Vicky | twentyfour | SW England

I followed far too many simblrs on my personal blog and wanted to join in, so here we are.
I'm too old to be here.

I post Sims 3 only. And I'm working on some CC for it.

I follow most Simblrs back. WCIF questions are welcome, i can't promise I'll be able to find everything.

I try to keep my posting sims related, but i fail sometimes.
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Name - Paige

Gender - Female

Age - 21

Family - Mother: Dead  Father: Unknown  Siblings: None known

Height - 5’4 

Skill set - Hand to Hand combat, Defensive weapons, Gunsmith, Hunting & Skinning, Gathering, Scavenging,Food preparation and Basic first aid

Etymology - Young child

My Mom’s work keep me-us in that room. Now that she was gone I was seen as worthless, just as she’d predicted I would be.

I don’t know why Roman spared me the role of my mother but he did. Later I heard whispers that he let me stay because I stood up to him, I’d stayed and stood my ground. The part longing for a farther hoped me saw me as his child and saved me in some way. That he’d seem something of himself in me. It turned my stomach whenever I heard that.

That room of ours was a commodity, me in that room, alone was a waste. I got put where all other children where kept. It housed eleven other people, give or take, mostly around my age, boy and girls. The basement wasn’t kept to any standard, and no one had ever bothered to make it hospitable Walls were crumbling and the ceiling was caving it.

But the children had made it theirs. They’d separated areas with whatever they could, boxes, old doors. They were resourceful.

Aysi Pratch

He’s on the face of all the demons in my dreams

I don’t know what my tiny mind expected when he asked me to stand, but I obliged anyway. With a shaking body and feet not feeling like my own I stood up. Despite everything I’ve faced, lifting my eyes to face Roman still plagues my sleep; he’s on the face of all the demons in my dreams.

He is the only one looking right at me while all the others avoid my gaze. His eyes are the same colour as mine, the tilt of his jar reminds me of my own and pull between his brows.

'S-s-she’s dead. Olivia died yesterday.' I stood there watching his reaction, twisting my hands together and feeling the weight of air pressing in around me. My words seem to mean nothing to him. I feel my eyes begin to burn with frustrated tears, the group before me seems to blur into one over whelming force. I'm not used to being the centre of attention.

'My mum died! And no one care' I swallow hard, trying to keep back the building tears. 'She is still upstairs in our room. A-a-and I can't move her on my own'

'Your room?' My breath hitches in my throat as Roman runs his tongue across his chapped lips.

'Huh, well yes' A smile pulls at his lips when I answer; I feel the mood in the room shift.