#utilize computational resources

[elizabethiiregina]

Did your leader, or anyone in your government, or society, rape my mother or my father?

[apacnewsnetwork0]

Managed Cloud Services: Panacea for Enterprises

In today’s ever-evolving and fast-paced business landscape, organizations that do not keep up with technological advancements and seek innovative solutions will be left behind. Organizations across industry verticals in this digital era are relying more and more on new-age technologies, specifically cloud computing infrastructure to stay ahead of the curve.  Having existed for many decades now, cloud computing infrastructure continues to offer numerous business benefits to organizations of all sizes. 

Elasticity, scalability, pay-per-use model, streamlining of operations, and other advantages it brings lead to significant improvement in the organization’s bottom line.   

While cloud technology delivers several business advantages, managing and optimizing these services can be challenging and time-consuming as well.  Businesses have to depend on IT expertise and 24/7 support to efficiently leverage cloud services, but not all of them have the resources to house an internal IT team that can keep pace with the constantly evolving technology landscape. This is where managed service providers or MSPs can play a crucial role in supporting organizations to effectively and efficiently navigate the cloud landscape.  

Read More - https://apacnewsnetwork.com/2023/12/managed-cloud-services-panacea-for-enterprises/

[comatosebunny09]

apt 302 | sylus q.

— summary: at first, your new neighbor was as mysterious as he was handsome. after taking some time to get to know him—or forcing your way into his quiet life—you realize looks can be deceiving. — cw: gn reader, neighbors au, neighbors to friends to lovers, profanity, innuendoes, jealousy, misunderstandings, stalker ex, alcohol use, guns mentioned, self-indulgent, allusions to reincarnation, angst, pet names, sylus being an insufferable gentleman, slice of life — dividers by: @omi-resources — notes: this grew way longer than i expected, soooooo you’re gonna hate me for what comes next. anyways, thank you so much for reading! — now playing: my favorite person now - she was pretty ost — tagging: @alfredosaws, @chuppiechanchan @hao-ming-8 @antonneva @sunsets-and-crows @leighsartworks216 @grabby-smitten @nebulorra @minniestarmj @elysiums-light @saiaise @queenofstresss @beewilko @aetherscribit @libriomancer @world-of-hearts @awkwardnurse @huachengnism

Information Technology isn’t as cushy of a field as you initially thought.

Sure, you have a desk job doing the most mundane of things—working the help desk, troubleshooting devices, re-imaging computers. But your job isn’t without its drawbacks. 

Sometimes, the days are long and arduous. The constant customer interaction doesn’t help matters; you’re a bit of an introvert, requiring five business days to recover from just a few hours of socializing. 

So, forgive you for seeking a little respite in the form of your favorite set of pajamas and fuzzy slippers as you ease into your apartment. 

The weight of the world sloughs off your shoulders when the door leading inside clicks shut behind you. You sigh gratefully, the sound of your keys clattering against your entryway table, intermingling with that of your AC humming to life.

You hang your bag and sweater on the coat rack. Trade your uncomfortable shoes for house slippers, the soreness in your heels slowly retreating. The last vestiges of sunlight creep through the slits of your blinds to bathe your home in its ethereal glow before ducking behind the horizon. 

Your apartment is humble. Has a natural, minimalistic vibe with bits of decor displaying your personality sprinkled throughout. You already pay the price of a kidney and two lungs to stay here. No use investing in posh furniture when your job sometimes requires you to pick up and go at the drop of a hat.

Your stomach growls whilst you draw your curtains shut and turn on some ambient lighting via your phone. You’ll eat soon, you promise. For now, you’re on a mission. 

Quietly, you move through your home in search of your laundry area, thoroughly prepared to slip into your PJs following a shower to jumpstart your weekend. 

Too bad a pile of sopping wet clothes awaits you when you open your dryer door. 

“Goddammit,” said under your breath as you mash the power button. It won’t turn on. Figures. You kick the offending appliance. Stupid thing must be out again. 

You had set your clothes to dry before you left for work. You were looking forward to snuggling up with wine and your favorite show, donned in comfy clothes. Seems your dryer had other plans.

You should’ve replaced it months ago when it first started acting up. You had hoped to salvage it a little longer; appliances don’t come cheap these days. Besides, you’ve had a darling neighbor to fix it each time. To extend its lifespan. 

Speaking of which—

Chewing your lip, you pad over your cold, hardwood floor to snatch your phone from the coffee table. Fall onto your couch cushions with a devious smile twitching your lips. It’s getting late, so you don’t think to badger him into tinkering with your dryer tonight. However, perhaps he’ll let you utilize his. At least until you can use your day off tomorrow to shop for a replacement.

You hover your thumb over his contact, his name flanked by crow emojis. Contemplate calling him, but what if he’s busy? This is usually about the time he’s leaving. Instead, you settle for opening your messaging app, already conjuring an excuse.

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): lol (Sylus): good morning to you too. (You): 😒😒😒 dude it’s like 6  (Sylus): 🤷‍♂️ (Sylus): im just now getting up. long day at the office.  (Sylus): whats up? (You): are you busy tonight?? (Sylus): not really. 😏 what did you have in mind ? (You): pause. not like that (Sylus): 😢 (You): my dryer’s out again (Sylus): ah. want me to take a look? (You): nah you already do so much (You): is it cool if i use yours tho? 😬😬😬 (You): i’ll bring you booze (Sylus): lol (Sylus): its fine sweetie. doors unlocked. ill be in the shower. help yourself. (You): 🙏🙏🙏

You take your time gathering your saturated clothes into a basket. On your way out, you snag a bottle of Merlot from your fridge.

No matter how often you’ve been here, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how much more… put together Sylus’ place is compared to yours.

It suits him—the black and red furniture, the stylish accents littering his apartment. It smells delightful inside, a mixture of mahogany and amber enmeshed with remnants of food. Soulful jazz flows from a record player, fitting the sepia-toned glow of floor lamps and candles flickering on every other surface.

You toe the door shut behind you. Feel so small and out of place amid his decor. You’ve only recently started coming here, having spent much of your time together inside your apartment. Regardless, you navigate his space like it’s your second home, finding his washer and dryer set.

After starting your clothes in the dryer, you wander back to the living room, hands stuffed in the pockets of your cardigan. You take some time to admire the atmosphere. Fingers skim over the various vinyls organized on a built-in bookcase on the wall.

You snort with a half-smile. You know so little about your neighbor, yet you know just enough to be this comfortable with him.

He’s a music buff; that much is for sure. He’s clearly made of money if the luxurious furniture and his car are anything to go by. You don’t press him about what he does for a living. Figure he values his privacy above all else, unlike you.

You’re an open book. The primary yapper in your acquaintanceship, prattling on about your life and aspirations. And he just sits there, wordlessly nodding with a polite smile behind the rim of his glass. Where you would otherwise be wary of being in someone’s home like this, you feel safe around him in a way that almost terrifies you.

“Admiring the decor,” teases a voice from behind. 

You jolt, spinning around like you’ve been caught stealing. You’re met with a smirk beneath scarlet eyes, twinkling with mischief. Strands of white cling to Sylus’ forehead, damp from the warm spray of his shower. He towels his hair dry, maneuvering around the living set towards you.

“Hey, you,” you greet, trying to play it cool. Like your heart isn’t hammering and heat isn’t branching into your cheeks. You attempt to maintain eye contact. It’s increasingly difficult to do so with his physique peeking through his t-shirt and sweats like that.

“Hey, yourself.” There’s amusement in the deep gravel of his voice. A smile in his eyes as he studies you, draping his towel around his shoulders.

You swallow. Try to divert the subject, motioning to his record collection. “You got some new tunes, I see.”

A chuckle is dredged from the bowels of his chest. You feel it pull in your stomach. “Sure did. Got something you might like.” 

God help you as he reaches around you, the fine hairs littering your body standing on end, your mouth agape like a fish out of water.

Unconsciously, you step back, your spine softly thudding against the records display. Your heartbeat’s on a warpath, and you swallow against the dryness of your throat as the veiny, sinewy muscle in his forearm stains your periphery.

He gives you a bemused look before slowly peeling a record from the shelf behind you. Steps back to fish out the vinyl and settle it on the platter, replacing the record that was just playing. 

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Good job playing it cool, dumbass.

“You alright?” Sylus quizzes with a raised brow. “You seem a little on edge tonight, sweetie.”

You sigh, schooling an unconvincing smile onto your face. Try to ignore how the term of endearment glides off his tongue so effortlessly. You wonder how many other people he addresses like that. 

“Work was…rough today. Kicked my ass. I’m tired.” 

A snarling sound invades the space between you, heard over the gentle croon of the new music. Your eyes fall to your stomach. You rub it placatingly. In all your haste to have some dry friggin’ clothes, you forgot to eat. 

“And hungry, too,” you sheepishly add.

You glance up, and Sylus’ gaze tracks from your stomach to your face. He smirks knowingly, motioning with a nod toward his kitchen. 

“Figured you didn’t eat yet. I made carbonara if you’d like some.”

You smile wryly at his back as he pads away, carrying the scent of cedarwood and bergamot with him. Where would you be without such a doting neighbor? 

You track him to the kitchen. Leaning against the threshold, you watch him procure a bottle of water from his fridge. It’s so very small, dwarfed by his massive hand.

“I suddenly got called for a Teams meeting five minutes ago.” 

Your heart drops, the smile nearly falling from your face. And here you thought you’d have his company over dinner.

Suddenly, he taps your nose, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed when he got closer, swaddled in the static of your bodies being so close. “Where did you run off to,” he rasps, searching your gaze for something. 

The proximity of your bodies grows stifling, his warm breath glazing over your skin, dizzying. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he steps back, leaving you shell-shocked and utterly confused. 

“In the meantime, make yourself at home. You know where everything is,” he says, brushing past you with an air of finality. 

You strain your ears for the noise of a distant door shutting before you make your move, rummaging through his cupboards and drawers for a plate and cutlery. After you’ve scooped a decent helping of food onto your plate, you settle onto one of his velvet couches, cross-legged and shoveling food into your maw. 

The fluttering of wings piques your interest. You’ve hardly any time to acknowledge him before a tuft of black, iridescent feathers shines from Sylus’ coffee table. The crow studies you curiously, ingesting you with his beady eyes before he preens himself.

“Me-fith-toe!” you greet around a mouthful of food. 

Said crow ducks away, dodging errant crumbs and spit flying from your mouth, cawing in protest. You give him a rueful look. 

Sylus has a soft spot for animals. You noted it the first time you entered his apartment, greeted by his boisterous companion. Funny; he doesn’t look like the type to have such an eccentric pet. 

But Sylus has found numerous ways of pleasantly surprising you, revealing parts of himself to you bit by agonizing bit.

“Chicken?” you say after finally swallowing, offering a forkful of pasta to the bird. Mephisto scrutinizes the food before resigning himself to pecking at it. You smile fondly, your eyes crinkling with mirth. “Mephisto, you cannibal.”

Lulled by the occasional flap of Mephisto’s wings and Sylus’ even tone murmuring things of business somewhere far off in his home, you fall into a familiar rhythm, quietly waiting for your clothes to dry.

You spend the remainder of your evening in your neighbor’s company, drinking Merlot and judging each other’s music tastes, long after your pajamas have dried and settled in the dryer.

“So, have you boned yet?”

You choke on your waffle. Pound on your chest with the heel of your palm to dislodge it. You turn narrowed eyes on the source of the question. She merely shrugs from across the table, sipping her mimosa as if she’s asked the most innocent thing. 

“Bitch.”

“What?” She appears nonplussed, setting her champagne flute down with a definitive clack. All serious when she returns your stare over crossed arms, and you know you’re in for it. 

“You talk about the guy so much I figured you would’ve already, ya know…” The humping gesture she makes under the table is a bit much. 

You blanch. “No, dumbass, I haven’t boned.” Your voice peters towards the end of your sentence. And you peer down at the napkin folded in your lap, heat prickling your face. 

You won’t deny Sylus is good-looking. More like he could be someone modeling Prada on a catwalk. Can’t pretend you haven’t entertained the thought of being a little closer to him, too. More than just the late nights spent talking or him fixing something you broke.

You shake your head. Of all the times you’ve been tucked away in either of your apartments, he’s never made a move on you. Sure, he’s said some pretty suss things. Flirted with you outside of your usual banter. 

And maybe he’s done things to confuse the ever-loving hell out of you—cooked you breakfast when you were drunk off your ass and hungover the next morning. Lended you one of his expensive record players. Shacked up at your place a few times under the guise of “coming to get Mephisto.” But—

Nah. He’s not like that. You’re just neighbors, right? Unofficial friends. Friends hang out all the time, right?

“He’s not like that,” you say brattishly, stuffing more food into your face. At least not with you. 

You don’t miss your coworker’s fox-like grin spreading in your periphery. She taps her cheek thoughtfully, watching you like a smug sibling about to snitch. 

“Sure, sure. If you say so. He’s still a man, though. He might not have tried you yet—”

“Hush,” you interject. The table shakes, cups rattling as you saw into your sausage with your fork and butter knife. You’re done with this conversation.

Try as you might, however, you can’t banish your thoughts revolving around him. Especially with your coworker watching you like that, silently egging you on.

He’s not that kind of guy. 

He’s still a man, though. 

You’ve repeated it like a mantra throughout your day, even as you mindlessly clacked away at your computer. 

Work was a blur. An exhausting blur. Day gave way to the soothing exhale of night, and you were finally nestled in the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, on your couch, entertaining yourself with a game of Uno. It wasn’t much fun playing alone, but you needed a distraction from the mess of your mind when your favorite show couldn’t help. 

It’s a quarter past 9 when a shuffling sound in the breezeway outside your apartment catches your attention. It’s accompanied by the echoed rasp of a recognizable voice, chuckling and murmuring indiscernible things. 

You peel yourself from your couch as if on autopilot, nose pressed against the cold metal of your door as you peer through the peephole.

It’s your nightly ritual—waiting like an overzealous puppy to greet or send off your neighbor. You don’t always get the luxury of saying goodnight in person. Sometimes, he’s gone for days—weeks—at a time. You don’t know the semantics of his job, but you make it your mission to help assuage whatever burdens he shoulders whenever you can.

He’s there to help you, after all. Whether with a glass of wine, a warm meal, or his company.

So, forgive you for wanting to be a decent neighbor. And you would be tonight if not for the scene that passes through the fisheye of your peephole.

It’s Sylus, clad in something flattering and expensive. There’s no mistaking his broad back and shoulders. The purl of his voice, the wispy dusting of alabaster hair on his collar. But the smaller frame with him, well—

Your heart plummets into your stomach.

She’s pretty from what you can glean from the limited view of your peephole. Donned in a dress that’s form-fitting, voice high and light. Giggling silly things, fastened to Sylus’ side, held there by a virile arm draped around her middle. She’s drunk if the sloppy lean of her body is anything to go by. Sylus angles himself near her ear to whisper something, ushering in a new set of giggles.

You watch with your breath corked in your esophagus until they slide into his apartment together, their enmeshed voices fading from the stilled walls of the hallway.

Huh. Well, so much for him not being that type of guy. 

You grapple with this new revelation, a furrow between your brows, hands falling listlessly at your sides. Numb as you drag yourself back to your couch, bouncing comically on the cushions.

You don’t even know why you’re upset. He's a grown man with a…life. You think. 

It’s the first time you’ve witnessed him bringing someone to his place other than you, but it’s only natural for a guy like him to have options. He’s far from hideous. Has the gift of gab, for God’s sake. He’s charming and the very definition of masculine. 

It just stings a little, knowing that it’s not…you that he’s touching like that. 

So, you are definitely not flinging Uno cards onto the coffee table. Muttering things to yourself, gripping the stack in your hands so tightly, the plastic squeaks. What’s even got your undies in a bunch? The man’s not yours. You’ve never screwed around. Never really showed signs of wanting to, so it makes sense he would seek pleasures of the flesh elsewhere. His world doesn’t solely revolve around you as much as you would like for it to.

You’re halfway through a third round of angry card-flinging before a soft rap at your door nearly sends you some 30 feet into the air.

Stomping to your entrance, you peek through the peephole, and your heart works overtime when you catch sight of a wash of black and scarlet.

Internally, you scold yourself for how gullible you are. You throw the door open like you weren’t just cursing him and his stupid existence moments ago. Try to act nonplussed, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe with a haughty look. 

Of course, he would smell good. Look good, propped against the threshold like that, an amused cant to his lips, his physique devastating beneath the tight cling of his turtleneck.

“Hey,” he greets, the sound breathy and easy like warmed honey. 

“Hey, yourself.”

He studies you for a bit. Eyes flicker over your face, and you tamp down the sparkling rush of warmth that wades over your skin at the attention. Even when you’re mad at him, your attraction still finds an annoying way of creeping through the seams.

“This is going to sound incredibly strange, and feel free to tell me to piss off, but…do you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

You stand up straight. Blink owlishly, mouth opening and closing. “Huh?” is all you’re able to muster. 

He chuckles, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this side of bashful. “Yeah. It’s a…bit of a long story, sweetie.”

“O-Okay,” you say, rigidly moving aside.

“Thanks.” The charm is back on, turned up to max capacity. He brushes past you into your apartment, falling onto your couch with a huff. Quirks a brow at the mishap on your table, the carnage having spilled onto the floor. 

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but were you playing Uno by yourself?”

You ignore him, plopping cross-legged on a floor cushion adjacent to him. Bypassing the tick in your brow, you look off to the side, fighting the embarrassment threatening to take hold of your visage. Shouldn’t he be across the hall, entertaining his company?

“Shut up and grab some cards,” you grumble to dispel the green-eyed thoughts stewing in your mind.

“Bossy.” But he doesn’t contest you, gathering the abused cards to shuffle them. 

The remainder of your evening slides by with comfortable quips. With booze and a break to catch up on Love Is Blind—somehow, he’d roped you into watching it. 

You had no idea he was such a sap. Nearly forgotten how miffed you were mere hours ago. 

He assuaged your worries with an explanation as the sun crept over the city. 

The girl in his apartment was an old colleague who’d gotten drunk and convinced herself that she was anything but. 

Being a good samaritan, Sylus brought her to his place to sober up since the apartment complex wasn’t too far from the main strip of bars. He didn’t want any issues when she inevitably woke up. Messing with drunk people wasn’t his thing. 

So that’s how he ended up here, inhabiting your couch like he’d always been a part of the decor. 

He didn’t owe you an explanation. You were just friends. Still, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that twitched your lips after he cleared the air.

At some point in the morning, you both fell asleep. He looked all serene, too big for your sofa, but comfortable. You watched his lashes flutter from your place on the floor, his lips parting with soundless exhales. Even in sleep, he maintained that guarded aura, his arms folded across his chest. 

You were bleary-eyed, gathering yourself from the hardwood to fetch a blanket to drape over him. He shifted, and he was so pretty with the sun bathing him in an angelic glow like that, his hair bright like a halo. 

You were about to retreat to your bedroom when an abrupt knock tore you from your reverie. You glanced at your guest, ensuring he went undisturbed. He needed the rest. He was a night owl, and something about the sun vexed him, so he typically spent his days sleeping when you weren’t impeding on his time.

You moved to the door, foregoing the peephole to open it. Big mistake.

On the other side stood Little Miss Pretty from the night prior, impatiently tapping her foot. Her hair was flattened on one side, and her dress was askew. By the looks of it, sleep hadn’t been kind to her.

“Hi, good morning,” she sighed, schooling her expression into fake politeness. She straightened herself as best she could, but the white patch of dried slob staining her chin did little to help her plight. You bit back a snicker. 

“I’m looking for a friend. He lives across from you. His name’s Skye.”

You quirked a brow at that. Skye? Oh, honey…

You wondered how many other people Sylus had fed a fake alias to. Or if Sylus was even his real name.

“Haven’t seen him,” you chirped over crossed arms. Pulled the door slightly closed behind you, barring the woman from getting a peek at him, nuzzled up so cozily on your couch.

She sighed with slumped shoulders. A childish pout warped her lips. Her voice shifted into something more bratty. “You sure? Tall guy, white hair, red eyes? You can’t miss ‘em.”

“Not ringing a bell, hun. Sorry.”

It was taking all of you to keep up this ruse. You were fighting so hard to tamp down your amusement. This woman reminded you of an antagonist in a Korean drama, the way she was kicking and huffing about. 

“Where the hell did he go,” she groused. You watched her draw her phone from the pocket of her fur coat, your throat growing dry. 

Your blood turned to ice when a familiar ringtone chimed in your apartment behind you. You stiffened comically; mouth hinged open with shock.

The woman’s expression morphed into one of suspicion. She tried to look inside your home, the upbeat ring of Sylus’ phone still flooding the uncomfortable silence.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to assert her way inside. “What the fu—”

“Hey, girlie. Back the hell off before I call the police,” you warned with a hand pushed to her sternum. She insisted on being unruly, so you snatched your taser from the entryway table, the telltale blue sparks and sharp whip of static causing the woman to jolt back with alarm.

“You’re both insane!” she shouted from the hallway, the stomp of her heels reverberating off the walls as she made her way to the stairwell. 

With a relieved sigh deflating your chest, you eased the door shut. Leaned against it, glancing at the man of the hour. He was still fast asleep, his leg dangling off the edge of your sofa. You smirked knowingly, shaking your head as you disappeared into your bedroom. 

You’d let him sleep for as long as he needed. And you’d give him shit when he awoke about his taste in acquaintances. 

(Sylus): hungry? (You): a little. was gonna make some ramen if you want (Sylus): 🤢 (Sylus): that stuffs terrible for your digestion sweetie.  (Sylus): how about i make you dinner instead ? (Sylus): at the supermarket. need anything? (You): 😲😲😲 (You): you keep spoiling me and i might think you like me (Sylus): 😏 (You): nvm. no don’t need anything. lemme know when you’re back (You): i can help with groceries (Sylus): now who likes who? (You): fkdkos (Sylus): ? (You): sorry fat fingers 

You have a nasty habit of not using your peephole as of late.

Your apartment came with one for a reason. Sure, your neighborhood’s been pretty tame since you’ve moved here. But that doesn’t mean the occasional weirdo doesn’t slip past security, roaming the halls and startling the other tenants. 

You’ve found yourself forgoing the use of it a lot lately, given the only person who typically knocks on your door is the guy across the hall. And he usually calls or texts before he bugs you, but that doesn’t stop him from being spontaneous. You suppose today is one of those such cases after he manipulated you with dinner. 

Maybe his hands are full, you muse, unlocking your door. Though you’re doubtful he can’t handle a few bags. You’ve seen him in action at the community gym, thick cords of muscle rippling beneath a tan stretch of skin. 

You draw the door open with a smile, expecting to see a customary thatch of white. What confronts you instead sends a tide of dread washing over your innards. 

“Oh, thank God you’re home,” breathes a voice you haven’t heard in months. A voice that still makes your body stiffen, and your blood run cold. 

When your senses return, you step back into your apartment, thoroughly intending to slam the door in your ex’s face. They’re quicker, however, wedging themselves in the gap before you can shut it. Grabbing for you, a crazed look warping their features.

“Baby, please! Talk to me! I miss you!”

You bat at their hand, trying vainly to crush them, to scare them off. It’s to no avail, and you wonder if they’re coked up, giving you a run for your money as they try to bully their way into your home.

There’s a softball bat propped on the wall, and your fingers brush the base of it in your attempt to grab it. Something to defend yourself since your taser’s out of reach, tucked somewhere in your bag. 

The sounds of your struggle intermingle, your voice strained and panting, please please please, and your ex’s caught between sobs of your name. 

Just a little further. Just—

Suddenly, there’s no more resistance in your door. You stumble against it, a wild look in your eyes. And then, there is the noise of a brief scuffle. Of a back being shoved against a wall, of rusting plastic bags, of “Who the fuck are you?!”

Amid your panicked frenzy, you glance up to see a back to you. Barring you from the view beyond your threshold, and your body’s awash with relief as you register your savior’s form.

“You would do well to piss off,” seethes Sylus, and there’s an edge to his voice you’ve never heard before. You feel it furling in your stomach, burning your lungs. And in this moment, you don’t know who to be more afraid of.

Your ex makes a sound of protest, but you imagine the cut of Sylus’ eyes deterring them.

There is the scuffling of shoes across the concrete flooring of the breezeway, and you listen with bated breath until the cacophony fades at the foot of the stairs, willing your heart to ease down.

Scarlet eyes shift to you, brows knit with concern. “Who was that?” Sylus asks, tone cautious as if he doesn’t want to startle you more than you’ve already been.

You right yourself, smoothing out the wrinkles of your clothes. Finally grab your bat, waving it intimidatingly as you step aside to let your neighbor in.

“My stupid ex. Just know you saved their life. ‘cause I was gonna—” You make swinging gestures, the metal bat swooping in the air. The corners of Sylus’ eyes crinkle. 

“Slow down before you hurt yourself.” He kneels to retrieve the bags he’d tossed down in his haste to intervene. You scurry over to help, gathering up spilled food.

Once you’re both inside, the bags placed haphazardly on the counter, you’re seated on your sofa, nursing the rush of adrenaline still spuming through you like the hot rush of a geyser. 

“You need to get a restraining order,” says Sylus. He emerges from your kitchen with a tense set to his jaws, two bottles of Angry Orchard clasped between his fingers. 

Plopping down beside you, an arm draped over the headrest, he shoves a bottle into your hand, side-eyeing you as he throws his head back for a swig. 

You babysit the cider, the crisp condensation of it serving to ground you. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m not asking, sweetie.”

You bristle under the weight of his tone, feeling much like a scolded child. You know this. Should’ve done it long ago the first time your ex took it upon themselves to do surprise pop-ups at your place—at your job.  

“And an alarm system.”

“I know, I know.”

“I can take you right now to look for one—”

“I got it, Sy! Fuck, I-I got it.” You release a weighted sigh, warring with yourself. 

Not only do you feel silly for being so lackadaisical with your life. But now, you feel even worse for the seemingly impenetrable silence that settles between you. You didn’t mean to yell, frustration and adrenaline having burbled to the surface. He was just worried. No need to take your emotions out on him. 

Sylus exhales slowly, an unreadable expression descending onto his face whilst staring at the wall.

“Sorry,” you murmur, unconsciously patting his quad. You don’t miss how he stiffens; don’t miss the tight coiling of tendons in his neck. You retract your hand, instead drumming your fingers along the bottom of your bottle.

“I’m assuming this isn’t the first time this has happened,” queries Sylus in an attempt to dispel the tense atmosphere.

You shake your head, shrinking into yourself. Stare at your lap, pulling at some frayed threads in your bottoms. 

“How did they even manage to get up here?”

You shrug. The security guards at the gates aren’t always the most attentive. Besides, sometimes, the pin pad leading into the lobby malfunctions, making it easier for anyone to just slip into your complex.

Unprompted, you begin to bare yourself, explaining the possibilities of why your ex showed up.

Sylus listens attentively. Doesn’t interrupt you, watching the subtle shifts of your expressions as you speak. 

You tell him that things weren’t bad in the beginning about two years ago. How your ex said and did all the right things, and they were wonderful. But they wanted something you weren’t ready for. You had some growing up to do, so you broke things off. Moved to another city, started a new job. 

You didn’t bank on them following you. 

The visits were random at first. Occasional run-ins at the park, the bar. Things soon blossomed into something more concerning when your ex found your new address after you relocated to another part of the city to ease the stress of the commute. 

This was their second time making an appearance at your door. You knew you should’ve done something to protect yourself sooner, but you didn’t think much of it then. Figured they would live and let be. Today proved otherwise. 

“You’re grossly naive, sweetie.” 

You snort before gulping down the remnants of your cider. “Way to make me feel better.”

He chuckles, and it’s comforting, your thighs pressing together amid your dinky couch. “It’s what I’m here for. But I could understand how you could drive someone to such extremes.”

You glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means…” 

Before you know what’s about, he’s panning in, flooding your vision with the scarlet shine of his eyes. With the wispy dance of his lashes until his breath fans over your molten cheeks. Limber fingers sneak beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head back. 

Warmth wades over you. Your breath swells in your chest. Lips purse as a mysterious shade of burgundy leaks over his irises. His voice drops a few octaves, husky, the sound of it pinching in your stomach.

“It means that you’re someone worth fighting for.”

You scoff, shaking yourself away from his hold. Ignore the bashfulness creeping into your face in favor of being a cheeky little shit. 

“All right, Li Shang. Getting a little too serious over there.”

He huffs a laugh in response, popping up to grab another round of ciders from your fridge.

Ingredients sat untouched on the countertop as your evening eased by. You’d settled on a pizza, catching up on shows and talking, long after the moon had pinned itself to the center of the sky. 

Sylus promised to teach you how to use a gun. He had plenty and would carve out time in his schedule to take you to a range. He didn’t press much after, instead letting the weight of your evening melt from your shoulders. 

He was reluctant to leave you, even after sunbeams spilled through your blinds and you snoozed so quietly, cheek propped against his shoulder. 

His hand never left your thigh. Possessive in its touch as he mirrored your affections from before. 

It’s strange.

Today is your birthday. You’re enjoying yourself, filled with enough alcohol to tranquilize a small goat. 

Your co-workers had dragged you out. Surprised you with dinner, a cake. Took you to the strip of bars lining the streets adjacent to your apartment complex. You were all smiles until your cheeks ached, and you’d nearly thrown up from laughing so much. 

Still, you feel…empty. Like something is missing. Or someone. 

You look at your phone for the umpteenth time. Scroll through your messages, reliving the moment in your head. 

Sylus was the first to wish you a happy birthday. It made you swell with overwhelming happiness, knowing he’d woken up so early to be the first to say it. You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder when he sent a voice message of him singing “Happy Birthday.”

God, for everything he was good at, poor baby couldn’t hold a note to dig himself out of a hole. Still, you cherished the gesture, lying in bed for the first hour you’d been awake, replaying said message and rolling around your bed like an enamored teen.

Even now, you replay the voice note, holding the speaker to your ear. It’s hard to hear it amid the live band playing and the merriment around you at the bar. Try as you might to enjoy what remains of your night, you can’t keep your thoughts from drifting back to a certain smug figure clad in black. 

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): hows it going birthday babe? (You): 😭😭😭 (You): u shuld be her e (Sylus) im sorry sweetie. i had some work to catch up on.  (Sylus): you must be having a good time. 😏 (You): fuk wrk 🖕🖕🖕 (You): am not drink ur dronk (Sylus): lol. you sound plastered. (Sylus): do i need to come rescue you? (You): hum (Sylus): ? (You): hone (You): home (Sylus): 🫤 (Sylus): we need to have a serious talk about you enabling autocorrect. (You): r u (You): home (Sylus): about to be. why ?? (Sylus): sweetie?

Somehow, you find yourself staring at the glossy, black numbers embossed on the top center of his door. 302. It’s ingrained in your memory. You’d probably find your way to his apartment with your eyes closed, driven to it by the familiar smell and homeliness it exudes. 

You’re still a little tipsy. Took some time to sober up as best you could before ditching your friends and catching an Uber back to your complex. You had enough sense to gather everything you’d shown up with. Didn’t hitch a ride with any strangers regardless of how many of them tried to pull you into their arms as you stumbled out of the bar. 

You had a one-track mind. Only wanted to spend the rest of your birthday with him.

With a goofy smile plastered on your face, you knock on his door. You’re singing that infectious song you can’t get out of your head when it swings open.

“Apateu-pateu, apateu-pateu,” you chant, shaking your hips from side to side.

He greets you with an omniscient smirk, eyes softening whilst leaning against the doorframe. “Well, hello, birthday babe.”

“Sup!” you return a little too enthusiastically, pitching forward until Sylus steadies you with his hands. You giggle like a drunken fool, peering at him. Hadn’t realized how good his hands felt, searing through the fabric of your top. 

Come to think of it, you hadn’t noticed many things about him before. His lips are a pretty shade of pink. Skin textured, nose sharp, cheeks high. Little flecks of amber dwell between the scarlet rinse of his eyes. His hair falls into his face, damp from the shower he probably had before answering the door.

“I take it you had a good night,” he says, gaze painting a steady triangle between your eyes and mouth.

“Almost,” you whisper back, surprised by the huskiness of your voice. You lose yourself in the idle stir of his eyes. In the fragility of his smile, and you feel so safe in his hands like this. 

You don’t know what compels you to do it. To conquer the space of hot, dizzying breaths between you. But, you sort of…well…

Your inhibitions hit the floor. With your fingers wrapped tenderly around his wrists, you angle yourself closer to kiss him. You almost pull away when he stiffens. But he seemingly relaxes, and his lips cautiously move against yours as he unconsciously guides you closer.

You cling to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He encircles your waist in his powerful arms, fastening you to the hard press of his body. He kisses you like he’s waited lifetimes to do it, one hand molding around the apple of your cheek. 

When your tongue sloppily prods the barrier of his teeth, he bristles. Draws away from you with a resounding smack, blinking wildly. You’re confused. Your heart sinks. You try again to draw him back in, but he gently pushes you away, shaking his head to dispel the bleariness. To chase away the spell that’s fallen over you. 

“Baby, wait. No. Not…not like this,” he rasps through kiss-swollen lips, holding you by your hips. You’re wounded. A hot flush of embarrassment washes over you, and your brows knit together like those of a confused puppy.

“Wha-what’s wrong? Did I—am I—”

“No, no, you’re…you're perfect,” he soothes with a chuckle, a thumb gliding over your bottom lip. “Beautiful, even. I just…I don’t think now is a good time to do this.”

“Oh.” You deflate, a scorching film of tears clouding your vision. “Oh, okay. Um, I’ll just—yeah, I’ll go. I’ll…see you around, I guess.”

You slide out of his arms, too mortified to look back as you fumble with your keys. After he murmurs a hoarse, “good night.” Did you misread him before? Misinterpret his actions, his words? 

You’re numb as you sink into your couch. Sobriety slowly creeps in. Stray tears blister your cheeks, but you don’t full-on sob. Can’t bring yourself to, instead laughing hysterically with your face buried in your hands, swallowed by the bleak loneliness of your apartment.

Happy Birthday, indeed.

[applestorms]

L can be such a possessive character at times. he always strikes me as the type of person who is deeply aware of everything that he owns, both in a more literal sense and metaphorically-- like, he knows what money he has and how to use it, what resources are readily available to him and what he has to be sneakier to utilize, the habits and tendencies and emotional states of individuals and world governments both. the DN musical really puts an emphasis on the more computer-y aspects of how his brain functions, which isn't as obvious in the manga/anime but i think still works well as a way to follow his thinking. it's kinda what near does too: everything is a factor to them, every tiny detail a new opening to optimize for the best results, every person and location and object a part of a puzzle waiting to be solved. and as a part of that, L is deeply aware of every and any little thing he may or may not have control over, and exactly to what degree.

his habit of stealing titles as depicted in the LABB murders novel is such a good example of this. ryuzaki, eraldo coil, deneuve. he eats people alive and then takes their names for himself like some kind of fucked up fae or trickster god, creating new masks and personas to hide behind from the remains of the people he's devoured. i have to wonder if he would've used the title of KIRA for himself had he won-- i can hardly imagine what kind of power such a title could hold if held in his hands. of course, he could've just used the defeat of KIRA as a way to build up the L title even further, offering up the body of a dead god like perseus showing off the head of medusa. but L is so emotionally attached to the kira case, i struggle to see him allowing it to fade from existence so thoroughly as near does, even if it is only kept close on a private level...

this is part of why i think it genuinely makes a lot of sense that L's ultimate win state would include capturing light to some degree. even if the memory of KIRA somehow manages to fully disappear from the public consciousness, there is no fucking way L is letting light yagami out of his grasp. honestly, the moment that L truly loses this game is not when he starts investigating misa while still under rem's watch, not when light gets back his memories, not even when he dies, but the moment when he allows light to be freed from the handcuffs. the moment when he allows the other members of the task force to turn off the cameras and keep him from watching light and misa talk in the lobby. the moment when he gives up, lets light yagami go outside of L's personal sphere of control, is the moment when L starts the clock ticking down to the end of his own life.

this is one of the key ways in which i see light as a true equal and parallel to L, as after L's death he, intentionally or no, continues the same tradition and takes L's title for himself, twisting the two sides together into the L-KIRA amalgamation. only, the L title functions a little bit differently than every other persona or title that we see in the series-- because L's true name is L. that's all that he is. on a literal, legal, and emotional level, i don't think that L is anything more than L. he is the world's greatest detective, he's an incredible, weirdo super genius, but he does not afford himself much more than that, barely allows himself personhood or humanity outside of his work. light was the one to ultimately defeat L because he did not just put a stain on his character (as BB attempted), did not just kill him, but stole his very identity and took it for himself.

one of the biggest contradictions of L's character that i think you must accept should you attempt to portray him accurately is that he is both deeply detached from humanity while also having all of his work and effort and life be focused around saving it. it's one of the ways in which he is an exact opposite to light-- where light relies on humanity for external validation, to be Seen, while also looking down on it as dumb and immoral and spineless, L is so separated from it that he barely exists as a person, all the while dedicating almost every action he takes to helping it. remember: for all the emotional turmoil that wammy's house and the legacy of L may put on the kids living there, ultimately it's entire existence is nothing more than L's logical solution to his potential demise. if he dies, the world goes down with him, all of the cases that are yet to happen and he is yet to solve being left in the air. he has the foresight to set up a fail safe, but not to consider the emotional implications of what being that fail safe might feel like, how high the price of your own humanity is if you are not already alienated from it, the inability to have your own name on your gravestone-- though perhaps some of the blame also falls on watari's shoulders in this case, philanthropic old bastard that he is.

imo, playing his game really got it right in presenting L and light as one and the same, synonyms on either side of the mirror. in every action they take they are both so selfishly selfless, playing the game for themselves and their own pleasure but plastering the needs and will of humanity on top of it. L isn't invested in saving humanity for the sake of humanity-- he just likes the thrill of having the stakes raised so high. hard to shit on ryuk for wanting entertainment when the humans he finds are just the same as him.

[worldofstoriesanddreams]

Is there an age limit chapter 3 - Christmas edition

Wrapped in a straitjacket, his utility belt and every gadget stripped away, Batman pulled himself up to a sitting position and scanned the room. 

Across the room, Superman was sweating bullets — his face as green as the kryptonite handcuffs that chained him to the wall.

Wonder Woman, in the WayneTech Virtual Reality suit, was in her own world, fighting imaginary battles, unaware of their plight.

Green Lantern was trapped in a yellow cube.

In the agency cage of fire, Martian Manhatter had lost his humanoid form — incapacitated by terror.

Green Arrow without his arrows. Black Canary was gagged and had a metapower inhibiter collar around her neck. Both of them were in straitjackets, unable to escape.

Flash was trapped in a containment field which severed his connection to the Speed Force.

A bald man in a lab coat, calling himself the Master of the World, taunted the Dark Knight with empty boxes that once contained Batman’s contingency plans and resources he had prepared to take down each and every member of the Justice League, should the need arise.

Checking his watch, he announced. “It’s 3pm. Time for Captain Marvel to show up to save his friends.”

He loaded a gun with bullets from the box with Captain Marvel’s lightning on it. These bullets were made of pure lead — deadly to Daxamites. 

“Why put one into his shoulder when I can shoot all of them into his heart?” The villain cackled.

Batman’s contingency plans were never meant to kill. They were to neutralise members of the Justice League when they are under mind control or go rogue, or otherwise become a threat to humanity.

Captain Marvel crashed to the roof, landing in front of the villain.

“Release them,” said the Big Red Cheese.

Click

“Duck,” Batman growled. “Pure lead bullets!”

Bang! 

Bang! 

Bang! 

Bang!

Bang! 

Bang! 

Captain Marvel didn’t flinch as the flurry of bullets struck his chest, bouncing off without leaving a scratch.

“My turn,” he tapped the villain’s shiny head, knocking him unconscious.

He looked at the boxes with their insignias and stared at Batman. His eyes blazed with anger while his smile dropped as he scrutinised Batman. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Disappointment coloured his voice.

“Hm.” Batman glared back.

“Then you’ll know how to free them,” Captain Marvel’s brilliant smile returned as he ripped open the straitjacket, releasing Batman.

So he’s not Kryptonian. He’s not Daxamite.

What was he?

*

Back in the Watchtower, the atmosphere turned chilly. Every hero gave him the cold shoulder. They should. In their line of work, it was unwise to trust so easily. A certain level of paranoia was essential for survival.

Martian Manhunter sat in the break room, still shaken by his exposure to fire. He refused to look at Batman.

“Have some milk and cookies,” Captain Marvel walked in with a tray.  It held a plate piled high with an assortment of chocolate cookies with cream centres, and two glasses of milk. “This really helps after a tough day.” 

The alarm went off. 

There was yet another alien invasion.

Did the various alien races have some kind of time table to invade the earth on a monthly basis?

The screen showed an armada of fiery spaceships that covered all visible space. His sensors showed each ship exuded flames with heat that rivalled the sun’s core.

“Hold this," he handed the tray to Batman.

Captain Marvel beamed, “I call dibs on this invasion.”

A blur of red cleared the sky of the fiery orbs in a blink of an eye.

The Captain was back in the room, with another mug of milk in hand. “Join us for milk and cookies?” He beamed at Batman.

*

It was the night before Christmas. Batman hadn’t a clue who or what Captain Marvel really was. He was only available outside elementary school hours, so he had to be an elementary school teacher, but the bat computer scanned the photos of every elementary school teacher in the country but couldn’t match any of them with the elusive Captain.

As he retired for the night, he noticed milk and cookies laid out near the entrance of each home. Even his own children would set out milk and cookies for Santa Claus before they go to bed on Christmas Eve. 

He looked at the chimneys. Santa was known to enter homes through chimneys. Some fireplaces were still burning, so Santa had to be flame proof.

In one single night, Santa visits every home in the entire world, delivering presents to those who have been good, and coal to those who have been naughty. Bruce knew. Ever since he started those contingency plans to take down every one of his team mates, he had been getting a coal in his stocking every Christmas.

The clues fell in place.

Captain Marvel loves milk and cookies.

He’s great with the kids.

He’s flame proof, which meant, going down the chimney while the fire is still burning wouldn’t bother him.

He moves so fast, he could visit every home in the world in one night.

The way he looked at Batman after seeing the contingency boxes in use, reminded him of how his dad would look at Bruce when he was naughty.

That bright red suit and white cape - same red as Santa's suit. Same white as the trimmings.

The perpetual smile. 

The Captain’s favourite catchphrase — “Holy Moley” — “Ho Ho Ho.”

Of course.

He knew Captain Marvel’s real identity.

Captain Marvel is Santa Claus!

[cookierunbases]

-`.~♡ OFFICIAL COOKIERUNBASES GUIDE ♡~.'-

Requests are currently OPEN!! Look for more information below!

-`.~♡~.'--`.~♡~.'--`.~♡~.'-

Hey there, welcome to CookieRunBases!

Thanks for checking out my blog!

This blog was made to help folks bring their cookie characters "out of the oven", as it were, and into the sugary-sweet world of Cookie Run!

The bases on this blog are traced directly from official Devsis sprites, allowing for a quick and easy way to create a reference for your character in the art style of Cookie Run!

Below the cut, you'll find information about how I categorize my bases, how to search for specific traits and characters, and request guidelines. Feel free to add any information you think would be helpful in the comments!

Thanks for reading!

So! You wanna find a base, right? Here's a handy-dandy guide to how each base is categorized, how to get to and search in the archive, and how to request bases!

-`.~♡ Categorization & Tagging ♡~.'-

All base-related posts will follow a template formatted like the one below:

[ NAME OF COOKIE ] Base - TAGS / TAGS / TAGS / TAGS

SIMPLE/DYNAMIC Pose

Requested by [USERNAME]!

-`.~♡~.'-

Bases will always be labeled with the cookie's name. If you're wondering whether or not a pose has already been made into a base, search for the character's name!

Tags (not Hashtags/#) are used to describe the nature of the pose, such as emotions, actions, objects, and possible use-cases! An example would go as such: Happy / Smiling / Dancing / Walking / Speech / Holding Object / Staff . Feel free to search for terms like these if you're looking for a specific kind of pose!

Simple vs. Dynamic poses actually have nothing to do with the pose itself, but rather, where it's from!

Simple poses consist of sprites, such as talksprites, wardrobe sprites, or in-game movement models.

Dynamic poses are sourced from more complex official character art, like title screens, loading screens, and gacha reward screens.

Bases that are requested will have the requester's username labeled by default. If you have requested a base or want to request a base, you can ask not to have your username mentioned and you'll stay anonymous!

-`.~♡ Searching the Archive ♡~.'-

The archive is great if you want to browse the library of bases quickly and efficiently! Here's how to find it:

PC/COMPUTER

Navigate to the top of the profile, then click the three little dots next to the DM button.

Select "View Archive" from the drop-down menu.

MOBILE

The mobile app doesn't currently have archive compatibility, however, you can utilize the "Search Blog" function by following these instructions:

Navigate to the top of the profile and click the white magnifying glass icon.

2. Type your desired term into the box (character name, tag, username, etc).

3. Browse the bases with ease!

-`.~♡ Requests & More Info ♡~.'-

Requests are usually open! You can always find this information in our profile's description, right beneath our profile picture!

To submit a request, DM this profile with up to THREE total images of the work you'd like turned into a base and I'll get back to you as soon as I can!

Requests will only be accepted if you are sending in official Devsis artwork!! I will not use work from independent fanartists.

You can submit multiple requests, but only after your previous one has been completed.

Your bases will not be completed all at once! I rotate between requests each image in order to keep variety in my posts.

I make no guarantees as to how soon I'll finish any given request, if at all. I am a full-time college student. I work on this in my free time, this is a way to relax for me! Please do not ask me when your base will be completed!

This blog has no DNI.

You are not required to credit this profile when you use my bases - however, it is highly encouraged so that other folks can find and use this resource!

Thanks again for reading! Go bake up some deliciously creative cookies!

- Angel <3

[aretheygayvideos]

Calling a technology "bad for the environment" is a politically vacuous framework. It makes invisible the ways classes of people intentionally develop tech in a resource-intensive way. It erases the fact that tech is controlled by PEOPLE who should be held accountable. Saying that anything is "bad for the environment" isn't useful framing. Throwing a napkin in the street is bad for the environment but negligible compared to driving a car or eating meat. Yet, the negligible act feels worse. The better framing is: is the resource cost worth the benefit provided?

I think the resources required to develop genAI and machine learning are worth the cost. BUT there's no reason for dozens of companies to build huge proprietary models or for aggressive data center expansion. AI CAN be developed sustainably. But a for-profit system doesn't incentivize this.

Some might argue that any use of AI is a waste of resources. This is disingenuous and ignores the active applications of AI in education, medicine, and admin. And even if it were frivolous, it's okay for societies to produce frivolous things as long as it's produced sustainably. Communist societies will still produce soda, stylish hats, and video games.

Even if you think AI is frivolous, it CAN be produced sustainably, but we live in a for profit system where big tech companies are using a ton of unnecessary resources in ways that hurt the public. But we know tech (not just AI) can be sustainable & energy efficient. Computing is one of the most energy efficient things humans do compared to how much we rely on it, and is only increasing in efficiency.

If you're critical of AI, framing it as uniquely bad for the environment isn't useful and isn't true. At the individual level, it's less wasteful than eating meat and slightly less energy intensive than watching Netflix. Some models can be run locally on your computer. Training can be energy intensive but is infrequent, and only needs to be done once per model.

Also, there are real harms in overstating AI energy use! Energy and utility companies are using overinflated AI energy numbers to justify a huge buildout of oil and gas.

If you're critical of AI, you should instead ask: What are we getting for the resources used? What outcome are we trying to get out of AI & tech development? Are all these resources necessary for the outcomes we seek? AI CAN be environmentally sustainable, but there are systems and people who want to foreclose this possibility. Headlines like "ChatGPT uses 10x more energy than Google search" (not even true), shift blame from institutional actors onto individuals, from profit-motives onto technology.

[catalyswitch]

Was talking with wife recently about AI and the ways it's incredibly stupid and I am reminded of the time a few years ago the Execs at the place I worked previously wanted to incorporate AI into our workflow in order to help materials development. They wanted to make sure that the company was "utilizing the latest technology to make us more productive" so they partnered with a company that uses AI/ML to predict chemical structures in order to enhance performance based on our desired properties. My boss and I kinda thought this was stupid when it was first announced, but we were still unprepared for how bad it was really going to be.

The problem of course here is that what a computer thinks is good and will perform well does not often make sense according to the laws of physics. So more often than not the computer would spit out extremely specific and nonsensical structures that it believed would increase performance. These structures could range from completely impractical to sometimes downright impossible to actually make, so for every set of predictions we got back we had to first filter all the nonsense and then select a set from the ones that could be made and tested in a reasonable amount of time. In addition, they emphasized that the more data that they have the better the predictions would be, so the pressure was on to synthesize and validate as many molecules as possible as quickly as possible. This was a huge drain on time and energy because again some of these structures were nontrivial to make. Not that the computer people would be able to tell the difference. But still the executives were excited about it so we gave it a try anyway. The idea was that we would start by making a bunch of different materials and test the results and then feed those results back into the machine to predict better structures based on the ever growing data pool.

The funny part of the story, of course, is that with every iteration, the performance got worse. This was not surprising to me. The mechanisms that dictate performance in this field are not fully understood even now, and there are still many papers coming out every year adding more knowledge to the field. Additionally, the predictions weren't being made using some fundamental understanding of the mechanisms at play, but by training an algorithm using a pool of existing literature. You're just not going to get good results by "midjourneying" chemistry. We did around 3-4 iteration cycles with them over that year contract and every time the performance of the structures that it had predicted were worse than the last set, sometimes dramatically so. And they would tell us "no no, the data set isn't really big enough to give good results yet" and "once the model has tested enough structures it'll get better" but it didn't in that period. And it's possible that on a long enough timescale it might be possible? But, the reality was that we had a whole year of time and resources essentially wasted because our CEO thought that some tech guys in SV could use AI to do chemistry and didn't believe us when we said it was stupid.

And you know what? We figured out something that worked really well less than six months after dumping them and getting to do it our way again.

[manicpixietboy]

How to survive in the apocalypse, non exhaustive list-

Improve the lives of ourselves+

Others+

Combat a fascist police state

Many scattered sources, just my thoughts;

Share/spread info (posts, articles, zines, paste-ups, posters, stickers, etc). Run across fascist posters/sticker? Safely take it down or cover it up with something.

Utilize community gardens, food banks, forage/find out what local edible plants are around/educate yourself on foraging, grow your own food if you can, cook meals/share food, etc.

Turn to diy hrt if needed/wanted; share resources.

Pick from trash/dumpster/the curb, thrift, be "thrifty."

Attend protests (no phone + n95 mask).

Get involved in local level politics.

Get in the way of ICE agents; report their presence. Be willing to get arrested.

Reduce, reuse and recycle. Try to lower your waste if possible. Compost. Upcylce. Reuse plastic, glass. Make your own clothes. Etc.

Rest/use your spoons wisely.

Read, educate yourself and others. Buy used books. Shared PDFs. Make and share zines. Do you have a local "give a book, get a book" sitch?

Pick up litter.

Learn how to make stencils, how to graffiti.

Do home repairs yourself if possible. Learn how to diy as much as you can (opting out of capitalism as much as possible); but also know when to turn to your community. We are social creatures, too. All we have is each other.

Pirate as much as possible. Support physical media. Support local businesses. Cancel subscriptions. 

Look into guerilla gardening; seed bombing.

Be kind- give directions, check on ppl, smile at ppl, help ppl, hold the door, ask if they're ok.

Intervene when needed- learn healthy bystander intervention

Fallingfruit.com

https://fallingfruit.com

Volunteer- library, animal shelter, humane society, soup kitchen, etc.

Help our neighbors if they need + when we can.

Walk + use public transport as much as you can.

Go to the library- books, movies, CDs, computers, printers, WAY MORE!

Support local artists/music shows.

Be as unmarketable as possible- buy less online + decoy emails + delete permissions from apps + privacy settings, etc.

Use cash, good for small businesses.

Give what we can- time? Money? Skills? Space? Stuff? What will make the most impact?

Talk about your wage.

Think about where your money goes/how it flows/whose hands it goes into.

Create art. Do it at work if you can get away with it.

Put yr body outside.

Learn good conflict resolution + interpersonal skills where you can!!

When you feel scared about resources, list which ones you have and which ones you need and move accordingly.

Listen to others.

Teach a skill for free.

Boycott.

Civil disobedience! (;

Make systems obsolete by opting out as much as you can.

Nap

Cry

Scream

Feel + express your emotions

Make space for joy, too 

Hug

Breathe

If you don't have hope, have spite.

This is a list that I'm keeping and adding to, in an effort to remind myself I am not powerless, I have many actions I can take. We must live.

[atthediscowithoutpanic]

How to Save a Life Chapter 1

Where you are an outside case manager and make frequent visits to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, and have a soft spot for a certain ER doctor. Does it blossom into something more?

Dr. Jack Abbott x reader

18+ minors do not engage

warnings: trauma discussed in the episodes of the Pitt, heavy mental health conversations, suicidal ideation conversations, smut eventually, slow burn. I will add more as they come.

I haven't written in a while, but this man has me in a chokehold! Sorry for the mistakes I'm getting the writing dust off.

0615

Opening your work laptop and logging in for the day to take a peek at your case load for the day. As a case manager, your job was to go into certain hospitals in your area and “intervene” about those psychiatric patients who continue to be readmitted frequently. Or be a frequent flyer, as most of the emergency departments call them. Most of the time, there was not much that could be done about the patients from your end, they required a different level of care, or they had an environmental factor you could not fix. Social services money was often sparse, which meant people were waiting years for the resources needed, whether that was housing, pharmacy assistance, utility bills, etc. Your days were tirelessly frustrating by this and made you often feel helpless, as there was not much you could do. But, you could be a kind face to patients and understanding while they were dealing with unimaginable life factors, helping them navigate those waters. Unfortunately, you saw your top priority for the day on your caseload as soon as you opened your computer program housing all your clients information, Mr. Krakozhia, had been readmitted back to the emergency department, and looking at the hospital census, it would be a long wait to get pushed up to the psychiatric floor. Quickly, you got dressed in a sweater and slacks and headed to your kitchen to make some food and coffee to go. As you were waiting on your coffee to brew, you quickly made a to do list of some other work and personal items you needed to complete, a text came through:

Jack: “ You know who is here again. Are you coming by?”

You: “Yeah, I’m headed that way.” 

Jack was Dr. Jack Abbott, one of the emergency room doctors at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. He was a rock at all times, and had become decent acquaintances throughout your visits to his ED the last couple of years. Thankful for his level head and somewhat understanding of your patients. Your coffee is finished, and poured it into a mug and ran out the door. 

0650-0710

After a short drive, you pulled into Pittsburgh Trauma and noticed what looked like a figure on top of the building on the roof. Immediately, you went racing into the building for Dana at the nurses' station because of course, she was here early like usual. “Well hi there, I figured we’d see your shining face today.” Dana leaned in to get a hug from you, and you stopped her short to be able to whisper in her ear. “You know someone is on the roof, Dana?” Pulling away she sighed hard, “Yeah, I know. I think Robby is headed that way, go after them and see if your help is needed, however, keep a distance.” Shrugging off your backpack, you headed toward the stairs.

0720

Quickly and quietly, you ascended the stairs, mind wandering about who was up on the roof, and racing. You’ve done crisis intervention countless times, but the adrenaline still gets going, and you still want to make sure you do not mess anything up. Slowly opening the door to the roof to peak at who’s up here. It’s Jack and Robby up here, with Jack on the edge, and you continue to watch just in case something starts to go sideways. Robby is more than capable for this, especially how long they’ve been friends, but know Jack’s PTSD can be very intense at times. They start towards the door, and you shut it quickly, going down a few stairs like you are heading up the stairs again, and you totally have not been watching. “ I know you have been watchin from the door, you don’t need to act like you weren’t” Robby states so casually. Ugh, ok it’s going to be one of those days, with passive-aggressive Robby, got it. “Robby, can I get a second with Dr. Abbott, please?” Dr. Robinavitch did not even say a word, just continued down the stairs and gave a thumbs up to you standing behind him. 

“I figured it was you up here if Dana would not tell me who was up here.” 

Dr. Abbott ran his hand through his greying hair, “ I worked on a veteran my age for three hours, and he still died and I was stuck telling his wife and young daughters that he wasn’t coming home.” 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. Get some food and some sleep, please. I am here if you need to talk through anything, always.” Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder to try to remphasize you knew he was capable to dealing with anything, but just needed an outlet sometimes.

He nodded and didn’t say anything, and you both went down the stairs silently. 

[layover-linux-official]

On a strictly practical for-the-world-we-live-in level, I agree, especially with how both of those applications have evolved in the intervening time since I last ran them on this netbook.

On a philosophical and/or potential level, I think lite architectures like this act as a reckoning for the amount of invisible bloat we accept from our programs. And my attitude about that is "don't shoot the messenger."

yk, updating packages is not all that fun when your CPU is clocked at 1.6GHz and only has 1 core and it takes 10 fucking minutes to install 11 packages (the largest being 70MB, the rest are less than 5MB)

[felidae-sims]

Resources for Creating: My Go-To things.

Update: I’ll be updating the list on this page from now on, since Tumblr can’t handle so many hyper-links in one post, on Dreamwidth - right here, so I won't have to update it multiple times. Please note: I keep updating this list, and updates aren't showing up on reblogs. Please check the original post for the most up to date list.

Sooo this is going to be a long comprehensive list. I got back to this game after a long time and with a different computer, with a dedicated graphics card, hurray! It made me want to return to making things, so while gathering back all the necessary stuff, I've complied this list. It might be is updated as I go along, but these are the main things I use. Maby one day i'll even finish something. So here are my go-to resources & tutorials; I'm posting it here for safekeeping, and hopefully others will find it helpful. Everything that's listed is here free. So many wonderful things for free under the cut.

Programs – General:

Creating: Blender. Blender Addons: 3D Print Toolbox – comes with blender, enable it from within the program. Originally for 3d printing. Good for fixing flipped normals, and some quick general repairs. Source Tools And source tools wiki – for exporting as SMD!!!! (SimPe: to enable bump maps for the mesh on import). GMDC Addon for Blender 4.0+ by Nopke.

GIMP. GIMP Addons: G'MIC-Qt. Resynthesizer. Nvidia dds?. Doesn’t it come with Gimp?

Other: Nvidia Texture Tools Exporter (iirc it works with all graphic cards that are compatible, doesn’t require Nvidia). For making Normal / Bump / Cube Maps. For high quality compression.

NormalMaps - Online, For making all types of maps, has good setting menus. A very cool tool.

Converting: Umodel, for Unreal Engine (Static meshes: export as gtlf.2. Animated meshes: export as psk. Requires Add-on). AssetStudio, for Unity. AC Viewer, self implied (+ USD Addon for blender). QuickBMS* and support forum, for basically everything else. (don't forget the required scrips, down the same page). *I haven’t tested it fully yet, but it was recommended here. A tutorial for it is listed further down. Works like a charm.

UV Mapping: UV Mapper, Classic (free) and the most recent Demo (for visualization).

Programs – Sims:

Never Mind the Bollox, Here's Osab and MAGIkarp to the rescue!

Latest version of SimPe, works with a non-default installation path. Chris Hatch's updates.

Home Crafter installation, Post by Huge Lunatic at Sims2Artists.

Repository Wizard, by Pick'N'Mix Mods. A game changer.

DBPF Compare, by Pick'N'Mix Mods.

Object Relocator, also by Pick'N'Mix Mods.

SMD Tools, by Lazy Duchess.

The Compressorizer, by JFade – Lazy Duchess's edit.

Bulk Rename Utility, to change file names in well, bulk. As explained by io here.

Lot Adjustor, by Mootilda at MTS.

Tutorials:

Override the game's graphic settings via Nvidia, as explained by iCad. The settings to Nvidia Profile Inspector she linked to at MTS have been deleted for some reason, here they are via WebArchive.

Meshing in Blender:

Mesh Optimization Info (and links), by Crisps&Kerosene.

Additional - Reducing Polycount:

Tutorial, by Flaming-Chickens (another username on other sites perhaps?)

Edge – Un-subdivide, a quick one by CG Link.

Transfer high poly details to low poly object in Blender, by 3Dnot2D.

Shrinkwrap Modifier - Blender Tutorial for Beginners - Basics, by in2vert.

Placeholder for this Addon that I want to try but haven't found, something for AR that was on facebook's defunct AR.

Scaling tips, by Blender Secrets.

How to fix inverted/ flipped normals, by ipaintsmallthings.

Converting: How to Extract 3D Models, Textures, Music from Unreal Engine Games, by iwanMods.

Extract 2D/3D/SFX Unity Assets fast & easy from your Unity Game, by iwanMods as well.

How to use QuickBMS, by darkhorse.

Guide to Converting 3t2 and 4t2 Part 01 and Part 02, by Chiaroscuro/tenlittlepandas.

Converting TS4 Windows and Doors, by Crisps&Kerosene.

Using Different Material Maps as Shading/Details for Base Texture, in Gimp or Blender, by Pineapple Forest & Crisps&Kerosene: https://www.tumblr.com/crispsandkerosene/764893644571525120/great-info-thats-the-reason-some-conversions?source=share

Texture Editing in GIMP:

Using Gimp Add-ons: G'MicQT. Resynthesizer. Both by Davies Media Design. This guy's channel for Gimp in general – here's a good one to begin with. And another one about layer masks.

Making a texture Tile Seamless: 1. My favorite - How to Make Seamless Textures for Cinema 4D - 3 Levels of Photoshop Wizardry using iPhone Photos, by School of Motion.

2. Simple Trick for More Realistic Texture Patterns in GIMP, by Davies Media Design – Quick and simple, using the Resynthesizer plugin. Good for patterns.

Making walls in SimPe out of a square texture, with minimal quality loss. To be written.

SimPe: Cloneable Objects: A List of Good Objects for Cloning, by IgnorantBliss at MTS.

Huge Lunatic's Tutorials, Her website.

Object Creation for Absolute Beginners, by Moune.

Sims 2 start to finish Object Creation Tutorial, by JWoods, Numenor, Lethe_s & IgnorantBliss.

The Material Definition (TXMT) Guide, by PixelHate – very comprehensive. Part 5 is about Bump/ Normal maps.

Null (Texture-less) Groups, by Skell. For bodyshop, for Objects see an elaboration by Midge the Tree below.

Crisps&Kerosene discovered how to add specular maps to objects! It's incredible there are still new things to discover in this ancient game.

More on Specular Maps, by Pineapple Forest.

Making new flooring & walls with SimPE, by Charisa. Includes adding Bump/Normal maps. She added a file to clone from in the comments below. It works for normal maps as well. Here's cool discovery in the game files.

Expanding footprint: a mini tutorial, by Deedee.

How to add correct drop shadows to objects, by Yuxi, via Wayback Machine.

Making Objects Viewable in Neighborhood View, by iCad.

Making Objects Visible In Build/Buy Mode, Invisible In Live Mode, by Midge the Tree.

Making Seasons-Friendly Trees, by Echo.

Io/ Serabiet's resources list, mainly for Bodyshop but not just.

Pineapple Forest's Tutorials, useful tips for efficiency and optimization.

MTS modding forum in General.

The Sims 2 Tutorials, on Tumblr. A database, is more updated.

Sims2Artists tutorials section.

LeeFish modding forum.

Garden of Shadows, Tree of Knowledge section.

Troubleshooting: What to do if you get a System.OutOfMemoryException Error, SimPe Forum, via WayBack Machine. Thank you @fanseelamb for the find.

How to read object error logs: I just want to know what causes it!!, by Episims.

Common TS2 errors, by Midge the Tree.

General game fuckery: How to Stop Sims 2 Crashing (Memory Allocation Fix and 4GB Patch Repair), by Jessa.

Graphics card problems, LeeFish forum.

Graphics help - DIY, by Kiri. How to fix faulty Texture Memory allocation, and the problems that stem from it. Tumblr can't handle anymore hyper links so here it is: https://celebkiriedhel.tumblr.com/post/189431721483/graphics-help-diy

General: Switching between save folders without renaming them, by Nopke.

Resources:

3D Models Online*: Various furniture designers' websites: Porada, Zanotta, Muuto, Hay, Poltrona Frau, many luxury furniture designer basically.

3D Warehouse, belongs to Sketchfab (get the Collada files).

Scan the World.

Wikimedia Commons. And more.

*(NOT OPTIMIZED).

Textures: Architextures.

Fabrics & Wallpapers: Natural Stones: Wall Plasters:

iCad's Woods. Shastakiss's Cluedo Metals, Yeti Metals, Pirate Woods. Goat's Woods.

Textures from other games: Dishonored, Thieve and much more, by Saricoya at GoS. Dreamfell by io.

Resource sharing threads at Garden of Shadows.

SimPe - General: CEP Extras list, HugeLunatic at Sims2Artists.

TXMT settings for different materials, by Hafiseazale.

Extended SimStandardMaterial Shader for the Sims 2 + Optionally Brighter Sims, by Crisps&Kerosene.

Custom CubeMaps, by Crisps&Kerosene.

Shiny TXMT Settings & Cube Maps Packs, by Pineapple Forest.

Build/ Buy: Templates for Recoloring Maxis items; MTS Templates sction, Hafiseazale (+cc), ZeroDark.

Template for Seasonal Trees, Gwenke at Sims2Artists.

Making Roof Recolors, Tutorial & template by Numenor, great template by iCad.

Pack for making food clutter usable, by DeeDee.

CAS: Default Makeup Packages - BYO Packages, by Huge Lunatic.

Body shape, Io/Serabiet on Tumblr.

Skin template, Io/Serabiet on Tumblr.

Hair texture, iCad.

Color Actions, Pooklet on Tumblr.

That's it for now.

Edit: forgot about CEP extras. Added more links. Edit 02: Added Troubleshooting section under tutorials.

[valtsv]

I'm going thru ur angelverse tag rn cuz I'm writing a bit about computer angels and you've got a lot of neat stuff in there and it's got me curious abt what that's about. 🎤

so angelverse is this original fiction setting i made up for an rp server that no longer exists. i lost the server in the divorce but kept all the lore and worldbuilding i came up with for it. which was pretty much all of it. it's an urban fantasy/cosmic horror story set in a universe where angels are these powerful eldritch machine aliens whose species is in decline due to their dysfunctional, heavily militaristic society, near-perpetual conflict between various political factions within that society, a mass lack of purpose beyond warfare, and dwindling resources available for the continued propagation of the species.

the story mainly focuses on exiles from this shattered civilization; fallen angels banished to earth, usually for heinous crimes or extreme miscarriages of justice, and angels who were considered unfit for active duty due to personality or utility flaws and "reassigned" there under the pretense of some kind of nebulous greater purpose, but actually just abandoned for being weak links without the disgrace and ceremony of being officially exiled.

these malcontents, misfits, murderers and weapons of mass destruction, and how the people of planet earth interact with their presence, create most of the central conflicts that drive the story - death, rebirth, the horror of having a body, the existence of free will, machiavellian schemes, supernatural turf wars, epic love stories, bloody revenge tragedies, cycles of violence, and those who seek to break those oppressive, infinite loops - but the threat of the various powers of the republic of angels finally resolving their differences and turning their attention to the unresolved issue of their discarded toys, or being called to war once more, this time by the increasingly frustrated human population that has unwillingly hosted the angels' castoff scraps for the past few thousand years, remains an ever-present threat that hangs over all like a sword.

i already answered an ask where i linked all of the worldbuilding info documents before, so i'll just tack that on here in case you're interested in knowing more

[diristine]

Radnom SCP Headcanons for your viewing, all out of order with no rhyme or reason! Also its cause I feel bad for not posting any art, goddamn you art block!!

So, the psychology department was never that big or really well staffed for the longest time. The Foundation was still stuck in the mental health doesnt matter mindset forever. It was only with help of the ethics committee and other psychologists did it really start to flourish and gain traction. Though even now, it’s still a little frowned upon by some of the workers.

Superstitions run deep in the Foundation, never use ____ door or use the elevator to get to _____ floor. A breach always happens if you do that, even if it hasn’t been proven.

All the gois run on coffee and sheer willpower at any given moment, take the caffeine away and the next X class scenario will be at your doorstep in a moments notice.

There’s a library at each Foundation site, usually hidden away in the archives. Nobody knows of its existence cause nobody wants to go down to the archives, but you can find some pretty good books down there. Hell, theres booktok books in circulation at these libraries its just nobody but the archivists utilize this resource.

Keter duty has devolved into such a vague thing that nobody quite knows what it meant in the first place. Just that if Dr. Glass threatens it, you know youre about to be demoted to D-Class.

Kondraki 10/10 has those little bug pin boards with a bunch of different butterfly species. Like where the wings are poised and positioned via needles and pins, he made them himself! They are displayed proudly both in his home and in his office.

Theres a McDonalds on site, nobody knows how it got there, nobody will question it. Its easy cheap food for the soul when you have no soul left.

The psychology department’s job during bimonthly evaluations is to ensure the workers are still sane, they never mentioned anything about ensuring the workers had morals.

Clef has a pet cat named Little Shit. Did I steal this from that one Clef x Gears tale series on the wiki? Absolutely. Will I apologize? No. It makes perfect sense and it is mine now and Little Shit is a wonderful cat. We need more Little Shit propaganda up in here.

Hawaiian shirts is real to me, nobody can tell me otherwise.

Simon has once in fact bit a napkin he was so tired, people who watched him do so recorded and spread it across SCIPNET or whatever that thing is.

Clef can and will take time out of his day to bend down, untie your shoes, tie the laces of each shoe together like in a cartoon, and walk away as if nothing happened. Youre too confused by this and immediately forget he did so and fall for the trap and end up falling on your face. It works 9/10 times.

Gears reads ao3 fics on his computer, its a whole contest where people submit him fics via email to see if he reacts to the raunchiest and most cringe worthy things possible. He never does externally. You will find him at the medical wing later asking for amnestics due to this new knowledge effecting his work ethic. This contest happens annually.

The Foundation is funded by the overpriced food at The Cheesecake Factory, and also McDonalds…also paid adult websites. They gotta get cash somewhere yk.

There was once a site wide snow ball fight instigated between Glass and Clef. I will not elaborate on this one.

Everyone knows how to shoot guns and have a basic knowledge of firearms on the site. So in case of a breach you can take one from a corpse and theoretically start shooting. Key note: theoretically. Most people panic and die before they realize there was a gun.

Fire alarms go off every day due to people trying to cook things in the microwave. Usually its burnt popcorn or someone forgot to add water to their ramen, sleep deprivation really is an ass.

Theres a whole Foundation Department dedicated to watching Detective Void’s videos and trying to nail this guy, unfortunately for them they realize he has MC&D backing somehow so the best they can do is try to add to the comments of crazed conspiracy theorists and make the videos seem even more fake with worse and worse theories.

Most MTF agents joke theyre all actually women. And the actual MTF MTF agents just call themselves MTF^2 for the joke.

[alcrego]

Hi, I've been following you for a while now and just want to say I'm sad to see so many people speaking before they know what they are talking about and unjustly attacking you and the validity of your art (as if their opinion even matters to what you will choose to do?). I also don't like the purely internet-trained AI generated art I see more and more of, but I just ignore it. I have never used the technologies firsthand but I think it should be pretty obvious what you are doing is not in the same category or even context to that stuff at all. I think the best analogy I saw you make was saying "should I also not use a camera [or other technological tools]? It reminded me of how the electric guitar and digital music of any form was looked down on for not being "true art" either. Canvas stretched on a frame, paints and brushes etc are all technological tools and were all new at some point in history as well. I enjoy your art and how you use the computer itself to take your art to new levels. Some of the best modern musicians (imho) understand that the medium and the machines they use to record to that medium are like another member of the band itself and they embrace this and cognitively, purposefully utilize it to further their creativity. I think you are doing a very similar thing with visual art (and music) and just wanted to say I have been enjoying your stuff on here for months now. Don't listen to the haters. :)

Deep gratitude for those who can see and understand further than the noise... Truly! 🙏🥹

And the same here, I neither like the internet-trained AI generated images (I wouldn't even call it art), but in the same way I don't like the 'artists' that steal and copy styles of other artists (as it's happening to me since more than a decade ago), but this is ok, no?🥹👍

People should start to understand that for some (most) AIs are a way to obtain an image, but for few others is a tool to create our own resources/ingredients that later we mix/cook/modify to achieve our own ideas, in the same way we ALWAYS used images from the web, magazines, ads, street, etc... to achieve our ideas.

Thanks a lot for these words, and don't worry, it's funny for me to 'listen haters' bc they NEVER had idea about what they talk about. Those who know what is this about can have a respectful, deep and meaningful conversation, and despite sometimes I don't agree, I totally can speak with them.

Big thanks!!

[hypersaline]

Tutorial: Editing the multi-road mod

Edit 2025-05-17: Also archived at Simblr.cc.

Here are instructions for adding new tile types to the existing multi-road mod. This tutorial is applicable to unique tiles like a partly-dirt/partly-asphalt intersection, but it's equally applicable if you want to add a tertiary or quaternary road type.

However, please keep in mind that if you don't need extra tile types but only want a different kind of secondary road (like asphalt and dirt instead of asphalt and asphalt-with-sidewalks), you can skip all of this and just replace the textures inside the Textures.package file.

First things first: make sure you have textures for the new kind of tile. You'll need five versions of it, three solid (heavy/light/no snow) and two semitransparent (snowy/clear). If you open up the Textures.package file and look at the Texture Images already present, you can use existing road pieces as templates. I've uploaded what I could find of the textures I made for dirt/asphalt intersections here at SFS, but it doesn't look like I finished them; feel free to use what's there if it's helpful. (Edit: whoops, forgot to say this originally, but those textures are mashed-up versions of ones by @nimitwinklesims and @criquette-was-here.)

Second: you need a hexadecimal ID number for each new tile type. The best way to do it is to take the vanilla tile IDs (00000300, 00000f00, 00004b00, 00005700, and 00020700) and change the third digit of each one while keeping the type the same (like using 00400300 for a dead end, 00400f00 for a straight piece, etc.). In this case, I used 00205700 for a T-intersection. Be aware that the ID number will sometimes need to end with zero and sometimes with four.

When you're ready to start, open up the Textures.package file from the multi-road mod.

Inside the Textures.package file, click on one of the two Maxis Material Shader files in the list. You need the one that says "Shaders for lot skirt" near the top.

Once you've got that open, you'll need to scroll all the way down to the bottom and find the Temperate entries that look like this:

create LotSkirtRoadMaterialInstance(lotSkirtRoad_Temperate_00205700 lotskirtroad_temperate_00205704)

...and copy and paste that whole line at the end of it.

Then hit the little blue "commit" at the bottom right.

Next, open up the one that says "Predefined neighborhood materials" near the top, and scroll down to the end of it. The version of the mod currently up on SFS already has a line for '00205700' in it - looks like I forgot to delete that (and several others, whoops). If it weren't there, you'd paste this line in and commit:

create NHoodRoadMaterial(neighborhood-roads-Temperate-00205700 Temperate_roads_00205704)

After that, look at the Texture Image files. Go down the list one-by-one. You should find five with the number "00105704" in their names. Each time you find one, right-click on its name and choose Clone.

The five clones will be italicized in the list. For each one, click to open it, go to the Filename box and replace the "00105704" with "00205704", then click the little blue "fix TGI" just below it. Then click the "Commit" button in the top right.

Click away to another resource and come back; this is just to make SimPE reload it. Right-click on the texture box and choose "Build DXT...". (If it's greyed out, SimPE can't find the Nvidia DDS Utilities on your computer, and you'll need to go install them and/or point SimPE to them.)

Click on the little blue "open" link and browse to the texture you created. Don't change any of the options, just open the image and hit "Build." Once the DDS tool is done doing its thing and you can see that your new texture has been imported, hit the "Commit" button again.

When you've done all of them, save the package and close. Now you'll be set up for the previous tutorial that directs your neighborhood to actually use the new tiles. You'll just be changing the ID numbers from "00005700" to "00205700" instead of "00105700" (or whatever).