#i am knackered

[what-yadoking-likes]

Future B I G B R A I N post

Vlad gives Locke a cookie with truth serum.

Locke eats it.

Locke is helping the crew through a heist.

C h a o s ensues.

[sparrowplayssims]

Update 3: Another update, I know. This fixes the wardrobe completely. I had to remake it from scratch but it now has anims and working wall masks! Get it HERE (Post download is updated)

Update 2: Forgot to update the collection file with the new GUIDs, download it HERE

Update: Changed the GUIDs to the one in the block I claimed way back in 2018, redownload if you've downloaded it :)

One of my favourite furniture sets over the years has always been the Tivoli, Plantation set by blake_boy over at ModTheSims. As well as some super cute dressers by rgdyanne over at Sims2Artists. I heavily recommend both sets with this pack.

I've used it way too many times and around October of 2022, I ended up feeling like I wanted to work on some addons for it. I've always wanted to get into making actual objects in Sims 2 since I love making things for another irrelevant game I mod. I decided this would be a great way to try and learn.

Included is the following:

Pet Bed (Linen is slaved to maxis bedding)

Cat Condo (Fabric is slaved to Los Gatos Condominums/cheap condo)

Bunk Bed + Ladder + Top Bunk Mattress

2 Tile Armoire

1 Tile Armoire

Bookshelf (Plus Empty Version)

4-Tier Shelf

4 different Shelf Inserts

Pet Bed Shelf Insert for 4-Tier Shelf (Bed slaved to Comfy Pet Pillow)

Wall Shelf

Thin Shelf/DVD Unit

Thin alternatives to end tables in the original set

Tiny open end table

Built In Closet (Based on the Apartment Life one)

2 Tile Desk

There is also the option of desk widening! I find that on the original desks, my sims' PCs would hang off the edge which is not ideal.

I'll keep them separate in case you want to keep the originals :) Same filename and GUID as the original. I did try to make the wider ones a separate GUID but it didn't work so I'm gonna leave that for now and figure it out at some point.

Download:

Addons - SFS

Desk Edits - SFS

Collection file included, including the original set by blake_boy and the dresser addons by rgdyanne.

Mesh details under the cut.

Pet Bed | 876 Faces / 1189 Vertices

Cat Condo | 2148 Faces / 2700 Vertices

Bunk Bed | 3726 Faces / 6599 Vertices

Ladder | 204 Faces / 248 Vertices

2 Tile Armoire | 2732 Faces / 4903 Vertices

1 Tile Armoire | 1946 Faces / 3570 Vertices

Bookshelf | 1099 Faces / 1905 Vertices

Empty Bookshelf | 868 Faces / 1391 Vertices

4-Tier Shelf | 844 Faces / 1370 Vertices

Shelf Insert 1 | 330 Faces / 526 Vertices

Shelf Insert 2 | 192 Faces / 280 Vertices

Shelf Insert 3 | 540 Faces / 778 Vertices

Shelf Insert (Also a shelf) | 12 Faces / 24 Vertices

Pet Bed Shelf Insert | 686 Faces / 840 Vertices

Wall Shelf | 538 Faces / 576 Vertices

Thin Shelf | 820 Faces / 1121 Vertices

Thin End Table - Open | 404 Faces / 819 Vertices

Thin End Table - Drawers | 476 Faces / 993 Vertices

Thin End Table - Handles | 742 Faces / 1000 Vertices

Tiny End Table | 428 Faces / 896 Vertices

Built-In Closet | 2826 Faces / 3885 Vertices

2 Tile Desk | 664 Faces / 1384 Vertices

Top Bunk Bed | 952 Faces / 620 Vertices

Whew... With that over with, enjoy!

Any issues at all, let me know!

(I'm off to bed haha)

[aquitainequeen]

I was sitting in the dark thinking about cannibalism Furiosa’s depiction of Dementus and his connection to motorbikes.

When we first see Dementus, he’s seated before a sleek, gorgeous and clearly venerated bike, pristine in this most wasted of lands, while the History Man preaches of its make and properties. Instantly we can tell that the bike isn’t just Dementus’ favoured mode of transportation, it’s his idol, his beloved.

The reverence that Dementus holds for motorbikes brings rewards. He cuts a splendid and imposing figure as he drives a carriage pulled by three bikes at once, leading an ever-growing pack of followers on their own modes of transportation. The bikes and their riders are kin to their lord’s flesh and blood hounds; fleet enough to hunt down, corner and harry larger lumbering prey, slavering to be in at the kill of a deposed leader.

Then Dementus gets a hint of the abundance of the Citadel and the potential of Gas Town. Once he uses his warriors on bikes to take the latter, Dementus ends up forsaking motorbikes and the nomadic lifestyle to settle down and live on high in a penthouse, growing corpulent. The Octoboss and his own followers defect from him and race across the desert on bladed feet or take their bikes to the air to survive, while Dementus makes grandiose declarations from the back of a monster truck, all his splendour and charisma gone.

If Dementus had been riding a bike like his followers, he wouldn’t have caught Furiosa and Jack; they would have been able to slip from his reach and speed away to a spot where they could mount their own bikes and escape him utterly, setting out for the Green Place. But while he returns once more to using bikes as a means of executing Jack – his metal hounds preparing the feast for his flesh and blood dogs – one of the bikes betrays Dementus. One of them allows Furiosa to flee from him, carrying her far enough back to the Citadel that she can bear word to Immortan Joe.

He can trot out his chariot and have it driven behind his truck in pride of place, very nearly in the front of the procession of his forces, but soon Dementus’ metal pack is reduced to a few bikes in the desert, and then not even that once he swaps his chariot for Smeg’s very inferior vehicle (with a dummy for handle bars) and flees into the storm. The man we met in a tent while venerating a bike, surrounded by his followers and horde, is now reduced to a man in a tent formed out of his bike, content in the shelter that it provides; back in familiar territory, not resentful but resigned, ‘here we are again’.

[garagepaperback]

dandy They go to five different shops and still nothing. Ron suggests and then insists they break for food, which Harry allows because the next shop is in France and even if he pushed his fringe aside and they managed a last minute international Floo with no reservation, it still doesn’t open for another hour. 

Across the tiny bistro table at Hera’s, the posh little cafe off Diagon that both of them hate, Harry’s halfway through writing back to Pansy for the fourth time this morning. Ron, with a mouthful of his second inexcusably expensive mini breakfast roll, says, “Is it really that big of a deal?”

Harry blows out a lung and half’s worth of air, considering that response enough and folds the note up, shoving it towards the owl waiting at the open windowsill. It shouldn’t be this hot for early June. He woke up sweating, if he’s being honest, due to a couple of reasons. One of which is currently filling his stomach with lead, which reminds him of the small box in his pocket, resting against his thigh which is the reason and somehow also lead - getting the hair potion is the simpler task to focus on. 

“How about just doing a date night in a week or something?” Ron manages to sound almost like he believes it. He works innocently through another bite of sausage, bacon and egg but the smirk manages to leak through.

“Yeah. He’d love a quiet, no-fuss thing on his lunch break, maybe. It’s not like he’s one for details or drama or anything like that.” Harry belatedly notices the owl still there, staring at him, and bargains with a messy three-quarters of his already quite small pastel de nata, shooing it away once it accepts the bribe. Pansy’s in charge of the fireworks and she’s being a complete wanker about it.

Maybe that isn't fair - he’s very tired. Harry hadn’t actually woken up today as much as eventually conceded that it was morning after a full eight hours of staring at the back of his own eyelids. Next to him, Draco, however, had slept like the fucking minister of sleep, like an angel that was born only to dream and look really docile and soft and comfortable or whatever other kind of thing slept well - Harry doesn't know, he's too knackered for the metaphor. 

Just before bed, Draco checked the post and grumbled that the fancy hair potion he'd ordered last week hadn’t shown up and then Harry’s entire plan for today had begun its slow-motion avalanche. It’s bordering on a real disaster, at this point, though he can’t really tell if the feeling is actually big or it's the enormity of the day itself making everything feel huge. He drinks a hurried mouthful of coffee and leans over a little, staring through the window like that might summon the owl back quicker. 

“Do you think it matters that much? Like, in terms of the whole plan, d’you think he really cares about getting the shampoo he likes?”

“Not sure if you’ve met him.” Harry says, not taking his eyes off the empty street, the view from the window. It just feels like the owl could come back faster this way, and once the fireworks and the semi-legal aura-borealis-in-a-bottle are all confirmed, he can relax even just a single molecule more. “But he’s sort of like a really finicky breed of show cat. That I live with.”

Ron supplies, “And, that you shag.”

“And, that I shag.” Harry smiles.

“That you’re gonna marry.”

The smile stretches, dangerously close to huge. “That I’m going to marry.”

“I think, who cares about the shampoo, then.”

“I care.” Upending his glasses, Harry digs a knuckle into one eye, like he can push back the exhaustion and heart-obliterating anxiety and whatever other massive, wonderful, terrifying feelings linger all over, brimming just under the skin. “It’s not about the hair potion thing, though he is like, one Victorian petticoat thing away from going full dandy." Harry pushes a hand through his hair, looking back at Ron. "There's no way's he gonna say no, but it’s just... worth doing. Not to convince him, but. He notices stuff like this, all these little things, which makes me notice more little things, which makes the whole world feel like it's got more to it, like it's deeper or fuller or something and it's because of him that I-”

“Okay, save it for the vows, Merlin.” Ron pops in the sixth and final mini roll and stands up, chewing and thoughtful. He checks his watch, all in, Harry’s best fucking man. The best man. “Percy should be behind his very important department of transportation desk by now. We can bully him into getting the Floo authorization for bloody Paris, and still be back in time to meet Ginny at the bakery to get the cakes off to Wiltshire before your future husband even wakes up and wonders where you've gone off to.” “Future husband.” Harry repeats and Ron's grin is wildly contagious. Or maybe it's been idling in him even through the sleepless night, because he actually couldn't wait for today and today could hardly wait for him. Standing, he finishes off the coffee and runs a nervous, ready hand over his pocket. Inside, a weightless thing made enormous because it's the whole rest of his life, eager to arrive.

for day 27 of @microficmay

[raineandsky]

#86

Being a hero is stressful. That much is common knowledge. How a hero goes about unwinding from said stress is a mystery no one has yet figured out.

The hero settles in one of the little chairs in the circle. The man next to her gives her a light nudge. “Let’s see what you made this week, then.”

The hero reaches into her bag to show off her latest stress relief—a giant blanket, knitted in the downtime between jobs, sporting a rainbow of colours in bright streaks across its face. Everyone oohs and ahhs appropriately before the rest of the circle gets to showing off their own creations.

It’s been nice to have a place that isn’t entirely consumed by work, the hero thinks as she nods approvingly at someone’s mug cosy. No worrying about tomorrow, no wondering where the villains might be.

Her gaze flits to the next person in line to show something off, and her heart momentarily stops as she meets her eye. At least she doesn’t have to worry about the latter of her thoughts right now.

What the hell is the villain doing at the hero’s weekly knitting club?

“Go on,” the woman next to the villain prompts. The villain huffs and makes a show of it, but she pulls out a cardigan with a ghost of a pleased smirk.

The hero only realised why she’s so self-satisfied when she catches herself gaping in awe. The villain’s little cardigan is elaborate in pattern, swooping waves lining its shoulders. The yarns meld together in a perfect cacophony of colour. It’s amazing, more amazing than anything the hero could do.

The villain soaks in the praise with a humble nod before setting her gaze on the hero. It probably looks hopeful to anyone else, but the hero can see the glitter of arrogance in her eye. Go on, the villain’s practically saying, tell me how great I am.

“It’s nice,” the hero says through gritted teeth, and the villain’s smile turns humoured.

The hero can’t leave fast enough. Everyone else is packing their projects away. The hero’s blanket gets folded thankfully easily and she’s out the door before anyone can stop her.

Fine. A new project. Something to advance her skills and show the villain that she’s not the hot shit she thinks she is.

It takes all week. The hero holds her jumper up to show the group. The villain raises her eyebrows from across the circle.

“Inspired by another knitter here,” the hero says with what could almost be sarcasm, and the villain snorts a poorly contained laugh.

The villain shows off her creation. A pair of mittens, the patterns lacy and the colours bright. The hero scowls. Pissed doesn’t describe the feeling.

Next week. A layered scarf from the hero. The villain wins everyone’s affections with a tiny knitted elephant. “For my niece’s birthday,” the villain says innocently. “She loves them.”

Leaving is becoming more of a race with each passing week. “Keep trying,” the villain comments brightly before the hero can escape. “You’ve plenty of room to improve.”

The hero considers strangling the villain with her scarf.

The hero settles at her computer that evening with a scowl and a cup of hot chocolate, mentally prepared to prowl the internet for several hours for ideas on how to one-up the villain. It’s madness. She’s meant to be out there kicking the villain’s ass, and here she is trying to out-knit her.

It’s been three weeks, and she’s only just realising that her stress-relieving hobby is suddenly a lot more stress-inducing.

“Fuck,” she hisses outloud, and she momentarily considers the idea of knitting the word into a coaster for the villain too.

[musette22]

Before I log off for the day, I have a very important announcement to make:

Sebastian Stan should be kissed gently on the nose at least twelve times a day ♥️

That is all, thank you & goodnight 😌

[jenniiiiiiiii]

The fact that tumblr does not let me write commas in tags is a fucking travesty. How should I, a lover of run-on sentences and way too many clauses, express myself otherwise? I am reduced to using dashes and incorrect semicolons like a common pleb!

[infinityinakiss]

"most of the universe is knackered" preach, sister.

[shortsighted-owl]

Inspiration Fuck-it 7S Sunday

Tagged by all these amazing talented individuals for Fuck it Friday, Inspiration Saturday, 7SS: @comaboybuck @alyxmastershipper @bigfootsmom @jobairdxx @putijeansdiaz-ronordmann @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @rewritetheending @mellaithwen @thosetwofirefighters @elvensorceress @achillesbuck @buddierights @hippolotamus @bekkachaos @thekristen999 @rogerzsteven @ajunerose @monsterrae1

Some more 6x12 ‘Sleep outside your door’ coda, and a little cover/moodboard

They're approaching the door when Chris stops for a second, face shuttering. It makes Eddie's heart flip, and immediately he runs a hand through Chris' bedraggled curls. Feels it flip again as Chris allows his father to comfort him. 

He may be chasing the arrow of time but he is glad his son knows he can turn to him still.

“We did this. Me and Buck. When you’d been shot.” Chris says, eyes glancing up behind his glasses to meet Eddie’s. 

Now That. 

That pulls Eddie up short.

Chris continues. “And again, after…”

He doesn't need to name it. Eddie knows. A locked door, a baseball bat, a single phone call.

“We would check on you, just to make sure you were there, that you were okay. Sometimes, I'd be in bed, and I could hear Buck pacing back and forth.”

Somewhere deep down, he’s sure he remembers being so high on his meds, so bone deeply tired, and hearing the high squeak of his door hinges, the muffled steps of socked feet, a small hand on his cheek, larger fingertips on his wrist.

“Dad?” Eddie's hand grips the handle tighter as Chris starts. “Are you scared? In the hospital, you weren't in Buck’s room. You only went in with me, and even then, You didn't look at him” 

Not judgemental, just stating. From the mouth of babes.

Eddies throat clinks as he tries to swallow. “Yeah Chris. I’m terrified. But… But we’re allowed to be. We almost lost our Buck.”

Tagging: @the-likesofus @buddiefication @amberlyinviolet @chaosandwolves @leewithme @mumucow​ @indigo2831​ @loveyourownsmiilee​ @fiona-fififi​ anyone who wishes to share their work!

[steelycunt]

i've made a substantial start to this assignment and can now afford to leave the rest for another day (<- guy who's just created a word doc and opened some tabs)

[alberta-sunrise]

Officially old… legs hurt… I’m tired… just

Ugh 😪

[cult-of-the-eye]

Guys I'm literally such an adult I looked after my little sister, made a delicious nutritious meal for my family while also trying to study and I prepared lunch for the next day!!! It's true I am better than everyone else

[jerichoes]

it is done

[waloeders]

i know its barely 9pm but im going to bed gn everyone. say goodnight sleipnir please and thank you

[jamminvroomvroom]

is it me or are mclaren? not that? excited?

[badassxbirdy]

I spent the day at Pride, so everyone please enjoy this photo of Disco E.T. in celebration: