#here it is a photo strip

[lechatnoir1918]

Smile

[touchd0wn-boy]

ohhhh i kinda love the new digital album cover

[nicoscheer]

"Baggio" is one of the flagship titles of the album. Why this reference to the Italian football player of the nineties?

He was the first person I loved

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It is true that when I feel oppressed I want to scream, sing, free myself...

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so I adopted their preferences... to get me adopted (he smiles). 🥺🥺

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You lived in Los Angeles between 2015 and 2019. Did you need to come back to England to find inspiration?

There is one of that. I had a lot of fun in L.A. I lived next to Alex Turner's house with whom I formed The Last Shadow Puppets. But after a while, my friends, my management my musicians I missed all this... even the rain (he laughs)! I felt lost. Not without laughing, I think I missed the special atmosphere and 'British pop' as I practice it and I needed to come back to London to recharge my batteries.

Alex Turner of the Artic Monkeys still lives there?

He is smarter: he is always between London and Los Angeles... (laughs)

And is something soon planned with him within The Last Shadow Puppets?

Not immediately, because I am very busy with the promotion of my new album and Alex by the Artic Monkeys world tour.

[crunchyorangeleaf]

source of this picture is here and video of the occupation firing is here

[unproduciblesmackdown]

asia kate dillon as achilles in iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable) via theatre incognita and teatrotaller in 2012

[sanstropfremir]

Please share all your Jopping thoughts! I am now exceedingly curious.

L;AKSDJF;LASDKJFL;SDAKJF ANON I LOVE YOUUUUU

i dont remember if i kept this in my maximalist kpop post or not but i had wrote a whole section about how the concept of superm as a group is maximalism and everything that they did is probably the purest form of kpop performance spectacle that we've seen in the last several years. kpop has always been about taking random americanisms and extrapolating them into a weird and altogether new conglomorate of cultural hybrid bizarreness and superm ramps that up to 100 (pun intended). the disparate visual western touchstones (cars/motorsports, cowboys, big tech + machines, superheros, military, collegiate gear) all crammed together with choreo that goes extremely hard for no reason, stupid and cringe (complimentary) english lyrics, completely over the top studio set pieces, and all done by a group that's literally assembled from defining groups of the last three generations, from the company that pioneered the industry? how can it be anything except the pinnacle of modern kpop? people can make the arguments all they want that sm was attempting to pander to the west in the vein of bts, but what those people miss is that superm was never totally westernized in the way that bts has been in their recent endeavours. superm maintains a sense of koreanness throughout not only their music (promoting i can't stand the rain on the ellen show along with jopping, none of their title songs being fully in english) but also visually with tiger inside, which has become their most popular song second to jopping. sm was very careful not to sacrifice the threads of what makes kpop korean with superm, and that's what makes everything about what they were doing work.

[cinnamon-phrog]

Finally sorted my Barbie outfit- I'm gonna see it tomorrow!

[vaugarde]

this might be a little mean i guess but does anyone else not really understand the “history is repeating because belos’s brother fell in love with a witch again!” reasoning for hunter and willow

[andromedasummer]

bro are any drivers from new zealand gonna like. come help with the cyclone cleanup. or even donate some money. we were in a state of emergency. people are dead. thousands are missing. entire towns are buried in silt and cut off. peoples houses are just gone. every other athlete in every other sport we compete in are showing up to help clear out houses or donate things or help fix roads. one of you went on a rant about nz covid restrictions and retweeted our most right wing party. another one of you was born in the city that was hit by the cyclone.

[lechatnoir1918]

New Phrack drawings! Could not decide on how to post them so here’s the color and b&w side by side. 

[flappyhappystim]

We are Flappy Happy! We are a small business run by two autistic women.

When searching for fidget items, we’ve noticed that the vast majority are marketed towards children or the parents of children. We wanted to focus on adults that need fidgets. This partially comes from us wanting to say it’s okay to use fidgets (more than okay!), but also us wanting to include more discreet fidget items for those that may need or want them.

We carry a lot of your standard fidgets you’d expect like push pops, fidget spinners and similar.

But we also carry more discreet or adult focused fidgets. These might include things like calm strips (textured stickers), fidget earrings, fidget necklaces, and spinner rings.

Any signal boosting or help spreading the word is so beyond appreciated!

Our website is here.

Here are some photos of some of our products below!

These are some of our Calm Strips! These are textured stickers you can place on your phone, bag, etc. They can be very grounding and soothing to touch.

You can see our full calm strip collection here!

These are some of our chewables! These are safe to chew on fidget items!

You can see our full chewable collection here!

[thethirdromana]

Travels with Jonathan Harker, in pictures

If our good friend Jonathan Harker had sent us some photos along with his lovely email, here's what he might have included. All photos are as close to contemporary as I could find.

Left Munich at 8:35 P. M.:

arriving at Vienna early next morning:

Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets:

We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh:

All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals:

sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floods:

The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them:

(on the left: the Romanian royal family in peasant cosplay in the early 1900s; on the right, a photoshoot of Romanian national dress in 1868)

It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place:

Bonus: a postcard Jonathan might have picked up for Mina.

[dolldefiler]

C/W: Rape, intox

There’s a void in your heart and you may not even know it.

I do. I can see it every time you talk to a man. The constant, dull need for approval. The burden on your heart to feel accepted. 

That’s why I’d drop a few pills into your drinks. Minutes later, I’d carry you out of the pub. I’d be stopped of course. I’d show them hundreds of photos we’d taken together. As friends.

You never sought my approval. Was it because you never considered me a man? Was I not worthy of you?

The soft pitter-patter of rain against the window would mask the silence. I’d strip you of your clothes and with one swift stroke, I’d push inside you, pumping inside you gently, back and forth.

You’d struggle against me, in the weak, intoxicated way drugged women do. I’d soothe you, apologising for hurting you. I’d tell you it’s okay. That I promise you’ll be okay soon. That I love you more than anything. Lies. All of them. The sweet, sickly praise on how good you feel and how pretty you look would fuck with you. Here’s your best friend giving you the approval you needed.

And then I’d fuck you harder. I’d take advantage of your stunned little head and begin to choke you out. You’d blink through layers of spit, and sharp slaps I deliver. You’d want to scream, to ask what the fuck is happening right now. No words would come out. My fingers would dig into your throat deeper.

I’d tell you that if you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t be getting wet. That you clearly want this or you would have stopped me. Your weakened, drugged body would tremble violently. I’d promise to stop fucking you if you just said, ‘please, stop fucking me’. I’d wait and wait, and all I’d hear is you slurring your words in a desperate, drunken attempt to stop me. I’d relentlessly rail you.

I’d enjoy fucking with your mind. Feeding you the sweet praise you crave deep down, and the rough, abusive sex your body needs, all while you’re too fucked up to distinguish reality from your nightmares. I’d see the emptiness inside you and fill it with my cock, uncaringly and violently. Not because you need to be raped. Because you deserve it. Because it was inevitable.

I know you’d remember it too. I want you looking me in the eyes, uncertainty dancing across your face. I’d never mention the night to you. I’d act as if nothing ever happened. And all the while, you’d tear yourself up for doubting me. After all, it’d be fucked up to judge me based off a nightmare you once had, right?

[moondirti]

simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

[rheya28]

IronWorks Fitness Centre ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Welcome to Ironworks Fitness Centre. This stunning space combines a sleek design with cutting-edge fitness technology to provide the perfect workout environment. You can take a refreshing dip in the stylish pool or challenge yourself to a boxing match in the boxing ring. Ironworks Fitness Centre's state-of-the-art gym equipment is designed to meet all your fitness needs, whether you're looking to build strength or improve your cardio. The facility offers an energizing cycling classes to get your heart pumping and blood flowing for those who need an extra boost.

➽ I was talking to one of my lovely friend @marilynjeansims about building in Oasis Spring. I realize that I have not build anything for this world so here I am! hehe I am planning on filling up this community strip so watch out for more oasis spring modern and midcentury builds in the future! Megan suggested a few community lot types which I think will be perfect for this world so I'm excited!

➽ Important Notes:

●Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Speed Build Video

00:00 Beginning 00:02 Intro 00:57 Speed Build 22:30 Photos

Female Sims used in the video are by the lovely @largetaytertots Gwen & Solana

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: IronWorks Fitness Centre Lot type: Gym Lot size: 40 x 30 Location: Oasis Spring

➽ MODS

● Tool Mod by Twisted Mexi ● Let's Get Fit Fanmade Modpack by Cepzid ● Everyday clutterkits become functional by Cepzid

➽ CC List

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker, kiwisim4. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading ! DSCO ● Hunter Fitness set House of Harlix ● Bafroom ● Harluxe ● Orjanic Bbygyal123 ● The balance collection Charlypancakes ● Munch ● Smol Felixandre ● Colonial pt [3] ● Grove pt [3][4] ● Soho (all) Harrie ●Brutalist ● Klean pt [3] ● Spoons pt [2] ● Jardane ● Kichen (shelves only) LittleDica ● Country Side Cabin ● Rise & Grind Peacemaker ● Hudson Bathroom [towel] Pierisim ● Coldbrew ● MCM pt [1][3] ● Oak House pt [2] ● Unfold ● Winter Garden ● Woodland Ranch (ceiling/floor tiles only) Max 20 ● Poolside Lounge Pack Simkoos ● Everyday Clutterkit Addon (rolled yoga mat only) ● Taget Store (Signs only) Sixam ● Hotel Bedroom (desk) ● Small spaces Laundry Room (laundry basket only) Syboulette ● Ballet (mirrors only) ● Fitness ● Karaoke (neon signs only) Tuds ● Brut (ceiling light only) ● Cross ● Cave ● Ind Around the sims ● Swimming pool foam lane ● Swimming pool Starting block

● Tray File: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: Applez ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Patreon: Rheya28 ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[amjad20011]

Urgent plea a call to action: Please help us to evacuate to safety 🚨

In the middle of the hell of the ongoing war in Palestine Gaza we exist a lovely family of 3 people me Amjad, Rasmia and our little angel Ahmed a two and a half years old gorgeous boy.

We were having a great normal life before the war.

Those are some photos of my beloved little boy Ahmed playing like angels

All we want is to restore our lives back to live in peace again.

I have tried to save money to evacuate gaza to safety place but i couldn't afford the expenses due to the expensive living costs in gaza right now, so I have decided to create a campaign on GoFundMe to collect the necessary expenses to evacuate and to save my beloved family.

Here is the link for my campaign

Please don't hesitate to donate and please don't understimate any donation every donation means a lot to me.

Your kindness and your generosity is my lighting beacon to safety.