#customized items

[huyyyjkl98]

Elevate Your Brand with Inkedjoy's Print on Demand Products

The dropshipping industry is booming, and brands like Inkedjoy are leading the way with innovative print on demand products. With Inkedjoy, you can create unique, customized items that resonate with your audience.

Whether you are looking for personalized apparel, custom accessories, or unique home decor, Inkedjoy offers a wide range of print on demand options that allow you to express your creativity. The beauty of dropshipping with Inkedjoy is that you can focus on marketing and growing your brand while they handle the production and shipping.

By leveraging the power of print on demand, you can cater to specific customer preferences without the need for large inventory investments. This flexibility not only reduces risk but also enables you to quickly adapt to changing market trends.

Join the thriving dropshipping community with Inkedjoy and watch your brand flourish with their exceptional print on demand products. Start creating today and turn your ideas into reality!

[bingpolly]

Exploring the Joy of Personalized Gifts with Inkedjoy

Inkedjoy is revolutionizing the dropshipping industry by offering a wide range of personalized gifts that bring joy to every occasion. Whether it's a birthday, anniversary, or just because, customized items allow you to express your unique sentiment in a meaningful way.

With Inkedjoy, you can create one-of-a-kind gifts that reflect the personality and interests of your loved ones. From personalized mugs to custom apparel, the options are endless, making it easy to find the perfect gift for anyone on your list.

The beauty of the dropshipping model means that you can start your own business without the hassle of inventory management. By partnering with Inkedjoy, you can offer these delightful personalized gifts to your customers while focusing on what you do best: connecting with them and providing exceptional service.

Join the Inkedjoy family today and discover how personalized gifts can elevate your gifting game and create lasting memories!

[benjokovar77]

Exploring the Future of 3D Printing with QSY

The 3D printing industry is evolving rapidly, and QSY is at the forefront of this exciting transformation. With their innovative approach, QSY offers online instant quotes for SLA 3D printing service, making it easier than ever for businesses and individuals to bring their ideas to life.

What sets QSY apart is their commitment to quality and customer satisfaction. By providing instant quotes, they streamline the process, allowing users to quickly assess costs and timelines for their projects. This user-friendly feature empowers clients to make informed decisions and fosters creativity in design.

Whether you're looking to prototype a new product, create customized items, or delve into artistic projects, QSY's SLA 3D printing service can help you achieve your goals efficiently. The possibilities are endless, and with QSY's support, the future of 3D printing looks bright!

Join the movement and explore how QSY can elevate your 3D printing experience today!

[aliciamaes-blog]

[imfromsixam]

Functional Payment Terminal (Mod for The Sims 4)

Now your Sims can pay with a simple tap!

This brand new Functional Payment Terminal works just like the Ticket Machine from The Sims™ 4 Businesses & Hobbies Expansion Pack — perfect for cafés, shops, or any modern setup. 💳☕💜

✨ Available now with early access on Patreon!

Join today to get this new item and support future CC creations — I’d love to have you on board 😊

DOWNLOAD HERE

[flwrkid14]

The Batfamily’s Christmas List Tradition (and how Tim gets lost in it)

The Batfamily has a long-standing Christmas tradition: the List. With so many members in the family, it’s a necessity. Everyone writes down what they want (within reason, of course), and the list serves as the ultimate gift guide. It’s efficient, especially for such a big family, and it ensures no one ends up with seven pairs of socks or the same gadget twice.

Tim takes the list seriously. It’s his chance to ask for the small, thoughtful things he wouldn’t usually splurge on for himself. Things like:

New makeup brushes. His old ones are worn out and falling apart, and it’s not until he’s on a mission that requires cross-dressing that he realizes just how bad they’ve gotten. Having a new, high-quality set would make everything feel a little smoother—and maybe even a little fun.

Cozy hoodies. Between Wayne Enterprises business casual and his Robin gear, Tim rarely gets the chance to wear something soft and comforting. His favorite hoodies are all fraying at the edges, with loose threads on the pockets and fabric that’s stretched too thin. A fresh one would feel like a luxury.

A new game console. Tim is rarely ever not working, but on those rare days off, he realizes he doesn't have much to entertain him that's not work related, that doesn't require him to leave his nest. Plus, it’s a great way to connect with his siblings during low-stakes, playful nights.

Nice coffee cups or tumblers. His caffeine habits are legendary, but the chipped and mismatched mugs he uses don’t exactly scream "Tim Drake." A sleek, stylish tumbler or a high-quality ceramic mug would elevate the most important part of his day.

Random indulgences. Books, stationery, weighted blankets, maybe a nice figuring from his favorite movie, a cool gadget he wouldn’t think to buy himself—little things that spark joy and make him feel cared for, anything he knows his own parents would have never bought for him to help heal his inner child. He's never had the luxury of writing such lists before becoming a Wayne.

Tim doesn’t just take the list seriously for himself; he makes sure to go the extra mile for his family, too. He’s always had a knack for gift-giving, and he loves curating the perfect presents for his siblings. For Dick, it might be a rare vinyl of his favorite band. For Jason, an antique first-edition book he’d mentioned once in passing. For Damian, something handmade and unique, like a custom leather-bound sketchbook or a rare art supply. Tim remembers the little things—the throwaway comments, the subtle preferences—and builds his gifts around them, ensuring every box under the tree feels deeply personal.

But Christmas rolls around… and none of the thought Tim puts into his gifts is reflected in what he receives.

Instead, he gets tech. More tech. External hard drives, cables, chargers—things he already has backups for because, well, he’s Tim. He doesn’t need more, and he didn’t ask for more.

And the worst part? It’s not that they’re bad gifts. It’s that the family assumes they know him so well that they don’t even look at his list.

“Tim’s the tech guy,” they think. “Of course he’d want more tech.”

But he doesn’t.

He’s grateful, of course—Tim is always grateful—but there’s a hollowness that creeps in every year when he unwraps another stack of USB drives and ethernet cables. It’s not about the gifts themselves. It’s about the realization that the people he loves, the people who should know him best, don’t see him the way he wants to be seen.

In a way, it feels painfully familiar. Janet had always made sure his presents as a child reflected her vision for him, not what he actually wanted. New tailored suits instead of the hoodies or tees he longed for. Sleek, professional office stationery to replace his Robin-themed pens and notebooks. Vintage collectibles meant to sit on a shelf, collecting dust, instead of toys he could actually play with. The gifts always came with a message: who he should be, not who he was. And now, even with the bats, the gifts still feel like expectations—like they see him as "the tech guy" rather than Tim, with all his quiet wants and overlooked needs.

So, Tim starts dreading Christmas. Not because he doesn’t love his family or the season, but because it reminds him of how little they seem to notice the little things about him.

And maybe one year, he stops adding personal things to the list altogether. Maybe he starts asking for tech, just to avoid the disappointment.

But deep down, he wishes someone—anyone—would surprise him with a new hoodie, a weighted blanket, or a set of makeup brushes. Something that says, “I see you, Tim. I really see you.”

[sunlight-shunlight]

i haven't played dao in a really long time but my most important opinion is that i think mahariel should have made zevran the dalish gloves. it would just be really cute ok.

[mellosakicc]

bat cave swimsuit

based on something i saw on pinterest. when i tell that every single program used in creating this post was broken in some way i'm being dead serious.

base game compatible

f - teen thru elder

enabled for random

NEW custom cas thumbnail

download (simfileshare) | download (patreon - free)

[lsunstreakerl]

2.2k of fmf! this is set in the future, with rico and mick :D lots of little max mentions throughout, and he pops up at the end briefly. rico POV.

this isn't technically spoilers for anything you guys don't already know, lol.

Rico grunts as his fingers dig into the cliff face, hauling himself up over the edge and collapsing. His harsh pants puff into the air above him as he rolls onto his side, finding Mick's wryly amused face.

"This,"

He takes another gasping breath, each inhale feeling like shards of ice scraping across his lungs.

"Explains a lot about Max."

Mick quirks an eyebrow at him, eyes glittering with amusement.

"Took you long enough."

Rico groans, sitting up as Mick's gloved hand extends in front of him, helping pull him to his feet.

"How the hell did you get up here so quick?"

Mick tips his head back to look up the rest of the cliff face, snow landing on his face as he shrugs.

"Practice."

Rico tries to imagine Max doing this— a smaller version of his husband scaling the cliff face, fingers stiff from the cold, blue eyes hard and determined. He can see it, as much as the image makes his heart clench.

"And we have to get to the top?"

Mick makes a so-so motion with his hand.

"Not necessarily— just high enough for the winreems to notice us."

He's grinning, but there's a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"That's when the hunt really starts."

Rico eyes the cliff face warily, trying to spot any of the creatures crawling high above them. He only has Max's previous descriptions to go off of— silvery creatures with scales thicker than armor, jaws that unhinge wide enough to snap a man in half.

He doesn't spot any.

"Why not draw them in now?"

Mick gestures at the snowy ledge they're resting on. It's not a very wide space.

"Do you want to fight here? The best chance is getting up top. There's more room. Also,"

He makes a face behind the scarf.

"There are weapons left behind there. It could be seen as honorable, giving the dead their final kill."

Rico swallows, glancing back down at the dizzying fall below them.

"Right."

------

His nose is tucked deep into his scarf, ice crystallizing on his lashes as he hauls himself up the cliff face behind Mick. The younger man makes it look effortless, no signs of hesitation as he climbs.

There's a deep ache starting to settle in his bones, burning low in his muscles as they finally clear the top. His fingers are numb inside of his fur lined gloves, but he feels another flash of determination each time he looks at the carefully woven leather bands decorating the wrists, or the claws sewn in above his knuckles.

They're a gift from Max, one he hadn't entirely understood at first— but he gets it now. Mick looks at him critically as they both stand.

"You sure you can handle this?"

Rico looks across the semi-flat plateau they've arrived at, eyes skipping over the lumps in the snow, glinting oddly in the light.

"Didn't you say there were weapons?"

Mick makes a face.

"Under the snow, if you're desperate enough— but the mountain doesn't care for memorials. You're probably walking on bones right now."

Rico's stomach churns as he looks at the snow beneath his boots, before looking back up at Mick. He can't see any judgment, but he knows that doesn't necessarily mean anything, especially not from Mick. He and Max are close, a strong bond Rico hadn't expected.

He's also mildly terrifying. When he'd come through the window and attacked Rico— He hasn't felt that kind of bone deep fear in years.

The fear of losing.

Mick claims now that he wouldn't actually have killed him, only that he was ensuring Rico was able to protect Max while he was incapacitated, but he's not entirely sure he believes it.

Either way, this is a test.

"I'm sure."

Rico isn't northern— doesn't have their deep customs and mentalities, and some days Max feels oceans away with how he thinks, following paths Rico doesn't understand.

That doesn't mean he's weak.

He's built his kingdom off the backs of men who have come after him, overseen the construction of villages and towns, personally handled more battles than he can count.

He wraps his fingers around the hilt of his sword, feeling his knuckles press against the bone of his gloves through the leather. This is for Max.

For their children.

Mick must see it in his eyes, nodding before he tugs his scarf down, hand coming to his mouth in a shrill whistle. The noise echoes a few seconds after he stops, piercing in the frozen air.

Rico startles when one of the lumps under the snow shifts, white powder falling in clumps as the rest of the lumps move as well.

The creature that cracks open a vivid orange eye at them sends chills down his spine. The color is almost an exact shade to the orange on Max's house crest— and he has a feeling he knows now where it comes from.

The snow falls off of it as it shakes, silvery scales glinting in the light. It has six legs, from what Rico can see— a long tail with a club at the end, and an elongated snout, jagged teeth snapping at the air as it howls at them.

Mick darts to the right, and Rico goes left. The winreem is fast, faster than he expects for a creature of its size, and he grits his teeth when the snout swings in his direction.

He'd used to wonder what kind of beast could leave the scar that Max has, ragged silver lines down his leg— but now he's wondering how that was the only injury his husband had gotten away with. The thought of Max fighting it, even younger than he'd been when Rico had first met him...

It's a bit late to be claiming revenge, but he'll give it his all anyways.

The winreem darts forward, moving with a rapid side to side pattern in a way that reminds him of sparring with Max, and it's habitual as he falls back into a feint, lunging in from the side to strike at one of its legs.

It's not a full power blow, but it's enough to easily knock a man in a suit of armor over, in Rico's experience.

It barely cuts into the winreem's scales.

He can briefly make out Mick, featherlight on his feet as he darts across the snow and slashes down at the tail.

The wind is whistling in his ears, but his blood is running hot as he feels the focus set in, senses hyperaware of everything around him.

He needs more power, he needs to get to the other leg, they need to slow it down, they need—

There.

He puts his full power into the next strike, feeling it cut deep into the scales and finally slice flesh. Steaming blood sprays out, boiling hot where it splatters against his face, melting the snow where it lands as the winreem screams, howl echoing off the mountaintop.

Mick brings his blades down in a spin that cuts deep into the tail, and the winreem thrashes, enraged.

Rico makes eye contact with Mick as they both dart back, circling slightly as the winreem snarls, eyes narrowed. It lunges at Mick next, and Rico takes the opportunity before he can think about it, leaping forward and gripping onto one of its spines, hauling himself onto its back.

The spine slices into his gloves, but it doesn't quite reach his hands, and he grabs the next one, climbing towards its head as it howls again, jaws snapping at him.

Mick distracts it with another attack at the legs, and Rico stumbles as the left side of the winreem buckles, almost losing his footing.

He can see it just in front of him, hidden from the front and the sides by the bone ridges of the skull— but the soft spot Max had mentioned is there. The scales are sparse, and the brain is just behind it, if Rico can get there.

Mick takes a hit to the side from the club of the tail, staggering with a gasp as he gains some ground backwards, and Rico takes the risk, letting go of the spines to lunge forwards, both hands bringing his sword directly into the unprotected hide.

His footing slips on the scales, and his shoulders jerk painfully as he drops off the side of the winreem, but he doesn't let go, and his blade pierces in, slicing past muscle and flesh.

The winreem staggers, unsteady footsteps to each side as Rico ducks his head, hot blood gushing down across his arms and splattering across his hood. He can feel the heat of it through the gloves, running in rivers down his arms. It doesn't manage to get between his skin and the leather, but he finally feels his feet brush against the ground as it collapses.

He squints his eyes open as he uncurls his fingers from his sword hilt. Mick has an odd expression on his face, eyes stuck on Rico's hands. The palms of his gloves are shredded, but his eyebrows furrow when he realizes the spine had come to a stop against a familiar silver hide.

He lifts his hands, inspecting the palms. The inner layer of the gloves, tucked between the fur lining and the leather— it's winreem hide.

Mick shakes his head disbelievingly.

"Did he tell you to climb the spines?"

Rico looks back at the winreem, and then down to his gloves again.

"No. He never mentioned that part at all."

There's a soft laugh from Mick as he steps closer, gesturing for Rico to pull his sword back out.

"That's because it's suicidal, usually. The only other person I've seen pull it off is Max, and he's been trained on winreem fighting since birth. Your evasions though..."

Rico yanks his blade out, carefully avoiding another hot rush of blood. Max has always been at his most dangerous when sparring footwork with him, but he's thinking about it now— the fast evasions, the quick strikes—

Max has been fighting him like a winreem. Max's entire style is the winreem, evasive and beautifully dangerous, disguised under soft blankets of snow and a slow, simmering patience.

He looks back at the gloves, and then at Mick.

"You think he knew? That I would go for the spines?"

Mick shrugs, still eyeing his palms incredulously.

"I have no idea, Verhoeven. I've never been able to keep up with him. But— for you both to do the same move... That was weird. I feel like I was thrown back in time."

Rico gives a wry grin and a shrug.

"Well, we should get back so I can figure out what part of his leathers he took this hide from— he needs it now more than ever."

He's frowning as he thinks about it. If he could hide Max behind a wall of winreem hide he would. They're not entirely sure, but he's been weaker lately, frequent bouts of nausea he thinks Rico doesn't know about.

He's got a solid enough suspicion that he's out here on a mountaintop, getting ready to lug a winreem corpse back into the village, in order for their children to be protected.

Max is going to kill him when he finds out that this is the diplomatic trip he was talking about, but Rico's been planning it quietly for ages, even before the transfiguration. Ever since Max had finally told him about the winreems, he'd understood that it was a challenge. A real one, to prove his commitment to his husband and his family.

He's slowly earned respect from the North, but this kill is his. His blade sunk into the skull, his leathers bloodstained and wet with melted snow. He feels practically feral up here, energy running through him.

The fight for survival here is unlike anywhere else he's ever been, intoxicating in its intensity.

Mick steps forward, lightly punching him in the shoulder. Already, Rico can see a difference in him, in the way he's being viewed. Mick is treating them like equals.

"Come on, winreem killer. We have to get this thing back down the mountain."

Rico makes a face as Mick laughs. He can't even imagine...

"How did you and Max do it? You must have been tiny."

Mick's mouth curls at the edges, mischievous glint in his eyes.

"We rolled it and then dropped it off of a cliff."

Rico eyes the cliff face, and then the winreem.

"Tempting."

------

"I am going to kill you—"

"Max, my love, I was with Mick the entire time, nothing was going to happen—"

Rico ducks as a leather boot goes flying over his head, and Max takes another step forward, second boot in hand.

"Oh, nothing? Just a casual little winreem hunt? Do you think I'm stupid?"

Rico winces as Max gets closer, eyes narrowed. It's not good for his health when Max yells at him— he gets too distracted by the blue of his eyes, the annoyed tilt to his mouth. Today is no different.

"I stayed back here because you had to be on your diplomatic trip, and you're telling me I could've been winreem hunting?"

Rico can't hide the amused twitch to his mouth fast enough, and Max gets his fingers curled in the front of his cloak, yanking him down so they're eye level.

"You're sleeping across the hall tonight."

"Max—"

[deathandnonexistentialdread]

have you tried turning your Millennium Items on and off?

[aliciamaes-blog]

[ghoularcade]

Hello! I have a simple but cute party-themed contribution for this month at GOS!

[clementimetodie]

When did businesses forget that lowering prices makes more money (it sells more), not raising prices (it becomes too expensive for the customer)

[thesimsideofluca]

Kitchen Clutter CC | sims 4 cc finds 🧀☕️

first row: [1] [2] [3] second row: [1] [2] [3] third row: [1] [2] [3]

Huge shoutout to all of these amazing creators: @aggressivekitty @felixandresims @harrie-cc @littledica @plushpixelssims @pierisim @tudtuds

Follow for more CC finds!

[donner-mathis-official]

huge update

[saeruki]

I wanted to adapt certain characteristics of the crushes…

Would you be interested in a discord or a drive to have access to the items?