#old residential areas not pictured

[podraje]

30°C summer solo walks (over 11 km done), the most beautifully designed books (ever), art, full of greenery (and shadow), peaceful and quiet old residential areas 🌳☀️🏙

[toruskiii]

Love Delivery!

Synopsis: Balancing part-time food delivery with a busy school schedule is no easy task. One day, while on a delivery, you find yourself awkwardly waiting at the door of a luxurious apartment. Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing a handsome, albeit annoyingly rich, man. Genre: Romance, fluff, slow-burn?? (modern au!) Character: Aventurine x fem!reader Warnings: Hot sassy men apocalypse, maybe this will have a part 2 or smth idk

[masterlist] [about me]

Ding!

Someone has placed an order near your set area.

You glance at the notification on your screen, just as you’re snapping a picture of the food you’ve delivered to the nice granny’s house. The elderly lady smiles politely, waiting patiently as you finish taking the photo.

“Ah, another order, young lady?” she croaks out, offering a small, grateful bow when you hand her the plastic bag of food. “Thank you so much, hoho. I’m sorry to trouble you young folks, but it’s hard for my old bones to get around, you know?” She chuckles, giving your shoulder a gentle pat.

You smile at her and shake your head, waving off her concern. "It's no problem, granny. It's my job, after all." After bidding farewell to the old lady, you put on your helmet, hop back on your bike, and accept the new order request.

Penacony's Clock Diner? Wait-

You quickly check the location set for your food delivery, confused by the address. You're all the way in Aurem Alley, and the customer wants food from Penacony? Ridiculous.

Location Set: Xianzhou Luofu.

How is this guy even able to send his request to you?

You double-check the address, noticing the system listing it as Fyxestroll Garden. What the hell? There aren’t any apartment complexes at Fyxestroll Garden!

Puzzled, you pull over to the side of the road and open the map on your phone, trying to make sense of it. Fyxestroll Garden is a well-known public park, famous for its serene walking paths and meticulously kept gardens. You can’t recall any buildings, let alone residential ones, in the area. You tap on the address again, hoping it’s a mistake or a glitch, but the coordinates remain unchanged.

Maybe it’s a new complex that just opened? you wonder. Or could it be some sort of exclusive residence hidden within the park?

Not long after, another text message pops up on your screen, and it's from the guy.

Frustration boils within you as you read the message, your temper nearing its breaking point. The blazing sun beats down mercilessly, intensifying your irritation as you stand near the dock, contemplating a plunge into the cooling waters below. How could this customer be so careless as to mess up their address, leaving you to contend with this sweltering heat and an hour-long detour?

And curse this app for its lack of a proper cancellation feature!

With a frustrated groan, you glance at the text, feeling the resistance of your bike's wheels grow heavier as you open the GPS. You're tempted to unleash a torrent of curses at the customer for exploiting some loophole in the app, forcing you to exert yourself just to deliver his order. He better be prepared to tip generously for this inconvenience.

To reach Penacony, your best bet is to take the Astral Express train— a mode of transportation you've used before but disliked immensely. The erratic jumps and occasional turbulence make for a nerve-wracking journey. And that conductor… Was it just fatigue playing tricks on your mind, or did they really have bunny ears…?

You sigh heavily as you enter the station, swiping your pass before parking your bike and leaning against it. Your gaze drifts to the TV hanging on the wall, checking the schedule to see when the train will arrive. Fifteen minutes? Well, there's no escaping it now…

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You feel like hurling yourself into outer space.

Not only did the restaurant forget to prepare the order, but you're also stuck in a conversation with one of the servers who insists on cracking the most cringeworthy jokes.

"There's no such thing as a bad joke, only lousy comedians who can't deliver them!" the server— Jay, apparently. boasts. Doesn't this guy have other customers to attend to? Good grief. You're tempted to point out that he's no better than those lousy comedians, but you're not that mean— and you definitely don't want to risk losing your job.

"Order number 38! One sarmale and one classic soulglad!" a worker calls out, providing a convenient distraction as you hastily grabbed the food and rush over to your bike— just in time for your phone to start chiming with multiple notifications.

Fuming with frustration, you run a hand through your hair, pedaling away as fast as your legs can carry you to the designated location. One hand grips the handlebars tightly while the other clutches your phone, fingers jabbing at the screen as you send panicked voicemails to the careless customer.

"I'm on my way! I'll be there soon!" you breathe out, your voice strained with urgency, weaving through traffic with reckless abandon. You're so preoccupied that you didn't even bother with your helmet, leaving it hanging on the basket of your bike as you speed along. The wind rushes past you, whipping your hair back as you scream into your phone.

"I'm practically flying to your place. Just hold on!" you seethe, narrowly avoiding collisions with other vehicles. You swear you catch a glimpse of a pair of blue-haired siblings shooting you a skeptical glance as you whiz by. No one's going to meet their demise on my watch.

(Maybe a few might with the way you're on the verge of causing car crashes.)

With determination fueling every pedal, you push yourself to the limit, determined to reach the customer's location before they decide to relocate to another universe altogether.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Upon stepping into the lounge of the apartment complex, you stand there, utterly flabbergasted.

The sight before you is nothing short of opulent. Everyone here is dressed to the nines in fancy attire, oozing sophistication and wealth. I mean, what did you expect? That the guy who ordered the food would settle for anything less than extravagance? 1800 credits for a soda?

But even knowing that, you weren't prepared for the sheer luxury of it all. Marble floors greet you the moment you enter, with plush velvet red sofas arranged in elegant clusters at every corner. The vases of plants adorning the marble countertops probably cost more than your entire monthly rent.

The sprawling expanse of rooms lining the halls seems to stretch on endlessly, giving you the impression that you've stumbled into a palace rather than an apartment complex. You can't help but feel like a humble peasant as you approach the lobby manager, your attire— a mishmash of sweaty clothes and a random jacket—paling in comparison to the impeccably tailored suits of the residents. Are you checking into an apartment or a castle?

What catches you off guard is the realization that most of the people milling about in this opulent setting are students. Students! You recognize familiar faces in the crowd— classmates from the same campus you attend.

"Hello, I'm here to deliver an order for room number ███," you murmur to the manager, noting the slight stress in her demeanor as she punches in the room number to confirm the request. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise when she directs you to the Platinum room.

The Platinum room? Your mind races with questions as you make your way through the halls, the extravagant surroundings only adding to your bewilderment. What kind of student lives in the Platinum room of an apartment complex like this?

Here you stand, face to face with the imposing wooden door adorned with intricate golden trimmings, feeling as though your bank account is slowly draining with each passing moment. You raise a hand to knock, furrowing your brows in confusion when there's no immediate answer.

"Hey, it's me. I'm here to deliver your food," you call out, giving the door another firm knock. Still, there's no response. Seriously?

Technically, you could just leave the food at his door and be done with it. But something about the luxuriousness of this apartment complex makes you hesitate. It wouldn't reflect well on you to simply abandon the delivery outside, especially in such an upscale setting. (You internally roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all.)

As the door finally creaks open, you're poised to unleash the most scathing side-eye you can muster— ready to give this guy a piece of your mind for keeping you waiting (and running). But as your gaze meets his, you freeze.

You'd seen his profile picture on the app before, but you'd doubted that a man so devastatingly handsome could possibly exist in real life. You'd convinced yourself that it was probably some sort of prank or scam, someone using a fake photo to lure in unsuspecting victims.

But now, standing before you, is a man who defies all logic. His golden, tousled locks frame a face so strikingly beautiful it steals your breath away. His eyes— oh, those eyes— they're like pools of sapphire surrounded by a halo of lavender. You feel your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment as you struggle to find your voice, your words caught in your throat like a lump of lead.

He gazes back at you, those mesmerizing eyes flickering with mild curiosity as he tilts his head inquisitively. "Hm? Ah, it's you," he says, breaking the spell of silence that had enveloped you. But you can hardly hear him over the thunderous pounding of your heart, which seems to be screaming one thing over and over again: He's even more breathtaking in person.

You mentally slap yourself, shaking off the remnants of your daze as you stumble over your words, handing him his bag of food with trembling hands. "R-right, sorry to keep you waiting. Here's your food, sir," you manage to stutter out, inwardly cursing yourself for apologizing. Why am I apologizing? He's the one who's in the wrong here!

He lets out a soft chuckle, and you swear the sun must be finding its way to shine through the walls of the complex as your ears burn at the mere sound of his laugh. It's so calming, so captivating, that you feel like you're floating in a dream.

"No, no. Don't apologize. It's my fault for entering the wrong address," he reassures you, his voice smooth as silk. His fingers brush over yours as he reaches for his food, sending an electric shock through your entire body at the brief contact. You can't help but notice how his gaze softens as he opens the plastic bag to check the contents, a small hum of satisfaction escaping his lips at the sight of the still-warm food. You decide not to question it— perhaps he's just feeling a bit homesick.

You continue to awkwardly stand there, your hands fidgeting nervously in your pockets as you struggle to find something to say. "So, uh, your total is 6500 credits, sir," you finally manage to blurt out, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

He blinks in mild surprise, a small "ah" escaping his lips before he nods, disappearing momentarily back into his apartment. He returns a moment later, wallet in hand, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Since I've troubled you so much, how much do you want me to pay you back with, hm?" he teases, his tone playful.

You stare at him, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. Well, he did put you through quite a bit of trouble, making you trek all over town just to deliver two measly items. But still, the thought of asking for more money makes you feel incredibly awkward and embarrassed. "No, that…that won't be necessary," you choke out, feeling your palms grow sweaty with nervousness. "There's no need—"

"I insist," he interrupts, his tone firm yet strangely charming.

Well, damn. You're caught between feeling grateful for his generosity and feeling utterly mortified at the prospect of asking for more payment. But with his insistence ringing in your ears, you find yourself reluctantly nodding in agreement, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"1000 credits is fine," you mumble, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of asking for more money.

"Just 1000?" he repeats, narrowing his eyes at you with a slight frown. "That's quite low, considering the trouble I've put you through," he adds, his fingers skimming through his wallet in search of more credits.

As he rummages through his wallet, you can't help but notice his student card peeking out from among the bills. Your lips part in shock as you realize he's a student at the IPC—yeah, he's definitely rich. You should have haggled for more money.

"Are— do you major in accounting…?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself, your eyes darting to his card. He hums in response, shaking his head. "Nah, fashion. I can't count."

The two of you maintain eye contact for a few moments, and you find yourself staring at him dumbly while he gives you a cat-like grin.

"Did you actually buy that? I'm joking. I major in both finance and accounting."

You can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at his flippant attitude. This man radiates fuck-boy energy, and you're starting to have second thoughts. Does he get a pass because of his looks, or is it because of his looks that he gets a pass?

"Oh," is all you can manage to answer as he hands you a random stack of credits.

You stare dumbfounded at his outstretched hand, uncertainty flickering in your eyes as you glance back and forth between the stash of credits and his gaze. "Huh? How much is this?" you inquire, still hesitant to accept the payment.

"Does it really matter?" he scoffs, nudging you playfully. "1000 credits is way too little, and I don't like scamming people. I don't stoop that low," he chuckles, his tone light despite the seriousness of the situation. When you don't budge, he feels a twitch in his eye before suddenly grabbing your jacket and tugging at your pockets, causing you to let out a startled yelp. "Hey! What the hell—"

Ignoring your protest, he shoves the credits inside your pocket with lazy nonchalance, letting out a whistle of satisfaction before releasing his hold. "There. Now just think of it as you were robbed in reverse," he quips, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"That's not helping!"

"It's not like your boss or whoever's in charge of the app will check your pockets, right? I'm just giving you tips, there's nothing wrong with that," he shrugs, struggling to hold back a snort at how visibly annoyed you look. If this were any other person, like an 'actual' adult or man, he'd brush it off and just toss a random wad of tips your way before politely closing the door. Maybe he'd pause for a pretty lady— well, you are a pretty lady.

But he can tell you're a student, just like him, probably working your ass off just to make ends meet. Hey, he doesn't judge. Plus, it's kind of fun to tease people occasionally, and you remind him of another acquaintance of his who's majoring in medicine.

"So, anything else?" he murmurs, leaning casually against the doorframe, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You can't help but feel a mix of irritation and amusement at his nonchalant attitude. "No, that's it," you reply tersely, your voice tinged with annoyance. You can't wait to get out of here and put this bizarre encounter behind you.

He nods in acknowledgment, his smirk widening ever so slightly. "Alright then. Take care, pretty," he says, offering you a lazy wave before shutting the door gently behind him.

As you make your way back to your bike, you can't help but replay the encounter in your mind, wondering just what the hell just happened. This guy is definitely one of a kind, that's for sure.

As you swiftly exit the complex and pedal back to the train station, a dull headache begins to gnaw at your temples. You have other pending orders waiting for you back in Luofu, and the thought of having to navigate through the city once more only adds to your growing exhaustion. Yet, amidst the fatigue, a small swell of warmth tugs at your heart at the thought of not getting his number.

Sure, he provided his contact information when he placed the order, but with a guy like him, you're almost certain it's just his business line or something equally impersonal. Besides, it would feel a bit creepy to text him out of the blue. What would you even say?

'Hey, I thought you were cute after making me run laps around the city and deal with an annoying server, hmu?'

No way, that's beyond pathetic. Plus, you'd risk losing face.

Lost in your thoughts, you arrive back at the train station, your hands absentmindedly reaching up to touch your flushed cheeks, still tingling from the encounter. He's undeniably attractive, and you can't shake the nagging feeling that he probably already has a girlfriend— or several. Besides, you should be focusing on your studies, not getting involved with some rich fuck boy.

Ding!

Huh?

You're snapped out of your reverie by the sound of a notification chiming on your phone. With a curious frown, you unlock your device to see what it is.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you read the notification, your eyes widening in disbelief. What the hell is wrong with this guy? 10,000 credits? Is he insane?

With trembling hands, you quickly fish out the money he gave you from your pockets, counting through the stack under your breath to keep your panic in check. "6, 7, 8… 9…" you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you realize he gave you thrice the amount needed.

Your fingers tap frantically on your phone screen as you type out a response, your words rushed and panicked. "Dude, you gave me thrice the amount needed already—stop."

As you stare at the screen, your mind reels with disbelief. He just willingly gave you his phone number— and he thinks you're cute?

It's a little funny, in a surreal sort of way, that the entire conversation is still ongoing within the food service app. Here you are, exchanging private messages with each other despite the platform's intended purpose.

You gulp, feeling the heat rise to the tips of your ears. Your brows knit together in a mixture of disbelief and slight annoyance, the memory of the earlier encounter still fresh in your mind. After all, he did put you through quite a bit of trouble with that address mix-up.

Should you add him?

"…"

You're caught off guard as a strong gust of wind rushes past you, fluttering your hair in its wake as the Astral Express train arrives. The station immediately becomes crowded, and you struggle to maneuver your bike into the passenger compartment as people squeeze past you. Finally, you manage to park your bike and squeeze yourself into an empty corner to avoid blocking anyone.

As everyone settles into their seats and grips the handles, the doors of the train shut, and the conductor announces the next stop. You let out a sigh, knowing it'll be another 20 or so stops before you reach Luofu…

Glancing back at your phone, your fingers tap onto it mindlessly, the cabin now quiet save for the occasional cries of children or chatter between friends.

Your gaze softens as a new notification pops up.

Aventurine (loser of a customer) is now saved into your contacts.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ding!

"Good evening to you again, pretty delivery lady."

[panimoonchild]

Fight for them as they fought for you

Mykyta Tatyanko "Zhyvchyk", a soldier of the 501st separate marine battalion, is still in captivity. He hit the front pages of all the world's media because he was simply helping the wounded during the shelling of the Mariupol maternity hospital. Because he just wanted to save someone.

In Mariupol, Zhyvchyk provided moral support to the locals. Ksenia, a resident of the city, met the soldier when a residential area was shelled. That day, March 12, her family was injured and slaughtered - her 16-year-old son and her sister's husband were killed instantly. "I was in a state of shock: I wanted to commit suicide because half of my family was killed in front of me, and the other half was not sure if they would survive," Ksenia said. The young defender helped the woman to keep her morale up. Mykyta convinced her that she shouldn't do anything to herself because many people around her needed help. "You are needed here, let's go help," Ksenia recalls. Ksenia told Mykyta's mother, Larysa, everything in detail, and told her that she had become the heroine of a movie about Mariupol. She also talked a lot about Mykyta in the movie, but she didn't give them any details. They are still in touch. Once she said: "Maybe you will be offended by me, but now Mykyta will be my adopted son." And Larysa was very happy about that, because now they both pray for him sincerely. Larysa was also contacted by one of the guys who was in the TRO and headed the security of the hospital in the city center. In a conversation with the soldier's mother, the defender said that in Mariupol, her son shared his food and medicine with the residents. Mykyta gave away almost everything he had.

❗In these pictures, he is 19 years old. At the age of 18, he voluntarily chose the path of the military, which even before the full-scale war, he was in the east part of Ukraine. Mykyta has been in captivity for almost 2 years, so he is now 21.

Please, share stories of our defenders in captivity. Many of them, including Mykyta have been there more than 2 years. You can only imagine what Russians do and tell them. Russians entertain themselves by breaking people, especially Ukrainians. They fiercely hate people who protect and fight for freedom. I hope our people find even more power in themselves to live through the hell of russian captivity. And when defenders all come back to their homeland, they will be themselves, in a healthy state like body and mind. There so many people are waiting for them. They deserve only good things after all of that.

The gorgeous Frank with important message in Kyiv.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

John getting drunk Santino home (Santino tripped over his own feet)

Hiiiii :3 This really veered off of the prompt aaaaaa it's not exactly the same thing, but it is filled with DRAMA!

(Also, this picture is pure gold. I think it’s saved on my Pinterest in like three places and it makes me feel something every time I see it.)

🖤💙 Walking Home 💙🖤

TW: alcohol, arguing

It was a brilliantly clear night in the streets of Rome. The cobblestones were scattered with flecks of golden lamplight and the moon perched its yellow hemisphere low on the horizon, echoing the distant domes of cathedrals. But John Wick had rarely felt his heart sit so heavily in his chest.

The evening had started off well enough. It was the third day of a getaway to Rome, which John had requested in an effort to keep Santino from working himself to death, and which Santino had agreed to because he never missed an excuse to pamper his “little guard dog”. After sleeping in and spending the day exploring museums and old shops, they’d finally ended up in a gorgeous restaurant and bar that John would never have noticed if Santino hadn’t been familiar with the area. It was there that the waiter mistook them for a married couple. John turned the same color as the tomato passata and said he thought that was very sweet. That he could picture it.

Santino disagreed. “What, you want to settle down and get married? Be serious, John.”

“And you don’t?”

He scoffed. “Me? Married? I can’t imagine a worse life, honestly. Well, I might have to marry for an alliance one day, but - ”

“You’re telling me you don’t see a future for us?”

And from there, things…escalated.

John had stormed out and found himself walking, weaving through crooked streets without really seeing them, replaying the memories of their argument over and over in his head. He winced again, thinking of the look on Santino’s face at the idea of marriage. It stabbed him right in the heart every time, to think that growing old together disgusted Santino so much. But why should he be surprised? He was just a killer, and Santino was a prince.

He found his footsteps heading for the Continental, since he had no intention of returning to the D’Antonio estate that night. Clearly this was the end of things between them. Why did he let himself get so attached in the first place? He was on a narrow, residential street that slanted downwards sharply enough to give him sight of rooftops stretching away, and to see that he was completely alone. He stopped, fought with himself for half a moment…but if he was going to break down anywhere, it might as well be here. He slumped forward into his hands and just let himself cry.

It was then that he heard someone calling his name.

“John, che - che cazzo ci fai qui? Stronzo. Devi seguirmi. [John – what the – what the fuck are you doing here? You asshole. You must be following me.]”

He opened his eyes to see the small, lithe figure that had emerged from some side street, dark curls glowing in the lamplight. He bristled and tried to wipe at his face before Santino could see anything. “I did NOT – “ but he stopped short. Something didn’t seem right about the way Santino was moving. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am! Me and the pinot grigio made our own fun without you. We even invited the whiskey. What do…wait…are you okay?” Santino had reached him by this point and absently patted a hand against his cheek, feeling tears.

“Hey, stop it…” But John could smell the alcohol on his breath. Both anger and hurt had instantly drowned in concern.  “You’re drunk.”

“You’re crying. Don’t cry…” Santino was clingy in this state, his arms wrapping around John’s neck and his forehead butting into his chest. John didn’t know what to do with himself. The impulse was to hug him back but after the way they’d fought, he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“Why do you care? I thought…” I thought we were broken up… “You know what, never mind. What are you doing out here? Where’s Ares?”

He pushed off of John’s chest again and stumbled a few steps. “I told her to leave me alone! Just…wanna go home…I think it was that way…” Home was not, in fact, that way.

John shuddered at the thought of the perils inherent in an important, highly recognizable man like Santino wandering unguarded through the streets, too drunk to defend himself. Guilt settled deep in his stomach. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that.” He fell into step with Santino, his eyes glued to him with concern and an arm hovering behind his back in case he lost balance. “The Continental is near here. We’ll go there, get a car, find Ares. Okay?”

Santino waved a hand dismissively but he couldn’t carry the gesture at all right now. “Don’t…don’t hover! I can walk.” His shoe hit an odd cobblestone and at that steep angle, it sent him reeling forward. John caught him around the waist before he could go down. He waited to be pushed away but Santino just leaned against him, and this time John couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around him. He felt so damn confused, but at least he’d rather be uncertain they were broken up than certain of it.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Santino let his weight fall against him even harder, pushing him back against a lamppost, and slurred, “Non posso essere quello che vuoi, John. Non sono... semplice. Pensi che potrei essere un marito? Guardami. Un litigio e... [I can’t be wha- you want, John. I’m not…simple. You think I could be a husband? Look at me. One fight and…]” He waved an arm across his dishevelment.

John opened his mouth to insist that he'd be a beautiful husband, even like this, but he still wasn’t done. “Vuoi che sia gentile e normale e non lo sono, ok? Sono un mostro, John. Non voglio sposarmi e vivere in qualche piccolo sobborgo a cuocere biscotti. Voglio metterti in mostra davanti alla Tavola Alta e poi sputargli in faccia. Sputare... sputare proiettili in faccia. Voglio scoparti finché... finché non sarò morto e ti amerò oltre la tomba. [You want me to be gentle and normal and I’m not, okay? I am a freak, John. I don’t want to get married and live in some little suburb baking cookies. I want to show you off in front of the High Table and then spit in their faces. Spit…spit bullets in their faces. I want to fuck you until…until I’m dead and love you beyond the grave.]”

John exhaled helplessly, beyond the powers of speech. He tipped his head back for a moment, eyes fixed on the vast chasm between the stars in a way that made him feel like he was falling upward for infinity. His hands were curled around Santino’s arm almost painfully, twisting the fabric. As soon as he found his tongue again, “È quello che voglio. Non mi interessa un pezzo di carta. E non mi interessa dove viviamo o se facciamo parte della Tavola. Non mi interessa nemmeno se avremo mai pace. Voglio TE. [That’s what I want. I don’t care about a piece of paper. And I don’t care where we live or whether we’re a part of the Table. I don’t even care if we ever have peace. I want YOU.]”

“Allora... di che cazzo stiamo discutendo? [Then…what the fuck are we arguing about?]”

John wasn’t sure which one of them started laughing first, but it wound up with lips and teeth pressed together, and Santino tugging hard on his lapels. And it ended with their gazes locked together, two stupidly sweet smiles matching the big “D” of the half moon.

He pulled Santino’s arm over his shoulder and started walking. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

[freezerbunny-sims2]

Detailed picture dump of my unnamed BaCC so far

The main town area. Lots here are a school, a ceramics workshop, a town center, a doctor's office, and one residential cabin (there will be more).

The lighthouse and the ruins of a town that was destroyed by a tsunami and climate change. There are no lots here, it's just for story purposes.

The new beach and the only house that remains on land from the old town, albeit still in ruins.

The forest and the cemetery.

One of the entrances to the neighborhood through Road 7. The only lot here is the gas station.

The old quarry. The mines were exploited before the place was declared a protected area due to the rich presence of fossils (idk if that's how it works irl, I'm just making stuff up). Lot layout inspired by Stories and Strategy's BaCC on Youtube.

Jurassic Path, the local dinosaur sculpture park.

An old abandoned cabin. Sims who get sick will be sent here for quarantine, since I have a mod that makes diseases worse and there will be little to no advanced medicine resources in the town yet. That's my plan at least, we'll see how it works.

A watering hole, shamelessly copied from Fallout New Vegas. And a random phone booth inspired by the irl one in the middle of the Mojave Desert.

And old wheat field (also inspired by Stories and Strategy BaCC) and a farmhouse where most of the crops will be grown.

Some random stonehenge, I don't think I'm going to keep it. Would be an important landmark for the town which would mean I have to think of more town lore.

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

OTTERSHAW PARK

The mansion

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing Ottershaw Park. This is the 18th building for my English Collection.

I decorated most of the house ground floor, for reference.

The interiors:

History of the house: In 1784 Thomas Sewell died and ownership of Ottershaw Park passed to his son, Thomas Bailey Heath Sewell, Lieutenant Colonel in the Surrey Fencible Cavalry. He sold it in 1796 to Edmund Boehm who improved the interior of the house and enlarged the estate by buying tracts of wasteland and allotments.

In about 1805 Boehm built, to the design of the eminent architect James Wyatt, two Grecian-style lodges at the new entrance to the estate from where a coach road ran to the mansion. The same architect may also have designed for Boehm the Gothic Chapel which originally served as a kitchen, bake house, dairy and pantry but was demolished in 1962.

Ottershaw Park was bought in 1819 by Major General Sir George Wood, a Lieutenant General in the Bengal Army. At this time the estate was largely self-supporting with stables, smithy, brew house, bake house, laundry, dairy, slaughter houses, ice house and two farms.

Sir George died in 1824 and the estate passed to his son, also named George, who in 1841 sold the property to Richard Crawshay who built a new bailiff’s house, farm buildings and brew house.

On Crawshay’s death in 1859 the estate was bought by Sir Thomas Edward Colebrooke MP, who made a number of alterations to the mansion. He also gave the money and land for the building of Christchurch and the first village school.

The estate was later sold to Lawrence James Baker, a stockbroker and MP who sold it in 1910 to the millionaire, Friedrich Gustav Jonathan Eckstein. Eckstein demolished the old mansion and replaced it with the present building designed by Niven & Wigglesworth which is more magnificent and much larger.

During World War I Eckstein made the building available to the British Red Cross as an Auxiliary Home Hospital but soon after the war sold it to Miss Susan Dora Cecilia Schintz, the daughter of a Swiss nitrates millionaire. Miss Schintz lost most of her sizeable inheritance through gifts to charity and bad investments and finally had to sell the estate. Much of it was acquired by the Ottershaw Park Investment Company (OPIC) which planned to develop the rim of the estate for housing. In 1932 the mansion and central part of the park became Ottershaw College, a boarding school for boys which for a short time was very successful, but eventually became insolvent and finally closed at the outbreak of World War II.

During the war The Vacuum Oil Company leased the mansion as offices and laboratories. From 1940 much of the surrounding land was either ploughed for crops or grazed as part of the war effort and the woodland areas were used by the 19 Vehicle Reserve Depot (VRD) for storing vehicles.

The Vacuum Oil Company moved back to London at the end of 1947 and Surrey County Council established Ottershaw School which was opened in 1948. The school prospered until 1980 when it closed due to financial constraints.

In 1982 the developers DeltaHome converted the mansion and other buildings into the present residential estate.

Link: https://www.exploringsurreyspast.org.uk/themes/places/surrey/runnymede/ottershaw/ottershaw_park_estate/

The garden:

More info: https://www.exploringsurreyspast.org.uk/themes/places/surrey/runnymede/ottershaw/ottershaw_park_estate/

The floorplan:

This house fits a 64x64  lot, but I think you can make it a 50x40 if you lose part of the garden and the conservatories on each side.

Piano nobile furnished, the rest is up to your liking.

Hope you like it.

You will need the usual CC I use:

all Felixandre cc

all The Jim

SYB

Anachrosims

Regal Sims

King Falcon railing

The Golden Sanctuary

Cliffou

Dndr recolors

Harrie cc

Tuds

Lili's palace cc

Please enjoy, comment if you like the house and share pictures of your game!

Follow me on IG: https://www.instagram.com/sims4palaces/

@sims4palaces

DOWNLOAD (only members-free to download)

[a-very-tired-jew]

Media Manipulation, Bias, Cooperation and its impact

Media manipulation, misinformation, and propaganda are part of conflicts world wide. Every country, government, NGO, and agency engages in these tactics in some way. There is a story to be told from a certain perspective that pushes an agenda. What we, as the consumer of such media, have to do is determine if we're being fed a biased perspective and/or outright lies that we can then parse through. The current I/P war has seen a huge influx of misinformation and propaganda from social media and traditional news sources. The former is expected as we are in the era of influencers and algorithms. However, traditional sources, such as the AP or WashingtonPost, have long been an issue when it comes to coverage of Israel and Palestine.

Matti Friedman wrote about this a decade ago in an article for the Atlantic titled What The Media Gets Wrong About Israel.

Friedman is a former journalist for the AP and throughout their piece details the biased reporting that they witnessed firsthand, the association with terrorist groups, the influence of terrorists on reporting, and the outright corrupt nature of an organization that touts itself as a bastion of good journalism. From the article:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Most consumers of the Israel story don’t understand how the story is manufactured. But Hamas does. Since assuming power in Gaza in 2007, the Islamic Resistance Movement has come to understand that many reporters are committed to a narrative wherein Israelis are oppressors and Palestinians passive victims with reasonable goals, and are uninterested in contradictory information. Recognizing this, certain Hamas spokesmen have taken to confiding to Western journalists, including some I know personally, that the group is in fact a secretly pragmatic outfit with bellicose rhetoric, and journalists—eager to believe the confession, and sometimes unwilling to credit locals with the smarts necessary to deceive them—have taken it as a scoop instead of as spin.

During my time at the AP, we helped Hamas get this point across with a school of reporting that might be classified as “Surprising Signs of Moderation” (a direct precursor to the “Muslim Brotherhood Is Actually Liberal” school that enjoyed a brief vogue in Egypt). In one of my favorite stories, “More Tolerant Hamas” (December 11, 2011), reporters quoted a Hamas spokesman informing readers that the movement’s policy was that “we are not going to dictate anything to anyone,” and another Hamas leader saying the movement had “learned it needs to be more tolerant of others.” Around the same time, I was informed by the bureau’s senior editors that our Palestinian reporter in Gaza couldn’t possibly provide critical coverage of Hamas because doing so would put him in danger.

Hamas is aided in its manipulation of the media by the old reportorial belief, a kind of reflex, according to which reporters shouldn’t mention the existence of reporters. In a conflict like ours, this ends up requiring considerable exertions: So many photographers cover protests in Israel and the Palestinian territories, for example, that one of the challenges for anyone taking pictures is keeping colleagues out of the frame. That the other photographers are as important to the story as Palestinian protesters or Israeli soldiers—this does not seem to be considered.

....

When Hamas’s leaders surveyed their assets before this summer’s round of fighting, they knew that among those assets was the international press. The AP staff in Gaza City would witness a rocket launch right beside their office, endangering reporters and other civilians nearby—and the AP wouldn’t report it, not even in AP articles about Israeli claims that Hamas was launching rockets from residential areas. (This happened.) Hamas fighters would burst into the AP’s Gaza bureau and threaten the staff—and the AP wouldn’t report it. (This also happened.) Cameramen waiting outside Shifa Hospital in Gaza City would film the arrival of civilian casualties and then, at a signal from an official, turn off their cameras when wounded and dead fighters came in, helping Hamas maintain the illusion that only civilians were dying. (This too happened; the information comes from multiple sources with firsthand knowledge of these incidents.)

Colford, the AP spokesman, confirmed that armed militants entered the AP’s Gaza office in the early days of the war to complain about a photo showing the location of a rocket launch, though he said that Hamas claimed that the men “did not represent the group.” The AP “does not report many interactions with militias, armies, thugs or governments,” he wrote. “These incidents are part of the challenge of getting out the news—and not themselves news.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back in 2021 the IDF destroyed the AP's building because Hamas was using it as a base as well. The AP denied all knowledge of Hamas being in the building, except Friedman and other journalists had previously established that there was a relationship between the terrorists and news outfit. The insistence on denying Hamas's actions for fear of reprisal and to continue the "moral failure" narrative is part of AP's m.o. This standard of avoidance regarding Hamas's actions, couching them in a comparison of "Hamas is bad, but look how much worse Israel is!", justify, or even reduce the horrid nature of them has been part of the formula for years. It explains why we see so many of the major news sources tell the same story in the same manner when it comes to this area. Talking about Hamas, PIJ, and other groups and their bad actions is taboo. Another quote from earlier in the article stands out that highlights this rhetoric. "In these circles, in my experience, a distaste for Israel has come to be something between an acceptable prejudice and a prerequisite for entry. I don’t mean a critical approach to Israeli policies or to the ham-fisted government currently in charge in this country, but a belief that to some extent the Jews of Israel are a symbol of the world’s ills, particularly those connected to nationalism, militarism, colonialism, and racism—an idea quickly becoming one of the central elements of the “progressive” Western zeitgeist, spreading from the European left to American college campuses and intellectuals, including journalists."

Many of us have talked about the antisemitism that is baked into most cultures, and a Jewish journalist documented through their own experiences how that is an inherent part of a "trusted" international news source. The fact that it was/is "in vogue" to paint Israel and its actions as the "moral failing of Jews" and hold them responsible for all the "evils" of the region while handling terrorist groups with kid gloves is abhorrent. It's antisemitic and a continuation of age old conspiracies. Every decade we say this is an issue, and every decade you forget or brush it aside.

[harryisourlover]

Erotic painter 🧑‍🎨 part 1

*Explicit content

Smutt, oral, p in v, squirt

Harry loves oral sex, especially giving it. He can't understand men who say that only penetration is pleasurable; he finds it absurd! He started his sexual adventures very early. Having had many older partners definitely helped him become an expert in oral sex.

The year was 2019, and he was finishing an album about the end of a relationship. However, he already had almost a whole song in his head about female oral sex and couldn't finish it... there was a natural block. His studio mates, who were writers and producers, just laughed at him! They said he needed to find extra inspiration because his ex-girlfriend wasn't enough!

Harry was annoyed by this teasing, but deep down, he knew it was true. He was able to write about everything he felt in all aspects of the relationship with that person. Even though he enjoyed pleasuring her orally, it wasn't the most passionate moment when he was with her for some reason, and he didn't know what that reason was.

Frustrated to know he had a song almost ready before starting to record an album, and already in the final days of recording without having completed it, he decided to leave his partners there alone and walked through the city.

He arrived in front of a very beautiful and old building with the main gate open and the inviting entrance hall. Without a second thought, not even considering the fact that someone might recognize him, he went inside to see those paintings up close.

The artworks were absolutely incredible to Harry because they were clearly a mixture of orchids and vulvas! He spent a long time there, fascinated at first thinking, "Who posed for these paintings?" Then after a while, he went to look at the signatures and saw that it was a woman. He started imagining, "Was it a self-portrait, or did she bring other people to pose for her?" But there were only two figures, and they were very similar. Did this artist have a collection?

Finally, he saw a man in a uniform enter the reception area and went to ask him: "Excuse me, I'm a bit confused here. Is this a residential building because it looks like it, or is it an art gallery? I'm confused because these paintings are on the wall with prices."

The man replied, "Yes, this is a residential building, and the owner, or rather the heiress who lives in the penthouse, insisted on putting up these hideous things, thinking someone will buy them."

"Interesting," replied Harry, stroking his chin. "Could you take me to her?"

"Certainly, but I need to announce it first. What's your name?"

Harry hesitated but chose not to lie. "Styles, Harry Styles."

The man left to make the call and then came back, saying, "Follow me."

Harry followed the man to another elevator further back, and he explained that it was a private elevator. They went up, and he said, "You can wait here in this hall!" Harry thanked him and stepped out of the elevator, enchanted to see more artworks. He stood there studying them and realized that it was the same vulva in all the works, just changing the positions of the open and closed lips, dry or wet, etc.

*just a real life picture of H hard in his shorts* #sorrynotsorry

After a few minutes there, he didn't notice someone observing him, but he certainly noticed that he was hard and excited, dreaming of tasting that flower.

"Are you really interested in buying a painting, or are you just going to masturbate here in my hall?" a voice said.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, turning around indignantly but obviously hard, unable to hide his situation in his sweatpants.

*boner H

Now face to face, she looked at his erection, salivated, but then looked into his eyes without saying anything else. Just a sassy smile.

Harry continued staring at her, and after two minutes, he leaned in to kiss her, passionately, and dragged her to her apartment door.

(Y/N) responded and dragged him, still kissing, into the apartment. She pushed him onto the couch and said, "If you kiss my lips down there as well as you do up, maybe I'll let you fuck me with that dick in the end..."

"You will never regret it!" said Harry.

They started changing positions on the couch. He lay her down completely and slowly savored every part of her that was revealed as he removed each piece of clothing. With each piece he took off, he gave a kiss or a nibble in that spot.

(Y/N) had never felt so desired, and it had been a long time since she had felt anything except the complete excitement that the eyes of this young man sparked in her. She had been a widow for three years and had not been with anyone since. Usually, her paintings repulsed high society, especially men. Among women, she was constantly praised and flirted with.

There was Harry, a handsome young man with green eyes, a charming accent, a dimpled smile, and clearly a wonderful cock right at her feet. Before he even touched her genitals, she warned: "Please go slowly, it's been years since my last time, and I'm already on the verge of climaxing just from your kisses."

Harry let out a groan when saw she was hairy and gently, with his two hands holding the sides of her large lips, opened her up. He looked inside and saw how wet she was, also noting how tight and small that hole was, almost like a virgin. He said, "Darling, I know you're not lying. Just by looking at your beautiful pussy, I know it's true. I won't lie to you either; I'm almost coming without even having tasted you!"

This time, it was she who let out a moan and said, "Please, prove it! Let me come in your mouth!"

And so he did, delicately approaching first, she feeling the warm air of his mouth close to her clitoris, and then finally the tip of his tongue. In that same second, they both moaned, and Harry continued delicately sliding his tongue down to the tiny hole while still firmly holding her lips open.

He repeated this motion, going up and down a few times. He decided to match it with his lips and everything as if giving a deep kiss, everything inside his mouth, their lips moving, both his and hers amid a lot of saliva, moans, breath, all together. It didn't take long for her to climax in his mouth, trembling violently, trying to close her legs, and he came without even touching his own penis, which was still in his pants.

Her taste was sensational, like orchid nectar, sweeter than anything else. In that moment, he only thought, "This is the taste of summer, of strawberries, watermelon, everything I've always dreamed of finding, the taste I needed to experience to finish the song."

A few minutes after they composed themselves, she asked if he had a condom, and he quickly searched for one. Harry recovered so quickly that just by looking at that tight, wet, pulsating pussy, he was ready again, and he was happy because he didn't have to ask or beg for it, she wanted it just as desperately. But she made a request that surprised him...

"You inspired me to make the first painting of a male genital, may I take a photo of just yours?"

"But... I'm famous, this could cause me problems."

"No one will know it's you, I promise, and you know I'm a millionaire heiress, I don't need to sell anything to the paparazzi when I have a horror of them myself, and I run from them, and look, I'm not as famous as you..."

"Alright, if you promise me that I'll take one of those paintings with me as a keepsake, and you'll allow me to be inspired by you for a song."

"Deal! And when your painting is ready, well, I would have to make one for me, one for you... I'll send you one too."

"Deal! Oh, but just one more thing... I'm going to fuck you now, let's take a photo another day because honestly, I don't know if I can wait to have you."

"No, my love, I can't wait either. Next time we'll take photos!"

And with a grin from ear to ear, like a boy who just received the best gift in the world, Harry finally positioned his penis at that entrance and stared intently, hardly breathing from so much excitement, but also struggling with the difficulty his head was having to enter.

“It's hurting a bit."

"I'll go slow, don't worry. Breathe deeply, relax..."

Harry, still only at the head and very carefully, began to rub her clitoris with his thumb, feeling her relax more and more until he finally slid inside. He stayed still for a few seconds, looking to make sure everything was alright.

"Move, please! I'm fine, I need to feel you, please."

Harry didn't need to be told twice and started to move in and out slowly, not only to not hurt her but also out of self-control. He felt himself almost climaxing again and didn't want it to be so quick.

The night was not about wild sex but about rediscovery for her, feeling all her dormant erogenous points for over three years, and he savored every time she squirted that sweet nectar that left him intoxicated, enraptured.

And so he was very happy to find his muse, his Sweet Watermelon Sugar, and she found the perfect Adonis for her exclusive series of two paintings, but that's a story for another encounter...

[bfiaflbox]

Tonight I wish I was your girl

Pairing: Matty x Reader Warnings: smut (praise kink, choking, unprotected sex) Disclaimer: Ok, so I literally had a dream about this and then decided to write it down and make it a fic. I swear, I'm not weird, I just tried to put the pictures from my dream into words. Also, in my dream Matty was sitting in the pub with Pete Doherty (who had "Fuck" tattooed on his forehead (??) and Zane Lowe but there was no scenario on earth that I could come up with that made that believable in any way so I took that out. (Fun fact: in my dream I did something my anxious ass would never do and just went up to Zane Lowe, ignoring everyone, and just asked "are you interviewing them or just having a conversation? I'm just asking because I love The Libertines (a lie) and the... the... The Matty Band" and he was just like "who are you I'm not interviewing anyone, this is rude"). Also my dream ended when they arrived at the house so the rest is made up.

2.6k words and I didn't proofread any of them.

It was probably a pathetic Idea but your intuition told you to get on a train and head to Wilmslow on Christmas Eve.

Your plans of spending Christmas had fallen flat because large parts of your family had contracted Covid and wanted to stay by themselves to not spread the disease. In a desperate attempt to not feel lonely, you looked up train connections to any of your friends houses that might take you in for Christmas, but there really was only one person you really wanted to see.

Two hours and seventeen minutes and you'd be in Wilmslow via Stockport. You booked the connection without thinking twice. It was only when you were actually sitting in the Avanti West Coast Train to Manchester Piccadilly at Euston station that you thought about how crazy your actions were. They were the actions of a desperate idiot in love. There was no denying you were in love with Matty but there was a great chance that to him you were probably just a friend. Just as you decided that this was a bad idea and you should go home now, the train started to move.

After a short panic attack and contemplating whether or not using the emergency break was warranted in this situation you decided to just text Matty.

You: Hey, are you having a nice time in Wilmslow?

Matty: Yeah. Well, it's family, love them but it can be a lot at once. Might head to the pub tonight to catch up with some old friends. What are you up to?

You: Nothing really. Since Christmas is cancelled this year, I'll just... improvise. Your plan sounds nice, though.

Matty: Yeah, something's missing though, to be honest. Or someone.

You just assumed he was talking about his grandma or a different family member and didn’t give it a second thought.

Me: Hope you have a great time nonetheless :)

///

You arrived in Wilmslow in the afternoon. On the train you had decided that once you arrived you'd walk around town a bit and then to get the next train home again because surprising your crush on Christmas Eve in his hometown is not the thing a normal person would do and you were definitely a very normal person and not at all a stalker.

You got out of wilmslow station and started to just walk straight ahead and see where the road would take you. You walked past parks and restaurants and shops that looked lovely but were mostly closed. Eventually the area became more residential and you couldn't help but notice that you tried to look into the windows of the houses in search of Matty. Right, that's it. It's getting dark and this is ridiculous you scolded yourself as you turned around to head back to the station.

As you walked by The Brewhouse and Kitchen you decided to get something to eat before heading back to London. The pub was crowded as you walked in. No wonder, it was one of the very few pubs that was open.

You looked around for a table to sit at when you spot Matty. You stare at him in shock. He's actually here. He sat in a corner booth with two other guys and had yet to notice you. Just as you were thinking about how you could make your way out of this scenario, Matty turned his head and looked right at you. You were fucked. There was no denying you were here now. His eyes grew wide and he stared at you with raised eyebrows. Right, this was definitely a mistake you thought but Matty waved you over to them excitedly.

When you didn't move because you were too embarrassed to do anything, Matty got up and made his way over to you. "Hii, darling, what are you doing here?" he asks excitedly. You couldn't answer. How do you tell someone that your family cancelled christmas, you were lonely and decided to go to the other person's hometown without telling them a word about it? Instead you just went up to him and hugged him. His arms enveloped you in one of his strong and warm hugs and it felt so incredibly good to be near him. "Surprise" you mumble into his chest. "Surprise indeed" he laughed. "It's so nice to see you. Come, sit with us." He lead you back to the table he shared with his mates.

After introducing you as his good friend and ordering your drink, Matty couldn't sit still. He was fumbling with either his glass, the table decorations or his fingernails until you decided to just take one of his hands in yours. An intimate gesture, you were aware of that, but it felt right and trusting your intuition was what helped you get here in the first place. Matty just looked at you with pure adoration and love as you felt him physically relax a bit.

After two more rounds of drinks, everybody decided to call it a night. You paid and made your way out of the pub where you said goodbye to Matty's mates. When they were gone, there was a brief silence between you until Matty spoke with the usual unserious tone: "You're so weird for coming to Wilmslow. How did you know where to find me?" "I didn't. I just walked around and... dunno" "I love that you're here. Come home with me?" "What and crash your familiy's Christmas, definitely not!" "Please? I can't let you take the train at this hour, it's dangerous!" we both know that's a lie "Also, what's waiting for you back in London? Please stay, my family won't mind, we're a pile of patchwork anyways" You looked at him and saw that he was actually excited about the idea. You just kept looking, noticing the light stubble on his face, the grey strands of hair at his temples, the eyebrows raised in anticipation and his lips. These fucking lips. You took your hand and raked your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered shut in enjoyment, a dopey smile forming on his lips. You decided then and there that you couldn't take it anymore. You could not go another second without knowing how his lips felt on yours, so you went up on your tiptoes, your hand anchored at the back of his head and crushed your lips to his. His hands came up to cup your face and you felt him reciprocating and deepening the kiss.

Your ears were ringing and your body felt like it was on fire. There's nothing else that mattered in that moment other than his lips on yours. After a few seconds you break the kiss and just smile. He's the first one to speak: "So it's settled then?"

You don't know if he meant the months of pining after each other or the question whether you'd stay or not but to both you just grinned and nodded.

He takes your hand and starts walking. It wasn't awkward, it was exciting. There was a lot of giggling and stopping randomly to snog on the way home but eventually Matty pointed to a house and said "that's us" as if you had always been a part of this and there had never not been an us.

Before putting his keys into the door he stops for a second and goes "Oh fuck, I'm sharing a room with my brother". You looked at him questioningly but he just continued "We have to be quiet, everybody's asleep". He opened the door and once you were inside he was on you, kissing your mouth, your jaw, a line down your throat to your collar bone. You couldn't help but let out an obscene moan and suddenly Matty stopped. He was looking at you with big eyes, raised eyebrows and a finger over his mouth that was curled into a smile, signaling to be quiet. "Sorry, sorry, fuck" you whispered with a giggle.

"Let's take the couch and figure something out in the morning" he suggested. "I can just take the couch and you sleep in your normal bed" "Baby, do you seriously think I will let you sleep alone tonight? Let alone on the couch in a house where nobody knows you are even there? If you'll have me, of course" "I really don't want to be alone, thank you" He smiled at that and kissed your lips again. So soft and so gentle.

Matty lead you into the living room and closed the door after you. The couch looked comfy, a suspicion that was confirmed when you plopped down on it. Matty laid down on his side behind you, opening his arms signaling you to lie down too. When you relaxed into his embrace as the little spoon, you felt all the anxiety and doubt and all the bad feelings leaving you. Feeling Matty's embrace made you feel invincible.

The position also let you feel something else which was the bulge in his pants that was growing and pulsing against your ass. You felt proud that you had this effect on him and so you took his hand that was resting on your hand in front of you and placed it on your lower belly, pushing it further down, all while moving your hips back into his growing hard-on. Matty let out a small groan "baby, we can't, they could hear us" "Please, Matty! I need you" you whispered, sounding incredibly needy. His hands slid under the elastic of your leggings and your underwear. "You need to be really really quiet" he warned and you believed him. His hand in your underwear spread your folds and slid through them, gathering some of the slick that had accumulated there. "Fuuuck, baby, you're so wet. Look at that, so so needy for me" he whispered, at which you just nodded. You needed him, you wanted him. You were so horny and needed some of that feeling to be released. He slipped two fingers inside and immediately started to fuck you with them. The room stayed silent except for the squelching sound of his fingers in your wetness and some heavy breathing. His movements were unrelenting. In a normal situation you would've screamed by now but you were biting your knuckles in hopes of staying silent while your orgasm was fast approaching. "Will you come for me baby, hm? Come on my fingers like the needy little thing you are?" at which you just managed to nod. Your orgasm hit you and you almost choked on the moan that was threatening to escape your throat as your walls clenched around Matty's fingers.

"That's it, baby. You did so well, staying silent." he whispered, kissing your shoulder between each sentence and you knew then and there that you couldn't go to sleep now. You kept grinding your ass against his boner and soon enough he knew what you wanted. "Fuck, baby, I can't fuck you, I won't be able to keep quiet" he whispers in your ear. "That's not fair, I need you to fill me. I feel so empty" you pouted while sliding your underwear and leggings off your legs. You kept grinding your naked ass into his boner until he was out of patience. Annoyed he kicked off his trousers and boxer shorts, flipped you on your belly and and angrily whispered in your ear "I swear to god if you make one sound this will have been the first and last time" before he lined up his cock with your entrance and started pushing inside.

The intrusion of his cock in your pussy felt divine. He was bigger than you were used to, plus you were lying on your belly which emphasised the sensation. "Oh baby, do I need to rearrange your insides to make some room for myself?" he cooed while relentlessly pushing inside you. "you're so tight, fucking hell". He stopped for a second as he buttomed out. "You alright?" "Yes, yes" you nodded.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful" he said as he pulled out until only his tip was still buried in your pussy and then slammed inside again. The slap of his pelvis against my ass rang out through the otherwise silent room. You weren't sure if you could take a pounding like that without anything to muffle your sounds so you grabbed a pillow off the couch and bit down into it but Matty wouldn't have it. He grabbed the pillow and threw it away. "You wanted this, remember? You're gonna take it and you're gonna be nice and quiet" and with that he started to fuck you in an unforgiving pace. When you were close again, you couldn't help but let out the tiniest whimper. In response Matty's hand came up to your throat and squeezed. That's what did it for you and you came on his cock, any cries that could have existed got muffled by the chokehold on your neck. "Baby, it feels so good when you come on my cock. Like you were made for taking it deep in your pussy." Your head was dizzy from the orgasm, the restricted blood flow and the praise. How did he know about your praise kink? "Can you come a third time tonight, hm?" he whispered at which you just nodded. "Oh baby, I'm gonna have to hear words, how else can I be sure?" "Please, yes" is all you managed to choke out, not able to form coherent sentences. It's all that Matty needed to hear. "On all fours, come on" he directed you to your knees and then started pounding you again. In this position he was able to fuck you incredibly deeper. His cock hit your cervix and the jolt of light pain that this stimulation triggered was making you lightheaded again. You felt so full, so incredibly, wonderfully full. When Matty's hand came round to your clit to help that promised third orgasm along you knew he had to be be close himself. "Come on, baby, come for me. Come on my cock" he was drawing quick circles with his fingers on your clit. Suddenly you could feel him spilling his cum inside you and it all became too much. You let out an overstimulated cry as you came a third time.

Matty stilled, cock still inside you and you didn't dare to make a movement or a sound. Fuck, did anybody hear you? You stayed like this for a few moments and when neither of you could hear anything in the house, Matty pulled out of you. You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of the unwelcome emptiness. You stood up, bit shaky on your legs and faced Matty with an absolutely blissful smile on your lips. "Thank you", you whispered and kissed him at which Matty just chuckled "I don't think anybody ever thanked me after fucking them" "Well that's just rude, isn't it?" you laughed and kissed him again. When you were able to feel his cum running down your legs, you asked for the toilet. You cleaned yourself up, thanked your past self for getting that IUD and went back to the living room. Matty was lying on the couch again, waiting for you to slot into position as his little spoon. You happily obliged and made yourself comfortable in his arms. "What will you tell your family tomorrow?" "That my new girlfriend surprised me in town, came home with me and saw a ghost, obviously" "Obviously" You had to laugh at that.

"I'm glad you're here. I was missing you like crazy" he confessed and kissed your neck. "I'm glad, too" you whisper. Once you were able to hear a light snore behind you, you added "I love you".

[petalruesimblr]

Golden Oaks Retirement Home

Sim File Share

At Golden Oaks Retirement Home, we welcome elderly Sims seeking a comfortable retirement. With five spacious bedrooms available for reservation, each uniquely furnished for relaxation and privacy, residents can enjoy a sense of community and support in their golden years. Our in-house clinic ensures round-the-clock care and medical assistance, providing peace of mind to residents and their families. Contact us today to reserve a room and discover the warmth that defines life at Golden Oaks!

Price Furnished: 197,352 Price Unfurnished: 107,733 Lot Size: 40x40 Lot Type: Residential Store Content: Click here CC Used: Click here File Type: Package Min. Required Game Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3, Late Night (elevators), Ambitions (door, windows), Generations, Pets, Seasons, Supernatural (curtain cc)

Hello and welcome back to my blog! I'm currently playing in a world where I have a retirement home for all my elder sims. It includes an in-house clinic and a nurse (usually a young adult) who takes care of their needs, such as cooking and cleaning. I decided to create a new one especially for those who enjoys roleplaying and have set this lot to residential to make it playable.

Click on the ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures on this lot.

Aside from the in-house clinic, I have also included a reception room where clients can inquire or 'reserve' a room. If you aren't into roleplaying, you can always change those rooms as you see fit and I mostly added some décor to those rooms anyway or a bookshelf to keep them busy. There are five bedrooms upstairs, an elevator to make it easy for elders to travel and the rooms can accommodate at least 10 Sims. One of the bedrooms is a VIP suite with its own sitting area, which you can change to add more beds if desired. I also placed a small button in each bathroom that functions as a doorbell (cloned from a callbox from ATS3) and this is intended as a call button in case of an 'accident' or if assistance from the onsite nurse is needed. Due to Tumblr's link limitations, I’ve created another WCIF Pt. 2 and please click the links above or go to WCIF Navigation page for easier access, as it is still listed there. 📣Please note that the store content and CC included in the lot are not included on the download file. My blog is very WCIF-friendly and I will always compile a list for those interested in downloading them separately. I have listed Supernatural above for the packs needed due to one CC mimics or cloned a Supernatural painting as a curtain so it is supposed to close around 6PM. I haven't tested that yet and as it is a décor item, this expansion pack isn't really required just take note of the build items used for this lot to show in your game. There is one CC for which I was unable to locate the original link or find information about the creator. I checked the description of the item in the game itself and the package file but it only shows 'MedicalScales' as the info. As a result, I cannot share or re-upload it without knowing the creator's TOU. For reference, it is shown in the pictures above located in the in-house clinic next to the desk. If anyone knows the creator’s name or has any download links, please let me know in the comments! You can download the ATS3 Digital Scale as a replacement for this item and I know I should have used that but I preferred the old one for this lot. Let me know if you experience any problems on your end!

[hopefulkidshark]

Hanoi Train Street, Vietnam: Nestled in Hanoi’s Old Quarter, this narrow alley attracts travelers hoping to snap a picture on the active train track, and even catch a train whizz by! This alley is actually a residential area—many locals have converted their houses into quaint little cafes where you can sip on traditional egg coffee while waiting for the train to pass by..

[coolvietnamlove]

Hanoi Train Street, Hanoi, Vietnam: Nestled in Hanoi’s Old Quarter, this narrow alley attracts travelers hoping to snap a picture on the active train track, and even catch a train whizz by! This alley is actually a residential area. The Train Street in Hanoi's Old Quarter is a popular tourist destination where visitors can experience the unique sight of trains passing through a narrow residential street.

[pudding-parade]

A Distant Glacier by MySimRealty

Are you looking for a world to play a colder-climate scenario in? This might be a good one. It's an old world, from 2010, so from before the Seasons EP, but the terrain painting and roads and whatnot are such that about 1/3 of the playable part of the world is always snow-covered, and there's also frost in the terrain painting of the green parts.

MySimRealty is one of my favorite world creators, and if you are familiar with this creator's other, newer worlds, you'll definitely recognize the rudiments of her style in this world. That said, this world isn't available on her site. I'm not sure why. I think it's a pretty cool (no pun intended) little world, so I can't see how she'd be unhappy with it. I thought maybe it might have some major, unresolved playability issues, but I had NRaas Story Progression create and move in 12 families and let the world run for five simdays to see if there'd be any issues, and there were none. Not a single one, not even a single stuck sim. The only issue I noticed during that time was some oddly-parked food trucks. They'd park across the streets, so that they look like they'd be blocking traffic going both ways, though of course taxis drive right through them. That aside, everything ran smoothly, and my sim and others had no problems using anything on the community lots.

So, I can't figure out why this world isn't out there anymore. In fact, I'm not even sure where I got it. If I had to guess, it's probably on one of the Russian re-upload sites, but I'm not feeling like looking through them to find it, which is why the title of the post isn't a link this time. Instead, I just reuploaded a .world file here or here, so if you want it, get it at one of those links. If you download it, the file goes in your install files under GameData - Shared - NonPackaged - Worlds.

The world only requires Ambitions and Riverview. There's no Store content aside from Riverview items and no CC. It's 1024x1024, but the playable area is only about half of that. It has all of the base game rabbitholes and all basegame and Ambitions lot types. (The firehouse is EA; the others are original.) It has all of the spawners that existed as of Ambitions, except the WA fish ones.

The world has about 80 lots total, split pretty evenly between community and residential. There are 18 empty lots. One of the community lots is built but empty inside, so it's ready to become whatever. Maybe a bar or club or arcade, or it might be good to use as shops if you use a merchant mod. All of the built residential lots are fully-furnished and ready to go. A few of them are duplicates, but they are all original builds, and the majority of them have at least two bedrooms. Two of the residential lots are "apartments," but since the world pre-dates Late Night, they don't function like Late Night apartments. I imagine you could make them do so it if you add the necessary markers.

There is a thread on the official forums from August of 2010 about testing this world here. Some of the issues mentioned in that thread -- particularly trees which have branches that intrude into houses and that can't be removed -- still exist, but they aren't really a problem in terms of playing.

More info and pictures behind the cut!

Here we have map view and Edit Town view of the entire playable area of the world. As you can see, it's split into three sections. There's the "glacier" in the middle, which is permanently snow-covered, and there are the two green areas. The one on the left has most of the rabbitholes. Residential lots are scattered throughout all three areas.

Here are some of the residential lots in various parts of the world:

Most of the houses have exteriors that are a combination of wood and stone in natural colors, which is appropriate for a colder climate. Personally, although they're pretty to look at, I'd get rid of the ever-blooming flowers and flowering shrubs and switch out most of the really green deciduous trees for more conifers, or maybe some birches/aspens, on the residential lots as well as throughout the world. That would make it look more authentically like a colder/taiga biome. But maybe that's just me.

Now for some community lots:

This is a little laundromat. The salon and the consignment shop look a lot like it, with the same roof and the same brick exterior. Also, the laundromat, salon, and consignment shop are all about the same size.

This is the larger of the two gyms in the world. I'm not sure why the world has two gyms, but there's this one, which is in the part of the world that has most of the rabbitholes, and then there's a smaller one just outside the stadium rabbithole in the other green section of the world. I guess the smaller one is convenient for those in the sports career, so maybe that's why there are two gyms.

This is the library that, for some reason, has a really tall roof. I'd lower that sucker by quite a bit. :) Then, on the left side of the pic is a small art gallery.

This is a little chapel. Inside it has some chairs, a stereo, and a fridge. Up front is a table that I guess is supposed to be an altar. It doesn't have a wedding arch. (Did the game not have wedding arches prior to Generations? I can't remember off the top of my head.) You could add an arch and maybe the podium from University Life to make it more church-y, but there isn't a whole lot of room inside or outside, so I don't think you could make it into a proper "wedding venue."

The junkyard and the graveyard.

This is my testing sim using the public pool. I'm thinking that I'd get rid of this lot (as well as the private pools that some of the houses have) because...Well, cold climate. LOL There is an indoor pool at the large gym which can serve the community's swimming needs. I suppose you could pretend that these are hot spring pools, but, as a person who lives in a cold climate, I can say that outdoor non-hot-spring pools aren't really a thing because you can only use them for maybe a few weeks out of the year. :)

This is the grocery rabbithole, which has a community garden on the same lot, which is an interesting idea.

The world also has several parks/playgrounds, a beach, a few fishing spots, and the EA fire station from Ambitions.

And I think that's all I have to say. We'll finish out with some random pics. :)

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Do you think The Granny is actually The Lady's mother or is she just an old woman who lives in The Maw and they call her that because she doesn't really have a job?

Hallo!

So: no, I do not think the Granny and the Lady are related to one another - both by blood or otherwise.

What I've been recently pondering is the implications of her being a "contractor" (someone who works by themselves without being monitored by the workplace) as that's how the LN twitter referred to her when asked; she's not technically a Maw employee. We know the Lady knows she's down there as she has a picture of her, but none of the other staff does, so I suppose she was abandoned down there to be forgotten.

My current take is that she used to be an employee of the Maw and got left to die when the Depths were flooded. There is visual cues that the Dephts were not always meant to be as they are now, and have tons of forniture that can be seen both in the Residence and in the Guest Area; it's most likely that it also used to be a residential area as well.

Considering how prominent her hunger for both foods and human flesh is, I wouldn't disregard the possibility of her being a former Guest either. Maybe the sole survivor of the flooding?

[searchforahero]

due to your post I had a vision of Brucie Wayne getting stopped by a cop and doing the whole Ron Swanson 'not to worry I have a permit' routine except the permit in question is just a picture of him and Commissioner Gordon making out

-redhoodinternaldialectical from the "main" blog

OH I LOVE THIS

i don't often write outsider POV but i was inspired so UH i tried to write a ficlet based on this LOL this poor guy is so confused

There's a black Porsche going eighty miles down Seventh Street. Granted, it's 3:00AM so there's not really a whole lot of people out-and-about for the grade-A jackass behind the wheel to hit, but Officer Knox prides himself on doing things by the rules, so he drops his bagel on the passenger seat and flicks on his lights.

Knox is expecting at least a bit of a chase, the kind of kids who steal their parents cars to joyride through residential areas in the dark hours of the morning are also the kinds of kids who don't stop for cops and tell their teachers to fuck off when they check for homework. Luckily, he's mistaken, and the driver slows down and pulls over until he's nearly got his front tire on the curb.

He gets out and walks over to the guys window, it's dark and the streetlight behind him is casting a glare over the glass, so he can't identify anything about the driver. He taps on the glass and waits for the window to roll down.

He is not expecting to see Brucie Wayne, hair messed up like he's been running his hands through it and eyes more tired than he's ever seen them look on T.V. Knox is not the type of man who gets easily entangled in the allure of the rich and famous, he doesn't know half the names that his children pass around at the dinner table, but like any self-respecting Gothamite he knows this one, and he can't help but be a little star-struck, a little lost for words. It was a Thomas Wayne Foundation program that got his daughter her internship, and a Martha Wayne Foundation one that put his son through school.

But Knox prides himself on doing things by the rules, so he holds up his badge and asks Wayne "Do you know how fast you were going sir?"

Wayne gets a sheepish sort of look on his face, Knox has seen it in interviews of course, but it's even more earnest looking in person, he scratches the back of his head awkwardly before speaking "Yes officer, I'm really sorry, it's just..." He makes a face, something like a grimace "I got a call from my son out in Bludhaven he's sick and he lives alone, I need to get him medicine and convince him to take off work tomorrow. You know how it is, surely?" His smile turns wider, more friendly, like he's commiserating with an old friend over the difficulties of fatherhood.

Knox does in fact know, God knows his daughter doesn't sleep enough, always going on about whatever they're researching at the lab, he's always having to remind her to get to sleep at a reasonable hour, but still, eighty in a residential area is unacceptable, and Wayne really ought to know that, what with all the kids he seems to have living over in that manor of his. It's not necessarily uncommon for stupid teenagers to wander around the roads in the middle of the night.

He reaches to write Wayne a ticket "Well, I'll make this quick then, just pay this and make sure you keep to the speed limit from now on Mr. Wayne and I'll let you get to wrangling your son." but as he's going to hand the slip to Wayne, the man pushes a piece of paper of his own up through the window.

In the dark, it's difficult for Knox to tell what he's looking at at first, it's a photograph, but it's difficult to make out right away. He just stares for a minute until he starts to recognize too men, one facing away from the camera, dark hair, presumably Wayne, and another towards the camera, they're kissing passionately, the grey haired man's hand gripping Wayne by the back of the neck, and it only takes Knox a minute more to figure out why that man looks familiar, before he realizes it's his boss. That he's looking at a picture of Commissioner Gordon, locked in a passionate embrace with frivolous socialite Brucie Wayne himself.

By the time Knox comes to his senses Wayne is rolling up his window and announcing that "I hope this will be sufficient", sufficient for what Knox isn't sure, but he's still too shocked to protest as Wayne pulls his car out of park and drives off towards Bludhaven, going a solid 60/MPH this time.

Knox returns to his vehicle and slumps into his seat, grabbing his bagel and trying to work through what he just saw. He can hardly imagine his boss, serious and dedicated as he is, holding a conversation with someone as airy as Wayne, much less kissing him. What could they possibly even talk about? He spends only five minutes pondering his new knowledge, before he decides it's none of his damn business and gives his level best to ignore what he just saw.

[dionysus-complex]

So last night I was reading Wikipedia articles about abandoned NYC subway stations (as one does) and stumbled upon one of the weirdest historical mysteries/conspiracy theories I've ever heard. Buckle in/grab on to the handrail for this:

Unsurprisingly for a 100-year-old, highly complex subway network, there are quite a few abandoned subway stations in NYC. Some of them are famous, like the gorgeous Romanesque Revival City Hall Station, or the Court St station in Brooklyn now in use as the New York Transit Museum. Others are more mundane, like the 18th Street station and the Worth Street station, both of which are disused stations on active subway lines that can be seen out the window of a passing subway car if you're paying attention. But by far the weirdest is the 76th Street station, which may or may not actually exist.

Basically, the IND Fulton Street Line is the line that carries A and C line trains from central Brooklyn to Queens (if you've ever taken an A train from downtown Brooklyn or Lower Manhattan to JFK Airport, that's the one). Just before the Brooklyn/Queens borough line, the line veers slightly north as it changes from a subway under Pitkin Ave (on the Brooklyn side) to an elevated line over Liberty Ave (on the Queens side). But originally, when this line was being extended toward Queens in the late 1940s, the plan was to continue the underground line further into Queens under Pitkin Avenue. Tunnels were dug to the present-day Euclid Ave station and then continued further beneath Pitkin Ave, toward a planned station at 76th Street and Pitkin (just barely over the Queens borough line).

On Nov. 28, 1948, this line is recorded as opening with service to 76th Street station, but almost immediately there was a controversy over whether, when, and how this 76th Street station had actually been built. Some engineers and tracklayers were quoted in the Times as saying they hadn't built anything past the borough line, but maybe someone else had. There was also a story on Dec 2 that quoted a local who noticed a new subway station entrance at 76th and Pitkin that had sprung up seemingly overnight. The Board of Transportation was unable to produce any contracts for construction of this mysterious station, and the line past Euclid Ave to 76th Street is recorded as having closed on Dec 20 after legal threats from unions, which suspected a coverup of non-unionized labor. Thereafter, any reference to the 76th Street station was purged on maps, signs, etc., although the signalboard at the Euclid Ave station evidently still has a taped-over portion which used to show the 76th street station.

Eventually, the line was extended by connecting the subway to the already-existing Fulton Street Elevated line, which is the path used today. A cinderblock wall apparently blocks off the end of the subway tunnel under Pitkin Ave, and a retired transit worker named Steve Krokowski told the NY Times in 2014 that he had tried to dig under the wall and found a track tie but was forced to stop when the hole began to cave in. He also mentioned a retired police officer and other unnamed colleagues who claimed to have seen the fully completed 76th street station, which may or may not have been accessible via a door that may or may not have existed in the cinderblock wall.

The intersection of Pitkin and 76th is now a populated residential area, and it's unlikely that anyone is ever going to excavate it to find the station. As far as anyone can tell, on the surface, there's no evidence (i.e. ventilation tunnels etc.) of a subway station existing beneath Pitkin and 76th. There seems to be one existing picture of the 76th street station from its brief time in service (you can view it here - scroll down almost to the bottom), but despite this, it seems like people are still skeptical that the station exists at all.

Sources/further reading:

-Wikipedia article on Euclid St station, with a section labeled "East of the station"

-Article on the station from Joseph Brennan's page on abandoned NYC subway stations

-NY Times article from 2014 in which Krokowski is quoted