conversations stopped mid-tempo when I approached, only to pick up again after I passed. Everyone wanted to talk about me but no one wanted to talk to me.

I fished out a piece of paper from my hoodie, hoping the college provided map would help me orient myself. The map showed the three buildings that composed the campus, each larger than the last. Besides helping me gain my bearings, the map also provided some interesting facts about each building; what year they were built, what studies took place inside, which prominent family had donated towards its construction. The latter was easy, each building shared the family’s surname – Matisse, Prelude, and Endive.

A solid mass rammed into my shoulder, sending me sprawling onto the floor. I hissed in pain, knees throbbing from the sudden impact, but grateful my skull hadn’t been cracked open, brains spewed across the polished tile. That would have been quite the mess for the janitor.

Laughter erupted, dancing circles around me as a trio of berries came into view. A red woman and pink man stood on either side of my assailant, in a V-shaped formation. Their leader was purple, hair short and well kept, lavender eyes darkened with resentment. “Watch where you’re going, color-traitor.” He spat in my direction, and more laughter erupted at his remark.

His accusation was ridiculous, as I hadn’t been going anywhere, but I rose to my feet with a forced smile, “Color-traitor?”

More laughter filled the hallway, swallowing my question beneath its haughty depths. The trio left, the red-haired woman mouthing ‘watch yourself’ before she scampered to catch up with the two men.

I wasn’t sure if it was a warning or threat.

I took a moment to catch my breath, clear my head, and refocus on my destination: Room 303, Hallway B. Only, I didn’t know where the map had gone. “Shit.”

“You stand out enough without using foreign curse words.” I spun around and came face to face with a girl about my age. One hand rested on a jutted hip while the other held out a piece of paper.

I took the map, equal parts thankful and confused. Berry’s official language was English, of that I was certain,“Foreign curse words?”

Her eyes were wide-set and round, though unimpressed, as a single green brow arched delicately over her diamond features, “That’s what I said.”

“But aren’t you speaking English right now?”

“Yes.”

“Then -”

She snorted, cutting the words off my tongue, “Dialects. We use a different dialect of English than…. wherever you’re from. The vernacular that southern women in America use to censor themselves, those types of phrases are used in our dialect to swear.”

I thought back to the screaming of my second-grade teacher after she stubbed her toe, “Like mother fudger?”

She rolled her eyes, expression steeped in boredom, “You stumbled upon one of the worst ones there, didn’t you?”  

“Oh, sorry.” I apologized, but she was already heading down the hall. I followed, quickly falling into place beside her. Though her tone had been condescending, she had been the first person to willingly speak to me since I boarded my plane. “Thank you. For finding my map.”

She glanced at me; looked like she was going to say something. Instead, she elongated her strides.

I did the same. 

Finally, she stopped, whirling to face me, “Why are you following me like a stray dog?”

“Well, I am lost like one.” I flashed her a wide smile. She stared back, expressionless.

“Go find someone else to imprint on.”

“That’s ducks, not dogs.” I corrected.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her narrow nose, “Room 303, right?”


“How did you-”

“You were reciting it like a mantra earlier. Anyways, it’s right there,” She pointed at a door on the right, three doors down from us, “Now if you excuse me, I have my own class to attend.”

“Thank you …” It was only then, after she had entered her classroom, that I realized I had never caught her name, “Damn it.”

***  

Despite getting lost and the short confrontation, I was on time for my first college class. It was a fairly small room, bloated with easels and about a dozen students. I headed towards the nearest available canvas, my pace picking up as I passed the purple terror and his red companion from earlier.

“I wonder if they have that genetic disorder?”

I rolled my eyes at their comment, continuing down the tight row, adjusting my posture as I walked in order to keep my head held high.

“She has too. She is colorless, after all.”

“Looks like all the freaks got accepted this year.”

At the realization that they weren’t talking about me I found myself glancing around the room, attempting to locate the poor soul that found herself at the wrong end of their jabs. I didn’t find the ‘freak’ that they described, but the most beautiful individual I had ever seen.

I can’t tell you what it is about her.

Maybe the curls of her hair.

The flutter of her lashes.

Or the way her delicate hands grip a brush.

What I can tell you is from that day forward I was infatuated.


A/N: For any original readers of mine, this is what you can sort of expect from generation one. The Same overall plot line, just much more fleshed out than the original.

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Prologue: Not Berry Enough

“Look at him.”

“What is he wearing?”

“Why would someone do that?”

“Should someone tell an elder?”

“It’s not technically against the law.”

The onslaught of whispers ricocheted off me as I made my way past the center of Sugar Spring University with my head held high. Curiosity dosed with venom was second nature for all races, it seemed.

You see, I grew up in Willow Creek – home to Vanilla’s and three Berries: Me, my mom and my pops. I was always sort of an outsider there. After all, I was the only child, and eventually teen, Berry in the entire populous. You can’t really blame Vanilla’s for being startled when a yellow individual walks into a room. And when I say yellow I mean completely yellow: hair, eyes, skin, even my unmentionables! Though, my classmates never saw that area.

According to my father, Vanilla’s were not allowed into the country of Berry and Berries were only allowed to leave under special circumstances. My pops said we were a special circumstance, though he never told me why. My mother was more tight-lipped than pops, and always seemed irritated when I brought it up, so eventually, I dropped it. Despite the secretive nature of my parents – and apparently my entire race – I was raised in the Berry culture. Taught that we were supposed to marry within our color. Taught to wear my own color. Hell, I was even named Maize because it is yellow.

The divide between Vanilla’s and Berry’s was thick, and the lack of exposure lead to a lot of teasing and bullying from my classmates. I blamed them when I was young but soon realized that their hate stemmed from the unknown. I was awkward, but I forced myself to keep trying. Eventually, I made a few friends. We had a misfit connection, like many teenagers, and they certainly weren’t the brightest or most popular, but then again, neither was I. The important thing was that we accepted each other, we looked out for each other, and that they taught me to embrace myself. Like many of them, I appreciated an alternative style. In particular, I was fond of the color black and, though it rebelled against everything I was taught, they encouraged me to express myself through my clothing.

I started wearing my normal clothing in the morning, stashing black ones in my backpack. When I arrived at school I would rush to the nearest restroom, change into clothing I liked, and then swap back into my parental approved attire before heading home. I hid it from my parents for years – three years to be exact – but every secret gets exposed eventually.

My secret came to light when the school bully sucker punched me. The fight was over before it began, with me collapsed onto cement outside of second period and a crowd of Vanilla’s laughing at my misfortune. Even though I didn’t lay a finger on the guy – literally – the school called my parents and they… well, they freaked.

Not because I was sporting a black eye and a few new lumps on my face. No, because I was wearing black. How dare I not dress like a Berry? How dare I embrace a culture that was not our own? Their disappointment was stifling, and it only grew worse when my mother went through my dresser and found an entire wardrobe filled with the offensive color. Over the next few days, I overheard my parents debating their options, but they soon decided that a simple grounding wouldn’t fix the problem.

In a desperate attempt to get me to act more like a Berry and less like a Vanilla, they shipped me off to their Berry filled home town. It took almost an entire year before I was properly vetted and allowed access into the country. By then I was old enough to refuse. However, I had long wondered what the country of Berry was truly like, and I didn’t have anything going for me in Willow Creek. 

So, here I am.

Guess I wasn’t Sim enough to be accepted in Willow Creek and not Berry enough to be accepted in Sugar Springs.


A/N: Special thanks to: Pammiechick, Skcaga6, bellagorrilla, thejennifer and cecerose for creating most of the Berries in these scenes!

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Casting Call for Chasing Rainbows

Hey guys.

 

I am going to completely reboot the Chasing Rainbows story using the sims 4. ^_^ I have a casting call located on the forums if you’d like to submit your sim there, or you can leave a comment down here.

You do not have to have colorful skins in your game in order to submit a sim. Just let me know what color you wish your sim to be and I will make it happen. I have all the sims 4 packs/expansions and I do not mind CC.

I need 4-5 characters (Royal, Cephei, Ivy and Scarlett) for the first generation!

Please use the hashtag #ChasingRainbows when you upload them. <3

Gallery ID:
Character Name:
CC Links:
I am the color:
Background (optional):

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Another update

I did decide to start a new, non berry, legacy called The Landon Legacy.

However, I did also create Maize and Cream in the sims 4, and I’m kinda in love with them. I was thinking about re-writing the whole Chasing Rainbows legacy over again (re-creating the scenes in sims 4, getting rid of typos, getting rid of some cringy parts AND adding some details I had wanted to sneak in but forgot to). I could also just play with these two love bird off screen and try to catch all the way up to Lux’s generation in game and just continue from there. What do you guys think?

Either way, here are Maize and Cream in their new world :]

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Question about the future of this legacy

So, I have been dying to start writing again and been toying around with the idea of coming back to the sims community to do so. I would love to continue Chasing Rainbows but there are a few issues:

  1. I’m pretty sure I lost all my save files from the Sims 3 (I finally got a new computer because that one was over heating and crashing).
  2. In addition to that, I really prefer the Sims 4 graphics but I do not know how to do/use mods as well in that game because I have never needed them.
  3.  I know where I was going with Lux’s generation for the most part, but some of the details are a little hazy and aren’t fully outlined in my notebook.

Are Berry sims even a thing in the sims 4? I would not mind recreating the family, going through the first two gens by myself real quick (cheating genders and twins where needed) in order to recreate the Spring family in the Sims 4, but I’m not sure how you guys would feel about that.

Would you prefer I just start a new legacy and let the Springs rest in piece? Or would you rather me continue on with this legacy and just move it over to the Sims 4?

If you’d rather the former, I would start the Landon Legacy over again.

I’m not expecting much feed back since it has been years and years since I have posted anything, but if any of my old friends and readers are around, I would love to hear your input.

Wishing you the best,

Arrow.

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Chapter Three: Instincts

A.N: Okay, so it has been SO long since I updated and I apologize for that. I just decided to post this since I haven’t posted anything in forever. There are no pictures yet but I will be updating this post soon. Hopefully everyone didn’t give up on me but I totally would understand if you guys did. Also I hope I didn’t regress a ton as a writer in the past year.  

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Sirens.

 

The air in my lungs turned stale at the sound, anticipation gathering in my legs. Flight or fight was activated and my body was choosing the former.

 

“Windsor!” I cried as blue and red lights began spilling into the alley. I didn’t give him a chance to respond, opting to detain his hand in my own as my feet began to move. We weaved past garbage cans, narrowly dodging an officer as he rounded the corner.

 

“Stop right there!”  A quick glance showed that our pursuer had stopped to fumble with his holster. The alley ended into a wooden fence but there was no hesitation by either of us. Our hands left each others, legs instinctually bending before they propelled us upwards; towards freedom. Fingernails scratched against wood, frantically gripping as I pulled myself up and finally over the barrier that stood between myself and freedom.

 

The sound of our fall was punctuated by a gunshot, the bullet shattering a hole through the fence a few feet to my right. There were no words exchanged between Windsor and I, I had barely even glanced at him, before his callous hands wrapped around my forearm and we were moving again.

 

We moved liked snakes through the slums. Slittering our way down alleys and backstreets, we managed to race the flashing lights until the crunch of gravel beneath our feet drowned out the screeching of police cars It was only then, chests heaving, lungs burning, that we spoke, “Tacha… must have… thought we were…. done.”

 

I slumped against the brick wall behind me, sweat drenching my forehead, “Rosa,” Her name sounded pathetic on my lips, but it was all I could manage as my vision began to blur, “Rosa.”

 

“She’s fine,” Windsor’s soft voice drifted across the night like a cool breeze, “Rosa knows the plan.”

 

She did. We all did. When things went south we were to retreat – pull our hoods up and walk away. There was no point in being a martyr; dying accomplishes nothing, after all.

 

That did nothing to quell the unease that sloshed in my stomach, “What if they caught her first?”

 

Windsor’s blood red gaze held mine as he slowly closed the gap between us, wrapping me up in the warmth of his red skin, “Impossible.” His dark locks brushed against my forehead just enough to tickle.

 

My hands raised, resting against his chest. I allowed myself to fade into his presence for a moment before pushing gently, regaining my composure, “Don’t matter.” I mumbled. And it didn’t. Worrying about Rosa wouldn’t make her safe. I couldn’t change what had or had not happened to her. I could change what happened to me, however.

 

Straightening my shoulders, I gestured to surroundings. While back alleys didn’t change much – rich or poor, they tended to be littered with garbage – the buildings surrounding us were in much better condition than the slums. “Do you know where we are?”

 

“We’re on the border.”

 

I nodded. The buildings weren’t grand – no stained glass or marble architecture – but they were in good shape, fresh paint. I should have known.

 

The border was middle class – Mutts were hardly ever seen here. The rich owned us as slaves, property to use as they saw fit. The slums is where we hid, desperately hiding from police, hunters and pure-breds. The middle class, for the most part, were far too poor to own us but entitled enough to hate us.

 

“We should keep our heads low.” Our pace was brisk but not hurried – should someone see us we didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Luckily, the sun was just beginning to pierce the night. Most ‘Bows were in bed, sleeping peacefully, and not transversing the city streets. The gentle hum of electricity was accompanied by melodic chirping of birds, only broken by the occasional grinding of rubber against asphalt.

 

I relished in the sounds; in the cool morning air against my dark skin. Moments like these were few and far between. Moments where I could enjoy the small things in life, even if they came while I was being pursued. Then again, when wasn’t I being pursued? My whole life was a game of cat and mouse.

 

“Help!” My musing were ended abruptly, replaced by the tense muscles I had become so accustomed to supporting. The plea came from a back street that intersected with our own a few feet ahead. Two other voices – gruff, demanding – echoed out after fear laced cry. Threats. Taunts. Hatred.

 

I approached the intersection with the intention of ignoring it. ‘Bows and Mutts were hurt and killed everyday. It was none of my business. This city was the embodiment of survival of the fittest and the prey in that alley wasn’t cut out to survive. Windsor had already done just that – not even glancing at the crime taking place.

 

That was my mistake.

 

I spared the briefest of glances, just long enough to sate my curiosity, but long enough for pale pinks to meet my own.

 

I froze.

 

Those eyes. I knew them. Pain flared up, fire eating away at my temples, as fog coated the memory those eyes dredged up. My battered knees scraped the concrete as my fingers intertwined into my hair in a desperate attempt to ease the fire licking it’s way through my skull.

 

“What the heck is wrong with you?” The voice was husky, heavy, as it breathed over me. My jaw clenched as I pried my eyes open to take in the looming form. Male, slightly over-weight and a Mutt. Through the first Mutt’s legs I could see another, this one using his knees to keep a pink pure-bred pinned against the trash laden ground.

 

My hands dislodged from my hair as I pushed past the resounding pain. In one swift movement I was balancing on my palms, legs swinging out from under me as they swept the offending voice into the air. I heard the air hiss through his teeth as he violently crashed down. I was on top of him before he even had time to refill his lungs with oxygen. My fists tangled into his unwashed hair, grease coating my fingertips, as I yanked his head forward and slammed it back down.

 

The crack was sickening.

 

I was back on my feet before the second Mutt had even registered what had just transpired. His eyes were wide, confused, shocked, “But, you’re one of us.”

 

“I am not one of ya,” The loathing dripped from my words, “Ya are no better than the scum ya hate. Two grown men hurting a young boy. You’re a freakin’ disgrace. Get out of here before I beat the snot out of ya.”

 

The man slowly rose to his feet, hands raised in an effort to show that his ill-intentioned actions were over, “Now.” I growled, eyebrows furrowed at his snail like pace. He needed no other prompting as he scrambled down the road, disappearing into the early morning.

 

Instinct is a funny thing. Those two men were my kin – they knew the pain I endured because they themselves had gone through it. Every Mutt living in Starburst Shores knew it. And yet the fear present in those young pink eyes fueled my actions.
I sighed, not daring to make eye contact with those pink orbs again. Instead I turned on my heels, stepped over the limp body that separated me from my exit, and swore not to look back.

———————–

A.N: Oh, if you guys hate me updating without pictures I’ll cease to do so, by the way. I just thought I’d give you a little something instead of nothing since my SIMS computer is at my mother’s house and I don’t live there anymore, thus making picture taking a once a week (if I’m lucky) type of deal.