#and IT did not help me at all but after some troubleshooting it seemed to be my connection to that specific printer (women in STEM)

[songsintheattic]

we are having extremely comical and nigh catastrophic IT issues at work rn but my coworker and i have mastered tag team check printing. #girlssupportinggirls

[macabr3-barbi3]

CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed. 

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh. 

Right over his head. 

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring. 

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you. 

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of. 

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him. 

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed  Val coming into a room. 

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants. 

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with. 

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“ 

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. 

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

[herotome]

Devlog #120

Hi-ho, Wudge here. Early devlog...!

This week I drew a blush just for Warden and nobody else. There are two very specific ways to see it, and only in this office location. So... good luck!

I playtested the game enough to get allllllll 26 achievements. I actually... had to reference my own walkthrough to get one of them. ;;; But I was able to do it!!

I also had a small.. incident where Griffin promised he'd talk to everyone to help fix their negative opinions of me (aka, reset the approval points to a more neutral zone after I thoroughly antagonized everybody).... and then he didn't. It's fixed now ;;;;;; But woo that would have been an awful lil mistake hahaha.

I finished the 'updating ur mc pfp' tutorial - seems to be intuitive and working seamlessly enough!

I converted converted alllll the pngs into webps, and converted alllllllllll the mp3s and wavs into oggs...

...and deleted all unnecessary files and notes from the development process. This is usually the stage where I'll end up breaking something from accidentally nuking an important file... but so far so good.

I put in a cute, special lil sfx for the reward you get after the credits.

Finish designing and coding my SECRET NG+ screen, and wrote a personalized dev note to put in it.

And - we've finally updated Mr Whidden! Wahoo!!!! Remnantation did an amazing job as always!

I thought about putting in some animated smoke coming out of his cannon arm but I had to tell myself No... No Wudge....stop.. ......I did add a lil ember and smoke at the very edge of the gun but THATS IT I restrained myself there and did not animate!!!

So, what else is left?

Thanks I'm glad you asked.

Test my email subscription service to see how much I can customize those emails.

Film and upload the Griffin CG video.

Finish and import a few final pieces of in-game art (1 bird sprite, 1 background, some food art).

Review some sound effects in a final, final dev playtest.

Schedule out some social media release posts; wherein I might do like, a week of counting down until the game's release.

Finish updating my itch page (adding the final few lil graphics, putting up the new Content Warning, linking to the new video, then finally, uploading the game files and walkthrough).

Decide how I'm gonna update my pinned post. I should save a link to the old one bc most of its information should be quite relevant, but I'll want a temporary, shorter pinned post for new players who aren't familiar with this blog and are looking to troubleshoot or say hi or something.. Should still have fun attention-grabbing gifs and stuff from the itch page though. <_<

.... So yeah, mostly like - social media promo stuff. That should be it. Fingies crossed. Whew.

By the way?

Super Demo comes out December 2nd. Mark your calendars <3

Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[minastras]

tell me, do you feel the love? // soobin

It’s been six months since you were cheated on and, much to your chagrin, romance seems to be everywhere. Thankfully, your best friend Choi Soobin has seen you through everything without complaining once. Maybe love isn’t dead after all.

at a glance: gender neutral reader, best friends to lovers, university au, fluff, some angst, inspired by the song double take by dhruv!

words: 4.7k

warnings: swearing, discussions of cheating, mentions of a panic attack

——————————

You owed Choi Soobin your life.

That might’ve been a slight exaggeration, but it really did feel like it sometimes.

He was there for you the day you found out your then-boyfriend was cheating on you for almost the entirety of your year-long relationship. You wanted to do nothing but mope and/or shoot things, and he indulged you.

“I’m sorry,” he said in lieu of a greeting when you opened the door, a bag of your favourite snacks in his hands. He had rushed over immediately after you texted him the news. “I can’t believe Hyeontak would do that to you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Thanks for coming, Soup.”

You couldn’t remember when you’d started calling your best friend Soup. At first you shortened his name to Soobi, and then to Soobs, and somewhere along the line it became Soup. He laughed his ass off the first time he heard it, even though it wasn’t that funny.

The last thing you wanted right now was pity. You’d just returned from Hyeontak’s apartment where you’d caught him red handed (or red dicked, as it were). All you’d done since was text Soobin ‘hyeon cheated !’ and flopped onto the sofa, not even having the energy to cry.

“Let’s play Overwatch,” you suggested, beginning to set up your TV.

He stood in your doorway, confused. “You don’t want to talk about it?” he asked, probably preparing himself during the walk over to your place for you to eat and cry and rant until you were blue in the face. You were so… subdued.

“Not particularly. I want to shoot things,” you replied with a shrug, looking away. Your refusal to make eye contact with him was out of character, but you were trying to play it off. You were fine. “Can I get you something to drink?”

——————————

He was there for you a week later when you fought a printer. Well, it probably had more to do with it being Valentine’s Day than the printer itself. You were in the student room trying to print something for a project you were working on together that was due that weekend.

“Look, even the fucking printers have paper heart stickers on them,” you complained, rolling your eyes at the tacky decor covering every surface imaginable. There was red glitter on your hands. “And yet they still don’t work.”

Soobin looked up from the paper tray he’d been trying to fix for at least four minutes. “It is a little excessive,” he conceded, taking pity on you.

You removed the toner cartridge and put it back in, like that was going to do anything. “This is where all our student fees go. Fucking paper hearts.”

He laughed, taking the opportunity while you were distracted with the printer to stare at you. He could look at you as fondly and as often as he wanted, because in the three years of knowing him, you’d never once noticed how purely and utterly smitten he was with you.

“Maybe we should try the printer in the library again,” he suggested. This was the third printer you’d tried. You had spent the entire day hopping around your university to find one that worked — soaking in the sights of the happy, lovey-dovey couples all over campus — like you were on some kind of twisted, sadistic, printer pilgrimage. It made you sick.

“No! I’m going to make this one work, or so help me God.” You thumped the top of the printer. Percussive troubleshooting, you called it. Thankfully, the student room was empty apart from the two of you. Nothing happened. You hit it again, harder this time.

He suggested, “We could email the professor and ask her if she can print it for us.”

“I can do it,” you insisted. You hit the printer a third time. It restarted. Calming yourself down, you took a deep breath and lowered your voice, as if speaking too loudly would scare the printer into further non-compliance. 

“As Sun Tzu once said: face and know thine enemy. The HP DeskJet 2722e All-in-One Printer,” you said stubbornly, chant-like, your tone artificially even.

He laughed again. “I don’t think The Art of War applies to printers.”

“Metal box bastard,” you cursed, not really listening to him, hitting the printer between each word as its empty print queue and paper heart accessories taunted you. “I wish I could be a useless piece of shit and still have people love me.”

“Are you jealous of a printer?” he asked, perplexed.

You ignored him and continued clicking around your laptop screen’s error messages in frustration. Standing behind you now, Soobin grabbed your hands to force you to stop, pulling you away from the printer.

“Hey, I love you, but you’re being insane. I’ll email the Prof, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

——————————

He was there two months later, when you were invited to a party your ex would be attending. Soobin offered to go with you without you even having to ask.

“You really don’t have to come. I know you hate parties,” you told him, sitting on his bed while you waited for him to choose a jacket.

In all honesty you didn’t want to go either, but it was your friend Hayeon’s birthday and you had to be there. Besides, you liked Hayeon. But she was also friends with Hyeontak even though she knew he was a cheater, which made you like her slightly less. Whatever. It wasn’t about you.

“It’s okay,” Soobin said, neither confirming nor denying. He couldn’t lie to you, anyway. You knew him too well. “Which one do you prefer?” he asked, holding up two nearly identical denim jackets.

You suppressed a laugh. “The black one. It looks good on you,” you said, and you swore you caught a faint blush on his cheeks before he turned around to put the dark blue denim jacket back in his wardrobe.

At the party, you struggled to get Hayeon’s attention for even a second. She was too popular for her own good. But you managed to bend her ear just long enough to wish her a happy birthday before she was whisked away by someone else.

You and Soobin retreated to a quieter part of the living room as soon as you could, exchanging wordless glances. It was painfully obvious to you that he wanted to go home. You checked the time and held up three fingers and a fist: thirty more minutes. That was probably the earliest you could leave without being rude.

“Y/N! Fancy seeing you here.”

You grimaced at the familiarity of that voice but turned around anyway. Soobin watched on carefully.

“Hey, Hyeontak. It’s been a while,” you greeted, keeping your voice as light as you could.  He had his arm wrapped around the waist of a girl you didn’t know, not that it mattered. The smug smirk on his face was a much bigger target of your anger.

“It really has. I heard you were pretty upset by, you know, everything,” Hyeontak said, smirking.

You raised an eyebrow and glanced at the girl. She seemed oblivious, and you weren’t going to say anything to her here in front of everyone. That would only humiliate her. Did you have a moral obligation to tell her in private?

“I understand, though. It’s hard to get over me,” he continued with a carefree laugh when you didn’t respond to his provocation. Without realising it, you kept looking over at Soobin for reassurance.

“You always did have an ego large enough for its own zip code, Hyeon,” you said jokingly, hoping the girl would think you were just friends trading friendly insults. You grinned with supreme malice and even threw in a giggle for good measure.

“Still hilarious as always, Y/N,” Hyeontak said, but you could tell he was on edge now and looking for a way out. “Anyway, it was nice catching up with you! I’ll see you around.”

He made a swift exit, dragging the girl he hadn’t bothered to introduce away in his wake. You looked at Soobin, amused. He rolled his eyes and you laughed as you watched Hyeontak leave.

Turning back to Soobin now, you asked, “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

The back patio of Hayeon’s house was empty, overlooking a small yard. Soobin took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh night air.

“Thanks,” he said. You could always tell when he was feeling overwhelmed. It was far too loud, hot, and crowded inside, but the cool breeze was helping him to calm down. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you replied, and for the first time in months you were starting to feel like maybe that wasn’t a lie. You hadn’t felt jealous at all earlier, you’d stood up for yourself, and now you were alone with your favourite person in the world. Just being around Soobin made you feel at ease.

“I’m not even mad at Hyeontak anymore,” you said honestly. “I’m just upset at myself for trusting him.”

Soobin crossed his arms and sat down on the edge of the patio, patting the spot beside him. “Well, I’ll be mad at him for you. Fuck that guy,” he deadpanned.

You let out a surprised laugh at his profanity — he didn’t curse often — as you sat down with him. “Why, thank you, Soup.”

“I hope he didn’t destroy your trust forever,” Soobin continued, sounding dead-serious despite your joking mood.

You turned to him, propping your head up on one hand. “What do you mean?”

“I like that you trust people so much. You have such an open heart,” he said, his tone muted as he looked at you. “It’s one of the best things about you.”

There was something different in his gaze tonight, although you didn't couldn’t tell what. Or perhaps it was the same as it always was, but you were just now seeing it fully for the first time. You shook your head and broke eye contact. There were too many things in your head.

It was a perfect late spring night, with clear skies and a crisp breeze that prevented you from feeling too warm. You sat in silence for a good while, with the atmospheric party noises in the background seeming to fade further and further away the longer you were alone with him.

Somehow, every party you went to together ended this way: with the two of you hiding out in a quiet part of the house by yourselves, away from the crowds and chaos. It was nice.

“Do you really mean that?” you asked after a long pause. You had never really thought of yourself as a particularly trusting person. “What you said about me having an open heart.”

He was serious again when he nodded. “I do.”

You returned his gaze. You could always tell if he was lying, and this time, he wasn’t. His eyes, soft and brown and kind, were genuine. He smiled.

“Let’s go,” you suggested, even though it hadn’t been thirty minutes. Something about his smile made you want to get out of there and go somewhere else. “I just need to say bye to Hayeon before we leave.”

He stood up to follow you into the house.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Soup. I’ll be fine,” you told him. He beamed, grateful and relieved, and waited for you outside.

When you returned, he gave you his black denim jacket to wear on the walk home.

——————————

He was there for you when a classmate of yours asked you out and you had a panic attack trying to reply to their text.

“I can’t do it.” You threw your phone across the room, your hands shaking.

“You like them, right? And they seem to really like you back,” Soobin assured, always the steady, patient one.

“They’re lying to me. They don’t actually like me, I’m not good enough for them,” you sobbed, frantic, your words tripping over one another to get out.

As much as you were over your ex, you couldn’t shake his betrayal. Maybe you did deserve to be cheated on. How could you ever believe anyone else when they said they liked you, if the man who’d told you that for a year had never meant it?

Soobin hugged you, one arm around your shoulders and the other on the back of your head. You were hyperventilating, crying not from hurt but from the embarrassment that, god, you couldn’t even text someone back. What was wrong with you?

“If you’re not ready, just tell them no,” he said, low and deliberate. “If they’re worth your time, they’ll understand.”

As he held you against his chest with your ear pressed to the soft fabric of his sweater, you could feel the vibrations of his voice and hear the slowness of his heartbeat, and you started to calm down almost instantly. His ability to pull you out of your spirals was unmatched, and it had always been.

“I’m never going to be normal again,” you sighed, now sounding resigned and exhausted instead of panicked. “I like them, and I can’t even- why can’t I just-”

“Be patient with yourself. You were with Hyeontak for a whole year.” Soobin slowly let you go, studying your expression, his eyes asking if you were fine without him having to say a thing.

“I’m good. Thanks, Soup,” you whispered, nodding as if to convince yourself. If anyone could make you believe that it was him, and the more you stared into his eyes the more sure of your words you became.

He smiled and rubbed your shoulder, his hand large and heavy and his touch firm and grounding. “You’ll be okay when you’re okay. You don’t have to rush.”

——————————

And he was here for you now, at yet another party, and you were starting to think that you would much rather be alone with him than in a house filled with people neither of you recognised.

Why were you here again?

Oh, right. Because Soobin’s roommate Yeonjun wanted him to get laid. Maybe this time you were here for him instead of the other way around. For once.

Yeonjun had thrown a massive party (in his and Soobin’s apartment, no less) to try and get Soobin ‘out of his shell’. Nevermind the fact that Soobin didn’t want to get out of his shell and was perfectly fine where he was.

“Hey,” Soobin waved you over the second you entered his apartment, visibly relieved at the sight of you. He was wearing that black denim jacket of his that you liked, which he wore nearly every day after you’d said it looked good on him.

“Hi. I can’t even recognise this place,” you said, looking around his packed apartment.

“Yeah, Yeonjun knows too many people,” he laughed, but you could tell he was nervous.

“Soobin!” Yeonjun called, stopping in his tracks when he saw you, the excitement in his face dissipating. “Oh. You’re here.”

Soobin punched him in the arm and scowled. “Don’t be rude.”

“You never talk to anyone else when they’re around,” Yeonjun whisper-shouted to him, like you weren’t standing right there.

“Don’t worry,” you said while holding up your hands, a disclaimer. “I won’t monopolise his time. Go have fun, Soup.”

Yeonjun grinned and gave you a hi-five. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about! You get it.” He patted Soobin hard on the back and nudged him over to a group of girls by the window.

“Wait!” Soobin exclaimed, jerking at the sudden motion. He immediately clammed up and dug his heels into the floor, resisting, but Yeonjun didn’t relent.

“The girl there in the leather skirt? She thinks you’re cute. Go talk to her,” he pushed, laughing. “Bye! Have fun!”

Soobin was propelled into the crowd against his will, turning back at you with pleading eyes, but it was too late. Yeonjun already had his arm around your shoulder, stopping you from rescuing him.

You found another group of people to talk to so you weren’t alone, although throughout the entire night your attention drifted sporadically back to Soobin. You kept glancing over at the window, sneaking glimpses of him and the girl in the leather skirt, not sure when exactly you’d started feeling jealous. He was laughing with her, and she was touching his arm.

Someone tapped your shoulder. It was Yeonjun. You excused yourself from the group you were talking to.

“Hey, sorry about earlier,” he said, much calmer than before. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offence taken,” you assured him, which was true. If it had been anyone else you probably would’ve been annoyed, but you knew Yeonjun meant well.

“That’s a relief,” he smiled, fixing his hair and clapping his hands together. “Soobin is- he’s holding out for someone and he can’t move on. I just want him to- uh-”

“Get laid?” you finished helpfully, echoing the text exchange Soobin had screenshotted and sent to you. You weren’t used to seeing Yeonjun stumbling over his words; he was always so assured and confident. And he wasn’t drunk yet either. You flagged it in your mind as something to come back to when you had the time.

Yeonjun laughed loudly. “Oh, he told you about that?”

Someone somewhere in the crowd was calling his name now. While you laughed along, you were still thinking about Soobin and who he was holding out for. And why your heart had dropped when you heard that.

“Look, I gotta go. Sorry again,” Yeonjun said, patting your shoulder. “Soobin really wanted you to be here, so thanks for coming.”

He disappeared into the crowd, leaving you by yourself to watch Soobin. The girl whispered something into his ear, and he laughed.

At that very moment, a slow song came on. Who would play a slow song now? Yeonjun. Right.

Soobin looked up at the abrupt music change and his eyes instantly locked on yours from across the room. You smiled, tight and close-lipped, as the girl took him by the arm and pulled him to dance with her. 

You slipped through the crowd and down the corridor to Soobin’s closed bedroom. He wouldn’t mind if you hid and waited out the party in there by yourself.

His room was small and neat and nicely-decorated, just large enough for a wardrobe, desk, and queen single bed (you knew that because you had bought him his bedsheets). When you came over you usually sat on his bed, while he took his desk.

There were traces of his personality everywhere, which you loved. A stack of books on his bedside table, a stuffed rabbit toy that you won for him from an arcade last year on his desk, and his precious hedgehog’s cage.

His window was cracked open, so you looked outside. He had a nice view of the nearby park. Resting your arms on the windowsill, made of metal and cool against your skin, you closed your eyes. You saw Soobin when you did, smiling at the girl in the leather skirt, with his eyes crinkled perfectly and his cheeks raised.

He was holding out for someone. Why did that make you feel disappointed?

Your phone buzzed. It was Yeonjun warning you Hyeontak was here, and that he would try to kick him out. Three months ago that would have bothered you, but you felt nothing now. You sent him back a quick thank you.

“Were you thinking about me?”

You spun around at the sudden voice to see Soobin standing in the entrance of his room, one shoulder leaning against the doorframe, thumbs hooked on the belt loops of his jeans. For the first time in your life, the sight of him made you nervous instead of calming you down.

“Huh-”

“Just now, when they played that song,” he continued, walking towards you. “Were you thinking about me? Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

All you could do was stare at him with your eyes wide in shock, desperately trying to read his face, his tone, his body language. You were normally good at that, so good it was unsettling to other people, but now you couldn’t at all.

He had his hands in his pockets while he looked at you, waiting for an answer that you were struggling to produce. It felt like your mind was whirring at ninety miles an hour, and yet your head was empty. You’d been with him in his room countless times, but you’d never felt like this before.

His eyes were both serious and anticipatory, like he was about to burst with emotion. Usually he was the first to fold during long pauses in conversations, but now he was uncharacteristically sure-footed in his silence. He wasn’t going to keep talking to fill it; he wanted you to speak.

When you finally did, all you could come up with was, “Why aren’t you out there with-”

“I’d rather be here with you,” he said, more decisive than you’d ever heard him, the sentiment so urgent he couldn’t even wait for you to finish your question. It was unlike him. You didn’t- couldn’t respond. “Can I show you something?”

You nodded dumbly and he took your hand to lead you to his bedside table. He opened the front cover of the book on top of his stack and pulled out a red paper heart.

“Do you remember this?” he asked, handing it to you.

“Of course.”

On Valentine’s Day, student union volunteers had been stationed around campus handing out paper hearts to ‘spread cheer’. Fresh off of a break-up at the time, you had scoffed at the idea. But when one of the volunteers offered a heart to you and Soobin, mistaking you two for a couple, you took it anyway and gave it to him.

And he’d kept it. You turned it over in your hand, tracing its scalloped edges and feeling the grit of the sparkly red paper. It had not a single crease, fold, or tear on it, even after months.

“That day we spent trekking all over the city looking for a working printer was the best Valentine’s Day of my life,” Soobin told you, soft and sentimental. “Because I was with you.”

Your gaze shifted from the paper heart to his face. In that moment, you realised why he was the only person who could calm you down when you panicked, why he was the only person you ever wanted to be around, why you always found yourself turning to him for reassurance. Because when he looked at you, you felt seen.

“Really? Even though I had a breakdown and started quoting Sun Tzu at the HP DeskJet- whatever?” you asked. You still remembered that, because he had found it so funny. You tended to keep track of those things so you could make him laugh again. 

“That was a bonus,” he said, taking the paper heart back from you for safekeeping. His fingers brushed yours, and you felt a jolt of electricity that had never been there before.

“Yeonjun told me you’re ‘holding out for someone’,” you said, unsure, glancing over his shoulder at the party still raging outside. He smiled at your slowness, giggling as you (finally) put the pieces together. “And- I’m now realising he was talking about me.”

“I knew you’d get there eventually,” he teased, raising one hand to your chin. You leaned into his touch instinctively, and he brought his lips to yours. They were soft and warm and tasted like mint lip balm. He had bought that lip balm from a 7-Eleven when you were out one night and his lips were cracked and bleeding, along with a Kit-Kat for you.

He put his other hand on the small of your back to draw you nearer to him, and you grabbed the front of his jacket. Everywhere he touched you, you came alive.

“Listen, I’m processing a lot all at once,” you mumbled in the kiss, defending yourself, holding onto his collar. He smiled against your mouth. The worn denim of his jacket folded and crumpled under your grip, soft in a way it wasn’t when it was new, a testament to just how often he wore it after Hayeon’s party a few months ago.

You were breathless by the time you separated, although he was not. He leaned his forehead lightly against yours, beaming. His smile made you dizzy. 

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured. Your lips were swollen, as were his. “When did you start liking me?”

“Chuseok two years ago, when everyone else was going home to visit their families and I had to stay on campus,” he answered, completely void of hesitation. “You invited me over for dinner and we cooked together even though we barely talked back then.”

Three years ago, at the start of university, you and Soobin were part of a loosely-tied social circle. You were acquaintances at best at the time. But that Chuseok, you reached out to him on a whim knowing both of you would be alone for the festivities otherwise. He came over to your apartment (your roommates had all gone home) and you had a two-person feast.

It was originally meant to be a casual hangout held solely so neither of you would have to spend Chuseok by yourselves. All you knew about him then was that he was tall, cute, and relatively quiet.

But you and him had so much fun cooking together that you stayed up all night talking. A large part of that conversation was spent lamenting about how you hadn’t become friends sooner, even though you’d known each other for a year.

A larger part was about your families, your worries, and your greatest fears, because for whatever reason you felt compelled to tell each other everything. He had crashed on your living room floor that night, and you somehow manhandled him (height and all) into your bed while you took the sofa for yourself.

From that day on, you became closer and closer. As you moved through university, you started to drift away from the superficial friendships formed out of necessity in your first year. But he stuck around, and became your sole close friend.

“I woke up in your bed and saw you sleeping in the living room using my coat as a blanket, and that’s when I knew,” he told you, cupping your face in his hands, his voice soft and low.

His gaze and touch were warm as always, but unlike before when the warmth came from his hands, this time it started in your heart and spread outwards. You knew exactly which coat he was talking about, a long black puffer he’d been obsessed with in your second year. He still had it, you were pretty sure.

“Two years?” you breathed, looking up at him wide-eyed through your lashes. Yeonjun’s impatience was starting to make sense to you now. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I wasn’t waiting. If I never got the chance to tell you, I’d be okay with that too,” Soobin said, sweeping his thumb lightly over your cheek. “I had to be sure you felt the same. I couldn’t risk ruining our friendship otherwise.”

You shook your head, smiling, unable to comprehend how you got so lucky. “I don’t deserve you,” you told him.

In response, he pulled you back towards him and kissed you harder, more desperately, with a fervour so antithetical to his usual calm disposition that you melted in his arms right then and there. You could feel his want, his longing, his sincerity, and you wondered how you could have been so blind as to not see it earlier.

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded.

You wondered how you didn’t see your own. He was your answer to everything, and had been for so long. You couldn’t find the appropriate words to reassure him that, yes, you weren’t going to leave him — some feelings were too big, too wide, too much, to be expressed verbally — so you just kissed him again. And again. And again. You’d missed out on two whole years, after all.

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

[hmshermitcraft]

I read up about an AU about Mumbo being an Avian instead of Grian, and it inspired me for this.

I would've picked crow for him, but that felt too 'Philza' so enjoy Magpie Mumbo.

After the whole shbacle involving sucking a whole-ass soul last season, Grian was surprised that all Mumbo got was his waffle. Not a single feather. What surprised him more was that he was still an Avian.

You would think that Mumbo would become the server's new pesky bird, but apparently not.

Then Season 9 rolled around.

Mumbo's white shirt is thin, so when Ren decided to pour some water on him as a light-hearted joke, most of the hermits saw those small, fluffy, black and white wings.

Mumbo didn't realise until he turned, noticed Grian's Oh Shit face and everyone else's shocked/surprised/confused face then felt his back.

30 minutes of explaining to Xiuma later and they found out three things:

1) Soul sucking is not supposed to happen at all, so they basically broke the game. (Doc is proud)

2) Because of it, he scrambled some code. This was its way of troubleshooting.

3) His wings aren't even fully grown, so they're basically glass, and the reason why he can't reverse the code.

Good news: they will grow in, so when they hit adult stage, Xiuma can fix it (if Mumbo wants the wings gone)

Mumbo is just in shock. This all happened from a porkchop! How did end up like this?

~🪶

Thankfully, Mumbo has local wing expert Grian who's happy to help every step of the way! Mostly. He messes with Mumbo a bit as well, it's too fun not to! Only a little, though, just to make Mumbo laugh.

Thankfully, Mumbo seems to have skipped most of the painful parts of the wing growth process. It's just up to Grian to teach him how to groom them (Grian lets Mumbo practice on his own wings whilst Mumbo's are too small to easily reach. He's learning how to use the brush well!) and to find clothes that'll work as they get bigger.

The other hermits are still cautious about mentioning them. Mumbo often hides them under his clothes, unsure what to think of it all. Soon they aren't going to fit under his shirts, and he'll have to swap to Grian's clothes. He thought he would've come to terms with it by then.

He finds... He likes people touching them, though. It makes him jump, but it feels nice! Doc's hand brushing over them as he says goodbye, Iskall squeezing them in a hug (careful not to crush them!) Grian kissed them once, after brushing through his feathers. That was very nice.

He's still unsure whether he'll keep them or not. But, he's enjoying them whilst they're here!

[snakebites-and-ink]

Working Normally

I’m feeling ready to try my hand at posting whump series made of several chapters! I’m starting with one of the probably less-ambitious of my planned multi-part WIPs so I can smoothly ease myself into writing longer series.

Meet Asher, a pet who (with his master’s permission) holds a job as an IT guy. Set in the box boy universe.

The current plan is for me to post a new chapter about every two weeks, but whether I’m able to maintain this will be dependent on how much of a writing stockpile I can create during winter break ^^'

Chapter 2

CW: BBU, pet whump, dehumanization

“Did you try powering it off and turning it back on?

That was a question Asher always had to ask. At least half the time that was all it took to fix something, yet surprisingly few people tried it before calling for him.

“Do I look stupid to you?” The man asked.

Asher swallowed back a sigh. “Of course not. I just have to ask so I know what you’ve already tried.”

The answer seemed to mollify the man. “Yeah, I turned it off and back on. It’s still broken.”

Asher nodded and sat in front of the computer. “I’ll see what I can do.”

It was often a delicate balance, fixing people’s issues without offending them. Most people didn’t like the idea of a pet knowing better than them—at least when it came to anything beyond trained positions and how to beg nicely. Even when they had a totally different area of expertise than him.

Asher, at least, was good enough at staying polite and respectful that he could usually keep them appeased. Sometimes people were completely happy with him the whole time. More often, there was a subtle tension as they decided whether they thought he was being too presumptuous or not, which he was usually able to defuse with deference.

There was occasionally also a case where someone decided to escalate things, which could become quite unpleasant for Asher. As a pet, he simply wasn’t entitled to the same rights or the same basic decency as a human being. And if he fought back, he would face much larger consequences than they would. At least they couldn’t physically hurt him, though, without having to face his master’s wrath for damaging his property. Asher’s punishments were his master’s alone to dish out.

After spending a while troubleshooting, Asher was able to get the computer working normally again. The guy said “thank you,” which was more than some people did when Asher solved their problem. Asher responded with the obligatory “You’re welcome,” in the friendly voice that said he was always happy to help, and bade the man have a nice afternoon.

Only when he was in the hallway, out of earshot, did Asher let out a sigh. Being a pet who had a place in the world of people had its perks, but ease certainly wasn’t one of them. His collar marked him out as different, lesser even, and once someone saw that, he was treated as such. And being a pet did make him different in some ways, but it didn’t make him as far beneath everyone as most people seemed to think. Others cared less about what he was actually capable of than about the role they thought he ought to fill.

At least his owner was more open-minded. Asher didn’t know how he would have handled it if he’d ended up with someone who wasn’t willing to give him any amount of power over his own life. Asher was glad he belonged to someone who allowed him a fair level of independence, even if that did come with its difficulties.

[k0mo-reb1]

(shit post)

I'm just wondering what would it be like if a self-aware - obsessive - Leon Kennedy would come out in the game and appear right in front of your eyeballs

˚₊⋅─── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ───⋅ ˚₊˚₊⋅─── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ───⋅ ˚₊

As per usual, you logged into your gaming PC on a Saturday night with your midnight munchies prepared. You then sat down in your gaming chair and munched on some chips while clicking to launch Resident Evil 4 (Remake). After some time, you quickly began playing the game and having fun. You would always say "I'm sorry, Leon!" or you would even grumble about how slow Leon would occasionally reload his gun while you're in a fight. You had no idea, but Leon couldn't help but chuckle unknowingly at your remarks.

Could it be that he did it on purpose..? Who knows.

You always had this tendency to treat Leon like a real person when you played the game. You would worry every time he reached low hp. And not going to lie: He seemed to be enjoying it...

And obviously, you were unaware of his "self-awareness."

However, soon after, you switched to other games to occupy your time. After finishing Resident Evil, perhaps you could pass the time by playing some other games. But you were unaware that a particular person was experiencing a little bit of... Jealousy. You're spending so much time playing those other games that it's obvious you've forgotten about "him."

'How impolite', he thought...

╰┈➤ ❝ [Continue...]

One day, you were sitting in your gaming chair, prepared to strap yourself in and spend the rest of the weekend playing your "new" games. After logging into your computer, you use your cursor to choose which game to play while idly sipping your cola.

You ask yourself, "Hmm... What should I play today?" until a particular game attracts your attention.

You thought, "Yeah, I should play this." You drew your cursor to the game icon. But the game icon unexpectedly shifts everytime you attempt to click it. "What the hell..?" You thought.

Whenever your cursor attempts to click a game icon, the icons move, as if preventing you from playing the game. It was clear that you were both frustrated and perplexed at the same time. "What the hell is going on, is this some kind of virus?" You mutter to yourself in confusion. Similar to the other games, you couldn't click on them since if you tried, they would move on their own.

To determine what was wrong with your computer, you attempted to look into your settings. Confounded to learn nothing was wrong after your troubleshooting. There is no virus and no unfavorable findings whatsoever.

Not until a note suddenly appears on your screen that says, "It's useless, sweetheart."

You stare at it in perplexity, "Is this some sort of joke?" You mutter to yourself, and the note surprisingly continues, "No, it's not a joke."

Your jaw drops. What the fuck?

You gaze at the note in disbelief before it abruptly closes and all your remaining games start to disappear one by one. There wasn't much you could do considering how your computer was moving on its own. Soon after, you were staring at a blank desktop. Your background was wiped clean, and all of your games were deleted. Although... There was one game that wasn't gone and yeah, you're damn right.

Resident Evil 4 Remake.

All of a sudden, Resident Evil launches in your computer. The game loads until it reveals Leon Kennedy staring into your screen, and a hand resting under his chin. "Where's my TLC, sweetheart?" He mutters.

"Huh? What the fuck?" You raise a brow.

"I'm serious." He frowned.

"Is this a new update to resident evil where you can video call to certain characters?" You questioned, not to him - mostly to yourself. You still couldn't believe that you were talking to the REAL Leon Kennedy here.

"Sweetheart, listen to me..."

You're obviously ignoring him at this point as your thoughts are still racing with questions and hows. All you can think of is how to reinstall all the games that were just deleted, or perhaps if you take this to a computer shop, they might be able to fix it..?

Leon was starting to get fed up with your 'stubborn' attitude. The game suddenly shuts off with a loud glitch noise and so as the lights in your bedroom. The sudden events cause your eyes to slightly expand as you look around. An outage?

Nah bro.

Suddenly, you felt a hand touch your shoulder and then a whisper in your ear. "I've been feeling so lonely y/n... How could you ditch me out like that..?" A familiar voice came up behind you.

After a long period of silence. The lights came back on, Leon Kennedy could be seen standing behind you smirking triumphantly. You felt like an ant that might easily be stepped on due to his height advantage over you. He was waaayyyy much taller than you thought out to be. You instinctively move away from him and take a step back before giving him a quick once-over. His veins on his arms and biceps were identical to those in the game, and his muscles were incredibly well-defined. His gorgeous blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. His chiseled jaw and his tight attire effectively sculpted his six-pack against those fabric.

Holy hell, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't like the sight in front of you right now. But this is not the moment to let yourself become captivated.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" His voice sounded soothing and deep, mesmerizing even.

"Is this real..?"

"It's as real as it can get." His eyes narrowed.

He remained still for a while, watching your face as he observed it. You still gave off the impression that you were unable to believe what was happening, which is probably the case. In light of this, he made the decision to provide you with a proof. It's really the only option. He approaches you and invades your personal space before grabbing your hand and placing it on his masculine and veiny arms, running it along towards his biceps. The muscles made his skin feel soft and rigid at the same time. You begin to step backward as he draws in closer; you are pinned by the desk behind you, which is limiting your movement. He directs his unwavering gaze at you while you return the gaze with doubt.

"Oh, y/n... You always make me feel so special. Whenever you complain about me, or how much you get worried about me when I go low hp. Your voice, your face... so perfect." He starts to caress your cheeks softly and starts to press himself unto you, his arms wrapping your waist in a controlling manner.

"How did you get here..?"

"It's 2023. Who said fictional characters can't be real?" (It's a joke)

He leans back and sat on your gaming chair before pulling you to to his lap.

"Remember how you always say you want to play Resident Evil and how you're always so excited to play me? Well, now you can." He smirked.

"What?"

"What?" He smiles.

"..."

"I know damn well you knew what I meant by that."

You suddenly raised an alcohol spray in front of his face before tugging on the handle to spread the solution on his face. He rapidly backs away, coughing violently as he shakes his hand in the air, hoping to get the alcohol in the air disperse. He continues to cough, but after some time, he was able to collect himself. He lifts his head again to meet your gaze, with a frown this time.

"Y/n, what the hell?!"

"Stop being a creep. You're making the situation worse, I don't even know what the hell is going on at this point. Let alone a video game character flirting the fuck out of my ass." You frowned as well.

He couldn't help but make a low, seductive chuckle, "Not everything needs to make sense, y/n. Just enjoy the moment while I'm here. It's not all the time you get an opportunity like this."

Damn right.

He wasn't altogether off base with his statements, but they did make you pause for a second. After a short while, you make up your mind to speak but are quickly silenced by his finger as he leans in closer and looks intently at you from those blue eyes of his.

"Shh... Less talking, more actions." He whispers against your ear, his hot breath fanning your earlobe.

He leans in again, you can't move because he's pressing you against the desk. With admiration in his eyes, he leans in closer. Pink blush spreads across your face. Your favorite video game character becoming a real person, much alone being this close to you, made it seem as though time had frozen. This situation seemed so overwhelming that your mind felt like it would malfunction. Your surroundings and the sounds of the outside world were drowned out by Leon in front of you and the moment as his breath fanned across your lips and your eyes locked with his.

You thought you might pass out at any moment. You weren't accustomed to having a man this near to you. Your thinking suddenly became cloudy and your vision began to blur as soon as his lips got within a few inches of you. The world around you then abruptly fades to black, and your consciousness begins to drift away...

...

...

...

...

...

(Insert bird chirping sound effects...)

You lift your eyelids up and slowly awaken in your familiar bed. You sat up, groaning as you supported your grogginess by placing a hand over your forehead, before finally gathering your composure and scanning your bedroom. It was quiet and still, perhaps even peaceful. The silent hum of your air conditioner, the sounds of birds chirping outside, and the sunlight shining through your window.

Suddenly, you recall yourself having that weird dream over your favorite video game character coming to life. So it was just a dream...

"What a weird dream. I could tell my best friend about that."

Suddenly, you hear a low groan behind you, quickly turning around to find that Leon had been sleeping right by your side the entire time. On your tiny solo bed, his large figure occupies 80% of the space. With a blank look, you blinked at him.

"... or maybe not."

This day couldn't get any weirder...

After a few moments, he slowly opens his eyes as well. Gaining his composure before his ice pupils glance over to you who's been staring at him with bewilderment. He lets out a chuckle and smirked as he sits up, "Aww sweetheart, don't give me that look. You're not happy to see daddy?"

With those words, you couldn't help but shot him a strange look on your face before you finally sighed in defeat. So it wasn't a dream... In an effort to make sense of everything, you got out of bed. You paced around, thinking thoroughly over this whole situation, before walking past your mirror and unintentionally noticing something on you. You came back to the mirror to discover a... hickey? on your neck. Oh no.

You start to notice more, one on each of your shoulders, inner thighs, and finally, the middle of your chest... But one thing was certain: you were pissed. Your eyes slowly returned to the man sitting on the edge of your bed, whistling and gazing out the window as if he had done nothing wrong. You took your slippers and tossed them in his direction in a fit of rage. He swiftly catches your slipper effortlessly before it even has a chance to touch his face, demonstrating his experience as an agent. A chuckle escapes his lips, obviously amused by your reaction.

"Come on, sweetheart. You're always so angry at me," He makes a small pout, "I just gave you a small massage last night, nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing wrong!? This motherfu-" With a fit of rage, you quickly stomped your way towards him and glance down at his figure, "What the hell did you do to me while I was unconscious!?" Your rage was building as you leaned in closer to him.

Your eyes locked into his as you await for him to mutter something, anything.

"Kiss me, baby. You look so hot staring at me like that, it turns me on..."

"What the fu-"

Sighing and shaking your head in annoyance, you think, "This man is impossible." Your brows wrinkled as you looked at him while leaning back and standing upright. A sigh escapes your lips, rubbing your temples in frustration.

"How the hell am I supposed to explain this if my colleagues or friends saw this, huh?"

He rolls his eyes in response, "Just tell them you have a new, hot, masculine boyfriend who's always there for your needs." He snickered at you before he displays his height and dominance by standing up straight in front of you. He almost seems to want you to feel helpless and weak in his presence, but you definitely don't want to. I mean - you're not a hoe now, are you?🤨

"You might as well just get used to this, sweetheart. I won't let you get away and I'm not leaving your side either. We'll be staying together, as one." He says firmly as he looks down at you.

He's not entirely wrong. He appears unmoved by anything you say to him about leaving, and he also appears to be really interested in staying with you. Furthermore, who knows what he'll do if you let him go free? let alone a fictional character actually existing. That most certainly isn't normal. For some reason, you have the impression that he was your obligation or responsibility in some way. But since you're already here, you may as well accept what's going on and possibly make an effort to make sense of it as time goes on.

"Fine..." You mutter reluctantly,

"Excellent. I'll be looking forward to being under your care, sweetheart." He makes a faint smirk.

Bonus scene -

You did a pregnancy test and thankfully you were safe.

[ts1depot]

Pottersville 1.0 Has Been Released

Well, I finally did it. I finally released the world that I've been agonizing over for the past three years ever since I ran into some glitches that were bound to be dealbreakers for players. It's why I spent so long trying to troubleshoot it. The irony about all the blood, sweat and tears is that I wound up learning so much about CAW that I'm now juggling several WIPs after I swore Pottersville would be my last world ever.

I'm still pretty much troubleshooting this world (and my computer), but rather than stall Pottersville any longer, I've decided to release it. It's why I'm calling it Pottersville 1.0, so I can leave room for any upgrades and fixes if needed.

Specifications:

It's very large, with 195 lots and over 120 sims.

It's very Showtime and Late Night-heavy, and requires all but University, Supernatural and Into the Future to run. It also requires Riverview from The Sims 3 store.

There might be some issues with Starlight Shores venues (Hoi Polloi, Binder Clips and Brotherhood of Fine Fellows) causing sound glitches. If any sound issues occur, maybe try importing fresh copies of those lots from SS.

If the world is too laggy from so much going on, remember, you can: kick out households, turn some lots into "No Visitors" or use Overwatch and other mods to help out.

Link to Download Here!

P.S. All feedback welcome, as Pottersville still seems to have glitches here and there. Any insight you could provide would be of great help!

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Please Consider Donating if You Like Pottersville and Want to Support TheSims Depot!

In all the years of running The Sims Depot.com, I've never asked for donations, because ads would pay for the webhosting fees. However, post pandemic, times have changed. Not only has ad revenue dried up, people are using ad blockers, which isn't fair to website owners or content creators. I know people hate ads (so do I), but remember that it's the ads that keep content free.

So, I'm asking for help. (Learn more on this page). Any amount will do; it doesn't matter. (Heck, give a penny if you'd like!) I'm not looking to get rich; it's just that I can't afford to keep hosting the site and creating content for free when it literally costs me money now.

I'm currently using paypal.me, but if people are too uncomfortable with this, I can set up a Patreon or something. Just let me know in the comments.

Thanks in advance! 💌

[master-of-the-railway]

Relating to your post on the subtle angst of being a machine, I hunger for all the possible physical angst elements. Where is the fear of limited or increasingly costly repair parts? Where is the worry of the shrinking pool of mechanical experts (engine troubleshooters)? The simple inescapable awareness that one's moving parts are constantly degrading? Horror relating to corrosive/damaging environments? Complex emotional trauma and strange coping mechanisms in response to the reality of their entire "family" slowly *literally* falling apart?

YES!!! YESS!!! FUCK YES!!! SOMEONE THAT GETS IT!!!!!

going to. put this under the cut bc I have SO MUCH TO SAY.

You get it SO well, so many good points there. All things come to an end, and engines especially can be kept alive for over a hundred years if they are well taken care of, but there's so many who are not as valued or who simply cannot be taken care of as well as their owners want to take care of them. And they can rarely do things about it. It's honestly admirable that some of the Sodor engines have worked so hard to protect and preserve their fellow rolling stock. Oliver is a beloved little engine, but he likely stays up some nights thinking about how if Douglas hadn't happened upon him, he wouldn't even be here right now. He'd have been melted down ages ago. Not to bring up Hiro again but he is literally the first engine that comes to mind when I think of this sort of thing. He went to Sodor so excited to be helpful and useful and was promptly abandoned not long after he'd broke down. He was stuck there for god knows how long and if Thomas hadn't found him, by accident mind you, he would've corroded and died there most likely. And yet he would've rather done that then get scrapped. Almost as if he wanted to pass away on his own terms. Like I mentioned before, we're shown often that most of the kind-hearted engines (specifically on Sodor) will put forth their best effort to keep any machine out of the smelters. Thomas listened to Hiro's story and was likely deeply disturbed that Hiro had been abandoned like that and not a single person dared to look hard enough to find him when he was still on Sodor this whole time. But with his horror, came understanding, because he knows the reality of even some of the most famous locomotives at times can be harsh and even deadly. And Spencer showed no care or concern at all, not only that, but he almost seemed delighted to inform Sir Tophamn Hatt of Hiro's existence purely to ensure that he was scrapped. He knew nothing about Hiro. He doesn't even LIVE on Sodor. And yet he took great pride in the concept of getting the old engine scrapped. As if that does not mean the very end of an engine's life. It's honestly really unsettling to me how quickly Spencer jumped to that conclusion. Not to mention the tearful horror in Hiro's voice when he was yelling out to Thomas whilst trying to get away from Spencer.

Henry was locked in a tunnel for fearing the rain would damage his coat. How often did he beg those workers that would come by to let him out? How many times do you think he cried feeling like he'd failed his entire railway and that he'd never be released again? There was no sympathy shown for him. And no acknowledgement to the terror he very likely felt for the time he was trapped there in that tunnel. He got sick not long afterwards, the anguish he went through in that time period was probably something awful. Most all machines are at the mercy of their employers. They don't have the appendages to escape the situations they get in that some humans might be able to get out of. If you deprive any machine of their fuel they cannot go anywhere. If you refuse to repair them they cannot go anywhere or function properly. There's a reason they pride themselves on being really useful. If you're not really useful, you're either sent away or you're...well...sent somewhere to be scrapped. It's the way the world works with real, non-sentient machines...and it seems like the TTTE universe operates on those same principals despite being a world where 99% of all heavy machinery is alive and can think and speak for themselves. Sometimes it's just progression, sometimes it's business, but at no time is it ethical. They are alive. They have wants and desires and emotions and fears, yet very few of the humans in their world seem capable of understanding that. There's so many scary things that come with being an engine. If you're too slow and you get less done than a new model, you're likely done for unless somebody cares enough about you to take you in and restore you. Sodor seems to work overtime to preserve old rolling stock, I'm sure they would've taken incredible care of Hiro had he not went home to Japan, and it seems like they did miss him there considering that he's still very well taken care of when he comes to visit Sodor after he'd moved back home. But there's so many engines who don't have that luxury. Hiro just as well could've been sent back or left sitting still, of course whoever owns him now clearly cares for him a great deal. The other types of machines aren't as touched on as our beloved engines are, but they surely experience the same kind of stuff. Airplanes may just as easily feel the same anxieties as old steamers do. They get antsy when they can't fly because what is a plane good for if it can't get off the ground? There's just SO many things to talk about. I really do think the fandom should include things like this in angst content more bc there is a lot of the show's own canon that is genuinely unsettling when put into real world perspectives.

[windvexer]

Hi Chicken, this question is gonna be a bit weird, please bear with me. I started witchcraft when i was still a young teenager, never really serious or in depth, but i got good results. In my late teens i met adults who told me I'm a super special magical alien soul (just like them) which is the reason we have these magical powers. It was the whole cultish starseed shit. But i was young and got sucked into it too deeply. When i grew older i started to distance myself from them because it just got too fucked up for me. They said this is because there's an astral monster that hunts and eats alien souls and i left because my soul got eaten and now I'm souless and rid of my magic. Unless of course i come back because they salvaged my soul from the monster to give it back to me. Now I'm an adult myself and i don't believe this stuff anymore but i have troubles doing magic rituals ever since. My focus fizzles out and there is just this left over doubt that sabotages me. What if i really have no soul anymore, what if my magic will never work again? Do you know any spellwork to get rid of this inner blockage and leave all of this behind for good? This is bullshit what they said right? I hope you're having a good day.

Hello!

I'm very sorry to hear you got sucked into something so awful, but I'm even more glad to hear that you were able to get out.

I know that you already know, but please let me affirm it for you - your soul did NOT get eaten, and an astral monster did NOT remove your ability to do magic.

Nor do I think a spell is the solution.

The topic of losing our grasp on our own magical abilities has been an important one for me over this past year. Rest assured that this is a relatively common phenomenon - not everyone experiences it, but plenty of people do.

It is normal for people to outgrow prior belief systems and frameworks that made magic possible.

Anecdotally, I recall first experiencing this problem early on when I was learning tarot. I had started to deeply question the beliefs I had about tarot and why it worked. I pulled at one thread, and suddenly my whole sweater of faith became unraveled. And for a while, I couldn't read tarot.

It was danged frustrating, because I knew tarot could work - but it was not currently working for me. I had drilled too many holes in the bucket of faith that held my power. And so I had to make a new bucket.

Quite literally I had to grow enough and learn enough so that I could find a new framework of belief that allowed me to reconnect with my cards.

The neat thing is that now I've got a lot of buckets, which really comes in handy. So the whole situation is very frustrating to go through, but I think there's a silver lining.

I've written many things on this topic over the past year. I hope some of these are helpful:

Ask: Revitalizing practice after dry periods

growth in witchcraft as shedding of snake-skin

Ask: Spiritual authority in witchcraft

troubleshooting spotty spirit connections/“godphoning”

One of the most powerful and liberating things you can do

Ask: What do you do when all your divining seems to be out of whack?

[passiveagressiveukulele]

Knee deep in 20 hours of footage, I am in the gutter, send help

After we came back I took the weekend off as I wasn't meant to be in the Edit suite until Monday. I needed to wipe my mental desk clean and not really think about the edit before I was due to start it. To save myself some precious time, I made proxies in DaVinci so I'm in a good position to start syncing on Monday. Yes I am aware that this is work and not really taking a step back from the project, but I kept telling myself the programme was doing all the work. I was just chilling on the couch.

Then the Monday came, and all hell broke loose. The proxies I spent hours and hours making weren't syncing. I looked at the FPS table and my heart stopped. 50 FPS?? That's literally impossible because my 2013 cinema camera doesn't even have a setting for 50 FPS. I double checked it in VLC to make sure I didn't just make the most colossal rookie mistake of all time.

Phew, I still had some of my sanity intact. That only meant one thing - the proxies were the culprit. Either the DaVinci project was set up for 50 FPS, or the export settings were. Either way, I made a test proxy with just one clip after I had double checked the settings were correct and guess what - the result was the same. When I ingested the proxy into Avid it was still reading it as 50 FPS interlaced. I tried transcoding those proxies in Avid to 25 FPS and when I did, they synced to sound, but that was double transcoding and a loss of information so it wasn't really a solution. At this point, I had to move away from DaVinci and go the long way round. Guess shortcuts also cost you time.

So I started with linking the backed up rushes, but they Avid kept coming up with an error - "Clips couldn't be linked." WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY CANNOT BE LINKED???

We had this issue with some of the test shoot footage and I fixed by linking to original camera files that were still on the SD card I luckily didn't wipe. Having learned that lesson, I didn't wipe any of the cards while we were in Poland so I repeated the method and this time they linked. However, this wasn't really a solution as it meant I had to have SD cards plugged into the computer at all times. Furthermore, when I did this last semester, the proxies I created in Avid wouldn't link to original camera files and we had to export the test shoot using proxies, which was in theory fine because the proxies were 1080p and so was the original footage, but that meant I couldn't do much with the colour grade as I lost valuable information in the process of transcoding. So out of fear of this happening again, I had to come up with a different solution.

At this point I lost 4 days to troubleshooting and 5 nights to having nightmares about Avid refusing to cooperate. Poor Dominic was with me 9-5 every day, and even together we couldn't come up with a way to fix it. By the end of day 4 he advised me to consider moving the project onto a different software just so I can start a cut of sorts. I was really stressed about losing so much time to technical difficulties and not really being able to afford to think creatively, especially since the next day I had a meeting with Paul and Sana so I really wanted to have something to show. So I went home and synced all the footage in DaVinci and started logging it. I felt relieved because in the 4 hours I worked that night I had accomplished more than in the past 4 days. I slept somewhat peacefully that night.

When I met with Paul and unloaded my struggles, fears and solutions, he seemed reluctant to move the project onto DaVinci and thought it would be valuable to spend some more time trying to diagnose what was really causing issues. Although I just wanted to get stuck into the creative side of editing, I decided to give myself one more day in resolving it, especially after Paul said that not editing this project on Avid could affect my employability as an editor. After not making any progress that day, I went home and cried, couldn't sleep as I was stressed about my future prospects, only to have an epiphany as the dawn broke.

Even though my DIT workflow was thorough and I created carbon copies of the original files through DaVinci, I thought it was worth doing it again, as clearly some piece of information was missing. I went back to the drawing board - sacrificed a hard drive, formatted it and redid the cloning process all over again. This time the files linked in Avid. Victoryyyy!

So I spent that weekend in a state of deja vu - making proxies again, but this time in Avid. The following Monday I was able to start syncing. Except, now the sound files wouldn't link... WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY CANNOT BE LINKED??? I was crying again, felt like vomiting really and I went to speak to Paul again. It seemed like whatever I did, Avid just refused to let me edit this project. I was trailing through miles and miles of mud, with no end in sight. And mind you, this was only the camera footage - I could only begin to imagine the hiccups Avid would throw at me when I introduced him (yes Avid is a he because only men throw tantrums like this) to the digitised tapes and corrupted files from the CDs we found. Paul advised me to focus on getting a rough cut done on DaVinci and if we ever wanted to revisit the project, we could get an AAF from DaVinci and roundtrip it to Avid.

I was somewhat relieved. It felt like a defeat to not be able to edit the project on Avid after all the time I invested in trying to make it work, but likewise having it moved to DaVinci meant I could make up for some of that lost time by editing at home after Screen Academy closes. Having it on DaVinci also meant I could give one hard drive with the footage and the project to Natalia so she could go through the synced footage herself and log it. That way, we could split the workload, and let us not forget - we had twenty hours of workload to get through and get through it quickly we must! I showed her some of the DaVinci basics so she was able to mark the timestamps of the clips that had edit potential and make subtitles for those clips so I knew exactly what was said. We were past the point of having enough time to log all the footage so we opted for only logging areas that had potential.

Despite everything, I can safely say I learned A LOOOT about post-production hiccups and if any similar issues arise anytime soon I can be the one to come to the rescue. But for every editor working on a tight timeline's sake, I hope the future doesn't have this in store for you. I'm off to sleep now, goodnight!

[fireflysparks]

An Update

So, the past few months, I’ve been completely reworking my Sims 2 Downloads folder. Trying out various default replacements, picking a main hair system, and sorting through 18 years worth of CC. My previous sorting system, if you can even call it that, was just throwing all the clothes in one folder, all the hair in another folder, etc. So, there’s been so much work involved in resorting everything, and it’s taken a lot longer than I planned. Though it has been very satisfying!

But just when I was getting close to having the majority of my downloads sorted in a way that felt right for me... my computer died. Well, to be exact, Soren (I name all my computers after characters), can no longer seem to open any files or programs unless in Safe Mode. And after a few days of struggling with him, I gave in and ordered a Windows 11 desktop.

See, I’ve been adamant on sticking to Windows 7, because I love it, and even more importantly, it played Sims 2 well. I’ve spent over ten years sticking to Windows 7 computers almost solely for The Sims 2. Because I need this game. It’s been my main escape and stress relief for a very long time. But as most people in the Sims 2 community probably know from their own experience, it is possible to get 2 working on Windows 10/11. And some very smart and dedicated people have streamlined the process of getting it to work over the years I’ve spent fretting over an eventual upgrade. (Thank you!)

Soren did allow me to make a complete backup before becoming basically unusable, which I am also very thankful for, seeing as I hadn’t done a FULL backup since March. (Usually I do them once per season, but this year has been crazy.) So, now, it will mostly just be getting used to a new computer and operating system for the first time in many years. And crossing my fingers that Sims 2 will not need much troubleshooting before I can return to my precious pixel people.

I am writing to you from my Windows 10 laptop, which I’ve never really used for more than email and some work stuff. I am TRYING to get used to Windows 10. But it’s hard. Haha. I’m set in my ways, okay? I did manage to get Sims 2 working on here with the help of some guides, which has greatly increased my confidence in getting it to run properly on my new computer when it arrives. (Though I haven’t tried running it with my 14Gig Sims 2 folder backup, sooo... still somewhat nervous.)

I have months of pictures I want to share here still. Things have just been so chaotic. Maybe I’ll get a chance to put up a few this week. But either way, I will try return to (somewhat) regular posting soon. Hopefully with some good news about the new computer!

Thanks for reading! Happy simming, everyone!

[prophetkristy]

20 YEAR DIVE-A-VERSARY

(I'm not old, YOU'RE old!)

copypasta from LiveJournal Dreamwidth:

Like Finding Nemo, Only Less Cartoony Part III: 3955

On December 14, 2003, I went to the bottom of the ocean.

It is getting late in the Extreme 2003 cruise, and the handful of us on board who have not yet gotten the opportunity to dive on Alvin are starting to get worried. The electrochemists' instrument is giving so much trouble that the chief scientist is minded to send a member of their lab down on every dive in order to troubleshoot. This despite the fact that the instrument's daddy, D, has given a group of other scientists a course in running the instrument, and common fixes, so that we will be able to take in situ electrochemical readings on our dives despite not being well-versed in the field. Despite the fact that most of the electrochem failures have been due to hardware problems and instrument hard grounds which were unfixable from within the submarine and shut the instrument down for the dive after the point of no return. A few of the other PIs on the ship are looking out for those of us who haven't yet dove, however, keeping track of who had yet to dive and how many dives were left, dropping suggestions to the chief scientist whenever they feel they have a chance.

In all matters scientific on Atlantis, the chief scientist has final say. This includes selection of each and every scientific observer for each and every dive made on the expedition. S/He has, therefore, a very difficult job, coordinating the wants and needs of 20+ scientists (and their co-workers back home) with limited ship and sub time. There are naturally a lot of tensions. Our group has the added fun of a chief scientist who always waits until the last minute for things. The observers for a dive have generally not been chosen until the night before that dive; sometimes very soon before the night's dive briefing.

When you're a newbie scientist on Atlantis (and a huge Alvin fangurl to boot), you try so hard not to get your hopes up, and usually you fail. Even though I felt blessed merely to have the opportunity to be on the ship and do research at sea, and I knew there was no guarantee I would be able to dive on Alvin, I really, really wanted to be chosen. I couldn't help keeping track of how many newbies were aboard vs. how many total scientists got to dive vs. how many dives we had left [1]. All I could do was try to be helpful on board in any way I could (so I didn't seem like a waste of valuable ship-time expense), and hope.

After yet another yummy dinner [2] on Dec. 13, I am at the bank of computers in the Main Lab going over dive tapes for footage of Pompeii worm sampling. It is cold, frustrating work. iMovie keeps crashing, and the vagaries of the ship's environmental controls have made the main lab excessively air conditioned on this trip. (The annoyances are partially mitigated by being near the electrochemists' lab space. They were fun people and I enjoyed being with them.) At some point, the chief scientist, C, appears behind me, leans over my shoulder, and says quietly, "How would you like to dive tomorrow?"

…!!!

I think I squeak out a "really??!?!" whisper. C is suddenly the most awesome person in the world. (If I were chief scientist I'd get a huge kick out of making people's days/weeks/months/lifetimes by picking them to dive!) He reminds me when the briefing is (in a few hours!) and goes off about his stuff.

My attention span, naturally, is shot all to hell. I save my workspace and fly to the computer lab to send a squealy email (or what would have been squealy, if emails had sound) to advisor, mom, and boyfriend. I fly to my cabin and pull out the wool stuff I've brought for the occasion (socks, sweater borrowed from mother). I riffle through my file o' accumulated paperwork for stuff from the briefings I'd had earlier in the cruise. (Actually, I'm not really sure what I did before the briefing (besides the emailing and flying).) I am v. bouncy.

Apparently there is some shuffling about who's going to be diving with me. I get the feeling that P, who's finally chosen, is called to the briefing pretty much as it's starting and told just then. (did I mention C did things at the last minute?) C becomes even cooler: P is a newbie, too. C is trusting *two*newbies* with a full dive.

P and I are two newbies all ready to become Deep Sea Explorers.

What happens at a dive briefing? The chief scientist, observers, and pilot (minimally) meet and discuss the dive plan. Others may attend: the expedition leader (from the Alvin group), any scientists who have special equipment aboard or sampling requests. The dive plan is a list of objectives to be met for a dive, along with pertinent instructions, dive coordinates, sampling requests, etc. It's one of those things the chief scientist must rack his/her brain about every day. We also go over any instruments or equipment to be used, and the pilot or expedition leader will bring up any safety concerns or technical issues and make sure the dive plan is realistic given their capabilities. I learn how to operate the Sipper, the water sampling instrument that will be on Alvin's basket, which is controlled with a palmtop computer by one of the observers in the sub. We also get tips and reminders on note taking, video operation, what to pack for the dive, and much more.

After the briefing you pack up your warm clothes, notebook, dive plan, spare batteries for the palmtop, any goodies you feel like bringing (I'd brought a stash of Riesen for the cruise--chocolate can be like gold at sea) into a pillowcase which is stowed in a box in the Alvin hangar. The pilots will make sure your stuff gets in the sub when they prep in the morning. Then you try to get some sleep, as you're due on deck by 7am. I am afraid I won't sleep, but the darkness of my cabin and calm rocking of the ship work pretty well [3].

Regardless, I don't have difficulty getting up the morning of Dive 3955. ;-) The sun is not quite up when I get on deck. I snap a photo of one of the first sights to greet me, the expedition leader getting the sub ready for my dive. *g*

Expedition leader P prepares Alvin for my dive. Obviously he's a good leader, as he's managed to delegate well here.

The pilots and techs are working over Alvin, still in the hangar. I wander the deck and try not to explode with excitement. (B, the morning's launch coordinator, makes a comment to me about trying not to be nervous and going to get some coffee or something. I look nervous? I'm not; I'm thrilled! I'm about to ride the world's first deep-diving submarine to the bottom of the ocean! And there's no way I'm eating or drinking anything before being shut into a titanium sphere for 8 hours [4]!)

The dive plan, naturally, changes at the last minute, and we huddle to confer. Yes, I'm really short. From left, B (launch coordinator), C, T, P, and me. Behind B you can see the aft of Alvin; above our heads are some A-frame hydraulics. Also on the deck behind us are several float packs for elevators.

Preparations for the dive go mostly as usual. After what seems like the longest prep ever to get the sub attached to the A-frame, P and I are called up. We climb the stairs, remove our shoes, wave to the crowd.

P and I are ready to dive!

As the starboard observer, I enter first. There are designated places you're allowed to put your hands and feet, and you have to be careful on the way down not to trip switches (there are control panels everywhere in the ball, including just behind the ladder you climb down). The hatch opening is greased (to assure a tight seal, I assume) and you have to be careful not to hit that on your way in (I think I did, what with my gimpy knee--but we didn't leak or anything, so it's all good). The pilot is already inside. You fold yourself down into your space as quickly as you can so that the port observer can follow you down and get into his space. Once all three are situated, the launch coordinator removes the ladder and seals the hatch. There's no going back! (According to my research, no one's ever fainted inside the ball. You do go inside beforehand, during your dive safety briefing near the beginning of the cruise, and I reckon any claustrophobes are weeded out then--long before they're ever sealed inside.)

Inside the ball, it isn't as crowded as I expect it to be. (I think all three of us were on the small side.) I sit behind and to the right of the pilot, who sits on a padded box (the first aid kit, IIRC) behind his window, surrounded by controls. I have my own window, looking starboard and forward and a little down (it was actually a little low for comfort--when glued to my window, which was fairly often until we really started working, I was rather contorted). The windows are v. small; just wide enough for two eyes. If you have hands my size, and make a circle with your forefingers and thumbs together, it's about that big around. They are tapered with the wide end outside, so not only do you get a good range of vision, but I imagine it also helps the pressure issues. They're about 3.5 inches thick.

Above that is my little video monitor and the controls for it and for my pan-and-tilt camera on the top starboard of the sub. Each observer has a monitor that can toggle through every camera mounted on the sub (and there are a handful), and also a pan-and-tilt outside that's a camera + light that can be controlled by remote. You can also turn on or off overlays on your monitor, which give you real-time information from the sub's computer about temperature, depth, position, and much more. Two digital video recorders run throughout the sub's time on the bottom. One is slaved to the starboard pan-and-tilt (which also has two lasers on it that are fixed at 10cm apart so you can get a sense of scale), and the other is slaved to whatever the port observer has on his screen. So you have video responsibilities on top of everything else. There is also a tape recorder and mini-maglite in my little corner. Many things like this remind you that this ship has been in service (though constantly upgraded; there probably isn't a single original part left) since the early 60s, and things have evolved for utility through long experience.

To my left, in the back of the sphere, is the science rack, a big rack of equipment and stowage. (The observers also have racks above their heads holding computers and such--space inside the ball is at a premium.) A shelf there holds a few handheld digital cameras--video and still--for when the mood strikes us, as well as the Sipper's palmtop. There is also the all-important lunch, always packed [5]. In the corners between science rack and observers are oxygen tanks, CO2 scrubbers, your pillowcase full of stuff, oxygen masks, and other necessities.

You can, of course, see outside through your window even when the sub is still on deck; I admit to appropriating the digital camera (since I couldn't take my own) and taking lots of curiosity photos.

C aboard the Avon, as seen through my window as we dangle above the ocean waiting for the divers' signal.

Having watched a number of launches by this point, I know the drill, and it is interesting to actually be launched. I see a number of jellies outside my window as soon as we hit the water. I don't notice much about the final preparations; before I know it T is radioing Atlantis for permission to dive, and we are sinking silently beneath the waves.

I'm in that little sub!!

It takes about an hour and a half to drift 2500 meters to the ocean floor. After learning how early I was expected on deck, I had toyed with the idea of napping on the way down, but of course I'm way too excited for that. We use the time to go over the dive plan and make sure we're absolutely familiar with what needs to be done. The pilot spends the first few hundred meters checking for grounds in any of the electrical equipment. We also listen to music; yes, the pilots have installed a stereo system in the ball. And we get steadily colder. The ball isn't insulated, nor does it have internal heat. Ambient seawater is about 2° C (halfway between refrigerator temp and the freezing point of water). Hence the warm clothes. You're encouraged to wear natural fibers (think fire). They also supply a couple of wool blankets, neatly folded underneath the lunches below the science rack. My mom's sweater keeps me pretty cozy; my feet are a little chilly, as usual, so I am thankful for the blanket.

The hatch and its tiny one-eyeball window (T tells me it's to make sure we don't surface directly underneath a ship). You can just barely make out the seam. Note condensation on the ball, and audio speaker at bottom left.

With the cold comes condensation on the inside of the ball. You've sealed in air from the surface, which (because we were at 9° N) is warm and humid. So the inside of the ball gets quite wet. As the dive progresses, water starts to drip over your window, giving you a split-second moment of worry that it's leaking. (At the pressures of the deep sea--over 250 times atmospheric pressure--if there was a leak, you'd probably never notice it before the sphere was crushed, I reckon.) Water also collects in the bottom of the compartment (there is a flat floor inside the sphere over a little compartment beneath), so you're sitting in a puddle. I don't even notice my wet rear until we're ascending again; we are v. v. busy once we reach the bottom.

The seafloor, off-axis. This photo was taken by the Dancam, a high-res digital camera mounted on top of the sub that automatically takes a photo every 30 seconds during bottom time. The front edge of Alvin's sample basket is at bottom. At right, the starboard manipulator has taken hold of the elevator we will later attach to the InSECT. Look closely to see a sea cucumber.

Dive time is limited by the sub's battery power, so no external lights are switched on until we're just above the bottom. We're working on the East Pacific Rise, a crack in the ocean floor west of the Americas where hot water and sometimes magma oozes out of Terra's crust. The sub comes down off-axis, which means that it's a small distance away from the vent area. You don't want to come down right on top of one of those black smokers!

Before we discovered vents (off the Galapagos in 1977), we thought the deep sea was a pretty barren place, biologically speaking. If you consider the common method of deep-sea biological sampling--tow a net behind your ship--it's no wonder. (One oceanographer remarked that sampling the deep sea was like running blindfolded through a field with a butterfly net above your head.) Hydrothermal vents are probably the primary focus of deep sea life, and they are *packed*. Some figures place the biomass per unit volume at a vent as much higher than the "photic zone" where light penetrates the top of the ocean. That's saying quite a lot, especially considering that we were under the impression that all life on Terra somehow traces its energy back to the sun; there is no sunlight on the bottom of the ocean.

So we reach the bottom, 2502 meters below the surface, off-axis where there isn't a lot to see. Mostly flat rocks (pillow basalt) and a few sparse pink sea cucumbers and sea stars. T gets his bearings (based on the baseline established by Atlantis once arriving on station), and drives us toward the vents. The best indicator that you are approaching the vent area is the crabs. There are little white crabs everywhere down there, and they increase in density as you move closer to the hot water, where everything else thrives. Regardless, the bottom of the ocean is an entirely different world, with plenty of strange alien life.

Another thing that increases in density near the vents (but mostly off-axis) are "Alvin droppings": scores of dive weights left where they're dropped to rust and return to the ecosystem. ;-)

Most of our work is at a place called Tica. This isn't actually a black smoker, but an area of diffuse flow--great habitat for Riftia, the giant tube worm. We retrieve the electrochemists' InSECT (In Situ ElectroChemical Tool, named on this cruise by one of the pilots and looking a little like a mantis), sending it to the surface on an elevator. We sample the Riftia around which the InSECT has been taking measurements for the past four days. We pick up numerous sampling devices that have been set down there at the beginning of the expedition. We take a water sample with a niskin bottle that had been rigged atop the sub; the rope to trigger it is flippantly labeled "Pull to Flush." (hee!) My window isn't well situated to observe the action in front of the sub, so I mostly watch my monitor (at one point my pan-and-tilt is right on the action, because the pilot wants to use its lasers to mark the area he's working in) and work the Sipper. Tica is an incredible place; giant tube worms growing in clumps almost like flowers, their red lipstick-shaped gills poking out of their tubes. Older clumps of Riftia are tangled masses. Swarms of amphipods above the worms like insects. Crabs crawling over and under and around--the worms go down in their tubes when poked, a likely crab-defense-mechanism. The occasional ghostly white eel-like fish.

Taking a sample of a giant tube worm. The pilot honestly just grabs the tube in a manip and pulls it up like a weed. It will go in the open biobox on the basket. The InSECT is at bottom left.

After finishing our sampling at Tica and moving slightly off-axis to send the InSECT up, we drive to an actual black smoker called Q Vent. Driving is one of the biggest drains of battery power for Alvin, and our driving around to find the elevator for the InSECT, find various samples, and find Q Vent, coupled with a less-than-optimal battery charge [6], cuts our dive time short. After a cursory survey of a portion of the Q Vent chimney where my organism of interest, Alvinella pompejana, is growing, T informs us that we have only 40 minutes remaining on the bottom due to power concerns.

Taking Sipper samples of an alvinella colony at the Q Vent. The Pompeii worms grow in papery tubes of metal sulfide directly on the sides of the chimney. The instrument being held in a tube here has a temperature probe and electrodes for electrochemistry (when it's working), as well as the inlet for the Sipper. Note the red dots of the starboard pan-and-tilt's lasers, which are 10cm apart for scale.

One the things about which I'm most proud, being on a double-newbie dive, was the decision we made at that point. With 40 minutes, I felt there was no way we'd get any appreciably good Alvinella samples--both my group and the bacterial group are interested in well-documented measurements before sampling, especially of temperature and electrochem. Rather than doing a quick snatch of random worms, we decide to abandon the colony and get a frying pan set up in the time we have remaining. A frying pan is an apparatus our geochemists have built to put over the top of a vent chimney to grow a "protochimney." A day or so after placement, the frying pan is collected and brought to the surface, where it can be dissected to find out what's in a growing chimney [7]. We have just enough time to take Sipper samples of the black smoker on top of Q vent (which is a very tall chimney) and place the frying pan before we run too close to our power reserves.

The frying pan placed atop Q vent. The "smoke" isn't actually smoke, but metal sulfides precipitating out as they hit the cold seawater. These precipitates are what build the chimney at a hydrothermal vent. The water at the vent opening is 350° C (3.5 times the boiling point of water). It doesn't boil because of the extreme pressure. Note the "snow" in the water all around; these are clumps of bacteria.

Having accomplished all that we could for the day, we drive slightly off-axis and drop weights, beginning our slow float to the surface. All the exterior lights are again extinguished and the only thing to be seen outside our thick Plexiglas is occasional little specks of bioluminescence.

What the bottom of the ocean *really* looks like.

On the way up, there are still tasks remaining. The pilot has things to take care of with the sub and its computer.

T, our pilot, types data into Alvin's computer.

We scientists collate our notes and prepare a science report, which is called up to the surface once those up top are ready for it. The science report is a quick summary of what was accomplished on the dive, generally received and/or circulated during the afternoon science meeting. It's useful for the rest of the team on the surface to know what samples and how many are on their way, so that preparations to receive them can be made. The obligatory "this is me in the sub!" photos are taken. And we finally have time to eat lunch!!

P in the port observer's position, readying the science report. Yes, they've put in some cushions between us and the titanium, thank goodness. His window is just behind T's knee; you can see the blue pad around it.

Me, sitting in the pilot's seat. Behind me on the control panel you can read the temperature (in green), 1.8° C, and the depth (in red), 1559.4 meters.

I have yet to write in detail here about recovery, but one thing that happens is that Alvin sits on the surface for about half an hour which Atlantis slowly and carefully drives up to it and gets into position for recovery. Alvin is a fairly small boat--about the size of a UPS delivery truck--and so even calm seas will move it around quite a bit, in various directions. Waiting for recovery was one of the few times during the expedition that I felt seasick. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, telling myself in firm tones that I Would Not Be Sick.

I'm sure the scientists aboard had a great time planning for not one, but two initiations once P and I returned from the ocean floor. (another planned entry--initiations!) Actually, I know they did. After we climb out of the ball and stretch, we look for our shoes; they aren't in the bag on the side of the A-frame where they've been left. G, the recovery coordinator, points them out: sitting on the yellow line delineating the "safe" zone, mine frozen in a block of ice! (P's are merely frosty from being in a freezer.) I nearly fall off the stairs on my way down from laughing so hard! We're duly initiated, and I set my icy shoes out of the way to thaw and dry in the warm equatorial afternoon sun.

Some cold shoes. Compared to the stories I've heard, this was a pretty mild prank!

I'm very amused. :o)

Since we haven't gotten any Alvinella samples (disappointingly), I don't actually need to be present for the daily basket-swarming. I hang around in the sunshine drying off until P chases me off the deck because I'm not wearing shoes. (Um, obviously.) That's my cue to squelch my way inside and downstairs to change clothes.

The evening of that memorable day is also notable. I wander a good deal, winding down from my incredible experience. Out on the deck, seaman E is shining a light overboard and is fishing for squid amidst swarms of silvery flying fish [8]. If you discount most of 'em being underwater, they look quite a bit like a flock of little birds. I watch E help B bring in one of the biggest catches of the cruise.

B and his mondo squid. [9]

Finally I go looking for a flashlight so I can go up to the bow and look at the stars. D, one of the SSSGs, offers to go with me. We plant ourselves on the deck in the bow and cast our eyes to a glorious night sky spread above us. I've only seen that many stars before on camping trips in the mountains of Idaho. And it was somehow fitting to end a day spent at the bottom of the ocean by exploring the vast heavens.

Note: if I haven't done so before, I heartily recommend the book Water Baby by Victoria Kaharl for any and all fans of Alvin. It's out of print, so look for it at your library or used. It's a fascinating history of science and discovery.

[1]: Then there are the additional considerations: every eighth dive is a PiT dive, where the sub carries a pilot-in-training in place of one of the two scientific observers aboard. Also, it was general practice (at least on our cruise) that at least one of the two scientific observers on a dive was "experienced" (has been down at least once before). [2]: The food aboard Atlantis is v. good. Our steward/cook, L, was amazing. At our very first briefing on the ship, the captain told us we *would* put on weight during the cruise. [3]: I slept really well on the ship. The only time I didn't was when we had weather. My cabin was a level below water level, up in the bow. Waves of any appreciable size would SLAM into the hull with resounding booms. When we were cruising or there was weather, it was a little like being inside a cannon. [4]: Indeed, Alvin has no restroom. They do carry bottles for necessity. You have to empty your own up top if you used it. You can well imagine the apparatus is much easier for males to use. I managed to not need it. [5]: The one time Alvin was wrecked (it fell off its cradle during a launch in 1968 and sank--no one was inside), it stayed on the bottom of the ocean for nearly a year with its hatch open. After the salvage, they found the lunches inside incredibly preserved by the cold of the deep sea. [6]: You know how your Walkman's rechargeable batteries will charge better if they're completely drained beforehand? The principle is the same for large batteries, too. The night after 3955, the Alvin group deep-cycled the batteries. There was no power shortage on the next dive. I'd be bitter, but really I'd have been happy and fulfilled with a scant five minutes on the bottom. [7]: The downside here is that 3955 ended up being our last dive in that area, so that frying pan we put there was never recovered and is probably now a part of Q Vent. I still think we made a good decision. I imagine a lot of sampling devices get left and are overgrown (biologically or geologically) down there. Vent ecosystems are extremely dynamic. [8]: I only saw the flying fish at night, usually when E was fishing or when we had a light out there for a CTD cast (ack, another entry: CTD hooking!). [9]: We grilled it (and others) at the end-of-cruise barbecue!

[shreyabhagavatulainternships]

CHOPPA 2023 : Day 4 (Show Day 2 and Bump-out)

29th September

Today was the last day of the show and we began by checking if everything was in order and re-labelling the cables and junction boxes. Next, the sound check began with the last group Natalie, Andy and Christoven. Andy and Natalie were late so the sound check timings got delayed. While waiting for them I introduced myself to Christoven and asked if he wanted to make any changes. Andy and Natalie arrived with their baby who was strapped onto Andy through out the sound check. This was dangerous as the baby kept trying to reach out for the mic and we were concerned that the baby might fall or accidentally hit/drop equipment. While I understand that they might have done this before, seeing the ease that they set up with, I wish they could have had someone take care of the baby. This would prevent any possible disruptions or accidents on set.

There were also more changes to the layout during the sound check. The last set with Christoven, Andy and Natalie was the most elaborate and we made a lot of changes as they asked to remove things that they had initially requested. this was what my stage layout was for them:

And this was after the changes :

We removed everything for Christoven except his monitor and provided him with a chair at his request. Natalie did not require the table nor the mic and Andy wanted to use stereo mons. Following the day before we had not marked anything until the sound check due to these kinds of changes. I was glad we did not, as even the previous day we had to remove and add some labels. This process was not repeated today. I also added extra notes on the layout for today. This was for the change over during the longer half-time break. I did not want to be unclear as fumbling on the stage in between performances was the last thing any of us wanted.

There was one major disappointment during the sound check. A lot of the Year 1s and 2s started to disappear between the changeover during the sound check. This left only me, Wai Qi and Gladys in the Cube to set up and help. I'm thankful for Wai Qi and Gladys as they helped even though it wasn't their job. They both also had to be at the console but they also kept coming down to the stage to help which was not efficient at all. Unfortunately, there were a couple of things to troubleshoot audio-wise for the groups today and Gladys had to come down to help while Wai Qi manned the console alone.

I understand that everyone was tired from the day before but my mindset was the faster we finished the more time we had for a break before the actual show. I could have gone and told them off about lounging around, however, I was also tired and wanted to do an efficient job. I wished that Elliott as the project manager would have kept everyone in check time-wise. Wai Qi eventually went and asked them to come back but there were still some people missing even after. We were quite tired after the soundcheck and had a short break before dinner.

The show itself went smoothly with no problems. There were no hiccups like yesterday and we were able to sit back and enjoy the performances. My parents and sister had also come to watch and they said it was very well put together!

Bump-Out

Bump-out went by fast as everyone was very tired and wanted to finish up quickly. No one left halfway and everyone was coiling and packing away efficiently. We followed Wai Qi's instructions on equipment count and put everything away the best we could.

Overall, Choppa 2023 was a good experience and a great success! The turnout for both days was good as it went further than what we expected. Everyone in Year 3 did their respective roles and also helped around when required. To be honest I was a bit nervous about my CHOPPA experience after observing and participating in the previous years as the amount of work seemed overwhelming! However, we had good teamwork which was the most important aspect of why the show was a success.

I think I had, and learned more about, good communication and collaboration through this huge project. I also realized that I need to be more prepared for changes and learn to adapt quickly. I could embraced more of the leadership role and told off people when they were slacking, however, I felt that people need to realize that on their own. However, I still had a great time with my friends and peers and I wish the next year good luck!

[alltimefail-sims]

Hello I got an answer from the EA team and I didn’t read It correctly the first time. I’ve got banned because of 4 problematic Sims. What the problematic thing about the for Sims is they didn’t say. They’ll keep me banned and I’ll probably lose a lot of Sims.

I begged them to not delete them, so I can save them to my library or to my computer. But no comment….

I'm also going to put your previous messages here ^ so I can respond!

I am so sorry for your situation, genuinely. Did they tell you which specific sims/gallery posts led to the ban? Even if they didn't tell you why there were problematic, if you know which posts caused the ban I might be able to look at them and tell you what the gallery might have constituted as "problematic."

Also, are they holding firm that you won't be able to buy games in the future, or have they at least resolved that? Have you heard back from them since you asked to save your sims? Not to be a negative nelly, but I am not surprised they're not being super empathetic. This is just... how these big corporations are. Never super helpful, but it sucks and I am really sorry.

More under the cut  ↓

This game is buggy af and truly, it might not even be something you did. I call it a trashcan with a Gucci belt because that's what it has become. I love the Sims, it holds a special and nostalgic place in my heart, but boy oh boy does the Sims 4 piss me off on a daily basis so I get where you're coming from (lol).

Unfortunately, it sounds like your save files are corrupted. It could have been a mod that broke them, it could have been an update on EA's end, it could be a number of things causing your problem... but I don't think there's any fix outside of cleaning your cache files, removing all mods and CC, repairing your game through the EA app, creating a brand new save, and seeing if the issue persists after doing all that. From my research, it seems some players had a similar issue to what you're describing after the integration of Snowy Escape (there's a whole thread from 2020 on Answers HQ).

Alternatively, if you have or had any custom content food stalls in your game older than 2022, they will break your save file, even if you remove your mods/the custom stalls after the issue presents itself. If you have loaded the game with the custom food stalls and have since saved with that CC still in your game, the save file remains broken forever. This actually was caused by the My Wedding Stories Atrocity errr... Pack. Here's a Answers HQ thread on that.

Either way, something likely permanently corrupted your saves. On the bright side, it might not be the Sims themselves that are broken! Here are two answers HQ threads that are all about troubleshooting broken, irreparable saves: Thread 1, Thread 2. I'm sure there's something in there that could help you. I also think, if your saves are corrupted but not your sims, you could probably save a copy of your tray folder to your desktop before factory resetting the game, and then you wouldn't lose your sims because you could just copy and paste the tray files back into your fresh game. It's worth going in, saving the the townies you don't want to lose to your library, saving and exiting your game, then making that copy of the folder just in case.

Worst case scenario, your game is still having issues and you know the sims themselves are corrupted. Best case scenario, and in my opinion the more likely one, you find that the issue is gone once the game is repaired and all the broken saves have been removed and then you still have all those sims you love without the bug itself.

I've rambled so much, I apologize! I hope some resource I've given you has been helpful. I've said it before and I'll probably say it again, I'm not tech-savvy lol but I am genuinely happy to help you to the best of my ability. If you Google "Food stalls and curio shop only selling produce sims 4" you will find so many different people with the same issue you have.

In the future, I think the best tips I can give are:

Save modded sims with an abundance of CC to your library, not to the gallery. If you wish to share your sims that use cc, the gallery is not an effective place to do this.

Always keep your Mods folder organized - keep mods in their own labeled distinct folders and keep CC in its own distinct folders. CC can even have subfolders! I will put an example of this at the end of this list, but this is really important because it makes it easier to not only find issues if they arise, but also makes it easier to stay on top of keeping your mods up to date.

To piggy-back off that last point: keep your mods up to date. A broken mod can corrupt a whole save file if you're not careful.

Remove mods and cc before you update your game. Only place them back in once you know it is safe to do so and all your mods have been updated. Play with modded objects at your own risk, but know they might corrupt an entire save.

Regularly clear your cache files, especially after altering your mods folder by removing or adding a new mod.

I also recommend creating a subfolder in your cc folder called "New CC - [Month]" That way if your game starts acting funky suddenly, you can start with that folder. For me, that's roughtly 40 items that could be the problem as opposed to hundreds of files.

I know that is a lot, but playing with Mods and CC is something that does take some level of proactive vigilance. If TS4 wasn't constantly barfing up bullshit updates and bug fixes on players at every possible opportunity, it wouldn't be as tedious of a commitment...but that's just what we have to deal with.

Here's how I have my main MODS folder organized:

Here's one example of the subfolders I use specifically in CAS - CC:

Anyway, all that to say I am so sorry for your situation. I hope you can get some level of these issues solved, but if not I hope you can still play your game and make the best of a situation that is out of your control. It sucks, and I'm sending you some virtual hugs (or high fives if that is more your thing).

[digitalenergy001]

Blog Week 12

Reflection

After reviewing the seamless nature of my project, I addressed the dissimilar elements within my work. The consistent switches in colour made the shifts between shapes more blaring. To combat this I changed the colour hex to #C317DF being purple. Aside from this having white and grey tonal shifts all the elements were within this colour hex, making the project more visually seamless. After this a lot of the workload consisted of creating the seamless transition between the motion graphics, I did them mostly with playing within keyframes of the position, scale and opacity as well as keyframing multiple distortion effects.

Research

Academic

In Naz Kaya’s research piece ‘Relationship between color and emotion: a study of college students’ delves into the emotional relationships people have with certain colours. This piece ensured me of the color to pick when choosing a consistent color palette for my exhilarating abstract video art. Purple was seen within the principal hues and seen to be “stately and dignified”. It was stated that the “ positive aspects of purple are tended to mainly be associated with children and laughing”. As a lot of my previous research discusses the importance of fearful play to create exhilaration in children this quote made me feel drawn to pick the color purple as my primary color in my project.

Creative practice

For my creative practice I have been watching back my project multiple times and really pinpointing the areas that needed polishing. Here are some stills from my after effects composition of my finial motion graphics.

( some of the comps that are being used)

Technical

This week technically consisted of finalising the master timeline of my project within After Effects and rendering it. My internal RAM seems to be quite full on my laptop which has created some slower processing issues and caused the media encoder to stop working but I was able to troubleshoot these by clearing some other abode disk caches. For the next week forward as I am presenting a version of my project with my triangular shapes of mad mapper I will need to go in on Monday and glue them all together. With the open studio classes and curating the digital exhibitions, I have been post poning putting more of the shapes in the black box until this upcoming Monday.

Progress

Overall as this project comes to a conclusion this week has consisted of final renders and completing the presentation regarding a reflection of the final assignment. Overall I feel happy with my work there are definitely aspects I am not as proud of but overall this process has helped me enormously better understand working in motion graphics, projection mapping and working with music. I tend to get very ambitious about projects at the smart so the slow process of troubleshooting every week allowed me to come to terms with the importance of creating an achievable project within the deadline required.

Bibliography

Kaya, N. and Epps, H.H., 2004. Relationship between color and emotion: A study of college students. College student journal, 38(3), pp.396-405.