try to repost it and i will skin you

Repost bc I accidentally deleted it

I’m starting a tag! :) 

It’s alpha vs mm. I think it’s cool bc no matter what side you play with, you can experiment with the other!

Rules: Use the same sim for both sides. Try to do the same type of hairstyles and make up styles on both sides, if u know what I mean. Please refrain from using clayified hair, as it’s a mixture of both alpha and mm. Try to make everything different, not just hair. Things like skin overlay, make up, eyebrows, and eyes. Clothing doesn’t really need to be changed, unless you’re doing a full body thing.

Tag it #alphavsmm. I’d also love if you tagged me in it, so that I could see them :)

I tag @becolibe @nicotinc @ughplumb @pearlescentsims @simtopolis @vanillasimsfan @maimouth @simemi and anyone else who’s like to do it, just say I tagged u! I’d love to see some people do it :)


Best available friends

I’m in love with this game but yet haven’t even got the chance to play it gAAAAAHHH! Gregg and Angus coming soon! (maybe) I was trying to make Bea look Hispanic or Pilipino, and Mae looking half- asian (?), I failed anyways hahaah. 

[Please tell me before saving and/or reposting please! And if you do please give me credit! Just in case]

Fresh Air Helps

Originally posted by animequeenn13

Description: Night time drives always helped me sleep as a kid, wbu?

Warning: None

Summer nights always held a calmness to them that no other season could match. No one was worried about classes and grades, kids were out playing all night, families cooked on the grill and spent their dinner time beneath the night sky, having a warm and calm time with friends and family.
Perhaps one of the only down sides to summer nights, were when you went to sleep. No matter what you did, the warm air refused to let you settle into slumber, making you sticky with sweat and wide awake with no hope to fall sleep.
If you could just make it to the weekend when the air conditioner would be installed, you’d be fine. But as it was, there was still no cool air in your home, letting you continuously feel the suffocating summer air with no escape. After flopping around on the damp bed once, you gave up completely on trying to sleep, flinging the sheet you slept with for the time being off of you, and abandoning the bed.
In an attempt to remove the sweat sticking to your skin without taking another shower, you resorted to heading to the kitchen, retrieving a wash rag and running it under cold water and perched yourself on the chair by the counter near the fridge. You propped the fridge door open, opting to rather have a higher electric bill this month than continue sweating, relishing in the cool air hitting you as you wiped away the sweat from your exposed skin.
As you finished wiping, you wrapped the rag around your neck, tucking in into either side of your shirt, you heard the from door open and close, and you smiled slightly.
WinWin’s home.
His footsteps filled the house, and a moment later your sweating, and disheveled boyfriend appeared in the kitchen door way, smiling when he finally saw his love after a long day of practice.
“Well, don’t you look comfortable.” He teased, taking in your appearance. Clad in just one of his tank tops, nearly see through at this point due to all the sweat, messy hair, red faced, and reclined in front of the open refrigerator.
“Don’t start with me,” You scowled at WinWin. “It’s hot as hell, I’m dying.”
“My baby can’t sleep, I take it?” He asked, and you nodded. “It’s just a few more days, and it’ll be like winter in here. Just gotta wait a little longer.”
“I want to be able to sleep now.” You pouted, making him chuckle.
“C’mon then.” WinWin said, putting his hand out, waiting for you to take it.
Confused, you scrunched your eyebrows together. “For what?”
Crossing the room to take your hand and tug you from your seat, he smiled softly, “Mama used to take me on rides when I couldn’t sleep as a kid. It’s worth a try, don’t you think?”
“I don’t see how that’s going to affect me…a grown human, but whatever floats your boat.” You shrugged, allowing him to take you from the house and held the car door for you to curl up in the passengers seat.
It occurred to you that without an actual destination, and this drive was just to attempt to get you sleepy, was just a massive waste of gas and destroying the Earth with each mile you traveled, but you couldn’t deny it was pleasant to just be cooped up with WinWin with soft music and the window down, wind blowing against your face, cooling you.
Curled up in your seat, you quickly lost track of how long he had been driving, just enjoying the extra alone time you’ve gotten with your lover. Enjoying the light conversation, listening to WinWin tell you about today’s practice, little details about new songs and an upcoming album, about lyrics he’d thought up and were figuring out how to work them into a new song. Somewhere along the ride, his hand had found it’s way to your bare thigh, rubbing comforting circles on the exposed skin as his gentle voice lulled you into a very calm state. Over time, your eyes grew heavy, the last thing you caught was the street light you just passed, and WinWin mentioning some delicious meal that Taeyong had brought for the boys at practice.
“Sleep babe,” WinWin whispered, smiling at your finally calm and sleeping state. “Sleep.”

Let’s play a game (M)

Namjoon x Reader x Hoseok

Anon asked: hi!! could you write something where the boys invite you over for movie night and you sit on the couch between hoseok and namjoon sharing a blanket and they both decide to finger you during the movie, trying to make you moan? omg im sorry if this doesn’t make sense I love your work btw!

A/N: ehehe~ so its FINALLY done and honestly idk how i feel about this i wanted to make it different from all the other request fic like this and it ended up kinda long in the process sooo… but anyway I really hope my beautiful anon who requested this likes it feel free to let me know what you think!((another old fic im reposting~ I promise ill be posting something new sooon))

Genre: Mature content a.k.a~ very smuty smut smut~ you’ve been warned~

Word count: 3.7K

I was at home flipping through channels trying to find something, anything, to watch that wouldn’t put me to sleep. When my phone started to ring. I set the TV remote down and stretched trying to reach my cell which was conveniently placed out of reach on the opposite side of my couch. When I finally grabbed my phone I saw Jungkook’s name light up my screen.


“Noona~” he whined out obviously wanting something.

“Yes Jungkook what’s up?”

“How come I haven’t seen you in over two months?!”

“Well I don’t know maybe the fact that we both work for a living.” I rolled my eyes at his question.

“That’s no excuse, we all miss you so we’re going to have dinner tomorrow.”

“I have a thing tomorrow I can't”

Suddenly he put the phone on speaker and I could hear all seven boys objecting and saying “Y/n you have to come please~”

I let out an annoyed sigh which seemed to make them quiet down a bit. “What time did you have in mind kook.”

Jungkook took the phone off speaker but I could still hear the other boys cheering in the background.

“8 O’clock.”

“I can’t guarantee anything but I will try to be there.”

“See ya there Noona~.”

He hung up and I let out a defeated sigh. “What a brat.” I whispered while setting my phone to the side.

Keep reading

(Repost from my other Tumblr account)

While trying to decide on the next ball-joint doll that I want to buy, I realized something that…discomfits me.

I am a big fan of diversity. It makes me happy to see people of different shapes and sizes and skin tones represented in media and toy lines. Mattel’s Monster High is especially appealing to me because the dolls feature a variety of skin tones and facial features (although, yes, you could definitely argue that certain skin tones “read” as white/Caucasian even if the toy is actually pastel pink or purple or grey).

But when it comes to my ball-joint dolls, there’s a distinct lack of this diversity.

This picture is from 2007, and represents my ABJD cast at the time (plus a customized Volks Dollfie faun). Out of the 10 dolls shown there, 4 have snow skin, and 3 of those 4 were ordered with the snow skin option. Only 1 doll was ordered with the darker skin option (which was officially the “chocolate” resin version).

After I took that photo, I added one more doll to my collection (Volks Yo-Tenshi Yuki in Normal Skin). So the total is now 11 dolls, 4 with “snow” skin, 1 with “chocolate” skin, and 6 with “normal” skin from 5 different companies.

I don’t think of my dolls as being primarily white (most have Japanese names, even the one that’s based on my non-Japanese husband). The ones that I ordered with snow skin are meant to be ice/snow/winter spirits, although that does bring up the question of whether winter spirits automatically have to have white skin. But regardless of my intentions, if someone looked at my dolls, it becomes really obvious that I only have one doll that’s clearly “of colour”.

I don’t know how I feel about this. On one hand, I should buy whatever dolls I like. Trying to fill some kind of arbitrary quota* in order to increase diversity feels, in its own way, kind of disrespectful to everyone involved. But I do have to stop and question why it is that I might gravitate towards certain skin tones and hair colors.

…Man, I wish all dolls were available in fantasy skin tones.


Crowley imagine requested by anon! “Could you do a Crowley imagine PLEASE! One where y/n has less of a moral code than she used to and since she and Crowley are together she is totally fine with being his queen of Hell and she used to be friends with the guys but they lost touch and she found Crowley. She and Crowley visit Dean when Sam isn’t there to harass him about finding Abaddon because y/n is angry Abaddon is trying to steal her title and that’s when Dean finds out about her and Crowley and he’s all like, we can’t tell Sam.” Hell yeah, I can! This imagine has been edited for reposting to add some details to my older writing. Hope you like it!

Hell had hardened you, to say the least, and your most recent trip down under had teared any tinge of remorse in your being to ribbons. You had been sculpted to silvery perfection, your skin hammered to a polished if invisible, armour. Your guilt after executing a clean kill blew backwards in the wind, any scrap or morsel of regret fading into the breeze like chalk dust. Insignificant emotions, they were. You had no space in your shrinking (or perhaps strengthening?) heart for such petty feelings like fear, guilt… pain. Hell changes people, as was evident by the masses of your kin swirling around in ebony spirals through the air… you had all been innocent at some point in your lives. You had all belonged to a purer world, had walked among the flowers… one mistake, or one reckoning, had called you to the fire. Now, you walked among the flames. It had most definitely changed you. You faced the horrors of your occupation with an unchanging mask of steely courage, you flinched less and less with each passing battle. You could wade through a puddle of blood without a problem. You’d be much worse (or better, depending on your standpoint) too, if Crowley hadn’t pulled you from the rack, wiping at the blood dripping from your mouth like drool with a scarlet silk handkerchief. His eyes had been kind, and the Hellfire had sparkled around his irises like a burning halo. You could tell, in that moment of fading agony, that you had been chosen for a much greater fate.

He was interested in the Winchester’s favourite toy, obviously, wondering aloud how someone as intelligent as yourself had ended up in the nine pits of his kingdom. In truth, he knew, and you were aware of this masked fact. The King of the Crossroads, especially one with such infamous integrity, would never skim over a demon deal, not when a huntress of your caliber was involved. He was well aware of the circumstances that lead you to seal yourself a deal for as little as three months topside (a desperate decision, you recalled), every day after your fateful kiss plagued by visions of hell hounds and hallucinated howling. You had tormented yourself to preserve the lives of others. You had sacrificed everything, literally, for your companions. Little did you know your actions would impress the King of Hell.

Crowley was hardly ever short information, topside or in his realm. It was he who brought to your attention the absence of help from your precious hunting buddies, the lack of determination on their behalves in regards to your freedom from the underworld. Sure, a brother’s cracked from Lucifer’s impenetrable cage within an hour of his damnation, and here you were, scorching to a crisp with no signs of angel wings or blazing shotguns. It was Crowley, along with the decade or so spent having your guts held up to your hairline, that turned you away from the light. Then again, you could hardly distinguish good from evil nowadays, when your heroes abandoned you after practically signing the contract of your deal themselves. If they hadn’t felt so inclined to martyr themselves, you’d be walking free. You weren’t evil, per say, but you were far from kindred at this point in your ternal existence. When Crowley had offered you a matching crown, you accepted wholeheartedly, relaxing into your throne of bones, gazing over the tormented souls of convicted murderers and adulterers as they burned in the flames of righteousness. This, surely, was a sign that Hell was only a bad reputation slandered in a holy book. Hell was, in your opinion, far cleaner than Heaven, far more determined to right the wrongdoings of the human world. Hell decontaminated the wretched and released them in their born-again forms, much stronger than they had ever been. They too would strive to cleanse the world above of the evil until your masses swelled with born-again warriors. The demons below became your subjects as well as your angels.

But trouble soon arose in your new world, an ancient power clawing up the delicate rungs of your kingdom’s ladder, bringing your political issues topside… which in turn brought you topside for the first time in what Crowley deemed an Earth month. Years had been spent in Hell, yet time had progressed agonizingly slow above the confines of your smoldering city. The knight of Hell, who was (unfortunately) stronger than both you and your lover, now threatened your sanctuary, her talons sinking deep into the ranks of your most loyal demons, converting them to her cause. It was both irritating and terrifying. If an angry toddler wielded a knife, you would feel the same. If anything made your blood boil anymore, it was Abaddon. She could not be vanquished by the royals alone, your own weakness in comparison to Cain’s little art project forcing you into a phone call with an old friend, another unfortunate circumstance. His voice sounded deeper, world-weary and shocked to hear yours through the receiver. As you expected, he agreed to meet you in a bar he claimed to be three miles from the motel he was holed up in like a rat. Surely, he owed you enough not to exorcise you. Technically, your body had been restored (favors rolled easily from the tongue when your crown was feared), so you would look no different, but your heart now pumped acrid smoke through your veins. You had changed. Hopefully your friend wouldn’t take offense. After all, he was the reason behind your transformation.

Earth was now a foreign land to you, but the memories of the cigarette stained tiles and musty pillows still provoked a roll of nausea within your stomach. Though you possessed a small arsenal of demonic power, you had yet to spend enough time in Hell to be truly menacing. Regardless, you zapped yourself above your kingdom, relying on Crowley for the bigger guns, your lover straightening his tie before approaching the entrance to the bar. You strolled through the door Crowley held open, your hunter-radar itching at the back of your mind… and you saw him. His green eyes widening when he took in your form, the faded features of a demon glowing, however faint, behind his human bone structure. Like you said, Hell changes people. Dean had spent forty long years in your new home. Even now, many Earth years afterwards, he still resembled your kind ever so slightly. He seemed to see your visage as well, a very obvious double take overpowering his composure before he tossed back what little remained of his whiskey, setting the misty glass onto the gleaming bar. You took a seat beside him, Crowley occupying his other side. When you spoke, your voice lacked the courtesy you had shown him before your sentence below.

“Well, look at you, all hopped-up on the power of the First Blade, huh?” The hunter’s eyes narrowed, his face turning to glare daggers at Crowley, who merely shrugged and winked. “Didn’t think I knew about that one, did you?” he opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. Though your elevated status technically only applied when in your domain, you carried yourself with the air of a queen. “We need to talk about Abaddon, Dean. I know you can kill her, that you’re the only soul alive that can kill her, and I know who has what you need to get going. We need to know that you’ll get the job done if we hand over your precious jawbone.” Again, Dean chanced a look at Crowley, who shrugged, settling his eyes on you, his chest puffing with pride at the blunt persuasion of his counterpart. Lord, was he happy to have married you in that moment.

“If we were gonna talk about Abaddon, why’d you want me here alone? See, I just assumed you were gonna take me out, knock me off the map and give Y/n my… well, Cain’s, mark.” Dean grumbled, whistling through his teeth and tapping his glass, the bartender appearing to pour another shot of amber whiskey into Dean’s glass. He took a swig before continuing, his face barely contorting at the burn of alcohol down his throat. “Why are you so worried about Abaddon, anyway? I mean, I get it, she’s a raging she-douche, but is she really that much of a threat?” Your eyes rolled before you could think to keep your expression professional. Had you truly expected this man to rescue you?

“We’re here with you alone because Moose doesn’t much like me, does he? Now, I’d rather talk battle strategies with my bestie than with the Jolly Green Giant out for my blood, in more ways than one.” At Crowley’s jab at Sam’s former addiction, Dean flinched, shooting the demon a cautionary glare. You were clearly needed to settle the waters before a tsunami broke forth from your gathering. You laid a hand on Dean’s forearm, the hunter’s face whipping around as if you’d shocked him. You couldn’t blame him. The gesture was… almost human, but you weren’t you anymore. Whose fault was that?

“Listen, Dean, you need us, we need you, and that usurping wretch needs a face-lift, preferably on a spike, if you catch my drift. May have to take the whole head to salvage her cheekbones,” you whispered, grabbing Dean’s glass and downing the burning contents before speaking again. “The knight wants my crown, and I want her life, if our lives are what you’d consider living. You’re the only one we can ask. Deal, or no deal?” you whispered, slamming the glass onto the bar with enough force to rattle the bottles of liquor on their back-lit shelf. Dean ducked his head, chuckling under his breath before grimacing up at you, his eyes apologetic.

“You really have changed. But you’re stronger, I’ll give you that. I’m impressed,” he winced. You rolled your eyes, aggravated by his assessment. Of course you were stronger: you had enough smoke in your ring finger alone to render the bars air un-breathable.

“That’s what happens when you leave someone to rot in Hell, Dean. They come back with a goodie bag.” Dean’s jaw clenched. He was clearly leaning towards rejecting your plea; you needed to act quickly, or you would lose everything. You grasped Dean’s wrist, not unkindly and not forcefully, his eyes locking on yours. You felt your irises faze to black before returning to their normal hue. “And I really should thank you, Dean. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be a demon.”

You’d struck a nerve, and your victory was plain across the hunter’s features. Nothing bothered the Winchesters as much as an unpaid debt. Dean nodded his head, his lips pursed in a sympathetic line, his eyes hardening to shield his sadness from view.

“We got a deal, so long as Sammy stays out of it,” he hissed, his lust to protect his brother from every possible harm tugging more at your gag reflex than it did your heartstrings. Crowley crossed to your side, his hand snaking around your waist, coaxing you to stand beside him, his fingers squeezing your side proudly.

“Like I said, I’d rather work with you,” Crowley smiled, nodding his farewell to the man at the bar as he turned towards the door, the allure of your throne room pulling you out of the bar. The usurper would be exterminated, you were sure of it. Crowley shared your confidence, murmuring his congratulations on your negotiation in your ear before pressing his lips to your cheek.


Malcolm’s five stages of bollocking*:

1. Denial: Thank God I’m asleep and this is hilarious joke dream because not even a fucking Minister of the Crown could be this fucking stupid.

2. Depression: Oh fuck, no, this is real and the worst part is I’m awake and just too fucking tired to even try to pretend I already knew look at my :( sadface.

3. Bargaining: But since I can’t pretend I already knew, hows about if I just fucking rip you to bits instead?


5. Acceptance: Oh, fuck’s sake!  Well, I guess you really are this fucking stupid, but you know, these things happen; what can you do?

(Stage 5 not pictured and very seldom achieved.)

*a repost of a reblog from my original tumblr, but with all new gifs and slightly rewritten text


Have some colourful Colin on your dash.

I love the B&W photo that Rankin released yesterday. But I was playing around with my Christmas present today (CC subscription) and I found myself playing ‘colour in Colin’ as a test of the software. I was trying for the blue suit version (which I think he wore to the ToY premiere) but the purple was an accidental edit which I couldn’t bring myself to bin. So here you go…

And yeah I realise the skin tone is a little off, but it’s taken hours to get this far with my newbie skills.

Please do not remove the signature, or repost as your own elsewhere. Ta.

Original Photo Source : Rankin Photography


WHEN THE LIBERALS AND ZIONISTS ATTACK ME, AND CALL ME A NAZI, EVEN THOUGH IM FROM CALIFORNIA AND FROM A ADOPTED INTERRACIAL FAMILY, IM GOING TO CALL THEM A JEW NAZI!!!! BECAUSE JUST LIKE THE Nazi’s wanted to oppress and kill a peoples voice and lifes existence in every way, the jews are trying to kill us (non Nazi’s) by labeling us Nazi’s and skin heads and fascists, even when, we’re not!!!! Thanks FOR THE OPPRESSION AND DEATH THREATS !!!!! I CROWN THEE, JEW NAZI’S!!!!