use all the mods

@princess-arystal21

Lovely dining hall :)  Looks perfect for a medieval castle.  Or is this for the witch?

Originally posted by marvel-dc-addict

I mean, the castle is supposed to be there since the medieval time… so… it can work for both cases 8D

@lilsisterg

I don’t like the witch lots either and never use them. I also agree with you in not like maxi system in regard to good-neutral and evil witches. I really dislike the term “witch” and all of its connotations. I use a mod in my game that allows Sims to cast all spells regardless of their alignment thus have no need for  good, bad or evil. I prefer the neutral alignment because their grimoire blends in better with all types of furniture.

So good to know i’m not alone! I have made so many rants about how it bothered me that the Magic in Apartment life was divided that way. I rant a lot about the way Eaxis decided to treat Magic in Apartment life, because compared with Makin’ Magic and the Magic Town, it felt like such a step back. The Gnomes, the Duels, the Magic, the EVERYTHING!! I love Belladonna Cove, but i would so much liked to have a little Magic town instead of the Subhood with the two castles. 

I’ll need to look up for that Mod, so far i only have the one that prevent from alignment change when casting neutral spells.  

MBTI Types as Things They Do Right After They Say They’re Going to Do Something Productive

(first of all thanks for reading past that mess of a title)

ENFP: Literally anything else they deem at all important that HAS TO BE DONE RIGHT NOW

ENFJ: Find someone to talk them in to/out of it

ENTP: *laughs* “just kidding”

ENTJ: Lowkey guilt you for not working too

ESFP: *sigh* *doesn’t move*

ESFJ: Awkwardly sit and wait for everyone else to prepare to do it with them

ESTP: Sulk for a while due to the mere idea of work

ESTJ: Try to get other people to do it with them

INFP: Stall x 100000 and stay on tumblr for “just a bit longer”

INFJ: “wow, I am suddenly really hungry; how about that”

INTP: Reevaluate how important the thing actually is

INTJ: Try to find a more reasonable time to do it, which is conveniently far later in time

ISFP: Absentmindedly doodle or play with things around them

ISFJ: Try to help someone else with something more interesting instead

ISTP: Try to find any way out of it

ISTJ: Something else that they consider productive, just not the thing they were supposed to do

ebonyheartnet  asked:

Muder dad, I have a not so little brother who likes murder strut (and run after small jet-powered children) in 6" heels, but he will not teach me his secrets. 😢 I am a sad bean, because I fall flat on my face if I try anything that's over 3" that isn't a wedge. How did you learn not to face plant?

practice and nazi science, my friend. i don’t recommend the nazi science route though. bad call. 

when you walk in heels, it’s tempting to put your whole foot down at once like you do with flats–or like you would with wedges. there’s a bit of a gentle roll to it, and if you have a single continuous sole, that’s okay.  but actually with heels you want to hit heel first, then toe–you should hear that two-stage click sound as the front and back of your foot impact separately. also, you want to keep your weight really poised; your spine straight but not stiff, and your weight more on your toe than your heel; your heel is going to be wobblier. think of something pulling upwards from the top of your head and between your shoulderblades.  if you can, do heeled boots–weakness in the ankle is what gets people a lot of the time, and even short boots will be more stable. 

if you want that hip sway, walk on a line like you’re on a balance beam. lions do this–they place their paws all along the same axis. stepping into the same centerline will push your hips side to side as you walk. it is indeed very murder-strut-y. 

when you run in heels, you run on tiptoe–your actual heel pretty much never contacts the ground. same with walking on grass–it’s exhausting, but you literally balance on just the balls of your feet so your stiletto doesn’t puncture the ground.  when you kick in heels, you kick stiletto first–otherwise whats even the point of wearing knife shoes. 

beauty is pain. and pain is heels. 

source: drunken shenanigans. so many drunken shenanigans. tony got science involved, and pepper provided expertise. steve is weirdly good at the can-can in heels, just for the record. 

you can’t know this many badass ladies who fight in heels and not have drunken conversations on how exactly they pull it off. they are a source of wonder and mystery, and the drunkvengers are determined to someday discover the secrets of heelfighting.

anonymous asked:

hey jared!!! do you like movies? what's ur favorite genre?

J: Thankfully, it does have it perks such as taking out my cute bf to see movies whenever we want and getting an astounding discount at the concessions.

J: … It’s always worth it to see his laugh.

💖💜💙Support Bisexuals 2k17💙💜💖

bisexual girls
bisexual boys
bisexual nonbinary people
single bisexuals
bisexuals in relationships
bisexuals with a preference
bisexuals who haven’t dated more than one gender if any at all
neurodivergent bisexuals
physically disabled bisexuals
bisexual poc
closeted bisexuals
questioning bisexuals

all of us, every single one

anonymous asked:

Priest!Cas and his dirty little secret aka Dean! please!

We all need Jesus. I hope this is okay!

_______

Cas is giving his sermon, and he’s doing a good job. He mostly tries not to think about how, just behind the curtains behind him, he has a naked Dean waiting for him, face down on his knees with his hands tied behind his back, ass high in the air and stuffed full with a thick, vibrating plug. Cas had anointed him with holy oils for a good half hour before he slid the plug in between those beautiful smooth cheeks.

The remote is in Cas’s pocket, and he turns up intensity whenever he leads the congregation in a hymn, because no one will hear if Dean accidentally lets out any of those lovely little noises.

It’s something different each week. Last Sunday, Dean was decked out in lingerie and tied to a chair with his legs spread as far open as possible, a ball gag in his mouth. The week before that, Cas had spanked him until he cried, raw and smarting, and then sent him to sit in the front row for the full hour long service.

And that one time at Christmas, when Dean had waited for him until the end of Midnight mass, dressed up in a tiny, fur tripped Mrs. Santa skirt and high heels, his legs locked into a spreader bar as he bent over a high wooden bench, his ass full of anal beads and clad in white lace that was soaking with the come Cas had put there earlier in the afternoon. Had anyone peeked into the back of the church, they would have seen Dean there, completely wrecked and ready for the taking.

Cas was always thinking up lovely new things for his boy, and no one ever suspected a thing. They didn’t know that as soon as Cas was done with this sermon and had talked to all the parishioners, that he would go behind that curtain and fuck Dean bare, right there in the church while wearing his priest’s uniform, and fill his dirty boy up with come.

If he thought about it too much, he had to stand in front of the pulpit, hiding the bulge in his trousers.

He loved giving sermons, but he loved what came after so much more.

((Still can’t believe it’s actually Saeran who cutely announces “CHERIT-CHU!” when you open the MM app instead of Seven))

chapter one complete!

WE DID IT! After 3.5 months and 33 non-stop pages our first chapter is finally complete. Will Frisk make it back home, or will Chara succeed in taking their soul? And what the heck is Asriel doing there?

Now that chapter one is nicely buttoned up, we are taking a short  breather to get ahead on pages and sort out some blog business. However, we aren’t going dark! To accommodate our prep time while keeping the blog active, Caretaker-AU will undergo a temporary schedule change.


Ah! Wow! Woah! Here’s the next month:

Next week (Feb 20-26): One week of quiet. No major updates!

The following 3 weeks (Feb 27 - Mar 17): Weekly updates on Mondays. That’s one page per week for the 3-page Interlude.

After that we will resume the usual 2 pages per week schedule.


Why the schedule change?

Quite a few reasons actually! While the blog will be quieter, us mods will still be frantically working behind the scenes to prep the next section. We’ll be using this month to…

Get ahead! Despite tons of unforeseen obstacles, we’ve managed to never miss an update day… barely. These interruptions ate up our backlog and lately we’ve been working up until the last second every week. In order to spare ourselves, we’ll be using this time to work ahead so we don’t suffer deadline fatigue.

Fix the blog! We have a new theme in the works that should be easier to navigate and hopefully work around the mobile app issues.

Open commissions! We’ll draw what you want for the right price! Since we will be working around the main comic schedule, commission slots will be limited to just a few a month. Keep an eye out for the announcement!

Secret stuff! We’ve got some other blog stuff we need to finish up, but you’ll find out about that later… it’s a surprise!

Finally sleep? Nah, probably not.

And of course, we will continue to answer asks and post fanwork as usual! :D


“Interlude?” What’s that?

In our grand plan, we are using the space between main chapters to share mini-chapters we are calling “Interludes.” These short one-shots will provide insight and backstory related to Caretaker, and are a part of the overarching story.

Will you do this every time?

According to our script, Chapter 01 is the longest chapter in the story. Because of this, we may not need to change the schedule at every chapter break. It will all depend on our workload! Interlude segments will always be between main chapter breaks.


tl;dr:
Interlude starts on February 27
Chapter 02 starts on March 20

Have an awesome day!

anonymous asked:

If nO hOnEyMuStArD hOw AbOuT cHeRrYbErRy b0i

Y’all honestly, please stop asking about ships please

LV Winter Blue (Toddlers Bedroom)

I dedicate this set to my dear friend @daer0n. Without her I couldn’t make the bed at all!!! Thank you dear! You are awesome!

TOU

1. PLEASE DO NOT CLAIM AS YOUR OWN

2. DO NOT RE UPLOAD

3. BE CAREFULL! SOME MODS ARE HIGH POLY COUNT SO IT JUST GOING TO WORK IN HIGH RESOLUTION

4. YOU CAN RECOLOR BUT DO NOT INCLUDE MY MESH!! IF YOU DO TAG ME AO I CAN SEE IT.

5. I USE BB.MOVEOBJECTS MOD TO PLACE SOME OBJECTS

THANKS TO ALL THE AMAZING CC’S CREATORS FOR THE OTHER MESHES THAT I USE TO COMPOSE THE ROOM! @daer0n @sssvitlans @mxims @dreamteamsims @pralinesims @sanoysims @millascreativecornerblog

HAVE FUN GUYS!

DOWNLOAD

You know what’s something that I love about the Portal series that sets it apart from a lot of other games? 

Portal is, unnecessarily, very musical.

Its a puzzle game, there’s literally no reason for it to be as musical as it is. I’m not just talking about the score, either, though it is incredible. All video games have some kind of music so that you aren’t listening to nothing while you travel around maps and shoot at things. And for RPGs the music is a very important part of storytelling. Undertale did this masterfully.

But I’m talking about how you find easter eggs of turrets singing to each other as a past time, or how one of the loading screens is Potatos lamenting about being thrown down into old Aperture. Music is a theme in the game. Putting aside the music that you test by, these are examples of all the musical encounters you have just by walking around the game without tripping a cut scene. (Though I would like to note that GLaDOS singing the ending credit song for each game was also a very odd path for Valve to take that paid off. )

- Exile Vilify on the radio.

- Still Alive on the radio.

- Turrets practicing ‘Turret Wife Serenade’.

- The companion cube sings a version of ‘Cara Mia Addio’ when you pick it up.

- Funnels have their own music.

- Test Chamber 20 of Portal 2; the laser buttons have rhythm when they’ve all been activated.

- The things that re-direct lasers make their own music too.

- Wheatley plays classical music to try and show off to the player.

- The Announcer plays smooth jazz for you in one of the earlier tests.

I know I’m still missing some, but if you were to take these out of the game nothing would change. They don’t add anything to the story (aside from Wheatley trying to prove he isn’t a moron and failing at it), and some of them are Easter Eggs so you could just as easily miss them. There’s no point to them being there but we love that they are. It adds a character and charm to the game, like the Aperture facility itself is a big orchestra with robots that love to sing.

And it leaks into its fan base, too. We have a Portal 2: Musical that has been performed twice! Harry101UK makes his own original Portal music videos and tracks as a hobby.The Portal Stories: Mel mod not only uses all of its own original music, but it also has hidden musical easter eggs like a radio playing a rock version of ‘Want You Gone’. The most popular Portal fanfiction, ‘Blue Sky’, is named and themed after a song by Electrical Lights Orchestra. It is almost mandatory that if you are to make Portal content the universe you’ve created does not seem complete unless there is at least one hint at its musical themes. (That’s my opinion anyway, I realize the first game wasn’t nearly as crafty with its usage of music as much as Portal 2 was)

I dunno, it was just a thought I was sitting on for a while that I really appreciate the franchise for.

Flood my Mornings: Thanks

Anon said: If the stable chapter was in October doesn’t Bree have a birthday coming up?  how is she going to do with the terrible twos ?

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Eggs (Attack of the Pregnancy Brain!) 

November 23rd, 1950

“Happy Thanksgiving, Frasers!” Marian Harper sang out as she opened the door.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” we chorused in return, arms full of Bree and wine and basket of lemon meringue pie.

“Oof, come in out of the rain,” she clucked, ushering us into the warmth of her cozy foyer. “Though I guess we should thank our lucky stars it’s only rain, not the blizzard they’re getting down south!” 

“Oh, aye,” Jamie agreed, deftly extricating Bree from her raincoat while still holding her. “Made it a bit slow-going on the drive over, but much preferable to snow.” 

“And the rain’s good luck for Miss Bree! Happy BIRTHDAY, sweet pea!”

Thus addressed, Bree giggled and lurched forward into Marian’s arms, surprising all of us. 

“Glad to see she’s finally getting less intent on clinging only to Mama and Da,” I laughed. 

Jamie helped me out of my coat and sweetly kissed my cheek as we followed Marian into the living room. “I suppose being properly two years of age makes a difference, after all!”


Earlier that day 

“Our wee lass doesna appear to be verra sensible of the grand occasion, Sassenach.”

I wiped my hands and turned quickly from the stove (which YES, I’d managed to turn on, thank you very much), beaming. Sure enough, Bree seemed about as interested in festivities as the average boulder. She had both arms around Jamie’s neck and was making it quite clear she was not in the mood to be up and about.

“Well, I suppose she doesn’t remember her last one, little as she was,” I conceded, coming close to tickle Bree lightly in the side. “Guess what, lovey-dove? It’s your BIRTHDAY!”

The dramatic excitement in my tone made her bolt upright at once, hair wild: curlywig to end all curlywigs. “S’bird-day?” she demanded.

“Yes, baby, it’s your birthday!”

“What-is ‘at, Mama? Mama?” She continued to screw her face up at me in concentration as Jamie buckled her in to the high chair. “What-IS ‘at, bird-day? Mama? Mama, what?”  

“It means ,” Jamie offered, settling next to her and putting out one of his hands for hers, “the day you were *born,* a leannan.”

What-is-it, ‘borrnd,’ Daddy?”

“It means the day God gave ye to Mama and me,” he said patiently, “So, it’s a verra special day, aye?”

“What-is-’at?” she said immediately, lacing her fingers together and flapping them about. “Daddy, dinna kennit. What is-’at ‘spedchill’?”

Jamie sighed, love and exasperation so perfectly mingled in that way unique to parents. “’Special’ means…the verra best. Just like you, sweet wee cub.”

“See my-dese jammies?” she chirped, changing direction with lightning speed. “Dey’re porpoor, Daddy, see’um?”

“Aye,” he laughed, “I see, a leannan.” 

She pulled at the fabric of her top. “Dey’re spedchill?” 

“Aye, those are verra SPECIAL purple Jammies,”  he said, meeting my eye and trying not to laugh.

“Your birthday,” I said significantly, walking over to them with Bree’s breakfast held high, “is the day where Mama and Daddy talk about how JUST how much we LOVE our Bree.” I bent and latched onto her sweet, dimpled cheek in a huge, long mmmmmm-ing kiss and Jamie came in to do the same on the other. Bree, caught between us in a smooch sandwich, was giggling so hard she was fit to choke.

“Those are your first presents,” I said pulling back. “Two kisses for your second birthday. And here’s the next!” I slid the plate onto the tray in front of her for inspection.

“Sassenach….That is…” Jamie looked up at me with the queerest expression on his face. “…the *Cutest* thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was little more than a circle with two lopsided ears, but I’d embellished a snout with banana slices and chocolate chips for nose and eyes, and powdered sugar to top things off. 

Yes, it was fairly bloody adorable.

Bree squealed. “Issa—Lookint-’im-that-wee BEAR, Daddy!” She hooted in delight and then began promptly to demolish said wee bear.

“You’d best slow down, mo chridhe!” Jamie laughed. “He’s going to roar in your tummy for gobbling him up so fast!” 

Bree’s mouth was so full she couldn’t reply, but there came a happy, muffled *mmphurr!?!* that signified her excitement to see this play out as soon as humanly (bearly?) possible.


“So neither of you have ever had Thanksgiving before?” Tom asked as he poured Jamie a glass of wine in the sitting room.

“No, indeed!” I settled back onto the sofa with a cup of tea. “A singularly American holiday, this one.”

Tom furrowed his brows. “But you were here stateside last year too, weren’t you, Claire?”

“Oh, yes, well….Yes, but I wasn’t in the going-out frame of mind, to be honest.”

“It was a different life, before you came back, Jamie,” Marian said knowingly, beaming from the floor, where Bree was sitting on her lap playing with her birthday present from the Harpers. “We’re glad you did.”

“As am I, a nighean,” he said warmly to her, then met eyes with me. Glad doesna even begin to express it. 

It would have been a thoroughly lovely moment, except morning sickness had come a-calling with a VENGEANCE today, and I had to close my eyes while yet another urge to vomit abated. 

Jamie noticed and made as if to come to me, but just then, the doorbell rang, followed almost immediately thereafter by Della O’Malley running head-on into Jamie and nearly spilling his wine as she barreled around the corner. He managed to catch her with his free hand, and she looked as though he’d hung the bloody moon. “Hi, Mr. Fraser,” she said breathlessly, gazing up into his face.

“Happy Thanksgiving to ye, Miss Della.” He kissed her hand, which sent her into paroxysms.  Jesus H. Christ, the girl needed a cold shower, pronto

Thankfully, though, it seemed her glow wasn’t *entirely* due to infatuation with Jamie. “Claire! Claire, guess what?” she said, bouncing in my direction.

“Peter asked you to go steady?” She’d been talking about this boy for weeks, it was about time he made a move. 

“YES!!!” she squealed, thudding into a chair next to me. “Can you BELIEVE IT!??!”

“Wine, Claire?” Tom said, coming over with a glass.  

“Oh, no, thank you.”

“Whisky, then?

“No, thank you, Tom, I’m all—” Good Heavens, I nearly burped in the poor man’s face, but managed to choke back the wave of acute nausea and croak, “— all set with my tea.” 

I could have sworn Marian gave me a suspicious look, but thankfully, Jamie came to my aid. “So, from what I gather, the festivity centers around coming together and eating in a spirit of gratitude. But that’s about all I ken of it. Is there more?” 

I had told him the story earlier that morning, in fact, but I was grateful for the diversion while Tom gave the Proud Son of Massachusetts recitation of the Thanksgiving tale. 

Jamie nodded in approval. “Thanks be to God for the kindness of the native folk, then. I must say, I enjoy hearing tales of anyone that managed to fly in the face of the English crown—Sorry Sassenach,” he added with a grin.

“Does Scotland not belong to England?” Della asked, bewildered. 

“Depends on who ye ask,” Jamie laughed. “Suffice it to say, there’s a reason the marriage between Claire and me raised no small number of eyebrows.” 

“But you married anyway,” Della swooned, “how roMANTIC!!” 

Jamie grinned and sat down next to me. “Verra romantic indeed.” He saw my pallor and squeezed my hand, speaking low so only I could hear. “Are ye feeling alright, Sassenach?” 

“Bit queasy,” I admitted, resisting the urge to clutch my abdomen. 

“Can I get ye anything?” 

“No,” I whispered, squeezing his hand. “But thank you. Just have to wait for young Fraser here to settle down.” 

He smiled and ducked his head, trying not to let the others see the direction of his tender gaze. 

We had agreed not to announce the pregnancy until the three-month mark, as was customary. We knew better than anyone that tragedy could still strike after the first trimester, but had decided that for Brianna’s sake, at least, it was best to wait until the highest risk of miscarriage was past….even though acknowledging the possibility of losing another child sent claws of fear tearing at my heart. 

But I’d carried one child safely; Lord willing, I could do so again.  

Please, Lord, keep this little one safe.

Jamie wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “I am thankful, today, ye ken?” he whispered. 

“Oh?” I murmured back, looking into his eyes, curious, but already smiling from the tone in his voice. “Whatever for?” 

“For our daughter. For you carrying her. Giving her life, this day two years ago. For—” His voice caught, just barely. “—For how ye went on living when ye didna wish to…” He gently touched my face. “For working as hard as ye do, at home and at the hospital….For being my wife. For….well…” He very discreetly touched my belly. “For our children. And for taking care of us in this new world”

I ran my hand down the side of his face, unable to speak as I kissed him. Come what might in 1951, never had I had a year in which there was so much for which to give thanks as 1950.

“I’m going to shrivel up and DIE from how much you love each other,” came Della’s tremulous threat. “Just you WAIT.”


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