Self-expression through our avatars is essential to a Metaverse (a new term for a virtual world that you immerse yourself in. Thank you, Zuckerberg). Without a positive avatar creation experience and unlimited customization, that is one way to lose your consumer base. Today I finally got around to creating a new avatar after months of what seems like the longest hiatus ever. To be quite frank with many of you, this was one of the shortest. I was gone from Second Life for about 3-4 months, which explains my lack of posts. Never fret! I have made an extensive comeback. Obviously! If you want to see what I have on "Read More Below."
Currently sporting the following items:
LeLUTKA Head - Avalon 3.1 Version (updated)
=Zenith= Evelynn Full Outfit - Skirt, top, and jacket included. Comes with claws, but my avatar is not wearing them.
DOUX - Joya hair (for all my dread queens out there, this is for you!)
Foxwood - Tiny Pup White
IKON Promise Eyes - Green
Maitreya Body (Regular)
MICHAN - Marina Heels in White
VISTA Animations - HUD 5.32 Miriam Bento AO - V.3 (I'm sure there is an update for this, but I haven't collected my updates yet.)
[HQ LOD] #BANG. Sunglasses with Accessories 'Galaxy (20% Opac)
*Links will be added in the future. Please keep an eye out for "notes" and post updates.*
“no grave can hold my body down I’ll crawl home to her”
Angst no happy ending
Warnings(death)(just utter sadness)
ꨄ
Everything had gone wrong, wrong wrong wrong. Nobody knew where to start from the bad intel to the breaking news that would rock not only the entire team of 141 as a whole but their families. Simon was a man who didn’t have much of a heart to hear beating but joined the military with sorrow and he would leave with it too.
As he lay there everything falling before him, he’d heard stories of people seeing their lives flash in the face of death as a lookbook of sin and glory.
The smile that spread across his chapped, thin lips, too far gone to see the way prices head bowed as his eyes glazed over.
He remembered the day of glory no day ever would amount in comparison.
The air was peached and refreshing, the men standing behind him that had grown as he had through the parts of his life that mattered now.
The beautiful scenery that surrounds them, the ocean dark blue but shinning as the moon scattered across its horizon, the breeze chilling but not cold the anticipation building in his guts.
The men and everyone outside stood to their feet as the music plays the familiar tune. Here comes the bride. It was amazing the he stood unmasked in the night unfazed and comfortable.
Unmasked he was, he had released himself from the shouldering worry of enemies he had let ghost go this was just Simon Riley. A soft chuckle and a thought…..
His wife, his beautiful beloved wife. The beautiful hibiscus bundled in her hands the lace vail blowing down the front of her face the tears cascading down his face were a sight when the music had ended and he’d had his hands in yours.
The pastors voice drowned out by the captured gaze between him and his bride a warm cough, from said pastor signaling it was time for vows to be exchanged taking the diamond ring that was everything she’d ever want to her finger after repeating the pastors vows he gave some of his own.
“I vow that when death takes my hand
I’ll hold you with the other and promise to find you in every lifetime I breathe in
I vow to never let you fret, cry or be scared as long as I am on earth
I vow to understand, please and thank you for accepting my deepest love till death fights me down
I love you”
He’d done his very best to life up to that, and he had succeeded no matter how far or near he was he made sure to call or send a message in some way to let you know he was still here and loving you.
It wasn’t very long before the weight on his body got a little heavier, he remembered the second greatest day of his life.
“Guess what!” His newlywed wife asked
“Wha’” the gruff man responded a wide smile on his thinner lip, with her simple ask his eyes were closed and his hands were out and open.
A delicate picture frame had appeared in his hands it was there wedding photo blown up and framed in a white wooden frame.
“It gorgeous hon’” was all he could say it took the breath from him. Thinking about that day still felt like a dream but having the proof in his hands was spectacular.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um… I got a call from John there a mission that he wants me on I know that after we got married I said I’d retire and I will be he needs me this will be the last one I promise love”
And He’d later go on to get the photo tattooed on the whole of his back as a mural for you by him.
He knew he was dying not when he heard his yelling caption asking him to hold on just a little longer, soap calling for him to keep his eyes open nor the evac arrive airlifting him to a hospital.
It was when he couldn’t hear your voice anymore, when your face got blurry when he tried his damn hardest to see it he knew it was over.
But he needed to make good on his word, he had to get back to you to say a goodbye weakly raising with wired hands the monitors ringing away.
Not that he could tell the difference between them or the ringing in his ears price jumping up to try and settle him. “Riley lay down you’re going to make it worse.” He firmly but yet scared told him man.
Shaking his had left to right “call er” he rasped out “call er now I need my wife!” Death was going to take him yes but it wasn’t going to take his last moment from his wife.
You don’t know how you got to the hospital but you did just in time charging your way past anything, breathing only with your gotten spotty vision jumping to his side and his arms.
“This isn’t My choice hon but I hope I did well being your love but please find another” it would kill him again to watch you from beyond drowning in sorrow.
“I don’t want them I want you” you tired you hardest to not break down to make him feel like he did anything wrong.
He didn’t this was all out of either of your control.
“You have me you’ll be the only one to have me.”
There it was the weight was much too heavy to fight and he had a light heart hold his loved hands in one death on his chest.
He laughs at the thought he had all those years ago
idk why im so nervous about posting this but hi everyone!!!
my name is ina and i'm in my early 20s and this is my second time joining the simblr community!! i used to be around a few years ago known as @nach0sims and i had so much fun but... i had to focus on uni unfortunately!!!!!!!! and i don't know a single thing about self discipline so I finished uni and now i'm back LMFAOO
now that i'm back, i have so much to learn and enjoy-- and I'm really trying to focus on that gameplay experience1!!!! and also cas..... again, i know no such thing as mediation.
i have such an appreciation for deliberate, corny, low quality and goofy lil posts idk why but i just eat it up. and i'm really leaning into it here, so if u like funny lil things.............
what you can expect from me:
- deliberately corny, low quality, goofy lil posts
- goofy, low quality storytelling !
- goofy, low quality (on purpose) edits
- goofy, low quality cc
- goofy, low quality lookbooks
- sims ? y'all care about sims?
just a lil bit about me:
- um
i would really really really appreciate any sort of interaction so I can find new simblrs to follow!!!!! pls like reblog follow so i can also check u guys out and like reblog follow back~ are u picking up what im putting down or
pls don't let this flop or else we're going to pretend this never happened pls :) im so nervous about posting this
are u curious about dulce ?
i LITERALLY have a whole notion doc dedicated to every "big" thing that has happened in this girl's life... its crazy. u would eat it up if u like telenovelas and indian serials/ dramas !!! my mom's watching dubbed over turkish tv shows too now, those are crazy too. i don't want to bore everyone with random screenshots so I'm thinking of just posting parts ??? idk we're gonna figure this out together
Lookbook for our second oldest Walsh, now an official teenager, Alexander! Soon he will be starting secondary school at Willow Creek College before attending university. He is ready for the next part of his life and what it holds for him.
Genetics: Skin, Skin Details, Other Skin Details, Overlay (TSR), Nosemask (N2), Face Shine, Eyes (Euphoria), Eyebrows (Allure), Eyelashes, Lips (TSR), Lighting, Body Hair, Hair (Gin)
Celebrity, runway model, actress, and jet-setter extraordinaire. Clara’s life is defined by haute couture, lavish spa treatments, and vacations all the way from Mt. Komorebi to Tartosa. Magazines, television, film, and even Schmapple adverts have featured her in one way or another, but nothing ever seems enough for her these days...Fan blogs, articles, and paparazzi all wonder if she’s ever going to find that “special someone” in her life, and she’s starting to think that maybe there’s some merit in what they say. Could a new paramour bring that spark of joy that Clara desperately craves in her ever-increasing humdrum life?
Hello again all! Here’s my second lookbook! :3
Meet Clara! She’s a celebrity Sim in my save, and despite having to micromanage her quite a lot due to her High Maintenance trait, I find dressing her up in all the gorgeous couture outfits made by wonderful CC creators like Sentate very fulfilling <3
Her looks are definitely a lot more high-end and sophisticated than most of the other Sims I have planned, but that’s for good reason! The contrast between her and Mariam is quite jarring, no? Anyway, her CC list is down below, thank you all for the wonderful likes and reblogs btw! I’m definitely a bit awestruck ><
General: Skin Overlay, Moles, Hairline, Eye Shine, Other Mole (Get Famous), Tattoos, Hand Tattoos (Fashion Street Kit), Buzz Cut Hair (Base Game), Eyebrows, Eyelashes, Blush (M·A·C Collab)
outlast trials ♡ mother gooseberry ♡ prerelationship ♡ second person pov ♡ ofc ♡ ao3
Saying you are nervous would be an understatement. That's all right, you're not saying anything and no one is asking anyway. The questions will come later and you cannot wait to detail today's design with its accessories. You are great at your job, which should be no surprise given how much you like it. And how much you like her.
Phyllis Futterman is a lot of things; a successful TV host, a functional addict and the best employer you've had in your life. More importantly, though, she's your own personal nightmare today. Strongwilled, eclectic and with no regard for your education or skill in dressmaking, these wardrobe sessions are something you've come to look forward to as much as you dread them. You don't often get to rant on about fashion like this and she makes for an attentive, if often critical, audience. It's intense enough when you do this at the studio, surrounded by the rest of the team, and this is the first time she's coming to the newly acquired atelier. Your newly acquired atelier, because that's how good the show is going. It's, of course, in the corporation's name; but she's given you free range to set up shop. When she does things like this you think she might have a sliver of professional respect for you. As she gave you the news, though, she'd offered to get at least part time staff, in case you found it overwhelming, eyes glinting patronisingly. Of course you raised to the bait, biting out the type of reply that has her wondering why would anyone ever think Brits are polite outloud.
As she rushes in today clad in one of your works, a side smile breaks through when you see her despite yourself. You do good work. She wears it even better. You serve an early tea while showing her your sketches, and she's vocal about both your hits and what she considers your misses. She objects vehemently to a tulip sleeved new look dress the colour of gooseberries.
'That green is nasty.'
'It pairs well with the red in the headpiece, it's simple colour theory!'
'Gooseberry?' she leans over your notes. 'I didn't take you for the literal type.'
'I figured Americans like slapstick so much, let's not bother with any intricate symbolism.'
'It's too muted for a kid's show.'
Her voice is calm, refusing to acknowledge your words, and she is, ultimately, right. Maybe that's why you're spitting mad about it. Then again, it's always been easy for her to get a raise out of you. She turns the pages while you sulkily pour yourself more tea, and examine her expression from the corner of your eye. She's got such a commanding presence it's hard not to be put off when she dislikes something you've invested so much time into. You've been having fourteen hour days, trying to get the workshop together in record time all by yourself. And you do want her recognition. She's a remarkable artist and her show is on the rise, fresh off the war. Would it kill her to reciprocate an ounce of the regard you hold for her, as an entrepreneur? Unaware of your thoughts, she continues to flip through the lookbook. Or not.
'Don't pout. It's just the business'
'I'm not.'
'Brat.'
That catches you by surprise so much the scowl you give is only halfhearted. But it shouldn't, really. She's prone to flying into character, specially when you're working on this.
'Your pretty mouth in your pretty face would make a pretty smile.' She says, singsongy.
You huff, not as annoyed as you should be, and make a point of showing as many of your teeth as you can, lips tight in an unnatural expression. She shakes her head, amused. 'Are you serious, about the pants in a children's show?'
'Well, if it's all bad you can set it aflame.' you give a disinterested shrug. But you were, and tried to make them as feminine as possible to get around that.
She gets up and for a second you're sure you've finally exasperated her. It's a thrilling thought; part of you has been working for it since the job interview. Part of you is devastated. But she doesn't make to start a fire, or stalk out of the room like anyone should after almost an hour of your attitude. She sits down next to you, and you feel your breath hitch.
'Do you know why I hired you?'
You look down, unable to stop an embarrased flush from rising on your face. Shake your head once. And the truth is you don't. You've got a difficult personality, no American accreditations and a penchant for last decade's fashion. An ugly weight sets on your throat, and she forces you to look at her with a firm hand under your chin. You should get up and walk away, because otherwise you might start crying, and that's gonna make the rest of your antics look incredibly professional by comparison.
'Words.'
'No, I don't.' Your voice is clipped but even.
'You couldn't stop arguing with me during our meeting, and I knew you'd bring me designs I'd hate.' You try to look away, but she brings her other hand up, holding you with more strength than you expected. 'I knew you'd make clothes that had no place in this line of business.'
'I'm-' you hate apologising, but the truth is you're quite argumentative. 'I'm sorry.'
'If I wanted you to be sorry I wouldn't have hired you.'
'What?'
'You have ideas, ideas that anyone would dismiss as improbable, but you're set on them. I wanted to know how far you'd go I still do.' She sighs, resembling a weary mother so much it might make you cry had you had one. 'And of course I don't think it's all bad.'
You close your eyes, and manage to even out your breath. You don't know how to thank her, or for what even, so you deflect. 'So,' your voice is raspy now and you clear your throat before continuing. 'So what you said about the green...?'
'Awful.' Despite that, she looks fond as she shakes her head, releases you. Can't win them all, you figure. 'Terrible. Now, are you going to show me the dummies, or what have you even been doing here all week?'