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bridgeportbritt · 1 month

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Creeksbrey Ballroom | Umbrage, SimDonia

Time for the wedding party! Walking first is Grayson's teen cousin, Kyle (Maia's son), who is escorting his sister, Ella. Then, Grayson's college best friend who he introduced to his now wife (Grayson's cousin, Rylee) is escorting on of Olivia's oldest friends from the nobility, Hana. Finally, Grayson's younger brother, Gianni, escorts Olivia's oldest and best friend, Marissa. Next, the ring bearers, Grayson's youngest brothers from his dad's second marriage, Guy and Garrett. The final sim walking down the aisle is the flower girl, Rose, Grayson's youngest sister, preparing for the bride.

In the front row, we see Bria's closest cousin whom she refers to as her sister, Maia and her husband, Shia. They sit next to happy parents of the groom, Emmitt and Bria. On the bride's side is the King and Queen of Selvadorada, Jose and Aliesha, where the couple's relationship bloomed. They are seating next to Olivia's adoring parents, Donovan and Esther. Here comes the bride!

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purplesimmer455 · 1 month

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The next day, Casey’s dads Adrian and Jason, as well as her grandpa Victor, come over to see her and Malaya. Casey hugs her family members and tries not to get too sappy as her grandpa hugs her tightly and asks how she’s doing. “I’m good, gramps. How are you and grandma?” She asks in slightly rusty but decent Cantonese*. “We’re good too, sweetpea. Your grandma really wanted to come but she hasn’t been feeling well so she told me to go while she rested.” He says, and Casey nods. “I hope she feels better. Maybe I’ll make grandma Lauren’s chicken noodle soup to bring over for her.” Casey says, and her grandpa grins. “She’d like that, just make sure not to mention your other grandma cause she gets jealous.” He says, and Casey grins too. Her respective grandmas from each dad have a playful rivalry that started when Lily’s son Jason started dating Lauren’s son Adrian, but both of them love their sons and how happy they are together, and of course they also love their granddaughter so they’ve put it aside for the most part.

#ts4 #mysims #Victor Feng #Jason Feng-Cooper #Adrian Feng-Cooper #Chesa Isip-Mendoza #Malaya Isip-Mendoza #Casey Feng-Cooper #*her dad Jason thought it was important for her to learn and taught her when she was a baby #She’s part Chinese from her dad Jason’s side and part Simerican with Irish ancestry from her dad Adrian’s side

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vintagesimsccblog · 2 years

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Sul Sul! Here are the CC links for Chapter 2 of my Simerican Settlers Challenge! You can find that video here!

You can find all Build/Buy links here!

Traits/Aspirations:

Homesteading Aspiration

Traits Bundle

Coward Trait

Emotional Traits

Big Joe:

Face Scar

Body Hair

Wilbur Outfit

Mr. Green Suit

Victor Undergarments (Sleepwear)

Vintage Swimsuit

Men’s Vests

Dress Pants

Quarter Brogues Shoes

Elizabeth:

Straw Bonnet

Christmas Bonnet

1850s Hair

Victoria Hair

Miranda Hair

3D Lashes

Eyebags

Angel Lipstick

Calico Dresses

Jo’s Dress

Vintage Nightgown

1850s Bathing Suit

Sweater Dress

Lacey Gloves

Mistress Mysterium

Victorian Ankle Boots

#sims 4 #sims decades challenge #sims cc #sims historical cc #sims history challenge #simerican settlers challenge #sims cas #cas challenge #victorian sims #civil war fashion #victorian fashion #decades challenge #historical cc

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beebeesiims · 1 year

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work hasn’t started yet, but the military has stationed safi in sulani.

#even the simerican military wants to see her in a bathing suit #i get it #safiya holiday #jol2 #joy of life legacy

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fuckdamn · 1 year

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this isn’t comprehensive and i don’t think these screenshots cover every decade she’s lived but here’s millie from the early 1900s to roughly 1995 🥹❤️

#lotte.txt #my simerican girl doll.... i will miss her (she is probably going to die like the next in-game day)#</3333

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nexility-sims · 21 days

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟒 (𝟏/𝟐) ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜ | THE DEN, AUGUST 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ Leonor relished the daytime emptiness of The Den almost as much as the bustling nights she spent within it. Unlike most of Nakawe’s bars, it didn’t open until the sun went down, and it didn’t close as long as someone with the keys was willing to stick around. The first time Renzo asked her to stop by in the middle of the day, Leonor expected to find the place occupied but robbed of its liveliness. If not catering to the needs of drunks, daytime bars in her imagination were for desperate lunchtime breaks and closing business deals, neither of which Renzo’s private hideaway seemed to welcome. She was surprised to find him lingering on the sidewalk, waiting for her with a cigarette in one hand and a set of keys in the other. He pushed the door open and revealed The Den as she had yet to imagine it: empty, silent, still.

❧ goes without saying but, if you're not reading the prose, you're missing half the story !!! part two soon ... (i am also proud bc i made many poses, pls clap)

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

Renzo laughed at her, breaking the quiet. “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” he said, mimicking a voice in perfectly unaccented Simerican that Leonor didn’t recognize. She had been standing, unmoving, while she soaked in the surreality.

He was going behind the bar, hitting lights as he went, but knew to clarify, “You look like you’re in outer space. New planet. New dimension.”

That was, in a way, how it felt. The soundproofing was impeccable. She couldn’t hear the boulevard just outside the door. Renzo began messing with bottles and humming to himself, but the few seconds after the door had shut were enough to make an impression. She liked being there during the day. She liked this version of the place, one that looked like a true escape from the world, where she could feel the residual good vibes of the previous night with the perfect clarity of a new day. She liked fanning her work out across the bar or on a couch. She liked pretending to be occupied with it while Renzo sat on the stage with a pencil behind his ear or colored block letters on handmade posters or laid, completely unmoving, on the dirty floor. Sometimes he worked, too. Leonor liked those instances best, and she allowed herself to be distracted by his miming of scenes and murmuring dialogue and tuning guitars across the room.

“Why is no one else here?” she asked him one day, once this had become something of a once-a-week routine.

They were curled up together like cats but were each engrossed in their own work. Renzo was reading a script, muttering words silently to himself. Leonor had a stack of policy briefs and a red pen. He took the pen from her after she spoke and began scribbling it against the flesh of her palm, gentle at first but then hard enough to draw out the ink in streaked lines.

“You keep coming,” he said, enunciating each word. On her palm’s heel, he drew the glyph of his name. It was faint, so he traced and retraced the details. “I keep asking.” Then, looking up, he posed his own question. “Who else do you want here?”

She shrugged, and he nodded.

“If you’re worried this means something,” Here, he paused and angled the pen with purpose, tilting one end toward himself before pointing it toward her. “It doesn’t.”

Renzo continued, sitting up, “Besides, I don’t wanna be around everyone all the time.” He said it as if the mere thought was an affront unable to be stomached. “God. Some of the people who come in here sometimes? Fuck.”

“Why do you let them?”

Renzo reacted as if it were a question he had never pondered, and Leonor quirked an eyebrow as he sat there considering it. How foolish, she thought, if he hadn’t. She decided it was possible he was a fool, but she also decided that she should wait for his answer to really know—and, even if he was, that she would probably think it was endearing. He was the kind of famous that meant he had to be talented, not wise. Although he preferred providing a stage on which others might perform, she had seen enough to know he had talent. He made use of it. She already knew, too, that he wasn’t wise. She’d seen that when he’d said rude things to cameramen outside the bar or, on a different night, when he’d shoved another so hard he dropped his camera. That was inadvisable. It was even more inadvisable than Leonor having been there, at his side, walking slow to avoid stumbling, when it happened. At the time, she laughed. She could practically hear herself in the memory, giggling while a scuffle threatened to break out.

Enough time passed for her to wince at the recollection before Renzo spoke. When he did, it was definitive. “I’m cool,” he explained. “I’m a cool guy. I have to be cool. You can’t be yourself if you aren’t cool, you know?”

She did know. That was one of the key distinctions between royalty and celebrity.

Renzo elaborated further, “I start policing the door, that’s not cool. People make it into a problem. It’s just not the kind of problem you can have—not with people who are, as it were, your peers.” He sneered that word, and Leonor could picture who he meant. If she had come through that door with Kore during any other year of her life, she would have been one of them. “The more famous you are, the more you’re in rooms with fucking assholes. It’s just,” He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes the assholes want to come into your room.”

He gestured around with a grand flourish, and Leonor snickered. “Gotta let ‘em,” he sighed.

She nodded, quipping, “You let me.” Immediately, she regretted voicing the thought, but Renzo found it amusing.

“Not the same,” he responded, shaking his head.

With some success, she played an earnest question off as a tease. “Why not?”

He shrugged, “You’re not a problem, Leonor. Nice girl, that’s what everyone said. I was, uh, excited you were here.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah.” He grinned, adding, “Squeaky clean and incorruptible—they said that, too. Excitement, anticipation, same thing.”

“Sure, okay,” Leonor chuckled. “I’m a real good-time girl now, aren’t I?”

Renzo regarded her thoughtfully, and Leonor resisted the urge to squirm away. Their conversations always teetered on the edge of confessional, whether because Renzo spoke with such bluntness or because his openness encouraged her to respond in kind. Leonor never allowed herself to speak so freely as to admit everything, but she made honest admissions that Renzo accepted without judgment. He wasn’t wise, but he had, in some ways, lived more lives than she had. Usually, he just knew what to say. She took that as solid in some essential way, as a support to lean against.

“You’re happier that way,” was his ultimate reply.

Leonor sat with that thesis for a moment, debating whether it was true—or, for that matter, if the veracity of it mattered at all. She wanted it to be true. That had to be enough and, in that moment, it was.

Now it was August. Months had passed since that conversation, but Leonor still felt the same way. She felt the same way, too, about the quiet of The Den on a weekday afternoon, which is how she found it now. She let herself in through the unlocked front door, knowing she would find Renzo somewhere inside. There were big plans looming. He might be stringing lights, or testing microphones, or standing with his legs wide apart and a hand pensively cupping his chin. On the phone earlier, he had sounded busy. He was instead at the bar, hunched over with a pen in his hand. Whatever he was working on demanded great concentration. Leonor allowed the big, heavy door to close slowly and gave herself a few extra moments. Partly, she wanted to delay the conversation. Another reason was to observe him. If he’d heard her enter, which she doubted, he made no indication. Through the dim lighting, she could see him chewing his lip. He tapped his fingers in a simple rhythm against his thigh.

“Writing?” she called, emerging from the shadowy entryway. The last sliver of sunlight disappeared as the door finally closed, hard but muffled, behind her.

Renzo didn’t look up as he replied, “Wrote. Done now.”

“Is it for the reading tonight?”

“Did you write anything?”

Leonor wasn’t feeling light enough to laugh, so she made an approximate noise instead. “Why would you ask that?”

Now, he eyed her with a look of provocation. “You’re an artist, Nora,” he said. “Everyone has their medium, sure—I’ve seen yours, very nice—but I think you should take the written word more seriously. It doesn’t have to be an endpoint, really. Maybe a translation.”

At this bit of persuasion, Leonor scoffed. “I can be creative; I am not an artist. Besides,” She paused, settling in on a stool beside him. “Everything for everyone is not the kind of world I want to live in.”

Renzo scoffed now, but he was smirking as he said, “Well, fuck, if that isn’t the most hereditary monarchist thing I’ve ever heard. Alright, my princess, if you say so.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she protested, but he waved her off.

Solemn, he admitted, “It’s true. I’m jobless in that world.” Renzo held up his paper and inspected it. “Can’t host private poetry readings with free booze for my friends if I’m as poor as I was in ‘87, that’s for sure.”

“Wouldn’t know me,” she said, lowering her head. It was meant as a gesture of mock sadness but, in this moment, she did find the notion disquieting.

“You don’t know any poor people?”

Leonor’s rueful smile faltered as she considered that. “I don’t think so?”

Instead of laughing, Renzo looked at her with an expression that was neither quite amused nor fully bemused. She waited for a joke that never came. Instead, he turned back to looking at his paper. Tension mounted within while he sat there looking focused once more but otherwise relaxed. Finally, as if remembering they were in the middle of a conversation, he said simply, “I’m glad I know you, yeah.”

Leonor shifted on her stool. It was a motion of discomfort, something she could do while she thought of something else to say. In the process, she caught a good look at the words on the page. Her lips parted to pose the question—‘Will you read it to me?’—but she stopped herself. Renzo had gotten caught up in this occupation, it seemed. He must have forgotten why she called. She had half-expected him to be waiting, face toward the door, for her arrival. Usually, he was curious when she indicated she had something to share, not nosy or greedy for insight but possessed with sincere interest. He was a listener. He enjoyed it as much as whatever conversation ensued. Once, she decided to imitate his way of jabbing people with questions—incisive and direct, not pointed. His questions flowed without pretense. They were bare inquiries, genuine as his interest. Her question was just so: did he think himself trustworthy—did he want to be a confidante?

His answer surprised her, and she had felt a kind of awe as he’d replied, ‘Honestly, no, that would be a bad idea. I know myself, so I don’t stop others from knowing me. User beware.’

Now, she leaned against the bar and heaved a sigh. Renzo looked over at her and let the paper slide unceremoniously back onto the surface.

“What is it?”

Leonor snapped back to earlier that day. No longer sitting on a barstool beside Renzo, she found herself at a table that abruptly felt too small. Her father sat across from her, his hands folded on top, the thick band of his favorite watch visible under his sleeve’s cuff. It matched his wedding band. It was almost afternoon, and he arrived late to the early lunch he had requested of her. For twenty minutes, she sat at the table with her bare arm pressed against the warm glass window. She could have left at any point. It wouldn’t have been rude; better still, she could have imagined no reason to regret it. Yet, she didn’t. She sat and waited, staring out of the window or across the restaurant’s bustling dining area with an expression so forlorn that it compelled the server to stop by for a check-in several more times than was necessary. Each time, Leonor glanced up at her with a forced smile. ‘No, thank you,’ she would say. ‘It’s fine. I’m waiting.’

“Do you remember, I told you I was meeting with my father today?”

Renzo thought for a moment, then nodded. “Right, yeah, breakfast.”

“Lunch,” she corrected, before laying her head on the bar. It was cool, if sticky, and the embrace of her forearms easily blacked out the low light. “It went awfully.”

“You said it was going to be weird,” Renzo responded. “Did he tell you what you wanted to hear—I mean, what he said he needed to talk about, was it worth it?”

Leonor closed her eyes. For a moment, she wished she could just drift off into a deep, unbreakable slumber, right then and there. She imagined herself slumped over on the bar as evening began, a curiosity rudely ignoring the raw, vulnerable poetry that a string of performers offered. Someone would try to shake her awake when the night’s end came. ‘Leave her,’ Renzo would say. ‘She’ll be okay here.’ And, she would be. Night after night, day after day, she would rest there. She would become more than just a fixture—she would be a unique decoration, a conversation-starter, really and truly part of the bar’s collection of interesting things. Becoming a thing wouldn’t be so bad. People would tell stories about her even after she had rotted away and crumbled to dust. ‘A sleeping princess sat here,’ they would say. ‘Her prince never came along, I guess.’

That didn’t happen, and Leonor lifted her head. “It was kind of hard to follow, honestly,” she said. “He was late, and he kept trying to rehash—well, he wanted to tell me about it again, you know, what happened?” Leonor sighed. “I wanted to cry. It was so embarrassing. It wasn’t even new information.”

“None of it?” Renzo asked. He had angled himself toward her, leaning against the bar while he gazed at her perturbed face.

Leonor, feeling pitiful, shrugged. “I didn’t really want to listen,” she admitted. “I kept thinking about Mother Beatriz the whole time.”

Renzo’s heavy-lidded eyes ordinarily conveyed one of two sharply contrasting states. At times, he looked bored out of his mind—entirely removed from whatever was happening, on another planet even when his pupils weren’t giving away a convenient reason why. He had an almost unsettling kind of attentiveness other times. When they first met, Leonor found the way he had looked at her from beneath long, dark eyelashes alluring. She felt looked upon or looked through most of the time; with his heady stare, Renzo looked at her. She hadn’t fully appreciated the distinction until their regular conversations. Now, as she waited for him to respond to her admission, she appreciated it more.

Finally, Renzo posed another question. “Do you think he was responsible?”

TRANSCRIPT:

LEONOR | Writing? RENZO | Wrote. Done now.

LEONOR | Is it for the reading tonight? RENZO | Did you write anything? LEONOR | Why would you ask that?

RENZO | You're an artist, Nora. Everyone has their medium, sure—I've seen yours, very nice—but I think you shoudl take the written word more seriously. It doesnt' have to be an endpoint, really. Maybe a translation.

LEONOR | I can be creative; I am not an artist.

LEONOR | Besides, everything for everyone is not the kind of world I want to live in. RENZO | Well, fuck, if that isn't the most hereditary monarchist thing I've ever heard. Alright, my princess, if you say so.

LEONOR | I didn't mean it that way. RENZO | It's true. I'm jobless in that world.

RENZO | Can't host private poetry readings with free booze for my friends if I'm as poor as I was in '87, that's for sure. LEONOR | Wouldn't know me … RENZO | You don't know any poor people?

LEONOR | I don't think so?

RENZO | I'm glad I know you, yeah.

[Leonor sighs] RENZO | What is it?

LEONOR | Do you remember, I told you I was meeting with my father today?

RENZO | Right, yeah, breakfast. LEONOR | Lunch. It went awfully. RENZO | You said it was going to be weird. Did he tell you what you wanted to hear—I mean, what he said he needed to talk about, was it worth it?

LEONOR | It was kind of hard to follow, honestly. He was late, and he kept trying to rehash—well, he wanted to tell me about it again, you know, what happened [sighs] I wanted to cry. It was so embarrassing. It wasn't even new information.

RENZO | None of it? LEONOR | I didn't really want to listen. I kept thinking about Mother Beatriz the whole time. RENZO | Do you think he was responsible?

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theplottdump · 3 months

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Poppy's suspicions proved to be correct. Argent's promise of a free weekend had been cut short.

It was that same afternoon, that the three agents found themselves back downtown, hosted up in 3rd floor private office of the Director for a quick, informal briefing.

Argent: My apologies to bring you back in on a Saturday Angels, but I'm afraid one of the situations we've been monitoring has developed.

Vera: Developed how exactly? Argent: Give me a moment to explain 005.

Argent: For the last few months, UNIT HQ has been monitoring a small drug smuggling operation that popped up near the Southern Simerican border. Insignificant enough to start, yes- but recently it's picked up quite a bit of steam.

Enough steam to officially become our problem.

Argent: Unfortunately for your social calendars- but indeed quite fortunate for international espionage, earlier this morning we received an anonymous tip that a fresh shipment will be passing from hand to hand before the week is officially up.

Kate: How do we know this tip is legitimate?

Argent: We don't. That's where my Angels come into the picture. I want you three on the ground to figure out what it is- where they're getting it- and who's responsible.

Poppy: Track, Secure, Bag and Tag. Sounds simple enough. Do we have a primary target or are we going in completely blind?

Argent: Thank you for the segue 009. Meet Johann Vader. Former tech magnate turned so called spiritualist. Currently taking up residence in the hills surrounding Chestnut Ridge, he makes his living by marketing himself to the powerful and wealthy as a holistic healer.

Poppy: Aw He's kinda cute- In an older man that has more money than god kind of way. Kate: And this anonymous source believes that he's the ringleader of the trafficking ring?

Argent: The source wasn't that specific, but HQ believes that he's our best place to start looking.

#plott gen 6 #gen6Angels #poppy plott #vera doe #kate miller #director argent #long post #exposition dumping time!

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snapdragonsimming · 6 months

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Author's Note and Transcript Under the Cut

(AN: Hello! Thank you for stopping by and checking out my fledgling fundie simblr. I’m by no means new to simblr, but because this blog and story is new, I figure an introduction is due.

So: hey, I’m Talia! I had another fundie simblr a few years back (it’s now inactive for a multitude of reasons), but like a certain someone, I have risen again! My fundie sims obsession was reignited over the summer after I joined a wonderful fundie sims-themed Discord server. Somehow they convinced me to make a new blog, and a few months later, here we are! In the intervening years I continued to lurk, so if you’re an active fundie simblr, I’m probably a fan of your story.

I’ve been playing the de la Cruz family for a while now and they have a special place in my heart- I can’t wait to share them with everyone else! Get ready for lots of God-honoring drama, mildly dubious baby names, and leopard-print modesty undershirts. Note that as the de la Cruzes are fundamentalists and this story is satire-heavy, there will be some viewpoints expressed that I very much disagree with. I’ll trigger tag certain sensitive subjects (e.g. physical violence, miscarriages) as ‘tw [thing]’ but fundie-typical bullshit will go untagged for the sake of my sanity.

Some basic housekeeping stuff to wrap up this far-too-long intro note: I have a queue full of posts ready to go, but I’m a busy student with unpleasant things like homework and AP classes, so I’m still not sure how frequently I’ll post. I’ll do my best to ensure that stays consistent, though, and if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out via my askbox or DMs!)

PRAISING HIM!

Every Sunday, Praising Him! features a family dedicated to spreading the Word. Today we meet the de la Cruzes, a San Sequoian family of 16.

When Alejandro and Alina (née Fletcher) de la Cruz married at nineteen, they could not have imagined what would come next! Over the past twenty-six years, the couple has made faith the centerpiece of their lives, and has continued to “Praise Him!” through the ups and downs of busy family life.

Read more about their family below!

Alejandro, 45, works as a programmer at United Christian Publishers, and holds a Distinguished Degree in Computer Science from Foxbury Christian University. He began his journey into higher education not at 18, like many students, but at 26, shortly after the birth of his seventhborn, Cecilia! Owing to his unique circumstances, he chose to enroll in a six-year program that enabled him to work full-time as a freelance programmer in addition to his courseload. Though money was tight at times, the Lord provided, and Alejandro welcomed five bundles of joy (including a darling set of twins!) with wife Alina while enrolled at Foxbury. Whew!

Alina, 45, has chosen to fulfill God’s design for women by staying at home with her family. Raised in a devout household, she always knew He was calling her toward marriage and motherhood, and she says the “greatest blessing” in her life was the day she gave birth to her eldest son Gabriel, ten months after her wedding day and just shy of her twentieth birthday. In addition to raising and homeschooling the seven de la Cruz children who have yet to graduate, Alina is active in her church and in Institute for Strong Christian Standards (ISCS) circles, and enjoys spending time with her four (soon to be five!) beautiful grandbabies. A true Proverbs 31 woman if we’ve ever seen one!

You may recognize Gabriel de la Cruz and his lovely wife Esther, 23, from last summer’s print edition of Praising Him! At just 25, Gabriel is a rising star in the Christian legal world, coming to the aid of innocent Simericans simply trying to practice their faith. Ten months ago, they welcomed their first little girl, Abigail, and just last week they announced the upcoming arrival of their second child! Congratulations to them.

Althea Brown (née de la Cruz), 24, is following in her mother’s footsteps and proud of it! The young woman, who wed husband John-David, 28, three years ago, resides in Newcrest and is a content stay-at-home-mother of two.

Jasmine Booth (née de la Cruz), 23, known to friends and family as “Jazzy,” is enjoying the bliss of new parenthood alongside her husband of two years, Jason!

The first set of de la Cruz twins, Joshua and Sofia, 21, are both unattached and living at home. Sofia is pursuing a calling in missionary work, and Joshua is hard at work saving money and praying for his future family. “If you’re reading this as a young Christian woman,” Sofia jests, “have your father write into Praising Him! and I’ll set up a date with Josh!”

Caterina de la Cruz, 20, is diligently knitting, crocheting, sewing, embroidering, and cross-stitching her way through her season of singleness! Though she prays every day for her Prince Charming (nonbelievers need not apply!), she assures Praising Him! that she’s quite content to assist her mother in running the busy de la Cruz household in the interim.

Cecilia de la Cruz, 18, the only unmarried de la Cruz not living at home, declined to comment.

The rest of the de la Cruz children, who range in age from 8 to 17, are kept busy with homeschooling, ISCS conferences, music practice, and Bible study.

If you would like to get in touch with the de la Cruz family, click here to send a message!

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anachrosims · 1 year

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[TS4 BUILDS] SIMERICAN HISTORY MUSEUM

This museum has it all! A great foyer, spacious cafe, gift shop with a wide variety of trinkets for every Sim, a whole hall dedicated to the founding of the United States of Simerica, a wing dedicated to Simerican culture, inventions, and prehistoric relics, a debate and lecture hall, a hall of bones, an activity space to entertain and engage kids, a hall dedicated to Simercan space exploration, a breakroom for museum employees, a basement library and teen/young adult hangout/study area, and rooms for exhibit storage!

TRAY FILES HERE @ SFS, FREE, NO ADS!

and

CC FOLDER @ MEGA (2.3GB)

There’s a whole lot of great CC in this, but I really couldn’t have done it without these creators: @historicalsimslife @revolution-sims @edorenelredirect @mlyssimblr @aroundthesims

@emilyccfinds @maxismatchccworld @allhistoricalcc @sims4historicalccfinds

#ts4cc #s4cc #sims 4 lots #sims 4 builds #historical sims 4 cc #historical sims 4 #sims 4 custom content

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sims-half-crazy · 8 months

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The sound of Lena's frustration could be heard throughout the apartment. The newspaper had been violently discarded and now rested on the floor. Gordon found Lena gesticulating at some argument she was having internally. "What's wrong?"

Lena turned toward him and she erupted in a semi-coherent stream of anger and fear about the goings on in Poland. Gordon tried to reason with her. "You've been in contact with your family recently, haven't you? Maybe they got out?"

"I don't know! I hope they did, but I don't know!" Lena cried and balled up her fists. Emotion taking over and leaving her with ought to do but cry and rail at the injustices of the world. When words failed him, Gordon did the only thing that always seemed to work - he gave his wife a hug and let her cry all over his shoulder. When she'd calmed down, he picked up the discarded paper and read what had upset her so.

#Gosnoll ancestry #ts4 decades challenge #sims4 #sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #decades challenge #simerican #GA Gen 4 #Gordon Gosnoll #Lena Lewandowski #GA 1930s #tw war #tw ww2

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bridgeportbritt · 6 months

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Creeksbrey Palace | Umbrage, SimDonia

Bria, of course, coordinates a private dress fitting for Olivia from one of her favorite Simerican designers. While there were some differing opinions on what Olivia should wear, after trying on a few pieces, Olivia says yes to the dress!

Transcript Under the Cut

Bria: Victoria! Thank you so much for coming. I know it’s a hassle getting everything over here.

Victoria: Oh, my Watcher. For you? No bother at all. I’m honored, Your Royal Highness.

Bria: You know Bria is fine, girl! You know most of the peanut gallery, except the bride’s mom - Grand Countess Esther.

Esther: Nice to meet you!

Bria: And, of course, the bride - Countess Olivia. Olivia, meet one of my favorite designers - Victoria Becksim!

Olivia: It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you so much for your help!

Victoria: Of course, darling. I’m happy to help. Let’s get started, shall we?

Bria: Are you burting with excitement as much as I am or is that just me?

Esther: I’m trying my absolute best not to cry.

Victoria: Alright, so I took everyone’s notes and here’s one of the designs we came up with. I believe it was you, Esther, that would love to see Olivia in something classic and traditional. So, tell me what you think.

Esther: Oh, I love it! It’s so elegant!

Bria: Uh... you don’t think it’s a little too elegant? Even the Watcher would show more skin than this.

Esther: Oh, I think it’s perfect. What do you think, Olivia?

Olivia: Uh... it’s nice, but I don’t think I’m in love with it.

Victoria: Alright, on to the next then one, love.

Victoria: Okay, this one was from Bria’s notes which were to have embellishments, make it a little sexy, and of course, have flair!

Bria: Okay! Don’t hurt ‘em, Liv! This is what we wanna see!

Esther: Uh.. I think that we’re seeing a little too much!

Ella: It’s certainly hard to miss.

Rose: You look like a princess, Olivia!

Olivia: Thank you. I don’t quite think this one’s my style, although it is beautiful.

Victoria: Alright, time for the one I’ve been most excited to show. This is from Olivia’s notes. Let’s try this one.

Victoria: Funnily enough, Miss Olivia actually had a best of both worlds moment. In her notes, she wanted something classic like Esther wanted yet with a flair that made her feel pretty, yet sexy like Bria wanted. And, here’s what we came up with.

Bria: Yep, here comes the waterworks. I think... I think this one’s it.

Esther tearful: Olivia, honey. You look absolutely beautiful.

Victoria: Now those are reactions we like. And the bride?

Olivia tearful: Victoria, I think this is the one.

Shoutout to @eslanes for her Victoria Beckham sim from her spice girls sims! She came in handy lol

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purplesimmer455 · 2 months

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List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to 10 simblrs whose sims you adore ♥♥♥

Hey, thanks so much for asking. 😊💖

5 facts about Grace Aisha Siddiqui: (and three cute but random photos of her and her with her girlfriend Iseul 😄)

She’s part Pakistani from her mom’s side and part Simlish from her dad’s side. Her mom Amna moved to the UK in her 20s and met her dad Samuel, and after a whirlwind courtship, they got married and had Grace, raising her together with some help from Samuel’s mom who moved to be closer to her son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter.

She speaks Urdu fluently and knows some French, which she took in her secondary school. Her girlfriend Iseul loves this and always asks her to speak Urdu or French.

As well as being lesbian, she’s demisexual. She realized it in her early twenties when her friends Cara and Ingrid always talked about hooking up and she couldn’t relate and felt sheepish even though they assured her it was okay. She didn’t woohoo until she was in her thirties and with a serious partner and felt like it was worth the wait.

She loves cats, and had one growing up named Bhalu/Baloo, or bear in Urdu, because he was a big fluffy sweet guy and loved Grace and her parents and would snuggle up with Grace all the time.

She has an MSc* in biology from Simford University, and currently works at Simerican Laboratories.

#Asks #*I had to look up British degrees because I was like wait they have a different system 😅

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shinyhappysims · 2 months

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Lotanna’s Simstagram post (@.alottalotanna)

alottalottana my all simerican girl 🇺🇸

tori.spears i love you more than i love my guns🤠

alottalotanna @.tori.spears i’m honored

navy_jack make simerica great again!

flaminghotchidi oh!

alottalotanna @.flaminghotchidi it’s okay big bro. you always were intimidated by real masculinity.

(our dear lotanna is floating through the sunken place on a pool noodle)

(@.navy_jack is jachike btw. idk if anyone remembered he’s in the navy lmao)

#fundie simblr #fundie sims #fundie snark #sims 4 legacy #shs: izzy

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anotherpleasantview · 1 month

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It's power conservation day...and on this dark day, Brandi goes into labor. And she does what any respectable Simerican sim without insurance would do: wait around for it to hopefully pass soon.

#anotherpleasantview #rotation 1 #broke

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havenroyals · 7 months

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We are gearing up for the noble wedding of the summer. Miss Hartley Beaumont and Lord Leon Serapion are ready to walk down the aisle. The bridal party has assembled in Haven to kick off the festivities. The ladies have been spotted on a shopping trip, and the people are fawning over the photos.

We're used to seeing our Crown Princess, Countess Zenobia, and Miss Hartley out and about. Now, there's a beautiful new face in the group. Nevaeh Christian-Ramsey, the daughter of Simerican doctors Ethan Ramsey and Harmonie Christian, has been included as a bridesmaid. Due to their mothers' friendship, sources say the two have a cousin-like bond. The young lady is set to walk the aisle with Lord Serapion's cousin on his mother's side.

Beginning | GQ | Previous | Next

#sims royal legacy #royal simblr #writeblr #ts4 storytelling #ts4 story #sims 4 royals #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 simblr #sims 4 story #ts4 #ts4 legacy #simblr #blacksimscommunity #urban sims #black simblr #black simmer #ts4 black sims #gossip queen tabloid #royal media

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