Get the LOOK ! ; 𝙸𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝙽𝚊𝚒𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗
basics :
hair : @mooo-oood
skin detail: @northernsiberiawinds
lashes : @kijiko-sims
piercings + nail polish : @pralinesims
fit 1
sweater : @khadijah551 ; pants : @mmsims ; shoes : @.thedropshop ; wristlets : @itsbrandysims && @bradfordsims (murphy)
fit 2
top : @gorillax3-cc ; bottom : @gorillax3-cc ; shoes : @.thedropshop ; necklace : @.waterblue
fit 3
top : @chaessisims4 ; bottoms : N/A ; shoes ; @.thedropshop
fit 4
top : @gorillax3-cc : bottom : @gorillax3-cc : shoes : @.thedropshop
fit 5
top: @.kkscreation : bottoms : noix ? : shoes : @.thedropshop
! thank you to all custom content creators <33 !
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[closed starter for @e-m-p-error]
He wasn't surprised to see the news vans when they arrived at the prison. The official goal from the top had been to ensure that Mr. Valentino's release was kept quiet, but realistically, Vox knew there was no way they could achieve that. Between his colleagues and the prison staff, the likelihood was that someone would leak the story to the press.
One could always hope. But Vox's job wasn't to hope. It was to expect the worst, and plan for it.
And the worst was still waiting for him inside the San Quentin State Prison. Vox saw it in the looks his colleagues had been given him. No one expected this to end well. He personally knew a few in the industry who had left the business altogether, because of the man he'd volunteered to take on as a client.
But that was fine. People could talk. Vox had been in this business for nearly twenty years, and on the sidelines of it his entire life. If you wanted success--the real, lasting, legacy-building kind of success--you had to have skin in the game. When it came time to start talking higher-level positions in the agency, when the old guard started to retire and make way for those of them fighting on the lower rungs, it wouldn't be the ones who stuck with the squeaky clean popstars and ingenues who got the first seats at the table.
It would be the one who managed to wrangle a washed-up, ex-convict, trainwreck of a has-been into a viable moneymaker again, resurrected like Lazarus from the pit. He would do it, because he knew with absolute confidence, with absolute certainty, that he could--and they would know he could do it for anybody he wanted.
"Pull around the side," he told the--understandably somewhat rattled--driver. "Before they start swarming us. There's a private entrance. I've called ahead to get us clearance."
"Uh..." the man nodded quickly, and continued on down the sidestreet. "Yes, sir."
Vox checked his watch. Right on time--just a couple minutes before nine.
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Sofie posted the uk flag from lax so she's on her way to meet her sugar daddy Louis. Get ready to cry!
Going to check on her man after she heard he's out there holding hands with tall men in the streets...
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