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episims · 3 months

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A Peek to My SFS Stats

I know some creators prefer not seeing their download numbers and that's fair! This kind of stuff can easily cause pressure and/or feelings of underachievement.

For me though, it's just statistics. And since it's pretty precisely 5 years from when I first uploaded anything to SFS, I've gathered some data to play with.

So, this very self-indulgent post is solely about my SFS stats. Just because I'm a total nerd I find it interesting, and I like being open about things. It's long and blabbery so the rest is safely under the cut.

For the background: I tend to create whatever I need for my own game. I share my weird stuff because I feel like it's a trade for everything I download from others.

Probably due to the lack of any consistency or branding at all, my CC has a wide range in download numbers. I have some popular pieces, sure, but also some niche mods like no snow accumulation that has only interested 126 persons in nearly two years.

Even though saying "only 126" is an illusion created by the internet. Imagine if those 126 individuals would come to you in person. That's more people than I've probably even had a real talk with during the last year!

The raw data of my SFS main folder is (calculated with a sheets program): it has 227 files and the average download count for each file is 1557, but 74% of the files have been downloaded fewer times than the average.

So even though my CC isn't usually downloaded that much, I've shared a handful of things that have been downloaded so much more than everything else that they pull the average up.

What are those things? Time is an important factor here, as most CC tends to gather downloads over time (not a single post from 2023 on this list).

1) Subtle wrinkles (January 2022)

17313 downloads (674 hearts; ~3,9% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1112

That's several thousand more than the second most downloaded thing I have, and it's such a random thing.

I'm sure most people have downloaded them to get those 4t2(ish) forehead wrinkles. I have no other explanation as the rest of them are hand-drawn by a person who can't draw. Also the preview is frankly hideous, I used about one minute to take it... safe to say I didn't expect this post to gather any attention at all.

2) Cellphone default (January 2021)

13547 downloads (565 hearts; ~4,2% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1133

Noteworthy that it's been updated a couple of times which pushes people to redownload.

This was a quick passion project, since at that time I couldn't find a cellphone default I was completely happy with. If it hadn't been a quickie, I would've used more time to find a good base mesh oof. Many thanks to @pforestsims for later improving it.

3) Tombstone defaults (December 2019)

12477 downloads (582 hearts; ~4,7% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1064

I was so proud of these when I made them. Those were my first mesh defaults ever! Today, I'm proud of my past self for doing them. That's crazy many meshes and subsets to handle for a total noob.

I couldn't do anything with BHAVs back then, so those defaults would've never ever happened without @midgethetree. She endured a lot, working with a noob who went through several meltdowns because of subset issues that didn't make any sense.

4) Baby personality mod (February 2020)

9724 downloads (489 hearts; ~5% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1193

The first mod on the list! Absolutely essential one for myself and apparently for some others too.

Also the actual first mod of my own ever. I can't really recommend starting with something this complicated, I had zero ability to perceive the scope of the mod when I asked if @midgethetree was willing to help me through it. She deserves all the praise for doing it, I've realized later that I couldn't ever teach anyone the way she taught me. So, if you read this: thank you, Midge.

5) Rabbit pen default (August 2022)

9628 downloads (442 hearts; ~4,6% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1305

This was completely @deedee-sims' idea and project! I just hopped in (hah) to help. I'm only hosting it for practicality, as the BHAVs most often need updating, and those are by me.

6) Turn On/Off replacements (July 2021)

8644 downloads (388 hearts; ~4,5% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1470

This post has more notes than any other post of mine, yet it's not even nearly the most downloaded thing I've done. The two don't always go hand in hand.

I've also shared an updated version of these lately in a new post. It's unlikely they'll get the same amount of attention, which on paper doesn't make much sense since it's practically the same thing but done better. But I'm sure everyone knows that the hype and the quality don't always match.

7) Pixelry’s KKB fridge recolors (February 2022)

8147 downloads (329 hearts; ~4% of all downloaders) Post notes: 662

This is such an oddity on this list since it's the only recolor set and the post has fewer notes than the other ones, too. People just (secretly) really like cute fridges, apparently.

8) Crib teeth anim fix (August 2022)

6157 downloads (431 hearts; ~7% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1408

This list is already long enough, but I wanted to show how fast the number starts dropping at this point.

This got posted a day before the bunnies, and I find it funny to think that for about 3000 people it's more pressing to have bunnies in their game than fixing their toddlers dropping teeth while crying lol.

No point in continuing the list forever, but among my most note-gaining Tumblr posts are also:

Puppy/kitten want replacements (October 2022, 1114 notes, 3849 downloads)

Improved biotech station (July 2022, 1110 notes, 3893 downloads)

Camera overhaul mod (January 2024, 1059 notes, 1752 downloads)

Newspaper default (March 2022, 970 notes, 5052 downloads)

While I don't have a real conclusion to offer, it's clear that notes don't always get realized to downloads, and likewise many people download without interacting with posts.

One more thing I'd like to point out is that the percentage of people who hit that SFS heart button seems pretty constant. I feel like it shows that some people just have that habit and some don't, and it's not likely directly related to how much they like the thing.

The amount of SFS hearts that crib teeth anim fix has gotten doesn't follow this pattern lol. It's really not common to see the percentage change even that much.

#text #text post #random #nerdy stuff #this is what happens when i start typing without thinking #i end up with a novel #that probably interests no one lol

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katieraven · 2 years

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insomnia

idol!chan x producer!reader, afab!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: tiiiiny bit of angst, fluff, smut - minors dni please!

warnings: sleep issues, (work-)friends to lovers, a teensy bit of anxiety I guess, dom!chan, brat!(?)reader - idk how to describe it tbh there's no reeeal dynamic of that kind, oral sex (f. receiving), choking, piv, he calls her babygirl once, darling and baby used very sparingly, basically they've both been into each other and didn't quite realise that until now -- did I miss smth?

summary: chan helps you with a work issue and it turns into something different

a/n: hii so it has finally happened, my first skz fanfic has arrived! I already have wayy too many ideas for future ones and I'm like not a hundred percent satisfied with this one but it's the first thing I've written in a year (?) so go easy on me please. I just needed to get my chan feelings out in some way or form and this happened ANYWAYS enjoy byyye - katie

also hi @chvnnie this is the fic I was talking about - you've been a huge inspiration btw I would almost go so far as to call you the main reason I wrote this at all whoops

this is a work of fiction and does not represent stray kids.

You’re in your head. It’s not an unusual thing, in fact it’s how you spend most late-night hours in your tiny studio. You almost live here, it’s basically your second home. If not your first, your actual flat being your second. While a lot of people stay late to work on their various projects, only very few stay quite as late as you do.

It’s one of the few moments you are not troubled by the weight on your shoulders. Three a.m. in the morning, absentmindedly reaching for a cup of now cold coffee, drinking it without noticing its staleness, too deeply immersed in whatever you’re working on to care. Your fingers are flying over the keyboard, eyes flitting over the different tracks in the audio program before you, feverishly changing, moving, improving.

Only today something goes wrong. You don’t know what you did, but within seconds, everything is gone. You blink. The audio program is empty. Not a single track lies before you. The progress you’ve amassed over the last hours, days rather, vanishes right before your eyes. You try a couple of short-keys and combinations but not one single track returns.

“Ugh, fuck me”, you sigh, wiping your face.

“Well, if you insist …”

It startles you, but once you recognise the voice, you relax. Chan is standing in the doorway of your studio – you had left the door open to let some air in, after a particularly hot afternoon. The building was empty enough for there not to be anyone walking past. Well, almost.

Chan smirks at you, one dimple appearing in the corner of his mouth. While usually his comment would have made you laugh, chuckle at least, you can only huff out a lightly amused breath, before turning your head back to your monitor. Still empty lines where tracks used to be half a minute ago. Chan’s smirk turns into a frown.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His concerned voice touches something inside you and you feel tears well up in the corner of your eyes. No. You’re not going to cry.

“I, uh, it’s nothing, really.”

“Sure”, he scoffs. “Cause I’m gonna believe that.”

He appears to the left of you and looks over your shoulder. After a couple more short-keys and opening three folders, you give up and lean back in your chair with a sigh. You’re not going to cry. It’s okay. It’s fine.

“Will you tell me what is going on or do I have to magically divine it from the fact that you are sitting in front of an empty audio program?” Of course, he got it immediately.

“I was working on something, and it vanished.”

He hums and his eyes focus on the monitor in front of you.

“It’s not important, really, I can do it again.”

His left eyebrow raises, then he leans over your keyboard and starts working on getting your tracks back. You feel guiltier the longer he takes, it’s just your own, self-indulgent stuff after all.

“Really, you don’t have to … it’s nothing important.”

“Tell that to the artists you’re working with. Or the hours you probably spent on this.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s-“

The tracks reappear. All of them. Like magic. You can only stare at the screen, dumbfounded. He stands back up, a proud smile on his face. Then he hits the spacebar, and the beat starts filling the tiny studio. You startle and jump forwards to stop him, but he grabs your shoulder and presses the spacebar himself.

“Why don’t you want me to listen to it?” He asks, a slight frown on his face.

You wipe your face. “It’s … personal.”

Chan crouches down next to you so that he’s roughly on eyelevel with you. “Hey. It’s just me.”

You turn the chair towards him, and he grabs the armrests. You look at him for a beat, then it hits you that you just almost lost everything you’ve been working on for a while. This is different than your usual work. This is personal. It’s a song that you’ve been producing only for yourself, not JYPE, not any other artist. This is your baby. You just almost lost it, and he brought it back. The tears come back, and this time they’re stronger. You just let it roll over you.

As soon as the first tear falls, Chan’s expression drops. “Oh no, no, what’s wrong?”

His hands fly from the armrests to your knees, then your thighs, rubbing soothing patterns up and down. Your sobs turn into hick-ups, and you hate it, hate that he sees you this vulnerable. No one ever does, you wear armour at work. It’s what you remind yourself of now. You reach for the shield you put up around your heart with both hands and pull, until it’s up again and your sobs die down. That’s the reason, yes. Not the fact that Chan is still kneeling in front of you and hasn’t stopped rubbing your thighs.

You breathe out shakily. In again, and out. Then you finally dare to look at him. “Thank you, for saving it.” You gesture towards the screen.

His look is still probing, searching for what you just broke down for, but a smile curls up the corners of his mouth. “Of course. It wasn’t that far gone, honestly. I barely did anything.”

You roll your eyes and weakly slap his arm. “Stop always understating everything you do.”

He chuckles. “I apologise profusely.” The formal tone makes you smile a bit.

“Now. Will you let me listen to this absolutely not important personal stuff you made?”

You hesitate and look at the open door.

“Let me rephrase. If I close the door, will you let me listen?”

This, and the adorable face he’s pulling, finally makes you laugh and cave. “I guess, yeah.”

Your eyes follow him as he gets up and walks to the door, closes it, and locks it.

“For good measure”, he winks.

It’s one of those moments that make you realise that in all the time you’ve been at JYPE, you’ve made a lot of acquaintances and a couple friends, but none as wonderful as him. You often think he’s too good for this world – the rest of his friends do, too. Although the rest of his friends probably don’t get all warm and fuzzy inside when he smiles at them. Or find it hard to concentrate when he wears muscle shirts. Or watches his performances, more than necessary, and then blames it on just wanting to be a good friend. Supporting him, and such. God you’re down bad.

He walks back to his spot next to your chair. His finger hovers over the space bar and he looks at you, the unspoken question in his eyes. You steel yourself and nod.

Then the beat fills the studio again. It’s the first time you have heard this aloud yourself, so far, you’d only ever listened to it on your headphones. You’re almost scared to look over to see his expression, terrified of his opinion. This is like a tiny piece of your soul, and you just handed it to him, hoping he would not drop it. Of course, he doesn’t. When you finally do, he stands there, eyes wide, looking over at you. His intense stare makes you squirm.

“It’s nothing special, and it’s not done yet, you know how it is with these things, they take ages to be finished and this is just very rough, I-“

“This is amazing”, he interrupts you. Now it’s your turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. “What?”, you blurt out.

He turns the music down a tad, then he turns back to you.

“I really like it. And it’s different from the stuff you make for other artists.”

Somehow, you’re still anxious.

“What I mean by that is that I always hear pieces of you in other people’s music and I’ve always been a bit sad that you don’t get to make stuff that’s entirely your own. This – “, he gestures over to the screen, “is really you. All of this. Like, I can hear some of your inspiration in this, but the entire thing just screams you.”

Which is the exact moment your singing starts, and you want to vanish into the ground. Because his mouth falls open, and he turns the music up again. Moments go by of him just standing there, completely taken by the music. His expression has softened and there is a slight smile dancing around his features. You lean over to turn the music off again, there’s only so much time that you can take listening to your own voice right now.

When Chan turns back to look at you, head slightly angled down, you’ve never seen a warmer smile from him than right now. It overwhelms you, the sheer affection for this wonderful man in front of you, and you shoot to your feet and throw your arms around him. He is startled for just a second, before he hugs you back so tightly that you feel like he put something inside you back together. It makes you cry again.

“Shh. It’s okay, darling. It’s okay.” He rubs circles along your back, and you breathe in slowly, engulfed by his scent that is so distinctly him.

“Thank you”, you mumble into his shoulder, and he chuckles, before pulling away. “What did you say?”

You huff, and lightly punch his arm. “I said thank you.”

“No, thank you for trusting me enough to show this to me.”

You try to hide in the crook of his neck, but he keeps you half an arm’s length from him. Somehow, you end up staring right into his eyes. The honesty and affection you find there send goosebumps up your arms, up until where his hands are still wrapped around them. Suddenly you realise how terribly close you are to each other, and how he’s just a friend and this shouldn’t make you as tingly as it does. You shake off his hands and clear your throat. He just sees you as a friend. Right?

Because the way his eyes burn with something you’ve never noticed before makes you question your own sanity. You try and look anywhere but into them.

“Hey, we should probably unlock the door again, you know, unless people start to wonder.”

He blinks. “Yeah.”

None of you moves.

“But it’s also 3 a.m. and we’re the only people in the building.”

There’s nervous laughter bubbling in your throat and you rub your arm only to keep your hands occupied. Then you make the mistake of looking at him again. It’s involuntary, really, your eyes get caught on his black sweatpants and travel up his body almost automatically. There’s not much you can do about it. And when your eyes hit his, you’re done for. He looks at you with such intensity that you simply cannot turn away. A shaky breath leaves your lungs when he blinks slowly, only to look at you again, the same fire in his eyes, pupils blown wide.

You open your mouth, “Chan, I – “

He moves closer, as if you saying his name had shaken him out of a stupor. He reaches for the hand that you wrapped around your arm and gently pries it away. When it falls to your side, he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“What are you doing?”, you whisper, unable to speak any louder, scared that it would make this real. Make this have consequences.

Chan’s thumb is drawing patterns on your hand, and it covers you in goosebumps again.

“I kinda really wanna kiss you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes still locked onto his. They’re burning into you, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. He lifts his other hand up to your face and lightly touches your cheekbone. You have to actively keep your eyes from fluttering shut, body still covered in goosebumps. Your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

“Would that be okay?”

You breathe out a shaky “yes”, and he’s on you in seconds. He lets go of your hand and instead grabs both sides of your face, tilting it so that you’re looking up at him, before sealing your lips with his.

Everything is happening too fast. For a second, your arms hang limply at your sides, but then he starts moving against you and you can’t help but grasp the hem of his shirt and pull him closer. He hums against you, and you open your mouth almost on instinct. A tiny noise escapes you and he catches it, drinking it in hungrily. You push and he walks backwards until the back of his knees hit your chair. He clumsily sits down, and you move until you’re straddling him.

Only then do you break the kiss, both heavily panting as you stare at each other. You lift your hand from his shirt and start tracing his lips, his cheekbone, until your palm lies flat against his cheek. He nuzzles into it and closes his eyes, hands falling to your waist. God, you think, he’s so pretty. You watch his chest rise and fall rapidly and feel his thighs move under yours, and that’s when you realise what exactly is happening right now.

“Channie”, you whisper, and his eyes fly open, fingers playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Hm?”

“What are we doing?”

His fingers start pulling your shirt up just enough to be touching the delicate skin of your waist and you shiver, biting your lip to stop a sound that would have been decidedly too desperate.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m doing something I’ve been wanting to do for way too long.”

Your hand slips to his neck and his eyelids flutter, but there is a concerned look in his eyes. He sees your hesitation.

“Should we be doing this? Are you even allowed to?”, you ask.

His fingers stop and he lifts his hands to your face, searching for something in your eyes. “I could not care less about what we should or shouldn’t do. The only thing I care about right now, is if you want this. But if you don’t, then that’s okay.”

You melt at the honesty in his expression, shiver at the way his fingertips are toying with the hair on the nape of your neck.

“What exactly does this mean?”, you whisper. It feels impossible to move right now. Like you’re being held in place by his intense eyes.

“Well.” His thumb brushes over your cheekbone and you sigh.

“First of all, I want to kiss those pretty lips of yours. And then”, his fingers travel from your neck down your arms, “I’d like to make you come so hard the only thing you remember is my name.”

A moan tumbles from your lips, and almost on instinct you roll your hips against his crotch. He hisses and grabs your waist. “But I need to know you want that, too.”

You nod, a bit too quick for your liking, but you don’t find it in yourself to care anymore. His hands gently rock you against him and your eyelids flutter, gaze locked onto his. “Use your words, babygirl. I need to hear you.” The condescension shakes you out of your haze.

“Don’t be so fucking patronising.”

A smirk curls around the corners of his lips. “Still need to hear ya, though.”

You lean down as if to kiss him and sink your teeth into his lip, just enough for it to sting, pull, and let go again. He watches you with the intensity of a predator watching his prey and something inside you relishes in it.

“Yes, I want that”, you finally give in, “I want you.”

He pounces with a low sound that comes from deep inside his throat, a growl, almost, and latches onto your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in, kisses open mouthed and messy. His hands keep holding you against him. You roll your hips, both of you moaning in unison, your hands are in his hair, and you pull on his curls until he moans into your mouth, making you smile into the kiss.

He feels it against his lips and pulls away. “Oh, you’re a mean one, hm?”

The smile you give him in return would be angelic, if not for the vicious glint in your eyes. It makes him chuckle lowly, before suddenly standing, pulling you up with him and picking you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around him, and he walks over to the sofa in the corner of the room, lowering you down until your back touches the cushions.

He's kneeling between your legs, propped up with one hand next to you, the other on your cheek again. You tip your head back, baring your throat, and you can see understanding flash in his eyes. His hand slowly moves down until his fingers wrap around you and you feel the slight pressure on your pulse point. Your breath quickens.

It makes you want to rub your thighs against each other, but his legs are in the way, leaving you to squirm under him as he just watches you intently. His other hand travels up your body and pushes your shirt up with it, until he finds your sports bra. His thumb glides over your hard nipple poking through the fabric and it sends a spark of electricity right to your core.

“You wanna play mean? I can do that.”

His fingers close further around your throat and the increasing pressure ever so slowly clouds your mind, until your mouth falls open and you whisper his name.

“Hm?”

You try and move your core against his thighs but you’re too far away, his hand keeping you in place.

“Do something”, you hiss as he just keeps watching you, an amused smile on his face.

“Did you forget your manners, baby?”

You roll your eyes but decide to play along. “Please, do something.”

“But you look so pretty like this.”

Your hands fly up to his arms and you groan, but he just chuckles. “I told you, I can be mean. But I’m starting to get impatient too, don’t worry.”

His hand leaves your throat. All the blood comes shooting back, an intense clarity that leaves you gasping. You only notice that he has taken his shirt off when he leans back down towards you, reaching for the hem of your own t-shirt. He looks up at you, a question in his eyes, that you answer with a quick nod. Then he finally pulls your shirt up, making sure that his fingertips travel over your skin along with it, showering you in goosebumps.

He pulls the fabric off of you and you reach for him, fingers connecting to the smooth skin of his chest. You let your hands run down his stomach when he leans down to kiss you, trailing along the waistband of his sweatpants. His breath hitches when your fingers dip into his boxers, but he reaches down to stop you.

“Nu-uh. You first.”

He sits back on his heels and pulls on your leggings, throwing the piece of clothing behind him absentmindedly. You’re in front of him only in your underwear now, nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric of your sports bra.

“You’re fucking hot, you know that?”, he mumbles, and you feel your cheeks heat up before he grabs the hem of your panties and pulls. Cool air hits your core, and only then do you realise how embarrassingly wet you are already. He looks down at you and curses under his breath.

“Fuck, look at you. Already soaked, and just for me?”

You nod, “only you”, breath hitching as he lazily moves two fingers all the way up your entrance until they are pressing into your clit. You start moving against him on instinct, eyes rolling back as you finally get some relief. He lets you, for a few seconds, before pinning your hips down to the sofa. Your eyes snap open, a desperate whine leaving your lips.

“Hush, baby. I’m gonna take care of you”, he mumbles, before leaning down and licking a broad stripe along the way his fingers just did.

It makes you absolutely lose your mind. Your hips buck up and you moan loudly, hands flying into his hair, just to grab onto something, anything, to keep you grounded. The tip of his tongue dips into your entrance and your head tips back with a groan. His left hand holds you steady, before he dives in again, nose brushing past your clit with every movement. Your thighs tremble, you’re already way too close even though he barely started yet. You feel yourself clench around nothing.

“Channie, please …”, you sigh, and he looks up at you, tongue not leaving your body.

“Hm?”

The sound reverberates against your sensitive skin, and you shudder, looking down at him. Fuck, he looks good. Lower part of his face covered in your slick, curls sticking to his forehead, he laps at you like a starved man.

“Can you – fuck, Channie, fingers, please – “, is all you manage to choke out, but he has mercy on you.

You feel the tip of his finger tease your entrance and you clench in anticipation, before he pushes in and you close your eyes again, a desperate moan leaving your lips. He curls his finger upwards, and you know he’s close, so, so close to where you need him, but he isn’t quite there yet. You can feel the high approaching, can almost reach for it.

“More, please”, you press out, brows furrowed, and he adds a second fingers, curls up, and hits the spot. You swear you see stars for a second. Your mouth falls open, a string of incoherent words tumbling over your lips, and you feel him smile against you. It almost sends you over the edge on its own.

“Found it, hm?”, he mumbles, and you hum, every muscle in your body tensed.

“Look at me”, he whispers.

You somehow manage to lift your head, moaning at the sight before you. He dives down again, holding eye contact and your fingers pull on his hair, coaxing the sweetest moans from him. He curls his fingers up once, twice, and you snap. Your high washes over you with an intensity you’ve never felt before and he flattens his tongue against you, helping you ride out your orgasm with long strokes. Once you finally stop clenching around his fingers, he slowly removes them, making sure not to hurt you. You still wince at the sudden emptiness. Finally, you untangle your fingers from his hair.

He climbs up until he is face to face with you and you blink until he’s in focus again. He smirks at your blissful expression. “D’you have fun?”

You decide to tease him. “Eh.” You shrug. “Was fine, I guess.”

“Fine?” He stares at you in disbelief. “Clenched around me like you were holding on for dear life, but you say it was fine?” You chuckle, but the determination in his face sends shivers down your spine.

“Okay. You know what, I’ve had enough of your attitude.”

He sits up on his heels, before getting up and taking off his sweatpants, pulling his boxers off right with them. He reaches down for his pocket and pulls out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth, and rolling it over his cock, before he kneels back down, slowly pumping himself.

“Let’s see what you say after I’m done with you.”

His lips crash into yours and at the same time, you feel his fingers on your clit. You hiss at the slight overstimulation, but pull him closer by the neck, moaning into his mouth. You can still taste yourself on his tongue and it makes your stomach flutter. Then you feel his tip push against your entrance. He pulls away to check in with you, but you pull him back in.

“Please, Chan, need you”, you pant against his lips, and he groans, before pushing into you.

It's an entirely different sensation from his fingers and both of you moan at the same time, before he bottoms out and stills, fighting for his composure. He begins moving ever so slowly and you appreciate that he wants to be careful, but something inside you wants him to lose control. You lean up and drag your teeth across the shell of his ear, drag your fingernails across his back. He shivers, his arms buckling and his forehead falling onto your shoulder. His pace picks up and you kiss him on his pulse point, before whispering into his ear, “fuck me like you mean it.”

He stills. You let yourself fall back down grab one of his hands, leading him towards your throat. “Please.”

A smirk curls up the corners of his mouth. “I knew you could use your words.”

He pulls out almost completely before he bottoms out again and closes his fingers around your throat. Everything around him becomes hazy, he’s the only thing in your mind, the only thing you see. His hips snap against yours at a relentless pace and you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, instinctively lifting one of your legs. He grabs it and pushes it up against your chest, changing the angle, and finally hits that spot again. Your eyes roll back, moans tumbling from your open mouth as he keeps slamming into you, before slightly adjusting his position. His hand leaves your throat, and your mind refocuses, his thumb pressing against your lips which you open oh so willingly, sucking his thumb into your mouth.

“Fuckin hell”, he groans, rhythm turning sloppy as he watches your lips wrap around his finger. “Such a good fucking girl, hm?”

He pulls his thumb out with a pop and you whine, but he hushes you. “Impatient”, he tsks, before rolling the pad of his thumb over your clit. Fuck, you’re still so goddamn sensitive. His hips snap against yours again and then he hits the spot inside you.

“’M close”, you moan, and he nods.

“Come on, let go for me, baby”, he answers, breathless, and it pushes you over the edge. When you thought your first orgasm was intense, it was nothing against this one. You feel so fucking full of him, he feels so right against you, and then his finger leaves your clit, and he falls towards you, hands on each side of your body, riding out his own high. His arms are shaking from the strain, and you push up to press your lips against his. He moves inside you and you shiver before he gives you one last peck and carefully pulls out.

You fall back against the cushion. He removes the condom, before crawling back up and snuggling against you, propped up on his elbows on each side of your face. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

It makes you blush, and you turn your head to the side, suddenly confronted with what just happened. With whom it just happened. He sees the change in your expression immediately.

“Hey, look at me.”

You obey him and see the softest smile on his face, before he leans down and gently presses a kiss to your lips.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?”

His fingers are playing with your hair, eyes intently fixed on you. You sigh.

“I – don’t know what this means. To you.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, “but you know what it means to you?”

Your heart lurches in your chest and resumes beating at a much quicker pace because yes, you do, and you hate having to admit it. You don’t know if you should admit it.

He kisses you again, longer this time. When your lips separate, there’s this softness in his eyes again. “Tell me what it means to you. Please.”

This is the truly dangerous part. Anyone can have meaningless sex, but it wasn’t meaningless, at least not to you. This is where the consequences come in. This is where you have to admit that you just ruined a perfectly fine friendship. You take a deep breath. You trust him. If anyone would be able to uphold a friendship after this, it would be Chan. So you steel yourself, and look into his eyes again.

“I like you a bit more than I originally planned to”, you whisper, not daring to speak up.

You’re close enough that you can feel his heartbeat. It quickens after he processed what you said, but where you expect him to tense up and leave, he leans down to kiss you again. You’re completely dumbfounded.

He holds your face and you close your eyes, simply enjoying the gentle pressure of his lips against yours. When he breaks the kiss, you steel yourself again. Your breath hitches when you open your eyes, his own swimming with emotion.

“I’m so glad you said that”, he whispers, thumb brushing against your cheek. “Because I do, too. And I was so scared this would be a one-time thing for you. I don’t think I could have lived with that.”

There are tears pricking in the corner of your eyes for the third time tonight, only this time you allow them. He leans his forehead against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck and then you stay like this, just breathing each other in. And you feel like your sleepless nights might have just become a bit easier to bear.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #bang chan #stray kids #skz smut #chan smut #bang chan fluff #chan fluff

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ck-sims · 3 months

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Above: before-and-after pictures of this process. Thank you to @cloudywithachanceofsims, @silverthornestudfarm, and @blueridgeequines for giving me permission to use their coats as examples!

CK's Guide to Fixing Pixelated Horse Coats

As we all know, every time you paint a horse (or any pet or werewolf, really) in Create-a-Pet, it inevitably gets pixelated. This is due to the TS4 engine's compression of Sims textures, which it does to theoretically save on file space and load time. The more you paint on your horse (and the more you save it over and over again), the greater the artifact damage becomes, until you're left with a pixelated mess.

Luckily, I've figured out a way to fix it. Yay!

This method uses a program called chaiNNER, which is an incredibly versatile node-based graphics UI that (among many other things) uses AI models to upscale and process images. After a month and a half of experimenting on multiple different types of coats with about a dozen different models, I've identified two AI models that work best at repairing the artifacting damage done by TS4: RealESRGAN_x2plus and 2xAniscale. I extract the painted coats from the tray files using Cmar's Coat Converter, process them using chaiNNER, use Photoshop to make any touch ups (softening hard edges, fixing seams, adding in the appropriate hoof texture), and then create a new hoof swatch to put the newly fixed coat back into the game.

Fair warning: chaiNNER is a bit of a hefty program that requires significant RAM and VRAM to run. If you have a beefy gaming computer, you should have no issues running this (as long as no other major programs - games, graphics programs, etc. - are running as well). If you've got a lower end computer, though, your computer might not be able to handle it and this method might not be for you. Make sure to read all the documentation on chaiNNer's github before proceeding.

Before we begin, we're going to need to gather some resources. We will need:

A graphics program. I use Photoshop, but GIMP or any other program that can work in layers will work too.

chaiNNER

AI Models; these are the ones I use are RealESRGAN_x2plus and 2xAniscale

Cmar's Coat Converter to extract the coat textures from your tray files

Tray Importer (Optionally) to isolate your household tray files and save you the trouble of searching the Tray Folder

The TS4 Horse UV as a helpful guide to make sure all our textures are lined up properly

Sims 4 Studio to create your new package.

I recommend using S4S to export hoof swatch textures from the game or from existing hoof swatch cc. Some popular hoof swatch CC include @walnuthillfarm's Striped Hooves and @pure-winter-cc's Glorious Striped Hooves

This tutorial assumes you are familiar with the basics in how to use Sims 4 Studio, such as how to clone a base-game item & how to import and export textures, and the basic functions of your graphics program, such as adding multiple different image files together as layers. I'll try to keep my explanations as straight-forward as possible.

STEP ONE: Extract the Coats

Install Cmar's Coat Converter and run it. Cmar's Coat Converter works by looking through your tray files for specific texture files (ie. The coats of cats, dogs, horses, and werewolves) and converting them to png files. You can go through the households of your Tray folder one by one, but I typically just use Tray Importer to separate the household containing the horses I want to fix.

Save the extracted coats in a project folder. These are your OG coats.

STEP TWO: Extract the hoof textures

Open up S4S. To extract the hoof swatches from the base game, create a new package by clicking CAS -> New Package, filter everything by species (ie. Horse) and then part type (Hoof color). Highlight all the basegame swatches and then save your new package.

Open up that package and then extract the texture for each swatch. Save them in your project folder (In a 'basegame hooves' folder to keep things organized).

To extract the textures from Hoof Swatch CC files, simply open them up in S4S and repeat the above.

STEP THREE: Download the AI Models

Right as it says on the tin. These are the models I use currently & some notes about them:

RealESRGAN_x2plus - this model is THE workhorse. It repairs artifact damaging with minimal loss to texture quality and results in a very smooth coat. It may sometimes darken the texture a little bit, but it's not noticeable in-game. That being said, it has a harder time with finer details such as spots, individual ticking for roans, dapples etc. I run this one first on all the coats because it usually does the job.

These models are trained to find and repair any incidence of artifacting/jpeg damage and approximate what the image is supposed to look like. The reason RealESRGAN_x2plus has an especially hard time with spots/dapples/tiny repetitive details etc. because it registers those areas as particularly damaged and works extra hard to smooth it out… which can sometimes result in a bit of an iffy coat repair. When things don't turn out the way I want, I turn to...

2xAniscale - I use this model for any appaloosas, roans, sabinos etc. that have very fine detail and came out mangled by RealESRGAN_2xPlus. It's also good for light-duty repairing (in cases where people have only 'saved' the coat once, as opposed to working on it on and off). While not strong enough on its own to tackle the more heavily damaged coats, it still does a decent job while keeping the fine details intact.

Go make a folder somewhere and name it 'AI Models' or something similar, and drop these guys in there.

STEP FOUR: Setting up chaiNNER

Obviously, go ahead and download chaiNNER, and then (through chaiNNER itself) download & install the dependencies. You really only need PyTorch for this, so if you'd like, you can skip NCNN, ONNX, and Stable Diffusion.

At first glance, chaiNNER is a bit overwhelming. It is unlike any other graphics ui I've seen before, but the basic premise is pretty straightforward: you 'chain' together specific functions ('nodes') in order to get your result.

We're going to start by setting up a chain for single coat conversions.

Drag & drop these nodes into your workspace:

Load Image

Save Image

Upscale Image

Load Model (From the PyTorch tab only!)

Text append

Next, connect the nodes just as I have connected them in the image.

Load Image, obviously, loads your image. We then tell the program we want to upscale that image by linking to the Upscale Image node. Upscaling can't happen without a model, so we then want to link Upscale Image with Load Model.

Text Append takes the original name of the image and combines it with the model name. This is super helpful, because if you're playing with many models at a time, you need to tell your result images apart. Link the output text to the Save Image Model.

Finally, Save Image obviously saves the image. We link the directory from Load Image to save it in the same place as the OG image, or, optionally, add in a file path link to another folder (in my case, I load images from a folder called 'Unprocessed' and save them into a folder called 'Processed'. Link the image from Upscale Image to Save Image to complete this chain.

Go in and select your image, model, and save locations.

Ta dah! You made your first chain.

To create an Iterator to batch process coats, we follow the same general idea, only we use 'Load Images'.

STEP FIVE: Run chaiNNER

Go ahead and run chaiNNER. Repeat using 2xAniscale if your spotty/dappled coat comes out funky.

Optionally, you can also add 'Resize' between 'Upscale' and 'Save Image' so the output texture is the same size as the OG. I like keeping mine big, as it makes it easier to fix any fine details in Photoshop.

STEP SIX: Combine in Photoshop

Go ahead and open up the horse UV, your coat texture & hoof swatches in Photoshop. This is a fairly straightforward process: layer the hooves overtop the texture, and then hide all hoof layers except the one you want. Make sure everything is lined up properly using the horse UV.

This is also where you would go in and fix any sharp, jagged edges you might spot. I often notice jagged edges on white face markings. Since the head is often one of the worst areas for artifacting, the AI models don't really have much to work with, resulting in jagged edges as they try to extrapolate what had been there 'before'. Either paint over it or use blur to smooth it out.

I personally would also remove any stray color that isn't the horse texture (body + ears). It won't hurt to leave it there, but I personally like things neat and tidy. Use the horse UV as a guide.

I also add in any little details using extracted stencils & layer masks.

Save your new coat as a png. Optionally, downsize it by 50% back to the original size. I don't do this because I'm very forgetful, but this would definitely help in keeping your package size smaller.

STEP SEVEN (Optional): Make a thumbnail

I make thumbnails for all the coats I do because it makes it much easier to identify them under the Hoof Swatch category. TS4 thumbnails are 144 x 148. You can label it with your horse's name, or stick a headshot in there etc. whatever works for you that will help it stand out from the other hoof swatches.

STEP EIGHT: Put it all Together

Finally, we've come to the end.

Using S4S, create a new package cloned from a hoof swatch. Import your new coat into 'Texture', and your thumbnail into 'Thumbnail'. Make sure you import the thumbnail for both Male and Female!

Check to make sure there aren't major seams, and that your texture is properly projected onto the S4S horse model. If there are seams, go back to check that your texture is lined up properly with the Horse UV. If there are minor seams (legs, chest, underbelly etc.) you can carefully paint (using the same color as on either side of the seam) just beyond the UV mesh boundaries to close the seam.

Then, go into Categories, scroll down, and uncheck Random. This will prevent random townie horses from wearing the coat.

Save your package.

Congratulations! You're done!

#ts4 tutorial #ts4 resource #ts4 guide #Ts4 horse cc #ts4 equestrian cc #sims 4 horse cc #sims 4 equestrian cc #ts4 equestrian #sims 4 equestrian #ts4 horses #sims 4 horses #ts4 horse ranch #sims 4 horse ranch #sims horses

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joshslater · 1 year

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Delayed Graduation

Repost of an old story that was previously flagged as too risqué for tumblr. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

- We might have a solution of sorts for you.

I barely registered principal Johnston talking. My world had been shattered, without warning. It all felt unreal, and most of all unfair. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, but there were no witnesses, just my word against hers. She wouldn’t press charges, Johnston had explained. I was almost demanding that she did, so I could clear my name, but thought better of it. If it went to trial all outcomes would be bad, to varying degrees. This way I would just be expelled. I guess I could use the term “drop out” to soften it further. It’s not like the job market is stellar even if you have a degree, but this would firmly pigeon hole me as manual labor.

- What? - I said we might have an arrangement that could interest you.

He pulled out a stack of papers from his manila folder and placed them in front of me, and continued.

- We have a little trial project we would like to push ahead with, to see what the full potential is. Coach Andrews would personally take charge of your training to see how far he can take you in a year. Similar to what he managed to do for Shane O’Brian. Since you will be heavily supervised, fully scheduled and not share any classes with your former class mates, she has agreed to allow you complete your studies under these conditions. It’s not that many months until she graduates anyway. Your graduation obviously will have to wait until next year.

Shane of course was the star of the basket team. He was two years below me, so I didn’t know him, but I heard he had basically never touched a ball before he met coach. He must have been active in something else though, with that body. The girls were swooning like crazy. Some of the boys too, as rumor had it.

- Sir, I’m really grateful for this opportunity, but I’m not really made for sports. Just look at me. Tall and thin. Not much track and field around here. - We are not asking for any miracles. Just follow all instructions given and do your best. That’s all we’re asking.

I started to flip through the papers. I was bored just looking at the page numbers.

- Should I bring this home to my parents? - This is a bit time sensitive, so I’d prefer if you make your decision already today. You’re 18. You get to decide this on your own. Why don’t I leave you for a bit? You can have a read through, and then decide what you want to do.

As he left the room I started to go read through the contract properly. Why do they make things so complicated? The contract really just said that I assumed responsibility for the “infraction”, but the school would not disclose it to anyone unless the contract was breached. I would agree to participate in the athletic education study for one year. In return the school would allow me to graduate next year. But written over 26 pages.

I didn’t feel like I had many options. Initials on every page and signature on the last. Then repeated on the second copy of the contract. I was about to leave and find principal Johnston when he returned, followed by coach Andrews.

- Have you made up your mind, or would you like Mr. Andrews to explain it in more detail. - I’ve already signed the papers. - Oh, well then. I’m so happy we could work something out.

Coach Andrews opened the gym bag he was carrying and pulled out a blue singlet and ear guards, and held them for me to take.

- Let’s try this on right away. - Now? Here?

Johnston opened a door to a side room of his office.

- You can change in the conference room here. - But wrestling?! Have you seen me? - As I said, follow all instructions and do your best is all we ask.

It was the first time I even held a singlet in my hands. I’ve never even thought of how to put one on. It wasn’t hard, just step in them like some shorts and then pull the straps over your shoulders, but I never imagined doing it.

I looked ridiculous. I guess size isn’t as important when the fabric is stretchy, but this sure wasn’t my size. The taut straps pulled the fabric in the groin, while at the same time my thin legs didn’t fill out the legs of the singlet. What a mess. I walked back into the office, naked apart from this one single piece of clothing.

- Should I put on the ear guards as well. - No, that isn’t necessary. Here.

Coach opened a small, brown, glass bottle and poured its contents into a white plastic cup from the water cooler, and handed it to me.

- This is the time sensitive part. Drink up.

This day was going from horrendously bad to confusing to weird. I emptied the cup. The liquid tasted like cough syrup. Sickly sweet and with bitter herbs.

- What is.. *cough* *cough* - Here. Take a seat.

It felt like drinking really hot cocoa when you are frozen. It kind of spreads from the chest to the rest of the body. All of me was getting warm, and an uncomfortable feeling or pressure. Everything was off, like I was drunk, or high or something. It was over in a minute, though it is quite possible my mind was playing tricks and it really was longer than that.

- Stand up against the wall, so I can take a photo.

Bewildered, and with unsteady steps, I did as told. He snapped a few pictures with his phone, and then showed me one.

- Don’t tell me this isn’t a great starting point.

I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was definitely me in the photo, but it was like the aspect ratio was wrong. I must be several inches shorter, but everything, arms, legs, chest, shoulders, neck, was wider. Even my face was altered, if ever so slightly. Where just minutes before, or whatever, I was a lanky gamer, I now was a hunk of muscle.

- How is this... - Don’t worry about the details. We must work quickly now while you are fresh, to get the wrestling technique right. Meet me in my office tomorrow at 7 am.

With that he slapped me on the shoulder and left. Just as he was about to exit the office, he pulled out a pair of shoes from the bag and placed them at a table.

- Oh, I almost forgot these. Your new size. See you tomorrow!

My head was spinning. What had just happened to me, to my body? Starting point? Principal Johnston had his distinct “anything else?” look.

- What about my studies?

My voice was lower than before, I think.

- You’ll be placed in the athlete’s reduced curriculum class. We just need to retest your proficiency levels first. - Why? I don’t understand. - My point exactly.

He didn’t make any sense. I felt tired, slow and almost dizzy trying to understand him.

- What about this body? What happens when I graduate? - You graduate with the body you have, like everyone else. It’s not like we can change it by magic or anything.

He smiled and chuckled to himself.

- Take your old clothes with you as you leave. Something might still fit.

Nothing did.

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alwaysbethewest · 4 months

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Kingsman 2 fic: Stay Close to Me

Happy @pedrostories Secret Santa day, y'all 💃 I was thrilled when I received my assignment and saw that I'd be writing for my sweet friend @iamskyereads 😁 Skye, I hope you have a merry Christmas and I hope this little story helps make it bright. (Okay a quick note: generally speaking I don't believe in apologizing for your writing, but I do feel like a small apology is merited here. Halfway through writing this fic I started to panic because I felt like I wasn't really meeting the brief of your prompt 😬 I started wondering if I should start over from scratch but I was already too far into it. I accidentally wrote you... a case fic???? With a smidgen of romance sprinkled in. I'm sorry! Despite my stress over that realization I did have a lot of fun writing this and I hope you will enjoy it anyway!)

Title: Stay Close to Me Pairing: Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels)/f!Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 5.3k Content/warnings: Fake/undercover marriage! Statesman casefic! A little romance, kissing, coarse language, very mild peril and hurt/comfort, and a splash of alcohol. Reader is a junior agent and has some muscle but otherwise no physical/age descriptions. As with any good Kingsman fic, my first step was to disregard half of canon, so this is either pre-movie or an AU. Unbetaed but thanks as ever to @fleetwoodmactshirt and @mourningbirds1 for their hand-holding ❤️ Please let me know if you spot any typos/mistakes.

The Statesman offices are housed in a sleek highrise in Midtown, a 40-minute commute from your tiny apartment. To anyone who asks, you work in the marketing department, and you’ve learned enough by now to drone on about synergistic strategies for diversifying market shares to bore anyone listening, but to those in the know, behind passcode-guarded doors, you’re Agent Violette, junior analyst for the private intelligence agency hidden behind the national whiskey brand.

For a secret spy job, your work is actually fairly routine. Most of your time is spent doing research and compiling intel for agents working out in the field. Occasionally your boss sends you into the field yourself—little baby excursions to get your feet wet—and you won’t pretend you haven’t enjoyed the thrill. But your desk job is comfortable, and satisfying, and you’ve got no complaints.

It’s Wednesday, and the only sign something out of the ordinary may be taking place is the note you find on your desk when you clock in. It takes only a little of your codebreaking expertise to interpret:

9:15 AM—mtg w/ Agt. C rm 806

Room 806 is a teleconference room furnished with a small table and a handful of chairs. One seat is occupied when you get there.

Agent Whiskey raises an eyebrow at you from under his cowboy hat. The accessory is so out of place in the urban streets of New York City that when you’d first met him you’d wondered if it was an affectation—a marketing ploy to signal the authenticity of the Kentucky bourbon your company sells on the side. But while you haven’t worked closely with him, you’d quickly learned it seems he’s just… like that.

He slides a folder towards you and you accept it as you take a seat and don your glasses.

“Any idea what this is about?” he asks.

You shake your head. Just as you open your mouth to speak, the comms switch on and Agent Champagne appears across the table before you, via the technological wonder that is your projection spectacles. More high-tech and more secure than Zoom, they’re one of the many things that sets Statesman apart from lesser spy agencies.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Whiskey straighten up slightly in his chair.

“Jack!” Agent Champagne greets him. “How was Munich?”

“All good, sir,” he drawls. “You’ll have the full report this afternoon.”

“Very good,” the older man rumbles. He turns his attention to you. “And Agent, uh—” His eyes shift down to the notes on his desk. “Agent Violette. Good to have you on board.”

You’ve worked at Statesman for three years, but you’re still too low on the org chart to have landed on the director’s radar before this. He says your code name like vie-oh-let instead of the French pronunciation you prefer, but there’s an affability to him that makes it go over easier.

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, California,” he says, diving into the brief. Whiskey opens his file folder and you follow suit. The top page features a short itinerary and a character profile that you quickly learn is a new undercover alias. Violet Davenport. You like the name. She sounds high society. Glancing over to Whiskey’s file, you spot his alias and your brows raise involuntarily.

Johnny Davenport.

Hm.

“Vineyard owner out there is concerned about a potential theft. He’s received some threats and needs a couple of bodies on the ground to sniff out the trouble,” Agent Champagne states.

“Theft of what, exactly?” Agent Whiskey asks.

“Wine. Money. The usual. He’s got his personal wine collection stored on the premises. You know the business—some of those bottles are worth a pretty penny. Mr. Peterson—that’s the client—says he has a list of suspects for you to look at.” Champ waves a hand, looking vaguely unimpressed. “Obviously you’ll have to use your own judgment on whether any of his theories check out.”

“Sir, I don’t understand why I’m being sent on such a simple assignment,” Whiskey says. “No disrespect,” he adds belatedly, glancing at you. You give him your politest go-along-to-get-along smile.

Champ looks like he’s torn between amusement or annoyance at Agent Whiskey’s attitude.

“Same reason for anything, Jack. Politics. This client has close connections in the state government over there. If we can solve this simple problem for him, it may just lead to more prestigious cases. Ones you’ll feel are worthy of your valuable time.”

Jack should look chastened, but he doesn’t. He does stop arguing, though.

“I need a senior agent on the case. And Violet’s supervisor assures me she’s got the research and fieldwork skills to step up on this one. Your cover is a married couple on an anniversary trip, so I’m basically sending you on a paid vacation, here. There’s more information in the files you’ve got.”

Whiskey flips through the pages half-heartedly and gives a curt nod.

“Well!” Agent Champagne slaps his hands on the table decisively. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mazel tov!” With that he ends the transmission.

And that’s how you find yourself at the airport Friday morning with a diamond ring on your left hand and a disgruntled cowboy by your side.

The flight lands in San Francisco without incident, and Jack shifts into doting husband mode as you head to pick up the rental car the agency has reserved. He reaches for your suitcase to load it into the trunk.

“Let me get that for you, sweetheart.”

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile. “I’ve got it, hon.”

You lift the heavy bag with ease and watch his mouth purse for a second before he smiles back.

“I guess my baby’s stronger than she looks.”

The bored-looking attendant sees you off and Jack has you punch in the GPS destination while he eases into the busy freeway traffic. He’s a confident, slightly impatient driver, but you see him relax once you’re over the bridge and sailing smoothly north on Interstate 80.

“So what’s our game plan?” he asks as highway signs for Napa begin to appear, and you reach for your notebook and flip it open.

There’s only one bed.

You probably should have done the math on this as soon as Agent Champagne declared you a married couple, but in the whirlwind of arranging to leave town and the anxiety of stepping into your biggest field operation to date, it hadn’t occurred to you to worry about the precise nature of your accommodations.

Jack sets his bags down and flops onto the bed, letting the soles of his cowboy boots dangle off the end. It’s an exaggerated display of exhaustion, but you’re tired too after a seven-hour flight and another two hours in the car. His lanky body takes up the whole length of the bed and you try not to let your eyes linger as you contemplate the sleeping arrangements.

He picks up on your hesitation.

“This is where I’m supposed to do the gentlemanly thing and let you have the bed all to yourself, huh? Sorry, sister, not gonna happen.” His tone softens. “But I promise I don’t bite. There’s no reason we can’t share.”

The only couch in the room is a small, overstuffed loveseat that you can tell at a glance neither of you would enjoy reclining on for long. So you do the mature thing and agree to sleep with him.

Not like that.

Bill Peterson, the agency’s client, is one of those people who claim to be easygoing while in reality they exude nonstop nervous energy.

“I know exactly who it is,” he tells you in a hushed voice. You and Jack are in his office, under the guise of a private tour of the winery. Peterson has been going over what you already know from the file: that he has a high-value collection of wine held on the estate, as well as a hard drive storing what he’ll only describe as “sensitive” material; that he’s received several vague threats recently; and that with the hustle and bustle of harvest season upon them, he’s concerned his regular security won’t be sufficient to stop the would-be thieves.

“Oh?” you say. “Well, that will be very helpful, Mr. Peterson.”

“Okay,” he amends. “Maybe not exactly, but I can give you a list. Of suspects.”

“We’ve seen the list,” Jack tells him. “But what is it that makes you suspect these folks in particular?”

“They’re mostly other winery owners,” Peterson says. “Everyone on that list was present at a party I attended a few months ago where I—let slip some details about my collection. It was only after that the letters started.”

You and Jack exchange a glance. You’re both wondering if “let slip” isn’t code for “bragged loudly.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t gone to the police?” you ask. His eyes narrow.

“I value discretion,” he says tightly. “Anyway—I’m not sure they’d consider the threats actionable.”

“Can we see them?” Jack asks.

“Of course.” He retrieves a small stack from his desk drawer. You and Whiskey put your heads together to pore over them.

They’re all written by one person, in slanted, blocky handwriting.

YOU WILL PAY.

YOU WILL LOSE EVERYTHING.

YOUR EMPIRE WILL CRUMBLE.

WE WILL CRUSH YOU.

“Is there another one?” you check. “There are five envelopes but only four notes.”

Peterson hesitates, then shrugs and shakes his head. He’s lying, but you don’t push it.

“There is one other thing,” he says. “I keep seeing this blue truck—but it’s like he doesn’t want to be spotted. I see it slow down like he’s scoping out the place, but then he speeds off as soon as he sees I’ve noticed. I tried to get the license plate but it was covered in mud.” He scoffs. “We haven’t had any rain in months.”

Jack has him describe the vehicle and where he’s seen it, while you take notes.

“Alright, Mr. Peterson. We’ll be in touch if we have any other questions.”

“Thank you. Oh—here.” He hands you a pair of vouchers for a free wine tasting. “They come with the tour. One thing you should know about Napa—you’ll only really blend in if you’ve got a glass of wine in your hand.”

Jack’s code name is Whiskey for a reason. He’s a spirits man through and through and he doesn’t give the tasting room a second look, ushering you out to get back to your room to regroup. Admittedly, it’s only 10 AM, but you would have enjoyed a few sips of merlot. You’re craning your neck a little to look at the wine list posted by the door—just out of curiosity—when he startles you by taking your hand in his. You look at him. He’s staring ahead, holding your hand like it’s nothing as you walk side by side. Finally, your brain catches up and your nine credits of college acting classes kick in and you plaster a loving smile onto your face, leaning closer.

In the privacy of your little rented cottage, you pull out your notes again to review.

“Peterson is lying about something,” you start. Jack nods distractedly.

“Yeah—listen, before we get into that, I need to ask you. You jumped when I held your hand back there,” he observes.

You feel your face heat with embarrassment. He’s calling you out on your inexperience, the rookie agent who can’t even play-act for a simple assignment. You can do it, you know. Being undercover in the field is just still new to you. He could help you instead of being critical.

“Sorry—”

“It’s my opinion,” he says, with a slight frown, “that a man who doesn’t treat his wife a certain way is no man at all.”

You’re lost, suddenly. “Sorry?”

“What I’m askin’ is, do I have your permission to touch you like you’re my wife when other people are around?”

Oh.

Something about the way he’s worded it makes your stomach do a little flip.

“Oh. Yes. Touch me like…?” You swallow. “Like how, exactly?”

He gives you a steady look.

“Intimately.”

That’s fine. You’re fine with that.

“Right. That’s—” you nod, maybe a little too emphatically. “That’s okay.”

You look down, fingering the pages of your notebook again, trying to refocus on the more analytical side of the job, when another thought occurs to you.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you blurt.

“Shit, Violet, that’s part and parcel of it.”

“It’s Violette,” you tell him with a frown.

“Sorry.”

“Do you even know my real name?”

“Of course I do,” he says. You don’t push it but you also don’t know whether to believe him. He’s shown little interest in working with you this entire week.

Jack takes a step towards you.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says. “So you don’t jump like a rabbit when I do it in public.”

You take a breath. Suck your bottom lip between your teeth involuntarily.

“Okay,” you tell him.

Your eyes fall shut as he leans in. You feel his fingers steadying your chin, tilting your face to meet his, and then his lips touching your mouth, light, tentative—teasing, your mind prompts, and the thought makes you feel flushed again. When you don’t shy away he presses closer and you’re not sure which of you is to blame when your lips part and his tongue brushes yours.

You were expecting it, so you don’t jump, but you feel a little trembly when he pulls away. He doesn’t step back right away—instead, his lips hover over your skin, mustache coarse against your soft cheek, as he tucks his mouth by your ear and quietly, intimately, says your name.

“So you think Peterson is lying,” he says, picking up the thread from before.

“Um,” you say, forcing your brain to switch back to work mode. Your whole body feels warm. “Yes. Don’t you think he seemed shady?”

Jack shrugs. “Call me jaded, I think most people are shady. But I agree with you. He lied about the missing letter. I fuckin’ hate when clients do that. What do you think about the blue truck he saw?”

“I think that could be something.”

You open your laptop and with a few keystrokes you’ve used a Statesman backdoor into the DMV system, where you enter the make, model, and color of the vehicle Peterson had described. There are no matching hits within Napa County, so you expand the search. It’s an unpopular color, so there are only a few dozen matches in the state. None of the owners’ names are on the list of suspects you’ve been given.

“He said he hasn’t seen it around town, only driving by his property. And we don’t know who owns it. So how do we find the car?” you wonder.

Jack is silent for a minute. You watch as a slow smile spreads across his face.

“I have an idea.”

This case originated at Statesman’s Kentucky headquarters, so Agent Ginger Ale is your tech liaison. It’s clear from their dynamic that she and Agent Whiskey have worked together before. Having her voice in your ear is a source of comfort as you carry out Jack’s great idea—which you’re not 100% sure you’re on board with.

“Don’t you need some kind of license to operate this?” you ask tentatively.

“Technically, on paper, he has one,” Ginger offers. “Well, Johnny Davenport does, anyway. As of twenty minutes ago.”

“It’s a balloon and a basket, how complicated could it be,” Jack grouses. This doesn’t exactly raise your confidence.

“Just don’t crash this one, Jack,” she pleads.

“This one?!”

He shakes his head. “You have one helicopter fail on you and they never let you live it down. Don’t listen to Ginger.”

To his credit, Jack pilots the hot air balloon much more smoothly than you’d expected, and after some time you feel yourself relaxing and enjoying the view. It’s early October and the landscape is a mix of green and brown from the last of the summer heat. Tidy rows of grape vines are bordered by houses and larger wineries, copses of trees, and fields dotted with grazing cows. Tiny workers move methodically among the vines, busy harvesting fruit to be pressed and fermented. Through it all, highways and winding roads run alongside the properties, and this is where you refocus your attention.

Ginger has programmed your binoculars to register any vehicles matching the description of the blue truck you’re seeking. You train the lenses on the backroads and driveways, looking for private hiding places it could be stashed.

The whole endeavor feels like a long shot, and you’re just on the verge of suggesting you give up and head back to base when the binocs let out a high-pitched beep of recognition, zooming in on your target.

“Holy shit,” you whisper. “I can’t believe this worked.”

“I told you it would,” Jack says, looking smug. “What is that place?”

Ginger has looked up the coordinates before you have a chance to do it yourself.

“It’s a winery… Double Loop Vineyards. Do you guys know that name?”

You recognize it immediately. The owner is one of the names on Bill Peterson’s list of suspects.

You and Jack exchange a look.

“Guess we’re goin’ wine tasting at Double Loop,” he says, and he turns to start your descent.

The tasting room at Double Loop Vineyards is a large, tastefully decorated space that looks like it was converted from an old barn. It’s all dark wood and ceiling beams, and a bar runs along the back and right side walls. When you and Jack step inside, you’re greeted by a tall young woman with a pixie haircut and striking cheekbones. She’s wearing a name tag that reads Eva.

You settle in front of her at the bar and she pulls out a pair of glasses and pours a splash of white into each to get you started. You take a sip and peruse the small menu on the bartop.

“She’ll have the red flight,” Jack says, “And I’ll just have a glass. Can you recommend me something… full-bodied?”

As he says it he palms your hip suggestively, pulling you to him a little closer. You laugh, mortified but amused despite yourself, and he shoots you a wink.

Eva takes it in stride. “I can offer you a cabernet sauvignon that’s got legs for days.”

“That’ll do me just fine, thank you.”

You’re the only visitors in the tasting room for the moment so you have her undivided attention. She’s skilled at making small talk to keep you charmed and at ease; eventually she asks something more personal.

“So I’m planning to propose to my girlfriend soon,” she tells you. “And I’m trying to figure out how to do it. I’m like crowdsourcing ideas. You two are such a cute couple—can I ask how you got engaged?”

You and Jack exchange a glance and you give him a sweet smile. “You tell it, honey.”

“Well,” he says, keeping his eyes on you for a long moment before he finally looks away to face Eva, “I knew I wanted to marry her, and I had this whole plan in mind. I wanted something special for my Violet so I was going to take her on a trip—my buddy has this little cabin on the most beautiful lake you’ve ever seen—and make her favorite dinner, and sit down with a glass of something nice. And then I was going to present her with this beautiful piece of hand-carved wood that spelled out, Will. You. Marry. Me.”

He pauses to take a sip of his cab while Eva says, “Aww,” and looks at you like, what a sweet partner you have.

“Now the thing is,” he continues, warming up to the story, “as Violet can tell you herself, I have never carved a single thing in my life. And somehow, like a dumbass, I was convinced I could make this plaque and do it perfectly. But it looked just awful. And it was taking me so long trying to get it right I could tell she was starting to wonder if I was stringing her along.”

You shake your head in protest and he laughs. “You were! You’d look at me like, why has this fool not married me yet.”

Eva laughs, too. “So what happened?”

Jack lets out an aggrieved sigh. “What happened was, I caught the flu. Just the most dog-sick, pathetic man, all sweaty with fever and miserable to boot. And Violet never hesitated, she bundled me up and cooked me soup and tolerated my whining and she’d read me to sleep when my eyes couldn’t even focus on the TV. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I thought, I need to hold on to this woman forever, and I asked her right then and there.”

His voice cracks a little on the last sentence and you’re shocked to realize your own eyes are damp with tears. You’re not sure which part, or how much, but something in that story sounded true and it’s left you with a strange sense of heartache. You lift his hand to your mouth and press a kiss across his knuckles, watching his face soften.

“Okay,” Eva says. “So I guess I’ll add ‘get the flu’ to my list of ideas.”

“I don’t recommend it,” Jack tells her, “but I don’t not recommend it.”

As you finish your flight and Eva rings up a couple of bottles you’ve chosen to purchase—you’re not sure if these classify as company expenses, but you enjoyed them enough you’ll pay out of pocket if you must—she asks where else in the wine country you’ve been to so far.

“We spent some time at the winery right next to the place we’re staying—actually, we got to meet the owner there, what was his name, baby?”

You keep your tone casual, but you watch her face as you reply. “Bill Peterson, I think it was?”

Eva’s expression falters, just for a moment, before she recovers and plasters on a polite smile. “They’ve got a great pinot noir over there.”

“Not as good as these,” you tell her, just to see her smile turn genuine.

A tour group walks in just then so you take your leave and step outside into the late afternoon sunshine. When Jack takes your hand this time you let him, and you don’t mind it.

The blue truck is parked out back. You walk along the side of the building, just a pair of happy tourists slightly buzzed on red wine out to take in the view, until you get close enough to make note of the license plate. Back in your own car, you run a search on it and identify the owner: a young man named Lucas Trent. The address on the registration is in Paso Robles, a town 250 miles south of here, but you do some digging and find he’s a vineyard worker at Double Loop.

“So what’s the connection to Peterson?” Jack wonders.

“Look at this.” You point at the screen and he squints. “He’s only been at Double Loop for six months. Before that—”

“He worked for Peterson,” Jack finishes. “So he’s mad about getting fired and wants to get back at his old boss.”

“Maybe,” you say, frowning. “We don’t really know yet. But it’s a theory.”

“It’s a good theory,” he insists.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, mulling it over.

“Tell me this, rookie,” he says. “You ever been on a stakeout?”

On your first ever stakeout that evening, you quickly learn a few things:

Stakeouts are cold. Stakeouts are boring. And rental cars are not designed to accommodate them.

You shift uncomfortably for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

“How do we even know he’ll show up tonight?” you ask. In the quiet of the night you keep your voice hushed.

“Call it intuition,” Jack says. You can tell he hates sitting still this long, too, but he’s clearly built up a tolerance for it over the years, because he’s not wriggling around nearly as much as you.

“Can I ask you something?”

He grunts an assent.

“That story about how you proposed—how did you come up with that?”

He pauses.

“I just—made it up,” he says.

“I thought it seemed…” you start. He gives you a sidelong glance. “Never mind. You’re a good improviser.”

After a minute, he says, “I was engaged once. A long time ago.”

“Oh.” You bite your cheek, holding back your questions.

“She died,” he adds. Your heart drops.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course,” you say, helplessly.

Never in your life have you been more grateful to see a criminal approaching than when you see the familiar shape of Lucas Trent’s blue truck appear down the road.

“Ha,” Jack says, looking a little less glum. “What’d I tell you. Intuition never fails me.”

You take deep, silent breaths, trying to control your fast-beating heart as you creep behind Jack to follow Lucas inside the building. He’s got a key to Peterson’s winery; he must have stolen it before he left the job, you think. He heads down the hall, past Peterson’s office, and disappears behind a door.

Jack motions for you to wait a moment, listening intently outside the door. You hear nothing but the quiet thump of Lucas’s footsteps, growing fainter until there’s only silence, and finally Jack eases open the door. You’re faced with a short flight of stairs heading down into a cellar. The two of you tiptoe down the stairs.

You nearly bump into Jack at the bottom when he stops dead in his tracks, still hidden in the shadows. Peering around him, you see that Lucas isn’t alone in the room. Bill Peterson is here, too, standing next to a small wooden desk.

“What the fuck do you want?” Bill demands. Lucas stares at him sullenly. “You came here to steal from me, didn’t you? You didn’t think I’d be down here.”

“I just want what’s mine,” the young man growls. “You’re the thief, not me.”

Lucas steps further into the room, toward the back wall. The space is filled with racks of carefully preserved wine bottles—Peterson’s precious collection, you register—and a pile of empty wooden barrels, stacked two high.

“Those bottles are insured,” Peterson calls after him. “You’ll get caught if you try to sell them.”

Lucas says nothing, just continues walking until he reaches the wall. At the back of the cellar, he pushes aside a tapestry to reveal a combination safe embedded in the wall. He glances over his shoulder with a smirk, and punches in the code.

“How the fuck do you know that number?” Peterson roars, finally scared. He rushes past the racks of wine, suddenly worthless compared to whatever is on the flash drive Lucas has just retrieved from the safe. When they start to tussle over it, Jack finally steps in.

“Hey!” he yells, striding into the light. The men look over, startled, and then Peterson looks relieved. He lets go of Lucas, seemingly confident that his hired security will take care of the situation, and retreats to stand next to Jack.

“Get that back from him,” he tells him. Jack gives him a long, unimpressed look, and then turns his focus on Lucas, who’s starting to look slightly panicky now that he’s outnumbered.

“Listen, son. This will all go a lot easier if you just put that back where you found it and walk out of here with me.”

“You don’t understand,” Lucas protests. “He’s stealing from everyone. This is the proof.”

Peterson shifts on his feet, looking guilty. “Bullshit,” he says. “You resent me for being the boss, but I’ve worked for every penny I’ve got.”

Lucas lets out a humorless, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, you work real hard. You must break a sweat making copies of your accounts so you can lie about the numbers. I bet you have blisters on your hands from shortchanging your workers.”

Jack makes a mistake here—he takes his eyes off the suspect to look at Mr. Peterson in a new light, trying to gauge which of them is telling the truth. And in that split second, to your horror, Lucas hurtles forward and shoves the stacked wine barrels, hard, knocking both Jack and Peterson onto the ground.

You make a mistake, too, and he gets on your case about it afterwards. You let Lucas slip past you in your rush to reach Jack’s side. He looks dazed and angry and his legs are trapped under the hundred-pound barrel. Gathering your strength, you lift it off of him and set it upright, then fall to your knees to check him over.

“Jack! Are you alright?” You feel carefully along his legs, then gently at the back of his head, running your fingers over his scalp to check for bumps or bleeding.

“I’m okay,” he mutters. “I didn’t hit my head.” But he winces as you help him up, and he’s moving a little gingerly when he takes a step. “Might’ve tweaked my ankle,” he admits.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Peterson yells. “You let that little shit get away with my property.”

“Let me ask you this, Mr. Peterson,” Jack growls. “Was it true what he said, about the double accounts?”

“I don’t see how that matters,” he insists angrily. “I hired you to do a job, and I expected a lot better.”

“I’ll tell you why it matters,” Jack tells him. “I don’t work for people who lie to me. Consider the contract dissolved. You can get your ‘property’ back on your own.”

“Actually, you got lucky, Mr. Peterson,” you call back over your shoulder as you help Jack walk over to the stairs. “If we had gotten our hands on that drive, we would have been obligated to turn it over to the IRS. Statesman has connections in the government, too, you know.”

And with that, you leave him sputtering and pale, alone with his precious wine.

It’s 3 AM when you get back to the room. Jack’s ankle isn’t broken, just twisted. You’d made him wait in the car while you stopped at a 24-hour convenience store to get ice on the way, so now you get him tucked into bed with his foot elevated and a baggie of ice draped over his ankle. He’s clearly still peeved over how things went down with Peterson, but he also looks amused watching you play nursemaid for him.

“You know, I’ve been hurt a hell of a lot worse than this before,” he tells you. “I can take care of myself.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Getting badly injured isn’t the brag you think it is,” you counter. “And… you shouldn’t have to take care of it alone. That’s what I’m here for. I know you think I’m just a rookie, but—for this job, we’re partners, right?”

He’s silent for a beat, but then he nods.

Jack is still awake and waiting for you when you return from the bathroom in your pajamas. As you climb into your side of the bed, he says, “I don’t think you’re just a rookie. You did a good job on this case.”

The room is dark but there’s moonlight streaming in through the window, casting a beam of light across his face on the pillow. He’s looking at you. You look back.

“Thank you,” you tell him finally.

“Thanks for the ice,” he returns. He lets out a sigh as his eyes drift shut, and as you follow suit you feel his hand reach out and intertwine with yours.

“G’night, Violet,” he murmurs.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

He laughs, and you grin in the dark, and you hold on tight.

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift23 #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal #kingsman fanfiction #my fic #fanfiction

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lilbabydilljr · 1 year

Text

Bee[more]hyped!

Hi! Okay! So I’ve hidden details below, but if you just want the download link here you go.

Download (SFS)

Requires: UC, Easy Inventory Check

Alright, so a while back I found this lovely beehive conversion from Foresty, which was based on Untidyfan’s 3to2 conversion, which is in turn based on Gwenke’s functional beehive. What a way we’ve come! Believe (bee-lieve) it or not this is actually the object that got me interested in modding.

What I didn’t like about the original object was that it used 2 different objects as the honey, and the overload of effects. Lots of lag. So I’ve made a few tweaks!

The first 2 are cosmetic, I’ve moved the hive from the gardening section to Hobbies.../Misc, and the default texture is yellow, but the original green is still available. Bees are yellow, duh.

Sims now harvest honey directly into their inventory, which they can drink or stock the fridge with. This is a 4to2 conversion of the honey, which I thought was neat.

The hive now only displays the bee effects when open, or when a sim angers the bees. It produces a jar of honey every 18 hours, and Gatherer sims have a 50% chance of harvesting an extra jar each harvest. Lucky sims have about a 5% chance, and these can stack. A Lucky + Gatherer sim can harvest 2 extra jars, potentially.

Sims will autonomously harvest honey and occasionally inspect the beehive, please let me know if these values seem off to you I wasn’t super sure on them. Cowards will never harvest honey. Too many stingers!

The hive now builds nature enthusiasm when it’s used, and sims can harvest multiple jars at once. I’m not sure if there’s a limit to how much honey the hive can hold? I guess just keep an eye on it.

There’s two 2 new memories included as well. If you’re not comfortable with custom memories in your game please leave them out of your downloads folder, the hive seems to work just fine.

Caveats

Bee-cause of course there are. I might work some of these things out, but right now I’m done with this project.

My beehive and Foresty’s share the same GUID, and my jar of honey does as well. I’m not sure if that’s shared across all these hives or not. But you can’t have both in the game.

Children can not harvest honey, I didn’t feel like working on the animations.

Sims can’t drink the honey straight from their inventory, it must be placed first.

The animations and tool used to grab the honey are a bit off, but not enough that it actually bothers me right now.

Finally, the jar of honey itself.

As you can see the textures aren’t great? But I don’t know enough about objects to get it right. I’ll put this out there, if someone wants to help me fix this I’d be forever grateful.

I also wanted to edit the anger bees interaction, but I couldn’t get the chased by bees interaction to work? So I gave up. I do think there should be more ways for sims to die by flies anyway, but it’s not my ideal interaction.

Lastly, I wanted to convert the Honey Cake from 4, but food again proved challenging, and when I got to trying to do the coding so it requires a Honey in the fridge, it looked like a LUA script to me? So I backed off. Maybe one day. Not today.

You might be able to get away with not having the UC for this, but I think at the very least you’ll need BV. I can’t support any installations other than the UC though.

Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I am! It’s just a fun silly little thing, but our sims need bees right???

Credits/Thanks: Foresty, Untidyfan, Gwenke. Your original objects and coding are amazing, I hope I’m not stepping on any toes here! I did DM Foresty, but I figured since Gwenke’s code has been reused a couple times now I thought I’d be fine.

Edit: 04/30/23: Moved honey jar out of the catalogue. Whoops. Had it in there for testing.

Edit 05/08/23: Bees no longer accumulate inaccesible honey in the winter.

#ts2 #ts2 cc #the sims 2 #the sims 2 cc

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imdoingsortagay · 2 years

Text

Pervy Manager!Nat headcanons

this is so short but so gay

18+post below no minors,

reblogs are appreciated!!!

Warnings: workplace abuse of power, Pervy!Nat, oral( Nat r), smut, Perverted thoughts,

Getting a job at Stark industries after graduating college

Feeling nervous when you walk into your interview but are greeted by a welcoming Natasha who informs you she’s the main manager in the company

Natasha using this as an opportunity to check you out, think so many nasty thoughts while you ramble away

Hiring you right away even tho Pepper told her to interview everyone and vouching for you

Being put by the managers office because “ it’s be easier to get in contact with each other”.

complimenting you over everything

Praising you to make you blush

Saying sexual things in her native tongue but you think she’s being so sweet ( also nobody in the office knows Russian sooooo)

Telling you how “ it’s so unfortunate a pretty girl like you doesn’t have people lining up to be with you”

TOUCHY SO TOUCHY

Pet Names to the max especially

The trope where an elevator is full and Nat makes her way behind you, sneakily touching your hips, whatever she can to be fair

telling you how to do everything step by step

“ Honey, i told you i’d be helping you with anything that you need and i meant it”

She’s obsessed with seeing you wear skirts at work

Will fuck herself in her office while looking at you as she has her own space while you have a cubical nearby her.

Your cubicle neighbor Maria talking about how you’re Natasha’s little pet which goes over your head.

When she sees you bonding with Maria, she moves her to a different area of the building.

“ we wouldn’t want the new rookie to get distracted would we ?”

if you wear a lowcut shirt, Natasha will take the opportunity to stare while you work.

Fixing up your clothes a bit as “ just woman looking out for woman”

really she’s trying to take pictures of what’s under your skirt for later at home.

A whole folder dedicated to pictures of you that she will fuck herself to at home, in her office in a way she won’t get caught, even in the office bathroom too, Girlie does not care since Pepper respects her a lot to actually fire her.

Natasha bringing you as a plus one to a stark Gala

internally going crazy over the dress you wore

going back home with Maria to fuck her but only thinking of you as she fucks her friend roughly

Making a plan to get you to be only hers

Having you stay late night in the office to work on a new project that Pepper requested.

Natasha insisting she sit next to you, which in turn makes you blush like crazy

“ Darling we haven’t even started working and you’re blushing, so so cute”

Her hand on your thigh while working, just rubbing it and acting like nothings wrong.

When she sees you squirm, she moves her hand up higher as you explain everything about the project right.

“ Miss Romanoff what are you doing?”

She keeps teasing you while you quietly moan as her hand moves closer to your core.

“ Can’t wait to fuck your pretty little body, you want Mommy to make you feel good down there? Surely you must feel the same way i have “

Once you say that OH MY GOD SHE WOULD BE ROUGH

Having you eat her cunt out on your knees, grabbing your hair to keep you in place.

taking pictures for her phone,videos too and degrading the f outta you

“ Dirty whore making mommy feel so good, fuck i can’t wait to fuck that cunt of yours.

That night, Natasha makes you her cute little pet that she can use however she likes

#lizs writing #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader

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vtuberconfessions · 1 month

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i am so tired of being nice i just want to go apeshit PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD VTUBER ARTISTS WHO HAVE NEVER RIGGED BEFORE: ASK A RIGGER FOR ADVICE ABOUT SEPARATION AND LISTEN TO IT!!!! as a rigger and artist i am so fucking tired of having to spend 8+ hours re-separating and fixing all of the bullshit with your artwork that makes rigging a nightmare. AS A BASIC RULE PLEASE...

1: NEVER USE A SPACE IN LAYER NAMES!!! if you use a space in the name of any layers ( i.e. "leg l" "part 1") the name will be switched in live2D to "artmesh" and your rigger will have to RENAME EVERYTHING. if you do this for every layer THIS IS A NIGHTMARE. it's not easy to fix PLEASE use underscores instead of spaces.

2: have ANY KIND of naming system. it literally doesnt matter, as long as it exists and is consistent the rigger will figure it out. don't name one thing "left_arm_1" and another thing "Bang>SidePart" and expect me to be able to easily work with your file.

3: KEEP. LAYERS. ORGANIZED. please please PLEASE understand basic rigging hierarchy and stick to it. If the left eye folder is ten thousand layers below the right eye folder this will be extremely confusing. also make sure the limbs are ordered properly. if the shoulder is in the layer for the jacket and the hand is somewhere floating in the ether i now have to spend time to reorganize the psd.

4: LIVE 2D DOES NOT WORK LIKE A DRAWING PROGRAM. it only allows for multiply, add, and normal layers. no overlay, no screen light, just add and multiply. if I have to clip a layer to more than five other layers the program WILL lag for both you and the person who ends up using the model. Do not just leave a massive multiply layer over the entire model it doesn't work that way. 5: oh my fucking god PLEASE draw EVERYTHING even if it isnt in view. if you have a separate layer for the bang's shading, for example, in normal illustration you just draw what's visible and call it a day. I'M TURNING THE HEAD, MEANING IT WILL JUST CUT OFF. if i have to fix this for every single instance of shading i am taking time away from my work, my whole process takes longer. as a rule of thumb, always draw more than what you think you need.

6: separate more than you need, but not everything. sometimes I work with models that have not enough things separated, and its a pain to work with. sometimes i work with models that feel like the artist just sent me their work file with every tiny brushstroke on a different layer and then I have to spend a day merging and checking everything. use your head while you are drawing, think to yourself "is the thing I'm drawing something that will need to move independently?" try to imagine the model in 3D space as your working, and if you can't do that perhaps study an object in real life and see how turning it in space interacts with the lighting or whatever idk. also: if there are too many separations the model will come out looking blurrier. live2D doesn't just read the photoshop file, it creates a new texture file. imagine the model like a paper doll, it takes every piece of paper and spreads each piece down flat. this takes up much more space and many more pixels then the photoshop document, and the bigger i have to make the texture file, the laggier things become. if i don't want it to lag, everything has to be shrinked down to fit, and thus everything becomes blurry. if I don't want it all blurry, I basically have to spend hours upon hours manually placing every "piece of paper" on another piece of paper essentially playing the worlds most annoying jigsaw puzzle.

I feel like I'm working on a group project and doing half of your work. please, stop making my job much harder than it needs to be.

#vtuber #vtubers #vtuber confessions #rigging #l2d #live2d

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melbrewer367 · 11 months

Text

So you want to make a recolor...

I made a quick recolor tutorial for a friend group so I thought I'd go ahead and share here too. This is just a super quick guide for how to recolor an object/cas item.

There are two types of recolors. Standalone and Overrides. Overrides will replace the item/swatches that exist in the game. Standalone recolors create an additional item with it's own swatches. This tutorial works for both kinds, you just pick which one in Step 1, and then the rest is basically the same.

This tutorial also works for pretty much all buy mode items and CAS items. Anything that is tileable...I think maybe that's what you could call it...anything that can be stretched across multiple tiles, for instance, wallpapers, flooring, roofing, fencing...these types of items require a few more steps that I will not be covering here.

Ok so you want to recolor something, you need Sims 4 Studio (S4S) and a photo editing program like photoshop (there are plenty of free alternatives out there too, like Gimp is one I know a lot of people use).

Step 1! Open up S4S and pick either "Standalone" or "Override" depending on what your end goal is. Generally, you'll probably do standalone. I usually reserve overrides for permanent world items I want to change, like changing the images on the billboards in San Myshuno, for instance.

For this, I'm going to make a standalone recolor of an object so you would make sure Standalone Recolor is selected and then click "Object."

Step 2. Find the thing you want to recolor. Across the top there's filters so you can narrow it down by pack or search keywords to help find what you're looking for. Pick your item and click "next" at the bottom. A save window is going to pop up, save your file and make sure to name it something useful that's actually identifying so you can easily find it and remove it/update it/etc in the future. If you just hover your mouse over an item, it will give you the game's name for that item.

Congrats, you've created a Sims 4 package.

Step 3. (Optional) If you want to make changes to the in game display name, description, price, or style tags...you can do that on this first screen and then just hit "Apply To All Swatches." You do not have to make changes here if you don't want to though.

Step 4. This is where the fun begins. Click on the "Texture" tab. This is where you're going to get the file that you actually need to recolor. If there's a plain white swatch, I would pick that one, otherwise, I would go with whatever the lightest and most blank swatch is to make it easier on you to recolor. You just click one of the numbered swatch boxes at the top and then in the lower section make sure you have "Texture" highlighted, in this case it is my only option, and then click "Export." Another save window will pop up, just save that texture file somewhere easy to find, it'll only be there temporarily. (Or, if you want to be really smart and you plan on recoloring many things, you should make a project folder for each thing and save your texture files and things in there so you can always come back to them later.)

Step 5. So the exact tools and steps and such will kinda vary here based on what you want to accomplish and what program you use but, the broader overall process is the same. Open your texture file in an image editing software, change the colors/patterns/etc how you want, and then save that texture file. For instance, on this one I'm just going to change that pink section to a different color by just selecting the pink area with a marquee/quick selection tool and then using the Hue/Saturation tool to change the color.

Another example, this is something James Turner did in a recent video that someone asked about, you could choose some in game frames with images, put your own screenshots onto that image, and then boom you have your screenshots in game as framed photos. You would simply add your screenshot on top of the framed image as a second layer, line it up nice and neat, and you're good to go. Here's an example of what that would look like:

That's also basically how you could quickly add patterns to something. Lay your pattern image over top of the texture, change your layer style to something like "Multiply" or "overlay" depending on the look you're going for. Either way you do these, just remember to save your final product as a .png file.

Step 6. Back to S4S! Same place you were before, except now you need to click "Import" down in that lower texture section, select your texture file you just made. While you're on this screen, you should also update the colors in the "Swatch Thumbnail" section to match your new recolor, and you can also "remove swatch" to get rid of any additional swatches you don't need. Once you're done with all of this, hit save, and then go throw that .package file into your Mods folder.

Step 7. Go in game and check out your items and then pat yourself on the back.

Now you too can be cursed with this knowledge so that every time a new item/clothing is added to the game and you think, "wow I'd really like this if it was in better swatches" you can just...make those swatches.

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #tutorial #s4s tutorial #recolors #recolor tutorial

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theficblog · 2 years

Text

HEARTS [chapter one]

CHAPTER ONE: WHAT ARE WE?

Pairing: Jeno x Reader [ ft. Jaemin, Haechan, Chenle, Renjun ]

Prologue: Jeno is just another friend, is all that you have been thinking, denying your feelings. It’s better to shut the emotions of the heart than to lose him. What happens when he learns a secret?

Genre: Friends with Benefits AU + Suggestive + Fluff + Angst

Wordcount: 2,547

Warnings: Suggestive Content [ rough + angry sex + nudity + biting + making out + moaning ] Language

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And perhaps falling off a bridge would hurt lesser than falling for a friend. Your head and your heart would ultimately be confused and conflicted by an enigmatic companion. - The morning was unconcerned with the impending alarms, the warm yellow rays of the sun rising above the horizon were concealed by the heavy black curtains. An aura of sloth, sultriness, and wilderness floated in the room like the aroma of a freshly baked cake. The only source of light was the mood lamp that had been projecting the same seductive crimson and tuscany hues since the previous night.

Jeno hovered over you, placing kisses as he worked his hips just right. You gripped his face with your hands, soaking up every pleasure he gave you. It felt as though the world was dying since the two of you had been going about this business for so long and the only thing on your minds was getting each other to scream and react physically. You were familiar with every inch of his body like a road map that you had memorised, and you were also aware of the vital spots where even a light touch from your flesh would send him into a fit. Jeno was skilled in the same domain.

"How the fuck did you manage to cover me in so many hickeys?" Jeno voiced as he rolled over his side, engulfing you in his arms as he nuzzled his face into yours.

"I don't even like biting but there's something about you, I can't control myself." You replied, letting out soft moans as he brushed his fingers against your naked body.

"Why is it so soft?" He gushed, bringing himself nigher. He started to place kisses all over your bare arm.

"You really like my moisturizer, huh?" You made a joke, which caused the boy to giggle softly yet deeply.

The alarm went off, signalling it was too late and better for you to be out of bed. Yet, it was difficult to come out of the dreaminess of addictive acts with Jeno.

"You ought to go." He twisted his legs around yours and tightened the grasp after hearing what you said, which made him pout.

"Can we not just stay like this? I love it so much." Jeno tried his best to earn a yes from you but even after domestic dynamics between the two of you, what you had with him was still not bound by any official terms of a relationship.

"Lee Jeno, think of skipping one more class and you're dead meat." You declared, pushing him away by the chest. He finally got up, his back offered you a spectacular view as he put on his hoodie. He was hot.

The classes began as usual. The vibe of the weekend could be felt and seen on everyone's faces as they walked towards their lecture halls. College was about to end soon, unlike the day that would turn out to be a long one.

Jeno came sprinting from behind, tapping you on the shoulder. "Lend me the notes from the past week. What did we do?"

You handed him a folder as you both kept walking. "Only if they taught football." He thanked you.

"Even if they did you'd barely come to class." You commented as you took his hand in his. He wore a plain blue shirt over a white tee and that was enough for the rest of the onlookers to feel jealous of you.

Business Majors was as dull as it sounded.

Where had the last three years gone? It would sound cliche to anyone but it in fact did feel like yesterday that you bumped into this athletic guy, the exchange of glances and phone numbers gradually led to things heating up between you. Matters started to range from baseball games to bedrooms.

But who was Jeno? A lover? A friend? An acquaintance? That's the complicated part. Friends with benefits.

What everybody else thought was contrasting. For them, you two were the hottest couple on the campus. After all, you did everything a couple would do and the best thing to do when unfounded rumours keep coming up like a creeper is to ignore them and take pleasure in the drama.

"Had you been three minutes late I could've won a new pair of headphones?" A young boy who had donned a red jacket with fluffy brown hair, seated right in front of your row cried.

"Don't you already have more than enough?" You questioned seating yourself and placing your supplies on the desk.

"Renjun, explain." He elbowed the other one beside him.

"He made a bet. Lost again, of course." Another boy in yellow explained. He didn't seem to be in the mood to skip the lecture and squander it engaging in the gossip and petty bickering that you and your friend loved.

"Haechan! Grow up!" You jokingly hit his head.

"Over there!" With a harshness in his voice, the professor snapped his fingers. "Lee Jeno! Explain this." He called him out as he pointed toward a phrase on the screen.

Jeno, who was seated to your right, glanced at you momentarily in an attempt to pick up a cue, but the timing didn't seem appropriate.

"This.." He began. "I kind of don't know." He earned a roar of laughter from the rest of the class, every single one of them but you.

"Out!" The professor shouted, his brows wrinkled.

You turned to face Jeno once more, this time with worry reflected in your eyes, but he did the exact opposite of what you expected. He gave you a wink and grinned as he slung his empty backpack over his shoulder and exited the hallway regretlessly.

This made you think about the Jeno you met three years ago, he wasn't at the top of the class, but he did secure one of the highest grades, never missed a class, and turned in assignments on time but that only lasted for a semester or two. It was like slow poison, it would start to spread slowly and gradually, taking its time in the best way possible until one day would come and everything would cease. Serene yet explosive.

This was what had you concerned.

There were other occasions when people criticised you, saying that you were ultimately responsible for doing this to a sincere young man like him, that you were taking advantage of him, and that it was not for the talks, but the fact that they did, in fact, ring true to you was onerous.

Given your social and financial status, you didn't think much of college and didn't care if you passed or not. If you fished a decent job placement or not. If your professors liked you or not and this was what had been going on ever since you could recall memories, things that appeared to be a hard-earned necessity to others were insignificant to you. There were a dozen more methods, good or evil, to do things, and if you didn't succeed, your family would step in and fix them for you. This was how life went by; the only reason you went to this esteemed university was to have it documented on a piece of writing that you put some work into. Worse things may be anticipated in a society where paper was valued more highly than the human conscience. Money was paper, after all, it sure was different from the other kind of knowledge-stuffed papers the others applied with, but well, it was paper and your family did not mind spending racks to fit you into an image that was not yours.

"Y/N? The class got over ten minutes ago." Haechan attracted your attention by abruptly waving his hand in front of your eyes.

"Oh, yeah." You murmured.

"This is why they say people go crazy in love." He commented.

"Shut the fuck up!" You were annoyed. Picking up your bag, you left the class, still in deep thought.

Life did not make any sense at that point and your heart was not helping either, you were a walking puzzle.

Love was not what you two shared.

Together, you did spend days and nights. Every time someone else looked at him, you grew envious, and Jeno too. You'll never forget how he pouted whenever you spent time with someone who wasn't him. There was a natural sense of belonging that you two had developed for one another, but perhaps that's what friends did. Every time Haechan brought in new acquaintances, you did experience jealousy; it wasn't as strong or as intense, but it was enough to persuade your heart. Only if hearts came equipped with remote controls would the world be a simpler place to live.

The one time you could not control your heart was when you told Jeno you loved him, drunk.

"I love you too, Y/N~" He replied back, not even in a sense of distinguishing colours or shapes, let alone feelings.

Because you were certain Jeno had no memory of it, and because you knew it would be terrifying to dig out the dead, you gave up trying to think about that time. Losing a friend as valuable as he was was not on your list because the only ghosting that could occur was from his end to yours.

This took you back to another night in your bed. You and Jeno were cuddled up, wrapped in blankets as he laid his head on your tummy, trying to watch Netflix but the only thing you could ever do was smile at each other's face, for no reason whatsoever.

"What?" You giggled, interlocking his hair in your fingers, trying to focus on the screen projected in the front.

"Can't I just stare at my-" He cut the sentence halfway, turning his face away to the movie. A scene of love confession was going on, the two main leads were oblivious, still in a denial, and you could swear that watching porn instead of that would have been way easier for you.

At least five times, if not more, Jeno looked up at you in the hope that you would say something, but you chose to ignore him like life troubles, as if they went away with your ignorance. And wasn't romance trouble too? You thought to yourself. No matter how bad you wanted Jeno, the more you thought of confessing, the more you denied your feelings.

No, it would still not count as love.

"Be careful where you go!" Someone's screams jolted you back to reality. "I'm sorry." You walked away.

"Y/N!" You turned your head toward the source, Jeno. He was already outside, waiting for you.

"Here!" He shouted.

You began to move in the direction of the blanket, pillows, and woven basket of food that he had already spread out on the floor.

He patted on a spot, asking you to take a seat.

"Jeno, this is a study date." You asserted while raising one of the soft pastel green pillows loaded with fur.

"Because of the way the brain functions, we need to get some rest before engaging in any kind of mental training." He laughed.

"How do you plan to sleep here, it's 11 am?" You pushed him away, laying beside him.

"Hmm because you kept me from getting any sleep last night." Right near to your ear, he whispered.

"I could say the same." You exhaled.

"Yo! Lovebirds, and then you guys say you are not in love." You cocked your head to the side only to see Chenle.

"Come, sit." You said getting up.

"I'm in a rush, Jeno I needed you to help me." He declared.

"With?" You questioned.

"You already forgot? Do you need a second invitation?" Chenle teased you while you were still confused.

"I told you I'm throwing a party tonight, nothing too fancy."

"Will there be booze?" Haechan jumped into the scene, startling you.

"Everything, Jeno!" He pulled him by the arm until he succeeded in taking him away.

"Hmmm." Haechan hummed.

"What now?" You questioned.

"I don't know what kind of kinks you have but sleeping under the open sky here at the campus is definitely a bad idea." The only thing holding him up was his elbow, he said as he laid down.

"You don't get to speak crude things just because you're single." You flicked at his forehead.

"You are also single." He was obviously on something today since everything he said struck you right in the heart; if it weren't for the luxury of being your closest friend, he may have gotten into trouble.

"Whatever." You shrugged him off.

You were in your room later that evening, contemplating what to wear to the party. Other significant life decisions were open questions for someone who struggled to make decisions about their clothing.

You saw a text from your mother when the phone's alerts appeared, but you chose to ignore it. Knowing what it would be, the wisest course of action was to ignore it once again.

Haechan also phoned, but because you were adamant that nothing would spoil this evening and Jeno was on the way, the two of you chose to go together.

KNOCK KNOCK! The door signalled a visitor, your favourite one.

"Jaemin Na—who the hell is he?" Before you could even see Jeno's face, he hissed. You were taken aback. How did he know about him? You never told him, did you?

"What- who told yo- Jeno what?" You sounded muddled.

"Come inside, let's sit down and speak about it." You suggested it after noticing the others in the hallway, and he stepped in.

"Who is he?" Jeno was tearing up, gripping you by your arms. Meanwhile, you thought of a thousand different excuses. There was no way you wanted Jeno to know who Jaemin was.

He was sobbing when you glanced up, but he was in a subtle rage. Why? Not as if he was yours. The two of you had nothing official, only lingering feelings and this would be the complete opposite of whatever was, and would happen between you and Jaemin.

You kissed Jeno impulsively, not knowing what else to do. And he kissed you back, roughly.

Two bodies breathing heavily, crying, yet never breaking the tongue contact. You were so mad at him, and surely he felt the same.

You pushed Jeno onto the bed, his eyes never meeting yours as you straddled him, sitting on his lap, forcing him to lay on his back.

"This is all because of you." He grunted.

"Oh, so now you are going to say this too?" You bit his neck, earning a groan from him. His hands rushed up and down your waist all the way back.

You ripped apart his black shirt, and moments later his pants met with the same fate.

You kissed and bit every part of his body like some bloodthirsty vampire, with zero control over yourself. The bed was a weird mix of fluids, including the sweat from the heat and the tears from the pain. Maybe they were right when they said sex was a great escape mechanism.

"Fuck you!" Jeno cursed, you had not seen him like this anytime before.

"You literally will."

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