lime green socks


Skelly Onesie

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! lololol I know ‘simblrween’ is like in like forever but I bought spooky stuff the other day to make some costume conversions and I started them a little too early okok

  • Custom Thumbnails
  • Base Game Compatible
  • For boy and girl toddlers
  • I will slowly be working on adding new costumes to this ‘collection’ in the next few weeks lmao but I am still working on all my wips these are just really easy to do
  • Let me know if there is anything wrong with this bc I was testing like 5 other things at the same time and might have overlooked something

Putting the download under the cut as a precaution for if there is a glitch and this way people who reblog won’t have a broken file(if it does mess up)

Keep reading

Dex, coming downstairs at 6AM: what are you guys doing?

Bitty, on the floor wearing only black Nike shorts and lime green socks: watching Project Runway

Nursey, slouched on the couch, balancing a bowl of cheerios on his stomach: Holster left it on at midnight and we couldn’t find the remote

Dex: so you stayed up all night?

Ransom, from within a pillow fort: it was the only option

puresebastian  asked:

Darcy and Bucky dancing and Steve (or anyone really - your choice) walks in a sees them, and its really adorable maybe?

One… Two… Three

“Doll, that was my foot.”

“Suck it up. You’re a super soldier, you can take it.”

Steve, with his heightened hearing, was pretty sure he heard Bucky mutter something like ‘Not for much longer…’ as he stepped into the gym and spied Darcy and Bucky dancing.

Well, not entirely. Bucky was doing his best to move through a passable East Coast Swing, while Darcy - flushed, sweaty and with hair frizzing out of place - was stomping her way through what could have been the Nutbush. It was hard to tell. She looked less like the breathless, romanced, softened woman that Bucky had described the previous day when he’d outlined his plans - Gonna teach her to dance. Get her in my arms. Make her swoon - and a lot more like Tony after an eighteen hour bender in the lab.

Her sneakers had been kicked aside and she danced only in lime green socks, one already slipping loose from her left foot. Bucky reached for her hip, only to have his hand smacked away crankily as she resolutely plodded through the steps of the dance (or some semblance thereof).

“That was a nine count,” Bucky noted, not quite able to mask his frustration. “It’s a six count.”

“I’m doing a six count!”

“…five, six, seven, ei - you just it again. You can count can’t you? It’s slow, slow, quick, qui-”

Steve watched as Darcy pulled her hand back. Damn near looked like she was about to take a swing at Bucky. He sighed. Poor Bucky. Turned out that old-time moves didn’t always snare modern day women.

He didn’t waste any time in making himself known as he quickly jogged across the floor and caught Darcy’s hand on the back-swing. His long fingers slipping over her tight little fist as he drew her back and away from Bucky. “Better idea!” he announced affably as the irritated pair were separated. “Slow time waltz. Much more beginner friendly. It’s how I learned.”

Over Darcy’s head he caught Bucky’s eye and wondered if he too was remembering a sun-drenched afternoon spent bumbling around a small kitchenette as the radio stuttered out a slow and sunny tune and Bucky - the far better dancer - had dragged his slight, clumsy frame through the steps time and again. Bucky’s thin-pressed lips relaxed into a small and thankful smile.

Steve toed off his joggers and stooped to peel off his gym socks. Then he stood at his full height and settled his hands gently on Darcy’s shoulders. “You and me, Darce. We’re Bucky’s gal for the dance. Get up on my feet.”

Darcy turned her head to look at him, eyebrows snapped together as she chewed on her lip.

“C’mon,” he coaxed, “Back to my chest. Feet on top of mine.”

There was another brief moment of hesitation so Steve simply reached out and grabbed her hips, lifting her until she was settled against his front, the curve of her bottom brushing against his hard thighs, her shoulders back against his ribs and her soft green socks ending nearly an inch before his long toes. He kept his hands on her hips, steadying her as she shifted uneasily. “I’m heavy,” she apologized immediately, swaying a little on the uneven terrain of his feet. “I had a huge lunch and-”

“Darcy,” this from Bucky, “He was on the early news last week lifting a Quinjet. You’re good.” But just to help her feel stable, Bucky stepped up to her front and lifted her arms to his shoulders. Both men pressed their bodies in tight, keeping her balanced and in place as they joined hands on one side and Bucky slipped his hand over and around Steve’s ribs, bringing it up to rest over his shoulder blade. His fingers drummed there for just a moment as the three settled into their oddly comfortable places. She settled a little more firmly onto his feet, toes wriggling in her socks as he rested his chin on the top of her head and shared a crooked grin with Bucky at their joint fortune in having a heated, sweet bundle of woman pressed between them. Two breaths passed as the men caught a shared song in their heads. It cracked with static and warmth, played out in the joint imagining of sunlight and a greying linoleum floor… Bucky leaned in just moments before they started and -

“Wait!” Darcy cried and Steve paused, right foot lifted to step back as Bucky led. “What’s the timing for a waltz?”

“It’s a three count,” Bucky said, smile playing about his lips.

“Three?” Darcy gave a firm little nod. “Good number,” she announced as they began the dance.

Day 37

Just reminiscing…a lot happened this day. It’s been on my mind recently since it’s been brought to my attention a few times now ;-))

Frankie and Zach had won HOH. It was after Frankie’s grandfather had passed and Zach and Frankie had had some very close nights in the HOH with Cody. They got VERY close right before becoming HOH. 

Their first night the cameras….oddly…weren’t around…

Day 37 was after that strange cameraless night. The boys were slightly different that day.

  • It’s the day Frankie sat naked and glistening in nothing but a towel talking to Christine and Zach fake kisses him and then sings “Boyfriend” in the shower.
  • It’s the night they talked team zankie and how they are probably trending and how Zach could just lay on Frankie and how it’s too bad he’s not gay and how they are a match made in heaven.
  • It is the day Zach is bent over the pool table by Frankie and he says he knows why gay sex is exciting.
  • It is the day of the memorial service for Frankie’s grandfather.
  • A busy day…in a green shirt and lime green socks…….

and interestingly enough the next day Frankie starts to say he is in love with Zach…in little non committal ways…..

“I love you I really do”, “I think I’m in love with you in a weird way” such a pivotal time in the BB house…day 37….


“It’s not my proudest moment,” he says, not meeting Tony’s eye in a way that kind of scares him.

“It doesn’t have to be.”


“It doesn’t have to be,” Tony insists, reaching out for those fragile looking hands. “I’ve seen all sides of you, and i’m still here. I’m here for all of your proudest moments and your major fuck ups.”

When Loki doesn’t answer him, he adds, “unless said fuck up is murdering me. I’m not here for that.”

“Anthony…” Loki breathes, finally meeting his gaze with that complicated expression that Tony still can’t categorize properly. Is he happy? Is he mad? God only knows. Literally.

“What?” Tony smiles innocently at him. “You don’t seriously think i’m going to stand by and let you gut me, do you?”

“You do not honestly think I would gut you, do you?”

“Maybe, if I pester you enough about that time with the lime-green sock and your—”

Nails dig into the palms of Tony’s hands in warning, making him giggle, because Tony has those things called callouses so good luck with that, and because Loki was hardly even trying.

Oh yeah, he was totally feeling threatened.

“You swore not to speak of that anywhere where those two may listen in.”

“I promised no such thing,” Tony replies, then winces when the nails dig in deeper, and quickly makes to amend himself. “Oh, yeah, right, I did say that. Yep. So, about this not-so-proud moment?”

Loki lets out another breath, this time some foreign-alien-probably-swear-word sliding out with it. His gaze hasn’t drifted away or lowered in shame again, which is a little more reassuring since Loki doesn’t usually do that. He meets you head on, challenges you even when he’s dead fucking wrong.

So to see the god duck his head, hide his eyes behind his hair, to shuffle his feet like a toddler caught climbing on top of the fridge was… okay, maybe that’s a bad example, Tony was an odd baby.

The point was, this kind of reaction from the one and only Loki, God of ‘Don’t Give a Fuck’ was absolutely terrifying.

So when Loki begins to talk, Tony sits right down and gives the nervous looking man his actual full-on attention.

“I have lived proudly, I shan’t deny that,” he admits, looking down at his thin fingers that had, at some point, curled around Tony’s instead of digging into his palms.

“I have lived less so, of course, under certain thumbs of powerful beings. A father, a king, a war lord…”

“SHIELD,” Tony adds with distaste.

Loki spares him a smile.
“The lesser of three evils.”

“Depends on the evils.”

“Odin? Th… Thanos? I should think they rate higher,” Loki points out, his lips pinched and white.

Tony stares at him, unblinking, mutters an, “You win,” and nods for him to continue.

But Loki doesn’t, not for a while. He sits back, keeping their hands connected, and stares down at Tony with another unreadable expression. Tony was undoubtably the best at reading Loki’s moods, next to Thor, who was the best at misinterpreting them, but the god still succeeded to hide everything in times likes these.

It was the small shift in posture, a drop of tension from his shoulders, that told Tony that Loki was about to dish it out at last.

“When I was younger, I believed strongly in justice. No—” Loki puts up a hand to silence him, “—not your mortal sense of justice. Something more… Ah, well, primitive, by one’s usual standards. I believe you once called it 'an eye for an eye’?”

Tony nods, more to himself than anything. He vaguely remembers that conversation, the sex afterward being much more memorable.

And eye for an eye, indeed.

“I believed in a balance, much more literal than your society’s systems have chosen. There was the people, the spirits, the politics, the power, and the truth.” Loki pauses, lips forming an odd smile with an old sadness to it. “Truth above all, and the rest trickled down to the things of a lesser importance. Politics had always been at the bottom of my tower, and along side it, people.”

“People weren’t important to you?”

“People did not provide this Justice accurately.,” corrects Loki. “Politics fail the balance, people abuse it, souls are lost to it, power corrupts it, and truth… truth was its only shining star amongst the murk. Because truth could always be balanced.”

At Tony’s incredulous snort, Loki pulls him closer and touches their hands to his chest.

“Truth is raw,” he says. “Do you feel my heart beating? That is truth. There is no lie in the most basic forms of life. A tree grows, snow falls on a mountain top, animals fight and eat and mate. These things thrive on their honesty, and are a part of the balance that we will never achieve… because we lie.”

“But aren’t you, like, the 'God of lies’? What are you telling me here?”

“I’m telling you my gravest mistake, Anthony. My largest 'fuck up’.”

“Go on…”

With a sharp sigh that sounded no where near relaxed, Loki begins more slowly.

“One day, many, many years ago, while I still believed in balance and truth above all else, I met an elf. He was no one special, in the end, simply a pivot on which my life would turn, but his name was Trill and he was clever.

He also found great amusement in this little, naive prince wandering out in the world, and decided to show him how to manipulate it to suit his needs.”

Loki clears his throat and glances away again.

“I have never told anyone this, and I wish to never have to repeat it again. So listen well, and I… can only hope you remain as you are. As I said, truth is balance when on equal ground. But even then, it can still destroy.”

“Would you just tell me already?” Tony huffs, freeing one hand to tip Loki’s head back to face him. “This was probably eons before I was even born, why would I care?”

“Because this is where that side of me came from.”

“The 'side’ of you that’s a part of you that I already know about and have gotten over along with the window throwing, almost-Coulson-killing, city ruining, poison-coffee-ing, lime green sock—”

“Stop it.”

And he does, but he smiles at Loki with more confidence than the god seems to expect. In fact, he really was under the impression Tony was going to up and leave him over whatever this was. It was equal parts fascinating and disturbing.

Oh well, he thinks, the truth will set you free. Or balance you, or whatever.

“I was told, by this elf, that things were not as it seemed. That a tree could lie, healthy bark hiding a rotten core. That animals could disrupt the balance, taking a life in needless violence…” His voice softens to nearly a whisper. “A father eating his young, for example.”

Tony’s heart does a painful thudding thing in his chest, and his grip tightens around Loki’s hands.


“I told you he was a pivot, but I did not say that was the moment my life pivoted,” Loki says with a pained smile. “It wasn’t until that faithful day in the weapons vault, with my skin just changed back to what I knew to be my own, that I saw it. I saw that ugly, broken world at last, and I embraced it fully.”

“You lied before, though,” Tony interrupts. “You told me this before, you tricked the Frost Giants to break into Asgard or whatever.”

“Yes, I lied a lot, even as a child,” Loki agrees, shrugging awkwardly. It was a habit he seemed to be picking up from Tony—to both his horror and pride—and was slowly working it into his repertoire of gestures.

“I lied to complete the balance. A mound of gold for a girl? No, too unbalanced. Her life meant more and Odin thought not. But for the Ring? Yes, the Ring was worthy of her life, and so it was because I interfered. Was Thor ready for the throne? Was this an equal price to pay; his nativity, that would tear our realm apart, weighed against his honor?

I thought not.

A realm is not worth Thor’s trust, and certainly not his pride.”

Tony hums in agreement, finally beginning to understand where this was going.

“No wonder we get along. It really is an eye for an eye, or, you know, a ring for a girl, a back-stabbing, murdering, son of a bitch father figure for world sort-of-peace.”

“And Pepper,” he adds quickly, ignoring the way Loki’s eyes narrow at her name. Three years and he still did that, greedy much?

“Yes, we do share the same… Priorities at times. Myself, of course, having pivoted once again.”

“Oh?” Tony muses, wiggling his body a little. “Did a little personal do-si-do?”

At that, Loki smirks and leans in, yanking Tony nearly into his lap.

“No, I met you. I had gone beyond the balance and into a spiral of irreparable destruction and chaos. I had lost sight of truth and beauty and you, Tony Stark, showed up and told me the truth.”

“I did?”

You have no throne here,” Loki drawls. “Sound familiar?”

“A little more Shakespeare, but yeah, I was threatening you.”

“You were honest,” the god remarks, sliding his hands free to wrap around Tony’s back. “You told me why I was wrong, you walked up to me, foolishly, and told me I would lose… and I did.”

“So I was a pivot… Because I threatened you and you threw me out a window and went off to stab Thor and, sorry babe, lostmagnificently?”

“If you must put it in such simplistic terms, then yes, you were and still are, a turning point in my life.”

Tony lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, and hides his face in Loki’s neck. It was his favorite hiding technique, perfect thanks to hight differences, and also because this way he could admit things without facing Loki head on.

Like the coward that he was.

“I’m here for this,” he whispers, hating how wobbly his voice sounds.

“You are here?” Loki replies, sounding equally as shaken, if not surprised. “I fear it is a rather grand responsibility, being so transformative.”

“I can handle it, you should have seen my metamorphosis. This isn’t even my final form.”

“Norns, what is?” Loki chuckles in his ear, lips brushing against the sensitive skin below it.

Tony thinks while he snuggles into Loki’s body to get comfortable. The god shifts, unasked, and suddenly it’s perfect and nothing’s in the wrong place.

Like puzzle pieces.

No, cogs working together in the grand machine.

“Probably a giant moth,” he mutters, eyes closing as Loki huffs with laughter.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t need to.

They were just balanced like that.