#i think i just removed the shadow and used my default eyes to fit my sim style

[fizzytoo]

catndog gfs (pepper & sam) w @buttertrait🐱🐶

[simtanico]

Hi! I don't know if this is an annoying/difficult question, sorry if it is, but do you have any advice at all for modelling sims based off real people? Your sims are SO crazy good. When I try to make them they end up looking... eh... Vaguely like the person? But there's a huge gap between that and some kind of 'spark' some simmers seem to manage to capture.

Hello! Definitely not annoying. Difficult, as in how difficult it is to answer? Maybe. I'm gonna go off on a couple of tangents. But I'm gonna try my best to explain the process. Which isn't really much of one sorry.

There's a handful of tutorials and tips out there regarding reference photos and like... proportions and all that so I won't cover that.

I use that as a general guide of course, but mostly I just save some photos of the person at various angles and focus on one feature or two at a time. Literally going back and forth between reference photo and my game. I think if you try to get everything at the same time, it really makes it easy to get frustrated with whatever your sim looks like at the moment. Making sims in general is a combination of a LOT of things depending on your style.

I can point out ALL the flaws with my sims based on real people. In my experience, it’s about getting the defining features of a person close enough to the real thing so that it resembles them. I don't think you need a complete copy to get the point across, however i do think some people and features are harder to emulate than others. I've been working on some sims for YEARS, and they still don't work out lol

and take a look at this progression on my sim based on Z4ne H0ltz starting back in 2015!

that first screenshot:

Personally, I get a little lost if I work on a sim too much all at once. I find some time away makes me less tired and frustrated. Just pace yourself :)

Also if you need any help, shoot me a message here or on discord. I promise I don't judge or anything.. it's sims who cares lol

TO START...

I suggest starting with the head and its shape. Starting off with a game-generated sim, the first slider I get to is head width. It's usually too dang wide for my tastes. And then adjusting the general position of the the features. You can always change things later, so you don't have to know exactly what you're going to do, but as I've mentioned before, sculpting sims up in CAS is just practice with sliders! Also in the long run, you may want to use Pu+Chi House's Smooth Face Normals slider! I attempt to explain and show what it does here. I've uploaded the slider here: https://simfileshare.net/download/984204/

This is gonna be a doozy sorry in advance if the read more doesn't work

SLIDERS SLIDERS SLIDERS

Big sliders like Pu+Chi House’s face shape sliders dramatically change the face shape, and it could save you a lot of time! I highly suggest using these to get rid of the weird large jaw sims can get.

Play with different sliders and how they interact with one another! Example: jaw width and Cheek Fullness affect the same area. if you need a wide jaw and don’t want cheek distortion, you can use cheek fullness, lower the jaw width slider and then edit the cheekbones from there

 Knowing what sliders move what and how it can work to your advantage is key! I cover this in my reply post about noses.

For visual reference:

I start out with my nose but I want the nostrils to sit further on the outside

so i go in and use the nose width slider and raise it to widen the lower nose:

Then lower the nostril scale slider

Comparison:

as you can see, i kind of achieved what I wanted, but also widened the nose tip too! Welp, that takes another slider I have, Tip Width. And I'll adjust that accordingly! It's really just a matter of what you're going for and what you're going to have to compensate for as a result!

That said, our community has made some awesome sliders that open up so many possibilities and even eliminate the need to do that multi-slider tango. I wouldn't even know where to begin (wish I wanted to make videos because I could talk for an hour about sliders)

For example @pitheinfinite made sliders that can make sims look better and more realistic, I'm jealous at what they've achieved!

They have their Inner Corner to Nose slider that moves an area of the sim's face hat make eyebags and the shadows and lines appear farther out from the inner eye. It saves you from having to use cheek sliders to mimic the effect and thus ruining the face shape you have going

It's truly an INDISPENSABLE slider. One of many!

Since I make sliders, I usually just make some to specifically fix whatever issue I'm having. Granted they're made with general function in mind, which makes my cheater-y way of making things happen more useful in the future. I have about 50 experimental unfinished sliders in my game and can tell you that all my current sims use them for some reason or other. So I'm not working with nothing, I guess?

EYE SPY 👁

The best way to really get nice accurate looking sims is the eyes.

Pay attention to the slant of the eye, the shape and position of the upper and lower eyelids. you can use the game’s Eyelid Height slider, and AWT’s Eyelid width and height sliders (and many more)

and especially where the iris (green) sits relative to the eyelid. getting that shape and eyeball positioned correctly really makes a HUGE difference

I do suggest Bloom’s Eye slider (left and right) that rotate the eyes left and right. That along with their Lazy eye sliders can give your sims a less symmetric face and position the eyes to be FAR more accurate and realistic than the default.

I also recommend their vertical sliders (Eye lift or drop) to help with eye positioning.

I can't stress the importance of the right contacts or eyes for your sims. Of course it all depends on how you make your sims's eyes and all that. Take the last sim i posted about. It took forever and a half to find the right contacts that didn't need severe or intense editing to capture the same vibe the person he's based on. The problem is pretty persistent for me, and I am just speaking for myself when I say this is necessary. Iris size, shading, recolorability, detail, catch lights, and pupil position are things to consider for your play style and preferences.

In addition to seeing what eyes will do the trick, I do edit the catch lights in the screenshots to give the eyes a different emotion or look. (I use defaults that get rid of the game-generated catch lights, and supernatural eye glow.) It's nice when that's all it is and I don't have to go in and photoshop things in and out to make them look human lmao

Perfect, schmerfect

And just know that as long as you have the same vibe or look going on it doesn't need to be perfect! Things will evolve over time, and you can change and perfect things as you go along, but close is better than trying to achieve an exact replica. We are working with the limitations of sliders and the optimized meshes they work on! So yeah there might be jagged bits or the profile might not exactly match and some things might not be accurate, but that's okay! Considering what sims look like at their default, you should be proud! I use the same mf eyebrows on all my sims basically and I tell myself they're just placeholders (yeah, right), but I manage to make them work with what I have!

Sliders, Makeup, and Skins, oh my!

a good base skin is critical, but not the end of the world if you pick the wrong one. They determine kind of definition and types of features highlighted on a sim 100000% and you might lose a feature you like or dislike when you change them! Feel free to switch up between skins you have to find the best fit.

Makeup can be a game-changer though!!! Any details you can add and help make your sim look the most like the person you're basing them off can go MILES.

In some cases, I've actually gotten really interesting results trying to get my sculpt as close as possible to real life references so the makeup makes a difference but don't define the features by themselves. Still, though, I utilize makeup up a LOT. [remember that if you use Nraas, you can layer makeup. Right-clicking makeup will also remove it if it's applied :)]

Here's the last sim i posted about when removing makeup:

no nosemasks really replicates the face-claim's nose (too shiny at the lower part) but it'll do 🤷‍♀️

Freckles, eyebags, highlighters, face shadows, pores, nosemasks, etc are all great!!

The way you move your sliders WILL effect how these look, so don't rely on makeup that adds super-specific detail or goes over an area you know is a jumbled mess because of sliders!

I do have a mess of recommendations and wcifs for skins and makeup. replies tag | wcif tag

[also I love compiling wcif cc lists for my sims it's great]

Finally, I appreciate your comment about my sims, mainly because I know they're not ever really exact copies or as close as I want to be to their real life counterparts, so thanks!! I've seen fellow simmers get really good results without messing as much as I do and I love when people can make really good maxis match likenesses because it's just so damn cool! It's truly a talent. I'm not one of those lucky few, but I like to try my way at it anyway. After what feels like some good progress I'll post a pic here. Even after doing this forever I don't feel like I'm an expert or can get good results in a shorter amount of time, but it's just fun to see the progression (or regression) of how my sims look.

[texanredrose]

Soooo, lots of interesting ones in there, but Long Term Investment... Fae-Yang?? :eyes:

Fae Yang who really isn't good at this whole Fae magic thing.

Yang watched as the woman knelt before her, head bowed. A human desperate for a solution had come to her part of the woods, begged of her a boon, and accepted her price; every now and again, someone would come and ask for something fantastic, but this was the first time someone had actually accepted her terms straight away. Yang… hadn’t decided how she felt about it quite yet.

“Deal,” she said, head still bowed and voice somber. “You have my word.”

“Okay,” she replied, catching the casual tone and correcting herself while clearing her throat. Raven had drummed it into her head for years that the fae had a certain air about them that they had to maintain. “Very well. When you return home tonight, your mother will be in pristine health again. It will be like she never fell ill at all. Even the memory of her suffering will fade.”

“Thank you.” The woman looked up then, peerless blue eyes peering at her through white bangs that fell across the right side of her face. “Perhaps now, things can truly change.” She got to her feet, slightly taller than the fae in her polished boots. “With my mother capable of retaking the crown, our kingdom has hope again.”

“I just hope the price won’t prove to be too high.” She always hated that part. Mages could use magic without any stipulations but the fae had to be paid. Even now, she could feel a thread as a bit of her innate magic worked its way to the woman’s mother, ready to begin healing her and it would continue to prolong the woman’s life until the price was paid. Then… well, some fae revoked all their magic, and whatever calamity they were asked to do or undo would flow like a river with its dam removed. Yang never liked that; it didn’t make sense to her. It seemed… rude and petty. “I guess we just have to wait and see.”

“Indeed.” A few moments passed in silence, the two of them just… staring at each other. “So… when do we begin?”

“Begin?” Yang rose a brow, confused. “Begin what?”

“You said you wanted my firstborn as payment.”

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly. “And… you agreed to that.”

“Of course. Now, when do we start?” The woman looked around, a small frown touching her lips. “I’ll admit, this isn’t the most erotic location but I suppose it will do.”

First, Yang considered why the inherent eroticism of her woodland home- not much, really, just a hollowed out burrow beneath an old tree, the entrance between two twisted roots- would be a topic for conversation warranting a comment.

Then, the pieces clicked into place.

“I… wait.” She blinked, trying to get a handle on what was going on while waving her hands in front of her. “Do you think- me and you- are you saying- what are you trying to say, here?”

“Well, you want a child, so I assume-”

“I don’t want a child, first off-”

The woman’s expression pinched into one of annoyance. “Then why make that your price?”

“Because it’s tradition!” She took a few steps back, trying to put a bit of distance between them. In the dark of early evening, she almost wished she didn’t have bright blonde locks cascading down her back; it would make disappearing into the shadows slightly more feasible. “Look, I don’t even like asking for something in return, okay? We just- we have to, it’s how fae magic works! I’ve always been told that asking for the firstborn is the, uh… like… default option. Then, most people, ya know, haggle.”

The human seemed genuinely perplexed for a moment before her expression turned thoughtful. “I see… well… if I’m honest, I’m not sure if I’ve made the right decision in that case. Giving a child to someone who doesn’t want one… I can’t imagine the child will be well taken care of by that person.”

Yang bristled at that, tempted to close the distance as her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Hey, don’t jump to conclusions! I basically raised my sister; I don’t mind having a kid or taking care of one.” At that point, she became aware of the flush to her cheeks becoming even hotter. “I’m just- I’m not going to just sleep with you to satisfy the terms of the deal, okay?”

For a moment, the woman seemed genuinely surprised. “Are you saying I have to woo you first?”

“What? How did- where are you drawing these conclusions from!?” The human moved back, likely reacting to her fae heritage shining through; without looking, she could tell her outburst of anger had turned her eyes from soft lilac to burning red as her hair began moving like a wildfire.

“I didn’t mean to insult you; I just don’t have many prospects and I imagine you’d rather have this debt settled sooner as opposed to later.”

Despite the anger still rolling through her, she could at least show genuine surprise at that statement. “How can someone like you not have any prospects?”

While the woman didn’t possess the supernatural beauty of the fae, she was attractive by human standards. Hair like moonlight, eyes like a frozen lake, tall and rigid and a bit too formal with sharp features and a smooth gait- Yang had seen many half as fair find partners without trouble, and humans always prized beauty, even when they claimed to be immune to its charms. She shouldn’t have any trouble finding a partner.

Yet, the wry smile on her lips begged to differ. “Let’s just say, those who are interested have all the wrong reasons.” Then, she looked around. “Are you confined to this area of the woods?”

“I… guess.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Yang leaned back against her home, watching the woman carefully. Raven had warned her that humans would sometimes try to outsmart the fae once a deal had been struck. As long as whatever trick she planned to pull didn’t harm Yang or her harm, she rightly wouldn’t care if the woman somehow found a loophole. “This is where I live and I’m not supposed to leave my home unattended.”

“I see.” A hum. “I must return home before my mother will be healed, correct?”

“Yeah. That’s part of the deal.”

“Do I have to stay home for her to be healthy?”

“N-no.”

A nod and a glance towards the sky above, obscured by the leaves of the tree, before she spoke. “Then, I must take my leave.” The woman drew herself to her full height and bowed at the waist, her hand over her heart. “Good evening, Miss Sunbeam of the fae, and farewell.”

“Yeah, take care... Princess.” She hated not knowing the woman’s name but names were powerful things to the fae. Humans were long warned not to impart such sensitive information to her kind. It was a wise decision but it just highlighted the inherent tragedy in her birthright. Rather that leave it at just the title, though, Yang decided to assign a fitting name, as she usually did. “Moonlight.” The woman stopped, looking back with a raised brow. “Uh… sorry. About the miscommunication. I didn’t mean to make you think that, uh, you had to sleep with me.”

A surprisingly soft smile. “Nothing to worry about, Miss Sunbeam. It wasn’t what I would call a threat.”

As the woman left the small clearing in front of her home, the fae found herself conflicted about the whole ordeal. She was happy the woman’s mother would recover… but now she wondered what she’d do when her payment came due. Not that she wouldn’t take care of the child, of course; she didn’t know how she’d handle taking the child from someone.

It scratched at a wound not yet healed and she instead turned her train of thought away from it and retreated to her burrow.

[echo-bleu]

map out a world

I fell in love with Alec and my brain had decided that he's autistic by 1x02, and this is the result. It's basically just 6.7k of Alec finding his inner autistic and Magnus being supportive. Huge thanks to @moonlight-breeze-44 for checking it over and being amazingly supportive.

CWs: there's more than a bit of internalized ableism on Alec's part in this, and some self-injurious stims.

-

1.

By now, Alec is fairly sure Magnus is trying to tell him something.

It's all about the books. It was sweet to discover, early on in their relationship, that Magnus absolutely loves reading Mundane fiction. It's partly because there's no such thing as Shadow World fiction, Alec knows. There are books of history, of legends and tales, but no modern fiction. Shadowhunters are too busy raising soldiers to care for anything cultural that isn't related to being obsessed over their heritage, and most Downworlders are either integrated enough into mundane society to adopt most of their culture, or not human enough to care for something as simple as books.

Magnus also grew up at a time were books were exceedingly rare and entirely out of his reach − he didn’t learn to read before he was over fifty years old − so discovering the imaginary worlds of the Mundanes was all the sweetest to him. He has a habit of opening the door of almost every bookshop he passes by, just to look and smell the books, and almost always comes out with a couple of new novels. He also reads at lightning speed, so he often immediately donates the books he doesn't want to keep to the closest refugee charity.

Alec loves learning about his quirks, and he's followed Magnus into more than one unassuming bookshop around the world during their dates. For some reason, Magnus especially loves crime books and the soapiest romances. But it's not something that they share.

Walking into the loft, Alec eyes the new pile of books on the coffee table, that he knows for a fact wasn’t there this morning when he left for work. He kicks off his shoes and drops beside Magnus on the couch, just shy of touching him. Magnus looks up from his paperback and extends an inviting arm, so Alec ducks under it to rest against his side.

Magnus knows to squeeze him just tight enough, making Alec sigh softly. The sun is barely rising, and it's been a long night at the Institute. Alec is glad to be home, finally. “What are you reading?” he asks when he feels steady enough to speak.

Magnus wordlessly shows him the cover. Neurotribes, Alec reads. The legacy of autism− that's not Magnus' usual reading material. It's been happening more and more, lately, Magnus switching from terrible romances to non-fiction. He started with LGBT history books, a few months ago. Pride flags started to make random appearances around the loft, and there's now a whole shelf of books, most of them rainbow-colored in some way, behind Magnus' desk. He told Alec about the parts of that history that he lived, and the ones that no book ever talked about, the lovers he had that would never be remembered, the people who'd fought for their rights from the shadows.

Then he switched to books about therapy. About trauma, PTSD, child abuse. Alec frowned at that, but he figures that Magnus has plenty of bad childhood memories. He still thinks about how rattled Magnus was, that time the agony rune brought his mother's death back up. If books can help him process that, then good for him, right?

This is new. There are half a dozen new books beside Magnus' glass, and they’re all about autism. It doesn't seem like something Magnus would research for himself−or is it? No. “Why?” Alec asks.

Magnus shrugs. “It's enlightening,” he says.

“Autism?”

“I think it could explain some things. And these ideas, about neurology being as diverse as sexuality, or skin color? I like it.”

Alec nods at the second part − it does seem like an interesting concept. Maybe he'll ask about it more, when he's not so tired. “Explain what?” he still asks.

“You should try reading them.”

“Magnus, I don't−”

Magnus stops him by squeezing his shoulder tighter. “I know. It's fine. I'll just keep reading, and share thoughts, maybe.”

“Okay,” Alex says softly. He still doesn't get it, but if it's something Magnus is interested in, then he's willing to listen. Always. He puts his hand over Magnus' on his shoulder, running his fingers over the warm silver rings.

Like a great many of their hobbies, it isn’t something they share. Alec doesn't read for fun. He reads action reports and Clave memos and equipment order forms, but he doesn't read books. It's not something he enjoys.

Or maybe that's not true, not exactly. He used to love reading, as a child in Idris. He'd get his hands on every history book he could find, heavy volumes bound in dusty leather, and devour his way through them. That is, until Jace came along.

Jace who didn't like books. He and Izzy got right along, wanting nothing more than to spar in the training room or run outside every chance they got. Alec knows now that it's not true, that Jace enjoyed reading before Valentine made even that into a lesson, a punishment, but back then he turned it on Alec, mocking him cruelly in the way only a child can every time he caught him with his nose inside a book. Alec never cared too much about the other children's taunts, but from Jace, who was better than him at everything, including at pleasing Alec's parents, it was different. So he stopped. He started following Jace and Izzy everywhere they went, and in the little time he had free, he perfected the one thing that was still his own: archery.

He hasn't read a book cover to cover since he was eleven. Magnus tried to get him to read at bedtime, but he'll just pull up work papers. Fiction is an escape he doesn't need (doesn't deserve).

“Are you tired?” Magnus asks when Alex sighs softly at where his thoughts are going.

“A little,” Alec admits.

“How about you go rest for a bit while I get breakfast ready?”

Alec nods. As much as he'd love to stay in Magnus' arms, he's been interacting with people all night, and more than just his siblings, now that he has to coordinate all the Shadowhunter teams going out. He probably needs some time to sort himself out.

Magnus initiates the move his brain is struggling with, hoisting them both up off the couch. He gives Alec one last squeeze − his hold lower on Alec's back, now that they're standing, and it gives Alec goose bumps − and wanders off toward the kitchen, his book abandoned on the couch. Alec shakes himself and makes his way to their bedroom. Without letting himself think too much about it, he grabs the first book of the pile on the coffee table as he goes.

He stays immobile in front of the bed for a full minute, trying to decide if he can curl up under the blanket even though he's still dressed. Undressing doesn't seem worth it. He compromises by only removing his pants, since his jacket is already off, and keeping his shirt on. He takes his stele out of his pocket before getting into bed and keeps it in his hand, mindlessly running his fingers up and down the textured metal handle. He sets the paperback by his head and stares at it, thinking.

He's not always good at reading between the lines, but he's not obtuse, either. He's seen the pattern. Magnus' reading choices and his gentle encouragements to look at the books have coincided directly, and a part of Alec knows that Magnus wasn't looking up PTSD in child soldiers for himself, however much he doesn't want to acknowledge it. It's him reaching out, trying to understand, even though Alec doesn't believe it's quite the right way of going at it.

He's not traumatized. Sure, he was raised a soldier, but Mundane categories don't apply. Mundanes are more fragile, aren't they? They don't heal as easily as Shadowhunters, even physically. Beside, Jace had it so much worse than Alec growing up, and he's fine. Mostly.

This new phase, though, it's more of a surprise. Sure, they've acknowledged, together, that neither of them is quite normal. Their queerness took a back seat, in Downworlder and Shadowhunter eyes alike, to the mixed nature of their couple, but they stand out like a sore thumb everywhere they go, even in the Mundane world. Magnus stands out largely by choice, by his fashion choices, but Alec has come to realize that those are an armor as much as they're a statement. He envies Magnus, sometimes, for how easy it is to him to reject the norm, to refuse to conform.

Alec stands out by default. It's just who he is, the one who never quite fits. His size makes him visible when he wishes he could disappear into the background, and his constant awkwardness attracts attention he doesn't want. He's tried so hard to obey all the rules, to be perfect, the son his parents tried to mold him into, the brother his siblings could be proud of, but he failed, again and again. Something in him is just...not right.

Broken.

Different, not broken,  the book's subtitle jumps out at him, on the spine. Alec almost rolls his eyes at the truism. Yes, sure, different. Different enough that he can never be what's expected of him, that it interferes with his duty. Dating Magnus is one thing, a violation of the norm he will allow himself, because he can see that the norm is the one that's wrong there. Downworlders aren't less than Shadowhunters, so why should their relationship be frowned upon? And Alec knows plenty of queer people, by now. He knows they're not broken. Magnus' beautiful soul certainly isn't broken.

But Alec is. Not because he’s gay, but because he’s  a b normal.

“Alexander?”

Alec starts at the noise and recoils, just a little. Magnus is standing close, though Alec hasn't heard him approach. The concern in his eyes tells Alec that it's not the first time Magnus has called his name. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Breakfast can wait, if you'd rather sleep.”

“No, I'm coming.” Alec doesn't think he can sleep, now that his mind has slid down this path.

He leaves the paperback on his bedside table.

 2.

The subject doesn't come up again for another few weeks. The book remains on Alec's nightstand, and he actually finds himself skimming it. Magnus doesn't push once. He leaves the pile of other books on the coffee table, and more join them when he stops at a bookstore on one of their walks, but he doesn't insist on Alec reading them.

But something changes. It's in the little things, barely perceptible unless Alec pays attention. Magnus' behavior toward him changes slightly. He asks for permission before touching him. He seems to recognize when Alec is stuck, and manages to gently steer him into action. He stops himself mid-sentence to reword his questions in a clearer way.

The first time Alec notices, really sees what Magnus is trying to do, he panics. He's pretty sure that isn't at all what Magnus intended when he pulled out a fidget toy and offered it to Alec, for him to lock himself in the bathroom and have a panic attack.

“Darling, please let me in,” Magnus says through the door. He could just use his magic and ignore the lock, but he doesn't. Alec is relieved, confusedly, through the buzzing in his ears, and yet a little disappointed. He clasps his hands over his ears, even though the loft is nearly silent and the noise he's hearing comes from inside.

“Alexander!” Magnus calls again, still softly but with an edge. Alec freezes, his breathing suddenly going from erratic to perfectly controlled, even though the pounding in his ears intensifies. Magnus is angry with him. He should be. By all rights, he should have already broken in, or be long gone.

“Let me in, Alec.” Magnus is not soft anymore, but commanding. The change in address isn't lost on Alec, either. Magnus only drops his habit of using his full name when something's really wrong.

Alec swallows. He picks himself up and takes two steps toward the door. He keeps his face angled away from the brightness of the bathroom window, but he checks his posture before he sticks out his hand to undo the lock. He hurriedly steps back, close to the wall, hands clasped behind his back.

Magnus pushes the door in, taking in the bathroom quickly until he settles on Alec. Alec keeps his eyes trained straight forward, just above Magnus' head.

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus breathes.

Alec itches to wring his hands, but he's long learned to stay still. He waits, instead. Waits for Magnus to tell him that it's over, that this is too much.

He thought things were going fairly well. Magnus let him be as close to honest as Alec dares to be, these days. Before he knew it, Alec found himself relaxing around him, not bothering to watch his every move. He thought maybe it was because they come from such different cultures. Magnus doesn't know what's expected of a Shadowhunter, just like Alec knows very little about Warlocks, so maybe his eccentricities passed for cultural difference. But he was wrong, wasn't he?

Magnus knows, and he's trying to figure out what's wrong with Alec. That's the reason for the books. He's trying to fix him, and soon enough he's going to realize that there's no fixing this.

Or maybe he already has.

Magnus approaches him slowly, telegraphing his moves.

“I really messed this up, didn't I?” he murmurs.

Alec frowns. This is unexpected. “What?” is the only thing he manages to get past his lips, though. He wants to apologize, to beg maybe, but the words won't even come.

“I only meant to help. I didn't want to scare you.”

“I'm not scared,” Alec replies immediately, almost automatically. He is.

Magnus' hands are open in front of him, in full view, the fidget toy gone. Not that it matters. It's just a catalyst, not the actual problem.

“Tell me what you need,” Magnus offers. His voice is soft again, sad like his eyes. Alec wants to step back, but he's backed himself into the wall. He shakes his head without a word.

“Okay, okay, you don't have to tell me. Do you want space? Do you want me to go?”

Alec should say yes. He should hide far away from Magnus until he's fully in control again and then pretend nothing happened, until the next time he messes up, and the next time, the day Magnus can't deal with him anymore.

He can't.

He shakes his head again, looking away. His left hand is gripping his right so hard at his back that he can barely feel his fingers.

Magnus stays still. “I'm not leaving,” he says. “You can relax. I'm not going to try anything, Alexander.”

Alec hates that he needs this reassurance. He hates acting like this, like a child, like an abnormality, and yet he can't help it. He hates that even the thought of Magnus touching him makes his skin crawl and yet the idea of him leaving makes him want to reach out so bad. The conflict is enough to leave him immobile, incapable of choosing a course of action.

He doesn't know how long it's been, since he bolted into the bathroom. Magnus' face holds infinite patience, and that's why Alec can't look at it.

He knows that by ‘relax’ Magnus means for him to drop the parade stance he still takes without thinking about it, that always puts Magnus on edge. It is a relaxed stance, theoretically − but it's not the same, to someone who wasn't raised a Shadowhunter, is it? Alec forces himself to untangle his hands and let them fall to his sides, but then he doesn't know what to do with them. It feels wrong, to have them hanging there, touching nothing. The sudden blood flow in his fingers hurts.

“I'm sorry,” Magnus says in a low voice, and he sounds unsure, more hesitant than he's been so far. That makes Alec look at him−or at least somewhere on his face, close to the eyebrows.

“For what?” Alec frowns. He's the one who should be apologizing.

“I don't know exactly what I did wrong, but something I did made you panic. I'm sorry.”

Alec shakes his head in frustration. “You−No, you−You know,” he blurts out. “You know I'm...and you want to fix me.”

Magnus freezes. “No, no, Alexander. You've got it backward. Yes, I know you're different. I always knew.”

Alec blinks. “You did?”

“Yes, of course. But I don't want to fix you. I love you the way you are.”

Alec frowns. He tried so hard to be a version of himself that could be loved − he does believe Magnus. It's just that Magnus hasn't seen the ugly parts yet. He will bail, when he does.

Except− I never wanted you to see this  terrible,  ugly  side  of me. Maybe Magnus does know. Maybe…

“You are beautiful, Alexander.” Magnus takes a small step closer, still out of reach, but just inside Alec's space. Not intruding. Just...knocking on the door. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

The compliment glides over Alec, not really reaching him, but his own words mirrored back to him do. Magnus briefly drops his glamour, exposing his cat eyes, confirming silently that they're talking about the same thing.

“It's not−it's not the same,” Alec stammers.

“Is it not? You've seen the parts of me that are different, that I am ashamed of, and you looked me in the eyes and told me you loved me even then. Can I not do the same for you?”

Alec closes his eyes. “I'm not−” he starts, but the words aren't right. “Why are you reading all those books, then?” he asks instead. “If it's not to fix me?”

“Because I want to understand,” Magnus explains. He looks around him briefly, at the wall behind Alec, the open door, the sink. Then he seems to make a decision, and he plops down to the floor, crossing his legs under him.

Looking so far down at him, when they're so close, is quickly untenable, so Alec follows suit. He kneels first out of habit, but the position is just uncomfortable on the tiled floor, so he brings one of his legs up to rest his chin on his knee. Magnus gives him a smile.

“We're so different, you and I,” he says slowly. “We have very different life experiences. At first I thought that we'd just bridge that gap slowly as we got to know each other, but−”

“You think we're too different?” Alec hates how weak his voice sounds, how whiny.

“No,” Magnus stops him immediately. “But I...I started to get comfortable around you, and you amazed me every time you showed me that I didn't have anything to be ashamed of. You're incredible, Alexander. You make me feel...loved, even the parts of me that I could never love myself.” His eyes shine, and Alec dares a small grin, losing himself in that glow.

“You deserve all of it,” he murmurs.

“But so do you,” Magnus whispers. “And I realized that even as I lowered all my defenses, you never did.”

“I did,” Alec frowns.

“Yes, I think you did, as much as you can. But never all the way.”

The tiled plinth digs into the small of Alec's back uncomfortably. He leans into it.

“What do you mean?”

“It took me a while to realize that you don't do it consciously. Hide who you are, I mean. It's just your default. The books, they call it 'masking'.”

“I'm not hiding,” Alec frowns. Is he? He's not lying.

Magnus leans in toward him. “You don't let yourself be. You're always controlling how you move and how you speak, so that you look more normal. Aren't you?”

Alec stares for a moment, trying to make sense of the moves Magnus' lips make as his brain struggles to process the words. “I don't−I don't know,” he admits. Is he not supposed to do that? Self-control is the first lesson Shadowhunters learn, and it's deeply ingrained in him.

He looks down at his hand. He's unconsciously stuck it in the fold of his leg, under his knee, and it's now red and bears the mark of his pants' seams. He tucks it behind his back in shame.

“You shouldn't have to do that,” Magnus says softly. “I'm not asking you to change. I just want to understand so I can...meet you in the middle. You go out of your way to accommodate me and my idiosyncracies, all the time. I want to be able to do that for you too.”

Alec stares at him, speechless. Magnus stares back, avoiding his eyes as if he knows direct eye contact makes him uncomfortable. “Will you let me try?”

 3.

Magnus tries. Alec tries to let him. It doesn't go particularly smoothly.

Letting go of decades worth of strict conditioning isn't that easy, especially when you're not sure at all that you want to. When maybe it's the only thing holding you together.

If it really is a mask, then who is Alec once it is taken off? How does he own up to the parts of him he doesn't allow to pierce through, even behind closed doors?

Is there anything left of him that wasn't ripped away by training?

He's better off going on like he always has, he decides the third time a casual gesture from Magnus makes him panic. It doesn't send him gasping into a tight corner of the bathroom this time, because fuck, Alec has better control of himself than that. He just freezes in place until Magnus hurriedly backs off. He just thinks about nothing else for the rest of the day.

He just hates himself a little more.

“Alexander,” Magnus says softly that night, as Alec slides into bed with him. Dread pools in Alec’s stomach, a sharp contrast with the softness of the satin sheets around him. He pulls the weighted blanket over himself, even though a part of him want to deny himself this comfort.

Magnus noticed his slip-up earlier, because how could he not? Alec feels awful about hurting him every time he shies away from a kind and thoughtful gesture.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he makes the first move. It’s easier than staring at his hands and waiting for the blow.

At the edge of his vision, Magnus’ eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“I tried to stop. I tried to be more...natural, or something, like you said. But I can’t.”

Magnus tilts his head slightly, but doesn’t say anything. Alex can’t bring himself to look up at him, and he doesn’t know anymore if it’s because he’s ashamed, or simply because sometimes looking at Magnus, at his beauty and his shine and his compassion, is too much.

“I don't know how to do it,” he sighs. “This is who I am, Magnus. I need this...control, this grip on myself to function, otherwise I just fall apart. I don't know how to be anything else.”

“Alexander, I'm not asking you to be.”

Alex looks up in surprise, briefly meeting glamoured brown eyes. But Magnus’ eyes, real shape or not, are not where he gets his cues – they’re too intense, too confusing. No, it’s in the slight tilt of his mouth, the way his hand plays with the golden sheet, the furrow in his brow. Alec relaxes minutely.

“You’re not?”

“It would be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?” Magnus smiles softly, dropping his glamour. “All I want is for you to be comfortable, to be happy.”

Alec gently slips his arm under Magnus’ head in place of his pillow, feeling the weight of his boyfriend settle in the crook of his elbow. There’s a measure of relief there, the part of himself that always waits for the other shoe to drop, for the moment Magnus will tire of him, contented for now. “I am comfortable,” he murmurs. “Happier than I’ve ever been. There’s always going to be days that are harder than others.”

“Of course,” Magnus smiles. “But I want to do everything in my power to make even those a little less bad for you. I actually had a thought.”

“Um?” Now that his tension is fading a little, Alec feels like he could fall asleep. He shakes himself a little to stay attentive to Magnus’ words.

“What if it’s not about you changing something, dropping some kind of mask, but about adding something?”

“What do you mean?” Alex frowns, struggling to follow.

Magnus shifts a little against his arm, and grabs his hand. Rather than caress it with the tips of his fingers, like he sometimes likes to do, he squeezes it between his own hands.

“The things you do to...regulate yourself, your emotions, your...overloads,” Magnus starts. Alec can tell that he’s hesitating because he’s afraid of freaking him out, not because he doesn’t know how to word it. “They’re important. Necessary.”

Alec opens his mouth to argue, but no words come. He can’t actually deny that. He might hate himself for needing it, for needing the finger biting or the rocking or the myriad other little things he does that are frowned upon, but it gets so much worse when he tried to forbid himself that comfort. That’s what gets him to the gym or up on the roof, training until his hands are dripping blood. It’s how he ends up screaming himself raw in his pillow, hitting his head against the headboard of his bed until he’s too lightheaded to continue.

“From what I understand,” Magnus says slowly, squeezing Alec’s hand tighter, probably to check that he’s still listening, “there’s much more to that than the impulses your parents tried to train you out of. It’s about regulating sensory inputs, but also about...interacting with your environment. And I thought that it’s something we could explore together. Try to find new things that help and comfort you, rather than change what you already do.”

Alec closes his eyes, trying to process the sentence. The shine of the golden satin sheets against the light, their mixed scents in the bed, Magnus’ skin against his, he wants to get rid of it all so he can understand what Magnus is saying. Instead, he turns his hand around until he’s the one holding Magnus’. Magnus hasn’t removed his rings before bed like he usually does, he notices absently as he starts playing with them.

Magnus gives him a tiny smile. “What are you thinking?” he asks.

“You’re not like me,” Alec says. “How can we do this together? I don’t want everything to be about me.”

“Of course not,” Magnus fake-scoffs. “You know I’d never let that happen.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “Right. Seriously, though.”

“I meant it, when I said I want to meet you in the middle. Right now, you do most of the work of coming in my direction and I let you, because I don’t understand or because this translation is second nature to you by now. But I want to move in your direction too. Learn about how you experience the world. And maybe take some of that pressure off of you.”

“Magnus–” Alec starts. He doesn’t know what he wants to say. He’s not sure he knows what Magnus’ words mean, but he knows that this is a gift he never expected. He’s never even entertained the idea of someone else wanting to know him to that extent.

“I don’t know what it’s like, to be different the way you are,” Magnus says, stroking his arm with the hand Alec isn’t playing with. “But as a Downworlder, and a South Asian man in America, and an openly bi man who wears makeup, I do know what it’s like to live in a world that isn’t built for you, that doesn’t welcome someone like you. And I know that it can be very lonely. But you’re not alone, Alexander. Not anymore.”

Alec doesn’t feel the tears running from his eyes until his vision starts blurring, but he sees them mirrored in Magnus’ eyes. “I don’t know what it’s like to be any of those things,” he murmurs. “But you’re not alone either.”

And that’s the greatest gift they can offer each other.

 4.

“I think you might enjoy this,” Magnus says in the morning, over breakfast, holding out a little box. It’s Alec’s day off, so they have plenty of time to enjoy the morning – and to talk things through. Last night’s conversation went a long way toward making Alec feel better, but there’s still plenty to discuss.

He takes the box Magnus just conjured and opens it. Inside is a toy shaped a little like a spring, with alternating segments of black and white steel. Alec takes it out and it comes apart like an endless serpent, the segments articulated with each other. “What is it?”

“It’s a fidget toy,” Magnus answers. “I believe it’s called a tangle. I tried to make it visually pleasing, they’re usually made of brightly colored plastic.”

Alex smiles. “What is it for, though?” he asks, but his hands have already figured it out. Unconsciously, he’s started to tangle it around his fingers, spinning the curved segments around to change its shape.

“Having something to do with your hands?” Magnus offers hesitantly. “Please tell me if it’s making you uncomfortable. I don’t want to-”

“No, it’s okay,” Alec interrupts him. “I like it.” Given the sheer amount of time he spends wringing his hands or worrying at his nails, it might even be useful, though he doesn’t think he can get away with carrying it around at the Institute. “What?” he asks when Magnus keeps staring at him.

“Nothing,” Magnus shakes his head. “I honestly wasn’t expecting this to go so smoothly.”

Alec hangs his head in shame. He’s been making Magnus’ life hard, with his stupid panic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think that I didn’t appreciate your efforts.”

“No, no. I kept springing it on you with no warning. I was wrong to try to do this without talking it through with you the whole way.” Magnus gestures toward the couch area, where the pile of books is still growing. “After reading all this stuff, I think I forgot that we weren’t on the same wavelength, that just because I thought I’d figured something out, it didn’t mean you were ready for me to act on it. I tried to make gestures to show you that I understand you but...well, the truth is that I don’t. I’ll never understand some of you, and some will take time for me figure out.”

Alec opens his mouth to protest, but Magnus holds out a hand. “But this isn’t about understanding,” he continues. “It’s about accepting. It’s about standing by you and supporting you no matter how little I understand what’s happening in your head. I was still trying to force these things on you because I thought that, since I’ve read those books, I knew something of what you might need, but I don’t. You do. I should have asked you.”

Alec stares and works his jaw, a little stunned. His hands have figured out how to restore the tangle to its original shape of a spring, and he swirls it around one finger. “Thank you,” he says eventually, at a loss for words. It’s a lot. Magnus’ openness, his apology, is far from anything he braced himself for, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Can I ask you one thing?” Magnus asks softly.

“Of course.” They still haven’t touched the breakfast they sat at the table for, but the beauty of magic is that they don’t need to worry about it getting cold.

“You didn’t react when I first got the books. Did you know what I was doing?”

Alec squeezes the tangle toy around his fingers, until it hurts a little. The pain helps him focus. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I never…I never had a word. For it. I've heard of autism, but I didn't...I don't know, make the connection? Not really. But then you...suddenly it was like...you were doing everything right. Things you shouldn't have known to do. Things that no one has ever done.”

He pauses, but Magnus doesn't try to speak, just lets him gather his thoughts.

“Like right now,” Alec chuckles. “Like you know that I struggle with talking sometimes. But you're not supposed to know that.”

“I'm not?” Magnus asks. “Because I knew, long before I read anything. I just didn't know what to do.”

Alec tilts his head. “You did?” They're going a little off track here, and he's lost the thread. But his surprise is real.

“Of course. You thought I never noticed?”

“People mostly don't. Except Izzy, she picks up on it more easily.”

“Then why is it so strange for me to pick up on it?” Magnus asks.

Alec shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t have a lot of expectations, coming into this relationship. I don’t have much to compare it to, you know?”

Magnus smiles. “Ah, right. Well, a life the length of mine gives you plenty of time to better understand the human psyche. And yet, you still surprise me every day.”

“Because I’m...autistic?” Alec feels his cheeks heat up. He’s never said the word before, never applied it to himself. It’s a strange feeling. It doesn’t roll quite right on his tongue, and yet it feels right, in a way. He’s autistic, and the implications of that are overwhelming.

“Because you’re autistic,” Magnus repeats pensively. “Because you’re selfless and beautiful and funny. Because you’re sarcastic and you say things I don’t expect, and you stand your own ground when by all rights you should be falling apart, and you fluster adorably when I try to flirt. Because you’re you, Alexander. And yes, your autism is a part of it.”

 5.

The changes are subtle, and they don’t make a huge impact on their relationship. Alec is incredibly relieved by that. Bit by bit, he stops expecting Magnus to realize that he’s too much to handle and get tired of him.

“I’m the one who’s usually too much,” Magnus tells him darkly, when Alec opens up about that particular fear.

There’s a well of emotions in his eyes when he says that that they’ll need to explore, at some point. Magnus has a lot of baggage, too, a long history of sticking out. Of being different. On days like this, Alec can’t remember how he ever thought that Magnus wouldn’t understand.

“It’s a good thing I can never get enough of you, then,” he offers simply, for now. Magnus isn’t ready to talk about it yet, about the people who’ve hurt him.

Magnus’ face softens immediately. “You really are a delight,” he smiles.

Alec beams at him and goes back to the book he’s holding. He’s very slowly making his way through the pile of books Magnus bought. Most of them aren’t meant to be read cover to cover anyway, and he’s currently picking through an anthology of texts by autistic writers.

He’s learning a lot. So much more than he expected, going in. He figured, he may not have had a word for it before, but he already knows himself, right? But there’s new words to put on things he’s never even thought about, new ideas to try, a whole new understanding of the world around him. Sure, he knows himself, but it turns out that he knows everyone else a lot less well than he thought he did.

And there is the new, incredible feeling of being understood. That there’s someone out there, a whole community of someones, who resemble him in the ways he always thought he was alone. For that alone, the books are worth everything. It’s akin to the feeling he had the first times he snuck away from the Institute, as a teenager, to go read gay romances in a secluded corner of the local library.

Magnus’ understanding is just as precious. He doesn’t push for anything, only supports Alec quietly. Even now, as they sit together on the couch reading, he’s attentive to the way Alec reacts to his touch, tightening his loose hold on Alec’s thigh as soon as Alec starts squirming in discomfort. He redirects Alec’s restless hand from tapping a pattern on his thigh toward his own beaded bracelets, offering them as a stim toy without even seeming to think about it.

Alec tries to focus on his book. The text is about flapping, and special education forbidding it. It’s poignant, but it’s not something Alec can really relate to. And yet, he’s been stuck on it for ten minutes, trying to pinpoint why his brain just won’t move on.

It finally comes in the form of memories. Stop  moving  your hands around and pay attention! Can’t you just  stay  still for once? It’s in Mom and Dad’s voices, in Hodge’s, every instructor Alec had before he successfully trained himself out of stimming and perfected his parade rest. He even heard it, full of annoyance, from Izzy – Jace came into their lives later, when Alex was already a good little soldier. But even know, his hands itch to clasp behind his back, and he unconsciously straightens his posture.

No.

“What’s wrong?” Magnus asks, seemingly casual, but Alec can tell that he’s paying close attention.

Alec shrugs, words failing him. How can he explain the storm of emotions inside him? His fingers twitch again and he stares at them, and behind them, at the book.

Flapping is the new terrorist-fist-bump, he reads.

Shadowhunters are always in full control of their movements, echoes in his head. A long-learned lesson. But no one ever asked of Izzy and Jace to stop laughing or joking or brooding or crying, not when they’re off the clock. That was only required of Alec. Because the way Alec behaves isn’t normal.

Because the way Alec communicates makes them uncomfortable.

Alec feels nausea gripping his stomach. He wants to cry, to scream – to move. “Alexander,” Magnus starts, sensing the change.

Alec shakes his head to stop him and he closes the book, firmly. “I want to try something,” he announces, like saying it aloud will unclench the part of him that’s rearing in terror right now.

“Go ahead, darling,” Magnus drawls, and maybe it’s the permission Alec needs.

He stares at his hand for a moment, and carefully, purposefully makes it flutter. It's like he doesn't know how, like something his body has forgotten how to do. He thinks of his bow, of the sting of the string against his fingers and flexes them, hitting the tips against his palm. The memory isn't quite there, but there's something, something right about it. His fingers find his other palm, his left hand, tapping softly there. He closes his right hand into a fist, and taps his knuckles against his left palm, listening to the soft noise it makes.

“How does it feel?” Magnus asks, his voice low like he doesn't want to interrupt the moment.

Alec shakes his head. “I don't know. It's like...I don't know how to do this. It doesn't feel natural.”

“You don't have to flap your hands to be autistic, you know. Or to be yourself.”

“I know, but...I think I could? I don't know if that makes sense.” He taps his hands some more, palm against palm, harder.

“It doesn't have to make sense,” Magnus smiles. “Just to feel right.”

Does it feel right? It feels ridiculous, childish, not suitable for a grown man. It feels like a rebellion, a fuck you to all the times he’s been told to sit still, to stop moving. It feels artificial and yet like it comes from deep inside at the same time. Something repressed and almost gone, an echo of a feeling long forgotten. Something he can learn again, and maybe learn himself in the process.

It feels forbidden. Terrifying.

It feels right.

[koorinohebi]

@super-kame-love

Continued From:

I am curious: how would you describe Kiomi's relationship with Jiraiya? And with Koji Kashin? What you've shared about them so far seems very interesting and I must know more!

+ + +

Sorry for breaking it into two different posts, Kame-san. The other one felt so long already.

Quick note: IF you haven't read or watched Boruto, this will definitely contain spoilers.

So for this second one, we have...

Kashin Koji

So the main reason I was interested in him was when rumors were floating around that Jiraiya or someone that resembles him is back in Boruto. One look at his design and I was like, yeah. Unmistakably related in one way or another. Lo and behold my friend, lo and behold.

I have 2 verses for Kashin Koji. One is the one where you often see me mention Takeda. That one is an on going RP with @ambitiousparagon, and the other one is a verse where I pen Koji myself. The one with Takeda is still in the works and currently still very unpredictable, so for this instance I'll talk about my own version of Kashin Koji, which actually...more than Kiomi being the main focus, I tend to lean more towards the man himself. This is heavily influenced by headcanons that are based on what I noticed his personality being based on what we know so far.

So when I first encountered Kashin Koji there was hardly anything on him, which is to say, still very true currently. He hasn't been seen in the manga after his crushing defeat against Isshiki, and in the anime, they've given him a voice, and we see how he acts, but ultimately it doesn't differ from what we've already read in the manga (if you or any of the ones reading this have read it).

So Kashin Koji is, despite being quite whimsical, a no nonsense kinda guy. So he is very...well, I wouldn't call it by the book, but as a shinobi, he chooses the most efficient way to carry out the mission, which is...by default, how Amado had initially programed him-- Not as a perfectionist, no, but as Isshiki would say it, Amado's programming of Kashin Koji rode on his maker clinging onto Jiraiya's mighty fate. However, with Jiraiya being the template, it's not a surprise if Koji would inherit the man's sentiments, principles, and even slight eccentricities as a Shinobi (which I believe Amado had predicted and saw as a weakness. He needs and creates tools as he sees fit, and he'll use whatever he can to further his agenda). Amado strives to emulate within Kashin Koji the "star of change" which Jiraiya possessed. As we know, thanks not only to the prophecy, but also due to Jiraiya's diligence in searching for that revolutionary that could change the world, he was able to bring together (in one way or another) three of the most powerful game changers that we have who affected the course of the current History. If they wanted to defeat Isshiki, he needed that kind of trick up his sleeve. Because however, Kashin Koji has imperfections, and someone Jigen had deemed weaker than he is (because Jigen told Amado to dispose of clones more powerful than he was), our good professor faces a setback and thus needs to come up with a new plan (going to the Hokage, and asking them to kill Isshiki instead while having Kashin Koji show them the "ropes" on how it's done).

My take on him stems from this human weakness. Kashin Koji is aware of who he's supposed to be a clone of. We see this when he comments on his fate being tied to Konoha and the like. And admittedly, knowing your predecessor's legacy, not to mention having been able to perfect something that the original couldn't gives him a bit of an ability to brag, and believe that he can be just as great or even greater than Jiraiya.

But the question is how convinced he is of this himself. I do believe that Kashin Koji wants to be a person of his own, and in being the perfect heroic shinobi tool, even if he dies, it wouldn't be for naught so long as he brings down his target (which happens to be the biggest threat since Madara, Tobi, and Kaguya). Believing that Amadao was entrusting the fate of the world in his hands bolstered his confidence. However, when Isshiki pointed out the painful truth of Amado's betrayal and deception, he internally refuses to accept it. That he was just a pawn, and that he'd never break free from being nothing but Jiraiya's shadow. I always felt that if at the baseness of Jiraiya's personality, you have a decent grasp of his shortcomings, regrets, and insecurities, you'll get a good grasp of Kashin Koji too. Although it's just my headcanon (and people dont really have to abide by it), Koji too, is plagued by this ever looming sense of not being good enough, as well as not living up to the name of his original (very much like how Jiraiya felt his accomplishments dont match that of Sandaime or Minato).

So after this long explanation on my take on Kashin Koji, you may ask where Kiomi comes in. Well, she comes in as a form of support.

Just as with Naruto's unreasonable worry, the first time that Kiomi sees Kashin Koji, she's instantly unreasonably bothered by him as well. Worse, when the mask comes off, and she sees his face she is instantly appalled and angry because everything that she's been keeping inside is dragged to the surface. Of course, none of this was Kashin Koji's fault. It was more of Kiomi's own regret, and seeing him was like opening a can of worms for her, reminding her of all the things she wanted to do and say had her teacher been alive. At the same time, she's very irked that someone was running around with his face, because someone had the gall to deliberately make a "knock off" as she calls it, of the man she respects the most.

With this much animosity, one would wonder how Kiomi becomes his support. While Kiomi and Kashin Koji initially dislikes each other, the woman rejects the fact that he's just "some clone", as he is also a person who deserves to live his life as himself regardless of whether he was created as a tool or as a clone. If you remember from my first post about Kiomi and Jiraiya's relationship, this was exactly the same kind of treatment that Jiraiya gave Kiomi when she viewed herself as nothing more than a disposable chess piece. She doesn't say this outright to Kashin Koji though. He learns this on his own. Seeing that someone believed in his own possibilities gave him a little peace of mind, just a little. In effect, this draws his curiosity. Kashin Koji being an Inner of Kara does his assignment pretty well, so he would by effect, know who she was as too. He believed she would be one of those who would constantly see him as a glorified Kagebunshin, but surprisingly she didn't. In fact, seeing as he was who he was, it would make him a perfect replacement, but she didn't treat him like that. This makes him loosen up around her, enough that his usually snide and sarcastic remarks are now laced with a hint of fond teasing. Ironically, she hates it when he does this, as it reminds her of Jiraiya. (Because Jiraiya often teases her about one thing or another.)

One of my favorite interactions of them is probably this one, just because it shows a little bit of both their internal struggles and how they deal with each other.

===

“Tell me,” Instead of standing to leave, he remained seated opposite from her. Kashin Koji removed the mask which barred a portion of his face that she was surely uncomfortable seeing. And he was right. She averted her eyes briefly, before putting up a look of feigned indifference once their optics finally met.

There was relative distress in her features, that much he could tell while staring at her…curiously, seriously. “Do I resemble him? This Jiraiya of yours.”

Looking at him was like staring into a nightmare, a stark reminder of what she could never hope to have. However, she understood his question. They were past simple notions of physicality. It wasn’t just about his face, nor was it about his origin. It was deeper than that. For Kiomi’s alleged simple-mindedness, this concept was not something so hard to grasp. Not when this was the very base of the learnings she had inherited from the mentor she respected the most. Despite Jiraiya and Kashin Koji’s shared similarities, they were still two very different people, each with their own uniqueness. Besides, denying a man his own identity was probably the cruelest judgment any living being could impose on another.

“You don’t.” The answer came simply; however, he did not miss the semblance of melancholy that lingered upon her visage. To him, it felt indicative of disappointment…such fragile and complicated feelings.

“I see.” Kashin Koji had closed his eyes then, satisfied with the answer. In a sense, he felt his lips curve into a smirk. Two words of reassurance; to think that hearing something so simple had such a significant impact. And as for Kiomi who had only seen the man scowl at her existence, this look on his face for the first time caused her chest to ache. Perhaps in her words, she knew not if a lie existed; if only because such an expression looked frighteningly similar to her teacher’s.

“The two of you must have loved each other very dearly.” At this point, he had refocused his gaze upon the female, only to raise a brow shortly after. He had never seen anyone choke on air before. Her flustered features shouldn’t have been anything extraordinary, but it felt amusing. “Was I mistaken?”

“Yes, you’re wrong! You’re very wrong!” She retorted, her flushed face, easily beating the most crimson of fruits. “Everything, this…my…they’re all just…” She tried to calm down as she explained. “…they’re all just…what I’m trying to say is…whatever they are, they’re all just one-sided emotions…” She looked downtrodden. He recalled Naruto saying that their mentor died while she was away figuring out herself, and had carried a burden none of them could share. Jiraiya had meant everything to them, each within varying degrees unknown just how much to the other.

After learning that all of this was one sided, he looked at her with lethargy. “Are you actually an idiot after all?”

“Oi, you actually dare to call me an idiot in my own house? Besides, it’s not like I stood a chance against the person he sought after.” It wasn’t a secret to her after all, that he had his eyes on Lady Tsunade. What chance did she have against someone who had shared in his losses, successes, strife, and victories?

“Was what you felt actually so flimsy that it lost to someone else’s? Did you confirm it with your own mouth?”

The questions that bombarded her, matched with such an unexpected interrogator threw her off. So much that when she had come to her senses, she found herself face to face with Kashin Koji. If she was distraught earlier, then the ante had been upped then and there. Trapped in between his arms, being stared at, it felt horrible and suffocating for many reasons that she convinced herself that she couldn't understand. “Should I teach you just how lofty your feelings are?” He lingered so close, too close for comfort. But that was where she drew the line. Steeling herself, she pulled her head back just enough to give her some room to drive her forehead down against his. THWACK!

Both of them found themselves clutching their heads, one clicked his tongue and the other was cussing up a storm in her mind--and verbally, apparently.

“Don’t you dare mock me—“

She was on the verge of throwing him out, but there he was, laughing, collapsed on the floor as he held onto his forehead. She stifled her annoyance because she remembered how; pranks of the same nature had been done to her, by none other than her favorite mentor. And he would laugh just the same. At least sensei’s were a little more innocent and subtle. “Don’t laugh at me either!” She demanded with childish vigor, kicking him in the shin repeatedly. He fended them off well enough, which added to her irritation.

“That’s enough out of you.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do in my own hou—hou—“ That was to say, if she wasn’t going to stop her assault, then he would have to play along. Grabbing her ankle when she struck, he pulled her over; just enough to make her balance crumble, bringing her down effectively.

“What the actual hell is wrong with you?”

“Even now, you’re struggling to protect what’s important to you. You may be a bit weaker than others, but it doesn’t seem like you’re lacking in persistence and perseverance. What are you so afraid of?”

Again with questions and commentaries that she did not ask for…

Her silence was enough of a response. Regrets, apprehensions, guilt, it was painted on her face. Shaking his head, Kashin Koji came to a stand and dusted himself, thereafter extending a hand for her to take.

“At the very least, come up to the starting line and show that mentor of yours your resolve.”

She begrudgingly looked at the hand that was offered to her. She felt ashamed and annoyed at herself because she knew that his point was valid. He wasn’t wrong, and in fact, he made more sense than she had wanted to admit. With an inward sigh, she took that hand and he helped her to her feet.

“…” Their grasp on each other persisted for a while. There was no warmth there; no comfort of a familiar friend, but there was a firmness that was enough to uproot whatever doubt it was that crept within the confines of her mind. She wouldn’t exactly call the other’s presence reassuring, but in a sense it was something close to it.

“Tsk, just who do you think you are? Acting all high and mighty?” Compared to before, the scowl had turned a bit friendly, but a scowl none the less.

“In case you haven’t heard or have been mistaking me for someone else, it’s Kashin Koji.” He replied with a tinge of whimsy in his voice. Matched with that was a tighter grip on the female’s hand which she reciprocated in kind. “Kiomi.” She rebutted against his satirical introduction.

When they at last released each other, there was probably a reddening mark there, but it also seemed like they’ve come to a certain understanding. “With a grip like that, what do you even hope to accomplish?”

Everything that comes out of his mouth is a fucking insult… Kiomi mused, unabashed by such a sentiment. Still, she watched him retrieve his mask only to wear it over his face once more. “I’ve a scouting mission at the Hokage’s behest. Two days time.” He stated out of the blue, walking towards her direction, incidentally near the exit. “Join me.”

“And why exactly, should I do that?” Folding her arms over her chest, she asked.

“Learn something useful rather than wallow in your self-pity.” Just before he could pass her completely, the intruder halted to cup her cheeks, moving it side to side casually.

(I made a thing.Lol Kiomi and her tendency to get manhandled.) There was no tenderness there, rather it seemed like he was inspecting a toy for some kind of defect. “You dont seem outclassed by anyone, not even by the Godaime. Put yourself to good use. You are a Shinobi, after all.”

“What does Lady Tsunade even have to do with this?”

“Who else would you feel so inferior to? It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Besides,”

Finally, he’d relinquish his hold to observe her frame carefully. She was a slender woman, possibly bordering voluptuous underneath all that fabric. From the wrinkles and silhouette of her attire, he could tell that she was filled out in all the right places. Fair skin, a set of apprehensive platinum orbs…among other things. “You have the curves. Maybe not the appeal and self confidence, but you have the curves. You’ll be fine.”

Perhaps it was in that retort that Kiomi ran after Kashin Koji as he left her place, albeit with a senbon or two hurled at the man. “I was wrong; you’re probably just as much of a letch as sensei!”

The projectiles were caught between the fingers and twirled around with ease, no troubles at all. He contemplated for a mere second before deciding to keep them as a souvenir. “You wound me with your presumptuousness. I'm a busy man, and have no time for countless women. Such a disappointing assessment.” He waved her off, walking away and finally disappearing from sight.

===

Pardon the length, but this is how they normally interact in my story.

Koji serves as a challenge for Kiomi, while Kiomi serves as a "net" for Koji so that when he falls pray to his feeling of incompetency, he remembers that she expects him to plainly be Kashin Koji, and no one else. Both of them remind each other of something important which they both hope would make them better versions of themselves.

So what kind of relationship do they have? I'm pretty sure it's along the lines of frienemies.

[nebulaxie]

I vant you~

Henlo everyone and I am back yet again to bite off more than I can chew. (Heh... bite). Anyway I’ve been obsessively watching and rewatching (and rewatching and rewatching... etc.) What We Do In The Shadows and then I found this vampire legacy challenge and decided I want to do it because I love occult sims? Especially ones people make with CC. And I realized that there’s only three vampires in game so if I wanna make my legacy game better I’ma have to either make more vampires or download them off the gallery.

Then I started seeing all these love island, bachelor and bachelorette challenges pop up and you might have noticed I entered a LOT of them. Which gave me the idea that I could do my own bachelorette challenge to find a spouse for my legacy vampire. Much more fun than just downloading lbr.

So I give you... (drum roll pls)

The BAT chelorette challenge.

Get it? hehe. We like puns here.

Rules//

So there will be some adjustments made to the original Bachelor/Bachelorette rules to fit occult sims and everything but for the most part its going to play out pretty much the same as of the moment unless I come up with something between now and when this all goes live. I’ve never done one before so I think the first time around will be easier to just have a set of rules in front of us.

Entering//

Must be a vampire. (if you use CC to make a different kind of occult that’s fine too! aka demon, etc.)

Use all the CC you want, however I am mostly a maxis match player? Clothes I’m okay with being maxis mix I just really don’t like like real textures if you get what I mean? It just seems so out of place. Which means I will not take alpha hairs either. You can enter with both of these things but be aware that I’ll just remove them and put on my own things if you do (and then they might not look the same and then we’re all sad)

I will probably use my own defaults however - eyes, skin tones, etc. Just because they’re default in my game and its just easier

I love all kinds of vampires - new, old, powerful, weak, cute, scary, bloodthirsty, etc.

Please give a background for your creation. I want to try and do them justice and also its all very interesting information

You MUST tell me HOW they became a vampire

Please be aware that I have a mod on that allows no sun debuffs in Forgotten Hollow

I also have a mod for aging on vampires they just age 4x slower than humans. (this probably won’t affect anything unless you get put into the legacy challenge)

Please tell me their aspirations and traits! Both in game and story kind!

I will only be choosing 7 sims as per usual but because we need more vampires in game anyway, you’ll probably see them all in my legacy as extras and potentially in the bachelorette challenge too (if you want)

Please make it clear if your vampire prefers biting humans or taking supplements so I can at least try and make them eat correctly x3;;;

Please NO ROMANCE TRAITS OR ASPIRATIONS and no higher than LVL 3 CHARISMA. (lvl 3 being what you would get through story mode - because i like randomizing and i know others might too)

Otherwise go crazy with whatever traits or skills you want.

This is N O T a first come first serve basis and I will use a third party to help me decide based on stories because I think that’s going to be the best part of this honestly.

My sim will be announced after this and her traits and everything will be revealed. She is, however, Pansexual. Please keep in mind that the winner will go on to be in my legacy challenge meaning they will need a vampire heir.

I own all the packs so no worries there.

Please feel free to reach out if you have any questions at all <3

Deadline is March 31st

Also if I don’t repost your entry within 24 hours pls message me because i might have just missed it???

#BATcherolette

Edit: Lizbeth Sterling

[thetravelerwrites]

Monster Match 15

The Traveler's Masterlist

For @severedreamerbeard​: “I don't really think I need to tell you what my pronouns and orientation are, so we'll skip over that. As far as a short description goes, I'm thin as a twig, and decently tall. I'm not that great with social interactions, I can't hold a conversation and I get tongue-tied frequently when speaking, which isn't fun at all. My hobbies are all pretty dorky, being playing D&D, reading fanfics, and playing video games for most of my free time. As far as likes in dislikes in partner, it's pretty much all in the personality. Humor and doing goofy things are top notch, along with being a general sweetheart. If I'm honest, I'm not sure if I have any specific dislikes that come to mind, mostly from an utter lack of experience in the dating field. And as far as sfw/nsfw, that's your choice, I don't really mind.”

You’ve been matched with a mimic!

You loved old video games. You’d go to your local game store to scour for old games people had forgotten. You didn’t know why, but they instilled a certain sense of innate nostalgia in you, even though you hadn’t played most of them, since some had come out before you’d even been born.

“Hey, man,” The clerk, Tucker, called out. “You won’t believe what someone just sold me.”

“What?” You asked, coming to the counter with your items.

“A copy of ‘Red Knight’s War,’” Tucker said, ringing you up.

“You’re kidding me!” You exclaimed. “I thought most of them were destroyed. Wasn’t there some kind of urban legend that it was haunted or something?”

“Yeah,” Tucker said. “People really bought into the hype, too. I think there are only, like, fifty left in existence.”

“Dude, I have to have that. How much?”

Tucker pursed his lips and thought about it. “How about a hundred bucks?”

“You’re off your nut if you think I’m paying that,” You scoffed. “I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“Please, I could get an easy two hundred off eBay,” Tucker said.

“Well, then, sell it on eBay,” You told him. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of bidders for an obscure game that most people aren’t even aware exist and the ones that do think it’s haunted.”

“Dude, that just makes it tastier!” Tucker insisted. “Fifty bucks, and I’m being kind with that offer.”

“Thirty. Seriously, it’s a coin toss as to whether you’d actually find someone online who wants this, whereas I have cash now. There’s something to be said for instant gratification.”

“Forty. That’s as low as I’m gonna go, man,” Tucker said, folding his arms.

You blew out your breath. “Fine, fine, I’ll take it. You’re lucky I respect you as a business man.”

“Pfft,” Tucker snickered. “Yeah, whatever. Here.”

He handed you the clear cartridge that had been completely sealed with scotch tape.

“Whoa,” You said.

“Yeah,” Tucker replied with a strange look. “The guy that sold it happily took five bucks for it. He was super weird.”

“Eh, aren’t we all. Thanks, Tuck,” You said as you took your purchases and made your way to the door.

“See you later, man. If it does end up haunted, you have to tell me.”

You waved as if to say sure, sure, and headed home.

When you got back to your apartment, you immediately got out a box cutter and slit open the cellotape that encased the game disk. Red Knight’s War was one of the first MMORPGs, but it got overshadowed by World of Warcraft and Runescape. When it came out, you’d just started first grade, so you weren’t exactly a wiz on the computer. You don’t even think your parents had a computer back then.

You checked the disk, which was in pristine condition, then booted up your computer. Putting the disk into the slot, you heard the whirring sound as it started up. There was the title screen, the loading screen, which gave way to the character customization screen. You spent a a good chunk of time making your character look as close to you as possible, even though the rough early 2000’s graphics made it difficult.

Then, into the actual gameplay. It was a typical dungeon trawler, nothing surprising. You played a little for a while when a message popped up on the onscreen chat box.

>Who are you?”

Odd. You hadn’t switched on the multi-player option yet. Maybe the game was multi-player by default. You typed in your first name and asked them theirs.

>Tarna, The replied. That was a strange name. Maybe it was their screenname, although the screenname in the chat box seemed to be random numbers and letters. >It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen someone here.

>I’m not surprised, you said. >Everyone thinks this game is haunted.

>It’s not, Tarna said. >Humans are just superstitious, apparently.

>Are you in-game? You asked. >I only see NPCs.

>I’m a mimic. I’m in the corner over there.

You looked, and you did see a treasure chest standing on two spindly legs, its long arms swaying as if bored. As your character walked up to it, it waved. But it seemed to be waving at you, not your character.  

>Wanna team up? You typed into the chat.

>Yes! I’m so happy to have someone else to play with again!

Their enthusiasm was both endearing and a little sad. You wondered if this had been their favorite game, if they’d waited all this time for someone else to come online to play with. That must have been lonely.

>Let’s go, buddy! You typed.

For the next few weeks, you played Red Knight’s War with Tarna every evening after work. They were always online, and always happy to see you. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even actually play the game, you’d just talk to each other in the chat. There was still a lot about them that you didn’t know. They didn’t divulge a lot of personal information, and you could respect that. You were just a stranger on the internet, after all.

One day, though, you came online ready to slay some liches, but you were met with a message already in the chat box.

>Can we talk?

This was already unusual, because they waited for you to speak first before starting gameplay, but the nature of the question had you a little uneasy.

>Of course. What’s up?

>I feel like I should come clean.

You frowned. >Come clean about what?

>I haven’t lied to you exactly, but I haven’t told you everything about me. I’m worried that if you knew the truth about me, it would scare you off.

>There’s not a lot you could say that would scare me.

>You say that now, They said. >The fact of the matter is, there’s a reason people think this game is haunted.

>Which is?

>Honestly, it’s easier if I show you.

>Show me how?

>Take the disk out of the computer and put it on the ground.

You scoffed to yourself. >Are you serious?

>Trust me. Just don’t freak out, okay?

>Okay…

You shut down the game and ejected it. It lay there in the disk tray. You felt a little silly, but you took the disk and lay it, image down, on the floor and waited.

Suddenly, it seemed to melt into some sort of grey goo. The goo began to grow and warp and rise up, and you fell backward into your chair with a yelp.

“Wait, you said you wouldn’t freak out!” The grey goo said. It started to take on human form. It solidified into the form of… you, right down to the work vest you’d failed to remove when you got home. It put out its arms to placate you. “I’m not going to hurt you. Calm down, please.”

You were still sitting in your gaming chair, gripping the armrests and panting in fear. “What the hell are you?”

“I’m a mimic,” The copy of you said.

“Mimics are treasure chests in dungeons! Not game disks or… or me!”

It sighed. “Treasure chests are the most common form we take, historically, because we were hired to protect people’s vaults and and hordes. We were decoys to distract looters from the real treasure, but we don’t have an actual physical form other than amorphous blobs. In our original state, we’re just… slime.”

“How did you even know what I look like?” You asked.

They pointed. “Your webcam. You really ought to cover it when you’re not using it.”

You head fell into your hands and you massaged your forehead. “So…” You said slowly, trying to wrap your mind around what was happening. “Why were you a game disk? How did you even function?”

“Mimics can take on the form of anything they touch down to a microscopic level. When I took on the form of the game disk, I copied the tiny grooves and divots that made up the game’s information. That’s why I could run on your computer.”

“But why where you a game disk?”

She sighed. “When money changed from gold and jewels to paper kept in large banks, mimics no longer had jobs. Most people had negative misconceptions about us, so we were driven underground. Some took on human forms, but that was risky since in the modern times, everything is electronic and number based. Getting fake ID’s and social security numbers were difficult because, even though we guarded money, we had none of our own. We kept to the shadows, but it was a pretty lonely existence.

“One of us had managed to integrate into society and was working as a game developer in the early 2000’s and had the idea for some of us to become game disks as a method of interacting with other people in a safe way. I guess it backfired…” The copy of me sighed. “A lot of us were destroyed and the ones that weren’t were either locked away or kept as oddities. After talking with you…” They looked down. “I was hoping we could be friends.”

“I… you… look, can you change into something else? Talking to… myself… feels a little weird.”

“Oh, sure,” They said, and began to shift and morph. When they finished, they were a woman slightly shorter than you with dark skin, brown hair, and brown eyes. They were wearing a sapphire blue business-type dress, close fitted and knee length with matching heels.

“Wait, are you male or female?” You asked them.

“Mimics don’t have a gender in our original form, but we can become any gender we choose.” Their voice had changed, too; it was musical sounding.

“Is Tarna your real name?”

“Yes,” They replied. “I’ve never lied to you, just… omitted some important facts about myself.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “I can get that, I guess. If I had your history, I’d be cautious too.” You squinted up at them. “Why did you decide to reveal yourself? That was a hell of a risk.”

They shifted a little, uncomfortable. “Honestly… I… I’ve started to… develop feelings for you.”

Stunned, you sat up straight and your arms rested on your knees with your hands dangling between your legs. “Feelings?”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” She said hurriedly. “But you seemed like the kind of person who would accept me, and I wanted to be your friend. Not just in the game, but in real life. I apologize if that’s not something you want, but… it’s hard to keep your feelings in and never tell someone the truth, you know?”

“Yeah, I totally get that,” You said quietly. You stood up. “You really have feelings for me?”

They fidgeted. “Yeah.” They avoided your eye. “Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You asked. “You can’t help who you like.”

They looked up hopefully. “I can be anything you like. I can be a man or a woman, I can have any color hair and eyes, I can be tall or short, anything you want, I can be that.”

You held up a hand to stop them. “Don’t worry about me. What do you want to be?”

They looked down at themselves, and then back up at you. “I rather like this form.”

“Then be this form,” You said, smiling. “Who is that, by the way?”

“It’s an amalgamation of different people, actually.”

“So it’s unique to you, then?”

The grinned slowly. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

You smiled too and held out your hand. “Nice to meet you, Tarna.”

They laughed shyly and took your hand gingerly. “Nice to meet you, too.”

You took Tarna on a real date that night. They were shy out in public around other humans, even while wearing a human guise, but they were so happy to be spending time with you outside of the game. You learned that they only needed to eat when they took on a form that needed to eat, like humans or animals. You asked them a ton of questions, and they were happy to answer every one, grateful that you weren’t afraid.

At the end of the date, you said, “We should find the others.”

“What?” They said.

“The other mimics trapped as games. We should find them and free them.”

A smile formed on their face, but they said, “That might be difficult.”

“That never stopped me. You in?”

A wide smile split their face. “Absolutely.

To get your own Monster Match, buy me a Kofi!

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal.

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Echo pt6

Warning: This is a little dark. There is blood, death, Strong Language and yeah … please read with caution. **Still not sure what direction this is taking so I should add a warning for Author with no plot **

Masterlist

—

Echo part 6

A heavily adorned cold hand touched her arm and as if by magic it was like someone had reconnected her mind to her body allowing her to once more move. Kit looked at the hand noting the different sized ornate rings and followed the length of the arm to its owner.

Long flowing blonde hair perfectly styled and accented with crystal droplets that just seemed to add a mysterious lustre to it. Blue eyes that looked as clear as ocean water were observing her as much as she was them. There was something off though. Kit couldn’t place it exactly which irritated her but it really did feel like she wasn’t looking at reality as it should be. Something hurt much more in the back of her mind than before. It was only then that she had noticed that the whole-body experience she had had in the past week or so where she had felt like her very bones were vibrating had more or less subsided. The only conscious pain she had was in her own head.

It made no sense to think otherwise but logic dictated that it might have had something to do with being where ever she was now. Breaking eye contact Kit looked around the room her eyes finding the window and noting that the scenery outside was nothing like she remembered from where she had been. Not only that but it appeared to be a different time zone.

“I couldn’t believe it when they told me but seeing you here now… I thank the Graces for bringing my child back to me.” The words spoken by the Queen were executed flawlessly like an Oscar-winning actress.

“You say that but I have no clue as to who you are.” Kit replied quickly turning back to look at the other woman. For a brief moment, it looked as if a shadow had passed over the Queen’s eyes.

“Is that any way to speak to your mother?” For a second Kit though she saw something shift in the Queen’s face. It was like something was showing through a crack in a veneer. Her expression changed so quickly before returning to that unnerving crocodile smile that it was almost easy to believe it to be a trick of the light. Curious to see if it would happen again and also with no real reason not to keep stating the obvious truth Kit continued to press on.

“I wouldn’t know I’ve never had one.” Kit shrugged watching for any signs that the Queen was going to do something.

“I would call you out on your insolence for talking to me in such a manner but I understand that you might take some time to adjust and that you know nothing of your origins.” The ocean blue eyes seemed to grow darker as if the depths of them were deepening. The smile on her face was so forced it was almost a painful grimace and the rings glinted in the sunlight as her fingers twitched. “Fine then let us start at the beginning. I am Queen of this land that makes you a Princess.” The Queen stood there beginning her explanations.

“Princess? You cannot be serious.” Kit caught herself before her laugh could progress past the initial snigger. Whatever was happening here it was clear that everything she knew was about to get a lot more complicated. If this was a lie or a dream it was a very convincing one.

“It is your birth right. Honestly, I wonder what kind of a land you grew up in to become such a…” The Queen trailed off her harsh tone evaporating as the light seemed to return to her blue eyes. “Anyway. About thirty cycles have passed since you were last by my side. You were only a baby at the time so you cannot possibly understand the level of betrayal that surrounded your disappearance at the time.”

“Betrayal?” Kit raised her eyebrows. She had naturally been told some from her father when she visited him but there was nothing in what he said that made it sound like the Queen had been the one to be victimised.

If Kit had been on guard before she was a lot warier thanks to the Queen’s phrasing. There are always two sides to a story, three if you want to get pedantic about it. Yours, theirs and the truth. Sometimes you needed to see or hear all three before you could know for sure but she remembered the sincere look in her father’s eyes as he told her about things. He hadn’t been lying to her. When he said he was worried or scared it had been the truth. It might take a bit more time to figure out how much blame could be placed and where in this situation but it wasn’t going to happen right this second.  

“Such an ugly topic of conversation. I would rather not discuss such things right now. Right now, we should be celebrating. The long-awaited return of the lost Princess.” The Queen practically sang her words as she began animatedly walking around the room. Once more it struck Kit as a performance. Something to show a crowd but there was no one here except for Kit. “We should have a feast – no a ball. And invite everyone from across the unified lands to gather. You will need a dress and someone simply must do something with your hair and make-up of course.” The Queen had taken some strands of Kit’s hair in her hand and let it fall through her fingers as she continued to assess her like she was nothing more than an object. “I’m not convinced there will be enough time to do anything more than that to make you presentable to the world but that can wait till later.”

The Queen’s expression was that of a judgemental frown and it did nothing but make Kit bristle. She had had years of her life without a mother where she had been reminded time and again that she was in a lot of respects not very girly or ladylike. None of that had ever mattered to her. She had never wanted to change and was happy enough in her own skin. And yet here was someone, her mother no less, that was wanting to change every aspect as if she wasn’t good enough.

“Wait a minute! I’ve just got here and you are telling me I’m your daughter. Not just that but a Princess by default. I can ignore the passively insulting my appearance but don’t you think it’s a little crazy to just decide to throw a huge celebration on a whim?” Kit took a step backwards removing her person from the touchy-feely hands pawing at her.

“I am the Queen. My whim is the law of this land and you child would do well to remember such and hold your tongue.” It was not so much a warning as an order.

“Sorry never been very good at that.” Kit obstinately replied refusing to back down in the face of a bully.

“Then learn. Someone will be with you shortly for a fitting.” The Queen elegantly glided out of the room leaving a chill in the air as she went.

---

The staff in the castle were moving around with hushed whispers as they gossiped about the new arrival. Some of the older members of staff had more of a drawn-out worried pallor to their faces than the younger ones.

A white figure cut through the rooms of the castle as it wandered around gleaning information as it went. They knew the room, that the Queen had visited. They had even found out about the grand display that was being planned and laughed at the show of audaciousness given the situation.

Cards had been dealt, the die cast and all the pieces were in play. And now out of nowhere a wild card. One that could tip the scale and provide a certain level of uncertainty to the playing field. They had not seen much more than a glimpse of the returning offspring but from what they were hearing they were very entertaining. Who would have the backbone to stand against the Queen? No one in seven lands had survived to tell that tale.

“Such a curious little creature.”

---

The roadside diner was like stepping foot into a time warp. Old vending machines and metal signs decorated it with what now could be called a retro, vintage vibe. The tables and booths still seemed to be upholstered with the same serviceable fabric as when the place first opened.

Col looked around the place almost expecting to see his younger self at one of the tables with a small Kit and her father. A waitress came out of the swing doors at the back carrying a plate loaded with pancakes the size of hubcaps and a jug of syrup. He felt his stomach grumble as he remembered he hadn’t eaten anything yet. His eyes followed the staff member hungrily until she had placed the dish on a table with a figure, he knew all too well.

“Thorn.”

The man turned at the sound of his name the cutlery in his hand chinking lightly on the side of his plate as he did so. He was the same man he remembered from the barbeques in the summers of time past. One guy in a stream of many that knew Kit and tagged along to gatherings. He had wondered if there had been something more romantic between them but he later figured out he had nothing to be concerned over. Thorn’s hair was shorter and pushed back these days. His suit was a more expensive brand but still off the rack. Fine lines now etched his face telling of the passage of time and the stress of promotion.

“Col. It’s been a while. How’s it going?” Thorn smiled and turned back to his stack of fluffy pancakes.

“Logistical shit storm would be putting it mildly.” Col slipped into the booth seating by the window and watched the other man pour syrup over the melting butter as if he were trying to drown it. “Are you going to tell me a bit more about my missing freelancer or are you expecting me to continue to field questions in the dark?”

“I told you everything I know already.” Thorn shrugged stuffing a loaded forkful into his mouth not making eye contact.

“Dammit Thorn what you told me amounted to nothing and you know it.” Col was irritated with the off-hand reaction. He had been slowly going out of his mind with worry and here was someone who claimed to be a friend of hers who apparently didn’t have the same common decency to be worked up at all. To make it worse he knew it was him that had sent those files.

“Yes, I do but I can’t change the facts.” Thorn looked out of the window for a moment before turning to face Col head-on. The emotions he was not showing physically were clear as crystal in those green eyes. “How much did Kit tell you before she left?”

“Nothing. I did call her father out of curtesy for an old friend but…” Col felt his anger at the other man dissipate when he realised, he was not so indifferent to the situation. Feeling a little uncomfortable to have the tables turned on him now in the cross-examination he brought his hand up to his neck and ran his fingers over his collar imagining it to be more of a noose than starched cotton.

“You didn’t tell him she’s missing?” Thorn paused in shovelling his syrup loaded breakfast into his mouth and quirked his brow at his companion.

“I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you tell people over the phone.” Col dropped his hand from his neck and motioned for the waitress so he could order coffee. She gave him a smile in acknowledgement as she finished serving some customers at the bar.

“Be with you in a minute Hun.”

“You were part of it, weren’t you? The Original investigation.” Thorn waited for the exchange to finish before he continued. He knew the contents of those files he had sent. The list of names of attending officers and all the dead ends that had been found. The evidence collected that generated more questions than it ever answered.

“You know I was.  I was still a rookie back then not much more than a greenhorn in these parts.” Col grumbled. The memories of that time had been a mixed bag. He had been happy about the transfer. A chance to set up roots in a new place and get out into the world and make a difference in it. But he also remembered all the strange things. The bodies, the lifeless expressions… the movements in the dark.

“How well do you remember it?”

“I still have nightmares if that’s what you’re asking.”

---

Everything was happening so fast. True to their word the Queen seemed to have set into motion preparations for a grand celebration and with that a small army that also felt as if it was part circus paraded in and out of the bedroom Kit had been occupying.

They had been poked, measured, constricted, contorted and preened into someone completely unrecognisable. Her hair shone like spun gold, her skin was flawless porcelain and her figure that was now bound in a corset dipped and curved more than ever.

She was completely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of this shapewear. After almost shoving the last person out of the room she pulled her hair to the side of her neck and began to unlace the ribbons. It was then with almost perfectly laughable timing that a knock came to the door. Kit sighed as it seemed her release from the steel boned prison was going to have to wait and she covered herself with a robe before answering the visitor.

“Hello, Little One.”

---

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 1: Clarke (I)

Love.

It’s the only word fitting enough to describe the powerful sensation flooding through Clarke’s veins.

Infinite love.

Not the cheesy, bad rom-com type of love. Or the one mentioned in almost every single pop song ever written.

No, this kind of love is the one that materializes over time. Built upon thousands and thousands of minuscule moments, which seem insignificant by themselves, but when placed side by side, paint a picture of something…

Something that just cannot be summed up in mere words alone.

It’s a once in a lifetime kind of love.

A sly smile slides across Clarke’s lips as she watches Lexa peacefully sleep in the comforting confines of her arms. It’s well past the time they need to be getting up in order not to be late for school, but she can’t seem to bring herself to move. Not when Clarke’s able to endless partakes in her favorite pastime in the entire world… Not when it comes to the woman she loves.

“What time is it?” Lexa gently stirs, shifting her body closer towards Clarke.

“Mornin’ baby,” Clarke replies with a deep, sleep-latten husk. She wraps her arms a bit tighter around Lexa. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah. You?” Lexa goes to reach for her phone on the nearby nightstand but is pulled back by Clarke. “Clarke…”

“What?” Clarke peppers Lexa with feather-light kisses along the outline of her jaw and down the slope of her neck.

“You know what.”

“No clue what you’re talkin’ about,” Clarke says as she pushes Lexa against the bed and swings her leg over Lexa’s hips, with expert-like precision. She runs her nails down Lexa’s rock hard abs at a painfully slow pace. The Cheshire grin on Clarke’s face says it all… She’s a woman on a mission.

“Clarke, we’re gonna be late.”

“Not if we keep it quick.” Clarke rolls her hips against Lexa, punctuating her point.

“My mom…”

“Won’t hear a thing. Unless you can’t control yourself again.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Lexa whines in response, fighting the overwhelming urge to give in. “You didn’t play fair.”

Clarke gives a throaty laugh and runs her hands through her long wild mane of blonde curls. “Who said there were rules?”

Lexa lets out a sigh and then with a newfound resolution, grabs hold of Clarke’s waist and flips their positions, pinning Clarke to the bed in the process. “If we’re late 1st period again, I’m making you explain why to Mr. Thomas.”

“Deal.”

With that, Lexa leans in and goes to work, marking her emotions along the curves of Clarke’s body.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Clarke vacantly stares up at the ceiling, face devoid of any real emotions whatsoever. She watches the late night shadows dances about as the sounds of deep, rhythmic breathing fills the room.

Suddenly, the covers around Clarke shift and an arm haphazardly drapes across her body, in almost an attempt to cuddle.

Clarke glances down at the arm, lets out a weighted sigh, and then without any hesitation, removes it from her body as if it belongs to a complete and utter stranger. She slips out of the covers and starts to fish around in the dark for her clothes.

“Clarke, it’s late. You should stay,” Niylah mutters in a half-awake daze.

“Can’t. I’ve got a paper due and am supposed to be sitting in on Dr. Jackson’s .” Clarke replies. She pulls her white v-neck over her heads, then runs her hands through her short, messy locks. “Plus, you know I don’t do that.”

“But you could. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just sleep.”

“Niylah…”

Niylah sighs in quiet resignation. “Text me when you get home, ok?”

“Yeah.” Clarke finishes slipping on her shoes and, without another look back, heads towards the bedroom door.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Clarke pops open the door to her apartment and unceremoniously deposits her keys into the nearby bowl. She starts to move to slip off her shoes, when--

BUZZ… BUZZ… BUZZ…

Thrown off, Clarke stops what she’s doing and fishes out her phone from her back pocket. A look of utter confusion sweep across her face as she studies the screen for a moment or two, internally debating on whether or not to answer it.

BUZZ… BUZZ… BUZZ…

“What, Bell?” Clarke flat out asks with a tinge of underlying annoyance to her voice as she answers the phone.

“Hi to you too, Princess.” Bellamy’s voice answers back, perfectly matching Clarke’s tone, but in a mocking sort of way. “Someone’s extra chipper today.”

A hint of a smile slips through Clarke’s emotionless mask at these words. Leave it to Bellamy. One of the few individuals in her life that can make her smile regardless of the situation or mood.

Ever since the first time they met, in a long hospital corridor, back when Clarke was 12 years old. Bellamy with his unruly mop of curls and dimple clad smile. He was at one of the lowest points of his young life, having just received the news that his mother only had a few weeks left to live, and yet he spent a good hour or so trying to cheer Clarke up with corny jokes and obscure historical facts.

“That’s cause it’s 2:30 in the morning,” Clarke replies. She drops the rest of her stuff and makes her way into the kitchen. “What time is it there? And where is there?”

“There is Berlin, and it’s 11:30.”

“Berlin? Thought you and Gina were sticking around Reykjavik for a while?” Clarke says as she opens the fridge, pulls out a beer, and then searches for a bottle opener.

“We did. Were there for almost four months.”

“Shit. That was four months ago?”

“Five.” Bellamy chuckles in response. “But who’s counting.”

“I suck. What else is new.” Clarke takes a much-needed swig of beer as a familiar silence creeps in between them for the briefest of moments.

She knows this silence. It’s the silence that makes Clarke’s skin crawl with guilt and regret. The guilt of not making more of an effort to stay in touch… Especially with someone that in all accounts is her older brother. Not by blood but by having grown up together under the same roof for the better half of the past decade or so.

“I didn’t call for that,” Bellamy softly replies in his default brotherly tone.

“Then what’s going on?”

Bellamy lets out a long sigh, and Clarke swears she can hear him rubbing the back of his neck. “Abby called me.”

“What did Mommy Dearest want now?”

“Clarke…”

Clarke takes another swig of her beer, downing almost half of the bottle in one long gulp. “Sorry. What did Abby want?”

“O’s missing.”

Clarke immediately stiffens at these words as a wave of visible concern washes over her. “What’d you mean she’s missing?”

“Dunno. Abby called me a few hours ago saying that she hasn’t heard from her in over three weeks and she isn’t picking up her phone. Or responding to texts.”

“Did she try Lincoln? He always seems to know--”

“Yeah. He hasn’t seen her in six months.” Bellamy responds, cutting Clarke off.

“Huh? What do you…” Clarke trails off, trying to make sense of Bellamy’s words. “How has he not seen her? They live together?”

“Clarke, when’s the last time you talked to her?”

“Last month. I called her to check in, and she said everything was going fine.”

“No. I mean really talked to her.”

Clarke stiffens. “Bell, what are you implying?”

“Nothing. You know I don’t mean it that way. Just think that O’s been telling us what we want to hear,” Bellamy says with a bit of underlying trepidation.

A momentary awkward silence seeps in again between the two of them, then--

“I’ll go check a few of her usual places. If I can’t track her down, then I’ll swing by home and see what Abby wants to do.”

“Thanks, Clarke,” Bellamy responds. “Just keep me posted, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“Miss you, Princess.”   

“Miss you too, Bell. Bye.” Clarke hangs up and then takes a moment to finish her beer and sort through her thoughts.

This isn’t the first time Clarke’s gotten a call like this. But usually, it comes in the form of a voicemail from her mother, in between her shifts at the hospital. And nine times out of time, O’s fine. Just avoiding Abby, like Clarke tends to do.

Avoidance is just easier. And Clarke’s become a pro at it.    

With one more swig, Clarke places the empty bottle down and grabs her phone again. She quickly dials and suddenly--

BUZZ… BUZZ… BUZZ…

Clarke freezes at the sound of a phone ringing in the nearby distance. It’s coming from somewhere in her apartment. She immediately pockets her phone and heads out of the kitchen.

Not even two steps into the hallway and Clarke spots it. The telltale sign that O is residing somewhere in her apartment. A pair of beat-up black vans-- O’ signature shoes-- lay haphazardly across the floor, looking to have been kicked off in the process of heading toward Clarke’s bedroom.

“O?” Clarke calls out and waits for a moment.

No response.

Clarke lets out a weighted sigh and then without another moment of hesitation, carefully opens her bedroom.

There, buried beneath a mound of covers and pillow, lays Octavia, passed out and dead to the world.

Clarke pulls her phone out of her back pocket once again and dials. “Hey, Bell. It’s me. Just wanted to let you know that I found her. She’s passed out in my bed. I’ll have her call you when she gets…”

Clarke trails off as something catches her eye. She cautiously navigates her way through the darkened bedroom, never once taking her eyes off of the younger girl sleeping before her.

Although the room is only barely lit up by the hallway light, it’s enough to reveal that Octavia’s face is peppered with an array of fresh cuts and bruises. She isn’t in the best of shape.

“Fuck, O,” Clarke whispers under her breath as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed and ever so gently rubs the back of O’s hand. She swallows down the lump of emotions growing in the back of her throat as she looks on at the person who she considers to be her little sister. “What the hell happened to you?”

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [446]

“Brother of mine, I never thought there would come a day - or night - where I would have to warn you against breaking into a woman’s private quarters like a thief,” Ellana says, blade held out less than a breath away from her brother’s nose. “You know, this keep might be a tad old, but it has a door. Remarkable things, doors.”

“Your security is terrible, it’s like they want you assassinated.” Mahanon remains tense, eyes focused on the tip of the blade. It looks hilarious because now he’s cross eyed instead of just his regular cross. “Put down the knife so I can come inside. My ass is cold.”

“Your persona is cold,” Ellana replies, lowering the blade. Mahanon finishes climbing in and quickly shutters the windows behind him. “As to the security - it’s because no one would be stupid enough to climb to my windows. Especially not with the weather we’ve been having. Any traps or alarms I put up would have been completely obliterated by the rain and wind. Count yourself lucky. If you had tried that stunt last night you’d have been a smear on the rocks.”

Mahanon looks affronted.

“I am a trained and seasoned Blade of the Dales.”

“You are mortal and your hubris is charming until it turns you into a smear,” Ellana replies. “I don’t think the weather particularly cares if you’re a Blade of the Dales or not, brother dearest. Should I also mention that you’re quite fortunate that my husband isn’t in? I don’t think he’d appreciate someone sneaking in my bedroom in the dead of night. That person being my own brother might be a touch disturbing.”

Mahanon’s gaze is sharp and calculating on her as he looks her up and down.

Ellana rolls her eyes.

“He hasn’t raped me.”

Mahanon’s eyes narrow.

Ellana sheathes her dagger.

“Mahanon, my dear, I am more than capable of fending for myself. I have been for years. Now will you quit it with your cloak and dagger business and tell me what this is about?”

“Your business used to be the cloak and dagger,” Mahanon says, voice lighter but eyes still searching. “Married life suits you, you know. You look…I cannot say happier. But you seem calmer. Dare I say it? Rosy? If I did not know you as well as I do, I would say you have the glow of someone expecting. But since I do know you, I’m going to wager that this place has a kennel and one of those creatures inhabiting it is expecting.”

“There’s the most beautiful dog with the most soulful eyes, Mahanon, and she’s expecting a littler in about one season and the sire is this utterly gorgeous purebred with the most amazing coat and excellent guard temperament. The Iron Bull promised me the first pick of the litter, but he also didn’t say I couldn’t have the entire litter, so if I choose all of them and ask nicely enough maybe I can get away with it.”

“Now that you’re out of the service I feel as though you’ve reverted to being a spoilt brat and I ought to write your husband to warn him of it.”

Mahanon reaches under his cloth and starts to untie something from his back.

“As to why I am here? I was sent by the Hahren’al to give you something.”

“And they couldn’t send it like they send everything else? Seems suspect.”

Mahanon pulls the object from behind his back and holds it out to her. Armor. Specifically…the holy armor of the Temple of Dirthamen. More specific than that…the armor of the —

“How many times,” Ellana begins softly and willing herself to remain quiet, “Have I affirmed that I have left my post?”

“Things,” Mahanon says, holding the armor out to her, “Are not as they appear. The news you are working with is out dated, even the news that I carry is out dated. Things are changing too rapidly. Even if you were there right this moment you would find yourself falling behind with every breath. Ellana, you who has known and been known by silence, listen.”

Ellana forces her jaw to relax and body to lose tension as Mahanon falls to one knee, armor held up in offering, voice low.

“Knowing what I have renounced, you still come to me in supplication?”

“Exalted and most holy, maestro of the orchestra and keeper of the catacomb vaults, sister and divine, I ask that you listen.”

Ellana closes her eyes and wills herself to hold onto her own temper. Mahanon is right — being here, so far away from home and so divorced from the life she has led for the past few decades has made her change. It’s made her into a teenager again, fit to bursts of impatience and anger and irritation.

Mahanon has come from the Hahren’al with the sacred armor of Dirthamen for a reason. And he has gotten onto his knees in front of her for a reason. her brother would not have done this. Of all people, her brother would respect her wishes if it was in his power. He would not do this if he did not think it needed to be done.

Ellana folds her hands and covers her mouth.

“The Inquisition has requested assistance from the Dales,” Mahanon says, “And we would give it. Gladly. What’s more — it is to assist in the border protection of the Storm Coast. There has been a rising influx of Tevinter invaders onto these shores and harassing merchant vessels on the seas. But the Hahren’al cannot move the Emerald Knights or the Jade Blades. We have not been blessed by the Temples. The Temples are unable to cast a vote.”

Ellana’s eyebrows raise but she continues to hold her tongue.

“The Inquisition, and your lord husband, grow impatient. But it is hard for us to explain - embarrassing to explain - why we cannot assist when we have sworn to them an oath with marriage and pen that we would come to their aide when asked as they do now. The Hahren’al fears that they may believe we are willfully defying our promise and take it out on you.”

And thus the armor? But no. Ellana can take care of herself without that very specific set.

“The Temples cannot vote because there has been…several have been compromised,” Mahanon’s shoulders tense with anger. “Many things have changed in the months since your marriage to the Iron Bull. The Horn of the Sun refuses to acknowledge your chosen successor. Your successor was…shut out. The Temple of Dirthamen has no official leader, and so the Temple of Sylaise has taken over as temporary council per the Temple laws. However it is believed that one of the other Temples — and on this one no one is certain if it is the Temple of Elgar’nan or one perhaps the Temple of Ghilan’nain or Falon’Din — has taken action to incapacitate the Keeper of Ashes. And per the covenant of the Temples, the Temple of Sylaise falls to the Temple of Jun who’s seat has been empty for the past year in respect to the recently deceased Minder of Flame.”

Ellana’s eyes widen in understanding.

Jun’s seat falls to Ghilan’nain, who’s only been recently appointed within the past five years and is protege to the Horn of the Sun.

And with that the Horn of the Sun has a deadlock on the majority of the Temples. Even if the Rider of Waves, the Gate Watcher, the Hunter of Stars, and the Balance Walker supported fulfilling the treaty’s terms there could be no vote. And so there is no support for the Hahren’al to move troops out of the Dales. Which means that the Dales are defaulting on a promise that they had brokered via inaction.

The Horn of the Sun has violated temple law through a large and unpredictable loop hole.

No leader of any of the Temples is permitted control - temporary or conceded - of more than two at once. But with this the Temple of Elgar’nan holds not just two, but four.

Oh, Ellana always knew that righteous bastard’s isolationism would fuck them all over one day. She should have sunk her teeth into that small minded idiot’s protoge took up the mantle of Horn of the Sun years ago.

“The Hahren’al — and several from other the other Temples — fears that the Horn of the Sun might send agents here to…remove you from returning and upsetting the balance. The Horn of the Sun has begun to spread rumors about you and your treatment at the hands of the Inquisition. The Hahren’al and several of the other Temples have already moved to try and combat the rumors but they have taken a stubborn hold and are a constant threat.”

Mahanon raises his eyes.

“We know you will not return to your post. You cannot return to your post. Or even to the Dales. But for everyone’s peace of mind…take the armor. The members of the Temples of Dirthamen and Falon’din have given their blessing for it to be removed from the sacred grounds and taken here to you. If you die here we risk war from within. And…”

“War with the Inquisition,” Ellana whispers.

The Horn of the Sun could easily move popular opinion to wage war with the Inquisition if she dies here — the Inquisition wrongly framed. At the same time the Inquisition could also decide to move against the Dales for breach of contract. And maybe, if she’s feeling generous, out of anger for killing the wife of one of their own.

Ellana takes the armor and Mahanon rises to his feet, pulling her into a strong embrace.

“Sister,” Mahanon whispers, “We have gotten ourselves into a terrible mess.”

Ellana holds her brother back just as hard.

“Do what you can on your side. I’ll start being more discerning with the information I’m receiving on this one. I support the Hahren’al and their choices. I believe in this treaty. I believe in the Inquisition. I’ll do what I can to ease tempers on this side. I refuse to let this fall apart.”

Ellana has begun to build a future here. And she will not let it crumble because her past refuses to return to shadow.

[boymeetsweevil]

the min booty diaries - 02

Grouping: Reader x Yoongi

Word Count: ~2k, pg-13 again for butt glory

Summary: You get desperate and scissor-happy, but Yoongi has money to fix it

prologue, pt 1, pt 3, pt 4

this is for yani :)

The day before your presentation is also the day before Yoongi’s comeback. He’s eerily calm as he lies on your bed and watches you pick out an outfit frantically. If this were a normal work day, you would default to the section of your closet full of whites, blacks, and charcoals and maybe even a few khakis. However, given the importance of the occasion, you pore over your whole wardrobe before throwing several potential outfits onto the bed. You turn to the large pile that nearly swallows your boyfriend and move to unbutton your jeggings before turning to him worriedly.

“Yoongi, can you…cover your eyes, or something?”

“Really,” he asks incredulously.

“Yes?” You mirror his tone back to him with a huff.

He sighs before taking a throw pillow and placing it over his head. He mourns the loss of his view of you while you change and opts for listening to the slide of fabric as you pull on the first outfit. Clearly, since you didn’t banish him from the room entirely, you must want his opinion on the outfit. He waits for you to ask him what he thinks when he hears you gasp. He removes the pillow without thinking at the sound of your distress.

“What is it?”

“I just—this is supposed to be a looser skirt,” you say as you smooth your palms over the sides and twist in the mirror.

The skirt hugs your hips and thighs tightly before loosening slightly below your knees. It was originally something you only wore on days when you didn’t want to feel like you had bottoms on. Now, you’re very much aware that you’re wearing it by the way the straining fabric forces you to take small steps to turn to face Yoongi.

“It looks fine to me,” he says while he takes in your silhouette. 

“Of course, it looks fine to you. You didn’t fully see the back,” you turn to show him the back, “I can’t wear this to work. Much less in front of my boss and the rest of the committee.”

Yoongi gives an appreciative hum that you mistake for sympathy and you sulk. Unzipping the back of your skirt, you let it fall to your feet before stepping out of it and moping in just a blouse and your stockings. You toss the skirt into the corner of the room and collapse face first onto the bed next to him.

“I wish I could just wear my leggings all the time,” you say, voice muffled by the duvet.

Seeing you in such a state of resignation hurts Yoongi’s heart. He remembers how you used to rush home from the office or a function and rip your clothes off just so you could shimmy on some leggings. Just last week you had tried to do the same thing but realized they were now too small to pull on past the knee. You made such a sad sound that he ran back to his dorm to bring back the Gucci sweatpants Taehyung bought him for his birthday that you were always trying to steal. He had handed them over without a word and the look of awe you gave him almost undid all the damage your puppy-dog eyes had done as you folded up your leggings and put them with the rest of the clothes you couldn’t quite fit this winter. 

He sees you take the skirt and a few other clothing items to the same growing pile in the back of your closet and feels another twinge in his chest. When he sees that you have to resort to pulling out the ugly slacks your father bought you for your last birthday, he silently pulls up a new Naver tab on his phone and searches “leggings for women”.

The next day passes you by in a blur. You barely got any sleep the night before and you cry in the bathroom that morning when you pull on those awful trousers your dad bought you. You would say they were ill-fitting, but they just hung loosely from your waist in such a way that the word “fit” doesn’t apply. They’re just...on your body. You try your best to wear them with one of your nicer button downs, but none of those fit either because your boobs had grown too as a product of your weight gain. The buttons look like they’re straining to keep the shirt closed. In the end, you throw a blazer on over everything and hope the makeup you spent an extra 35 minutes doing will draw attention away from the horrible outfit.

The presentation itself is a hit. Sure, you were feeling a little zany from lack of sleep and nerves, but you had gone over the numbers and figures so many times that you just went on auto-pilot. And thanks to your equally type-A partner, none of the questions your supervisors ask are surprises. It feels pretty good when you finish clarifying a point on the last graph and your boss announces a catered lunch for all your hard work. You munch on the burrito you picked up with a little less guilt. You deserve it.

The rest of the day consists of doing some work to get ahead for the next quarter by looking into tweaking your projections, answering a bunch of emails, and helping the new temp with the printer in the break room. When 6:30 comes and goes, your boss taps you on the shoulder and startles you out of your tunnel vision. He already has his coat on and his briefcase in his hand.

“The project is over, you know. You can start your break, get some rest. You earned it, champ.”

“Right. Sorry, I guess it’s become a habit. Enjoy the break, sir.”

You pack up quickly, realizing you’re the only one still on the floor, and rush out to catch the train back home. On the 3 block stroll back to your condo, you pick up some celebratory chicken and beer to eat when Yoongi’s comeback airs.

When you finally get back home, you immediately shed the layers of your outfit and go hunt for something you can wear without looking like you’re a floating head. You pout a little when you remember Yoongi took back his sweatpants to be dry cleaned because you spilled buffalo sauce on them. Very quickly it becomes clear that you’re out of options. All you have in your drawers are work clothes and pantyhose, all of the comfy bottoms you would normally wear suddenly too small and folded up in your closet. You eye the hosiery with contempt before swallowing your pride and walking to your kitchen with a pair clutched in your fist.

“This is my house. This isn’t weird. No one is going to see me, anyway,” you mutter to yourself after slipping on a ratty pair of pantyhose you’ve cut the feet away from.

It doesn’t feel too bad either, you muse when you finally hunker down on your couch after a shower. You look pretty strange in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of tights with runs in the leg and a jaggedly cut cuff around each ankle from where you took some kiddy scissors to the nylon. 

When there are 5 minutes left, you turn the TV on and go to the channel you watched the last comeback on. The boys all look amazing with their cool clothes and new hair colors revealed. You didn’t have much time to come over to the dorm to visit anyway. But the few times you did, they all wore beanies or bucket hats to hide their hair from you. “Don’t want to jinx anything,” Jimin had said. Even Yoongi at least wore a hood. Now, though, he is back to his classic charcoal black tousled waves. The dance moves and the new songs are also a surprise to you because you didn’t have time to accompany Yoongi to the studio to hear any sneak peeks of the new album’s songs. Once the excitement of the 3 new songs wears off and a rookie group has replaced the guys’ place on stage, you catch yourself nodding off and treat yourself to an early bedtime.

You wake up to a cold hand snaking its way up your shirt and Yoongi’s gravelly humming in your ear. Twisting away from the iciness of his palm, you turn confusedly to look at him.

“What are you doing here,” you ask, your voice raspy with sleep.

“I’m done. And you’re done. So, I came to see you. Should I go?”

“No. Stay.” You sit up so you can look down at him properly for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I have something for you. Think of it as a celebratory gift for all the hard work you’ve done. You can maybe relax a little more with this,” he turns and reaches for a fat package he placed on your nightstand.

You take it from him and rip into it excitedly. Its from a brand whose name  and insignia you reconize but can’t remember from where you’d seen it. A few seconds pass by as you think of the name and Yoongi sweats a little anxiously, wondering what the delay is.

“Oh my god,” you finally exclaim, “IU swears by this brand.”

“That’s good, right?”

You give an affirmative grunt and work on opening the package fully. When you finally realize what’s inside, you feel your eyes watering at the thoughtfulness of the gift.

“Yoongi, you got me leggings?”

The material is silky and cool in the way only expensive athletic wear can be.

“I remembered how much you loved that old pair, so I thought you might like some new ones.”

“I’ll try them on right now.” You throw off your covers and hop excitedly out of bed so you can put the first pair on.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

You glance down at your attire and realize you forgot to switch out your makeshift leggings in your haste to get to bed. The runs in your, now foot-less, tights are very pronounced in the morning light and you look a little deranged.

“This is the product of work-related stress and children’s scissors on old pantyhose. Hot, right?”

“Sure. Maybe you could try on the real leggings, though. Just a thought.”

You stick your tongue out at him, but you comply. The material is a bit thin, but since you’ll just be lounging around or doing yoga at home, it doesn’t matter to you. You turn to admire your figure in the mirror. The leggings work well with your new shape instead of against it. In your peripheral vision, you can see that Yoongi feels the same.

His gaze is dark as he admires the way the form-fitting material stretches over your hips and hugs your ass. The leggings are just thin enough that he can see the shadow of your black panties if he really looks. He snorts to himself when the peach emoji comes to mind, but the smug expression on his face shatters when you test the material by bending over as if to touch your toes. Your stretching causes the fabric to momentarily thin even more. He wonders briefly if it’s possible to start a religion dedicated to worshipping ass.

“How do they feel,” he asks when you finally stand upright again.

“They feel amazing. See for yourself.” 

You walk over to the edge of the bed and cock a hip innocently to let him drag his hand over the material you wear. If he hears your breath hitch a little at the feel of his large hand settling around your hipbone, he doesn’t say anything. Just like you don’t say anything as he unconsciously tightens his grip to pull you forward and into the V of his splayed legs.

“Looks good,” he rasps and looks up at you, “Try on the others?”

[renewmobi475]

Default Image Editing Software Mac

Editing your photos on your iPhone is one thing, but editing your photos on your Mac can take your photography skills to a whole 'nother level.

Photography Editing Software For Mac

Pdf Editing Software For Mac

Default Image Editing Software Mac Reviews

Music Editing Software For Mac

Default Image Editing Software Mac Pro

Adobe Photoshop Photo, image, and design editing software 12-month Subscription with auto-renewal, billed monthly, PC/Mac by Adobe Platform: Mac OS Sierra 10.12, Windows 7. The downside of PhotoScape X is a lack of selection tools, so all changes are applied to the whole image rather than to a selected part. Gimp (Free) Gimp is a free open-source photo editing app that has been on the market for over 22 years and is available for Windows, Mac, and even Linux. Cinepaint is a good image editing software for MAC with a very simple interface. It provides a number of options to edit image on MAC. Different selection options are available, like: rectangular select, elliptical select, hand drawn region select, continuous regions, select using Bezier curves, and select shapes from image.

Wd my cloud for mac software. My Cloud; My Book; Internal Drives / SSDs; WD Elements / WD easystore; Embedded & Removable Flash. Western Digital SSD Dashboard. Software for Mac GoodSync for WD. Install WD Discovery for Mac. WD Drive Utilities for Mac. WD Security for Mac.

Many of us still keep our main libraries on our Macs because of its faster processors, larger storage, and all-around bigger computing power. The Mac is still the best device for serious photo editing, so you need some serious photo editing apps to make an impact.

The built-in Photos app on Mac offers several useful photo editing tools. You can crop, adjust lighting and color, set the white balance, add filters, remove unwanted blemishes, and a few more things. However, in all honesty? It's not really meant to be a robust editing app, so If you are looking for something to really finish your photos right, we've got a list of the best photo editors for Mac right here. Let's go!

Affinity Photo

If you're looking for a photo editing app that goes above and beyond for the pricetag, while still allowing you complete creative control over your images, then it might be worth it to take a peek at Affinity Photo.

Affinity Photo supports unlimited layers, groups, layer adjustments, filters, masking, and more: you also have access to tools like dodge, red-eye fix, burn, blemish, clone, and patch (so pretty much Photoshop without all the convoluted bells and whistles). Nondestructive auto-saving makes undoing everything you've done easy, so if you need to start from the beginning, the option is there.

Play, manipulate, edit, and get hella creative with Affinity Photo whether you're a serious graphic designer or someone who's just looking to do some basic editing. Your photography will seriously thank you.

$49.99 - Download now

Fotor Photo Editor

Searching for a super simple, straight-forward photo editing app that's there to help you edit and not confuse you to the point of ripping out your hair? Then check out Fotor Photo Editor!

Logitech unifying software mac os. May 17, 2019  Logitech Unifying Software will allow you to add additional compatible mice, keyboards, and number pads to your Unifying receiver. What's new in Logitech Unifying Software Version 1.3.375. Logitech Unifying Software. Check our Logitech Warranty here. Make the Most of your warranty. Product Specific Phone Numbers. Main Phone Numbers. Was this article helpful? 0 out of 0 found this helpful. Return to top. STILL NEED HELP? Want to ask other users with the same product a question? Join the conversation.

With this photo editor, you can easily adjust contrast and color of more washed-out photos, add borders, tilt and shift your images, add different text, slap on a few filters, and so much more, all from the easy-to-find toolbox on the right side of the app. You can even create collages of your photography masterpieces!

The BBC once called Fotor Photo Editor 'light Photoshop', and they're kind of right! You can go above and beyond editing your images with Fotor Photo Editor without getting bogged down by more complicated editing buttons and tools.

Free - Download now

Lightroom

When you look into photo editing software, one of the first things that'll pop up is Adobe's Lightroom, and for good reason! It's essentially a staple in the photo editing community.

Lightroom is great for photographers who need to manage a large image library, and who are prepared to commit to (and pay for) Adobe's cloud storage space. But it is purely a photography tool that's a little outside the regular Adobe design ecosystem. (Creative Bloq)

Pretty much anything you want to do with your photo, you can accomplish with Lightroom. You can blend and merge shadows and highlights, sharpen dull, blurry images so they look crisp and clear, add details and tint colors to make a photo stand out, and so, so much more.

Calendar app free. Jun 30, 2020  Similar ransomware was found in other pirated apps, and Mac users can avoid it by staying away from pirated apps and untrustworthy websites. Mar 31, 2018  Question: Q: Siri Found in Apps - Calendar On my calendar, I've noticed there is an appointment that I am not aware of it. Further check, realised it was created by 'Siri Found in Apps' (click on the 'Calendars' on the bottom of the screen). In the Calendar app on your Mac, choose Calendar Preferences, click Advanced, then select “Turn on time zone support.” See Use different time zones. If you want to change events on a published calendar, but you deleted the calendar, re-create the calendar with all. Oct 07, 2018  Apple’s Calendar. Of all the calendar apps on macOS, Apple’s built-in calendar is probably the most widely used. It’s built into every Mac, and it syncs with iCloud, Google Calendar, Yahoo. In the Calendar app on your Mac, click the calendar’s name in the calendar list. If you don’t see the calendar list on the left, choose View Show Calendar List. Choose Edit Delete. Some calendars can’t be deleted. You can’t delete delegated calendars, but you can stop showing them in the main Calendar window. See Share calendar.

While it is a bit more on the complicated side, people who use the program and know how to navigate it are hooked. Keep in mind, there are two versions of the app — there's the Classic version, which is more preferred, and the 2018 CC version.

If you're hesitant about the program and paying for it, you can download Lightroom free for 30 days as part of a trial period. After that, you can add it to your Photoshop CC subscription for $9.99 per month.

Free trial - Download now

Pixelmator

Amp up your photo editing skills with a little bit of help from Pixelmator!

This particular photo editing app allows you to combine two different photos into one (while still allowing you to edit over each layer), add shapes, gradients, filters, tints, and more, and completely change and edit your photography to make it fit perfectly to your aesthetic. You can even mask and cut off certain areas of the photo, giving you more creative control over your final image.

Similar to other photo editing apps, you can also adjust contrast, color, saturation level, definition, and so much more.

It's another great alternative to Photoshop, at least according to our managing editor Lory Gil.

$29.99 - Download now

GIMP

Love Photoshop (or the idea of Photoshop..) but don't want all the complicated components and nonsense that comes along with it? Then it might be worth it to take a peek at GIMP.

Similar to Photoshop, GIMP allows you full control over editing your photos: it's an advanced image manipulation program with detailed customization for color reproduction.

You can add layers to your photos, edit and tweak colors, adjust contrast, crop, adjust saturation, and so much more. If you're someone who admires Photoshop but is terrified of the price (or just thinks it's not worth it) then GIMP might be the perfect pal for you.

Free - Download now

Snapheal

Say 'bye-bye' to nasty photobombs, zits, perky distractions, and so much more in your photos thanks to Snapheal!

Snapheal is a little bit unique in the sense that it's more of a 'delete now, ask questions later' app. It's more about cleaning up a photo than it is editing it and adding a whole bunch of layers. The tools can either remove large objects or smaller imperfections depending on the mode. You can even adjust the masking tool, use a magic rope, or clone stamp your way to a new photo.

If you're someone who's a perfectionist when it comes to your photography and you just can't stand that one stupid, distracting blur in the background, then Snapheal is the guy for you.

$7.99 - Download now

Photography Editing Software For Mac

Preview

I know what you're thinking: 'Preview? Really, Cella?'

To which I respond: 'Uh, yeah. Duh, my dude. You use it every day!'

Sure, you can't do a bunch of fancy things with Preview like add filters, adjust contrast, and fix saturation, but you can quickly crop a photo, adjust the color, rotate it, add shapes, texts, and a signature, export as a different format, and more.

Yes, Preview isn't perfect, but it is easy to use and fantastic for making small, fast changes to your photography.

It's already on your Mac.

How do you edit your photography?

What is your favorite photo editing app for the Mac? Why does it work the best for you? Let us know what your top picks are in the comments down below!

Updated August 2018: All the choices on this list are still the best of the best!

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New EU regulations target App Store, empowering developers

The EU has introduced new regulations and measures to help protect developers and publishers who deal with storefronts like the App Store.

Everyone knows that MacOS is the best platform for image editing, but finding the right software isn’t so clear. Photoshop is the default choice, but the insane pricing can put it outside the budget for a huge number of people.

There are quite a few free or low cost options, but it can be tough to narrow down between them. After all, some online tools (like Pixlr) are just as effective as the lower-end editing applications available through the App Store.

These tools are our picks for the best free and low cost photo editors for Mac.

GIMP (Download)

GIMP is the closest free tool to Photoshop, but comes with a steep learning curve that can be tough to master. Despite its age, GIMP is still updated regularly and serves as the go-to tool for a huge number of people.

Pdf Editing Software For Mac

The default suite of tools is powerful, but if you don’t find what you’re looking for, GIMP works with a huge number of third-party plugins. You can expand its utility and functionality to near-infinite levels with a bit of Google searching.

The great thing about GIMP is that if you’re already skilled with Photoshop, you can get the hang of GIMP relatively quickly. You’ll need to learn the names for the different tools, but it has almost as much power as Photoshop for none of the cost.

Pixelmator (Download)

Pixelmator is a paid tool available for download on the App Store for $29.99, but it comes with a 30-day free trial if you want to give it a whirl and see if the app works for you.

Pixelmator has a lot of powerful painting and retouching tools that let users change images in any way they can imagine, as well as compatibility with a wide array of different file formats including Photoshop. This means you can open a Photoshop file with various layers and manipulate it just like you would in its original format.

Default Image Editing Software Mac Reviews

Pixelmator takes advantage of macOS features to provide users with a full-featured suite of image editing software that competes with the best of them.

Fotor Photo Editor (Download)

Fotor is a popular free photo editor for Mac that many of you might have used before. It’s available as an online tool, but if you find that you prefer it for quick and easy edits as opposed to something with more features, you can also download it from the App Store.

Fotor lacks many of the more advanced tools you’ll find with GIMP or Pixelmator, but it does offer a lot of powerful features that less-skilled users will appreciate. Fotor can automatically touch up images and process dozens of images at a time with its batch tool. You can also create collages and set your own borders.

Music Editing Software For Mac

Instagram has nothing on Fotor. Best of all, it’s free – but if you want access to its Pro features, a subscription is $4.99 per month or $19.99 per year.

Photoscape X (Download)

Photoscape X is another free photo editor for Mac that appeals to a niche audience. That said, it has tools that some of the others do not, including the ability to create animated GIFS.

Default Image Editing Software Mac Pro

Its primary function is to fix and enhance photos, with all of the tools you associate with image editing. You can merge photos together to create HDR effects, rename multiple photos at once, and add up to 26 different textures.

Photoscape X is free to use, but it does have in-app purchases that you can invest in to expand its function.

[equinoxts2]

10 Questions Meme

I was tagged by @shannonsimsfan​ and @starrsim​ :)

Rules: Always post the rules, answer the questions given to you, then write 10 questions of your own, and tag some friends!

Because I was tagged twice and I tend to ramble on, here’s a cut.

Starr’s Questions:

1) How long have you’ve been playing the sims franchise? No idea... about 13 years? My first Sims game was Bustin’ Out for PS2, then my uncle gave me a copy of TS1 Complete Collection which was promptly installed on my late Mac, Terry. I started playing TS2 when OFB was the newest expansion. So yeah... more than half my life.

2) Do you have a favorite sim? why? I love all my Sims! I’ll admit there are some I’d be more likely to reroll a death ROS for than others, but I’m not naming any names. If I do the others will get me. :P

3) What’s your favorite sims career? I don’t really use careers in my game, since Kulo Seeri isn’t the sort of hood that has them. My Sims do have professions and crafts, and I think the one I enjoy most out of them is the not-quite-school run by Otolo zan-Ave and Markal Go. I haven’t shown it on my blog yet, but basically the two elders summon the village kids to their lot with Simlogical’s meeting controller. They offer lessons on various subjects using Sophie-David’s opportunity objects (usually invisible) but for most of the time the kids just run wild together and make friends, enemies and occasionally childhood sweethearts.

4) What’s your CC weakness? Rugs, paintings, hair, etc? CC in general! My good old external hard drive Trixie contains *checks* 190 GB of hoarded stuff. Most of it I will probably never use, but it’s there in case I ever need any of it. This is a side effect of my hoarder nature and obsession with TS2 and I’m not ashamed of it in the slightest. Fun fact: That same hoarder-obsessive nature applies to dice. I have over 1000. Dicedicedicedice... yay :)

5) What aspect of the game have you not played with, or tried, yet? Businesses, vacation hoods, or university. I’ve been wanting to experiment with them for a while but they fit into Kulo Seeri like a foot into a glove. However, that doesn’t stop me occasionally trying to shoehorn bits in - an in-hood “university” might be a possibility for KS, maybe representing a craft apprenticeship. I will have to test that out.

6) When do you usually play? When I’m awake. No kidding - since I’m unable to work due to a combination of autism, depression, social anxiety, semi-regular bouts of ill health, several debilitating phobias and a distaste for the “cog in the machine” life, I am essentially a professional Simmer.

7) What’s your simming routin? (settle in with a drink and a few hours, keep the game open for days, etc) Play in bursts throughout the day, occasionally taking screen breaks to play board games or dice games or kick ideas around with my mum, or to snooze.

8) Do you talk sims with others outside the simming community? My mum and support workers, yes. My mum is probably the non-Simmer who knows most about the game - when she’s home, she’s my go-to person to bat around ideas for KS.

9) Besides tumblr, how else do you interact with the simming community? Through my story blog on Blogger, and also through Plumb Bob Keep and Garden of Shadows’ forums. I don’t know any other Simmers personally, only through the forums and blogs.

10) Why the sims vs other games? It’s pure escapism for me - it lets me immerse myself in another setting without being too focused on achieving certain objectives (the reason I could never get into computer RPGs and still haven’t completely warmed to TS4). I love being able to customise pretty much everything the game has to offer and create new worlds to explore through the eyes of my Sims.

Shannon’s Questions:

1) When you’re playing, do you have the game music on or off? Sometimes I listen to my own music while I’m building, and my Sims don’t really have stereos, so mostly off. I do have a few disguised/invisible stereos but I don’t use them much, and I have - thanks to a tutorial by @greatcheesecakepersona​ - added my Unofficial Kulo Seeri Playlist to the selection of loading tunes.

2) How long have you been playing your current hood? In one form or another, Kulo Seeri has been around for ten years. I started it in April 2007 as a third rate legacy, and it ended up taking me in all sorts of directions I never expected. It’s currently on Generation 7 and has a lot of in-game history, folklore and dreaming behind it. I love it to bits <3

3) Uh-oh! Your game just exploded: are you going to rebuild or start afresh? Rebuild, of course. I couldn’t imagine being without Kulo Seeri after all this time. Although I’ve rebuilt it what feels like a million times and hate setup and hoodlessness, I’m still too invested in it to let it go.

4) What is your favourite Sims version and why? Sims 2, of course! It’s pure sandbox fun, easy to customise and remove from the default modern setting, lends itself well to a huge variety of playstyles, and IMO it’s got more heart than 3 and 4 put together.

5) What’s an expansion you’d love to see that EA never did for any version of the game? I have to second Shannon’s idea of a prehistoric-style one. I’d also love to see more ways for younger Sims to act out that don’t require modern vehicles or technology.

6) Do you use cheats (apart from building cheats) when you play? Yes, not too often because I enjoy having a challenge, but I do use money cheats (KS doesn’t have money, so I always give them enough to move into their homes) and mood cheats (when I can’t stand to see a struggling family suffer any longer, or I need a Sim to stay awake for a photo opportunity).

7) Do you consider yourself primarily a player, builder or decorator? Or other? Player first, storyteller second, don’t touch Build Mode unless I have to. I’m not bad at building, landscaping or decorating... I just find it tedious and avoid it.

8) Do you play pre-mades, your own sims or a mix? Most of my Sims were born in Kulo Seeri, with a handful of premade Sims (mostly from TS3 hoods) who have moved there over the years. Some of my Sims originate from other players’ games, too.

9) What is your favourite kind of business to run? Or what kind would you like to run, if your game version allowed it? Hmm. Never really done much with businesses, but I’d like to have a small trading post of some sort in Kulo Seeri, once the population reaches the point where it splits into two villages. However, KS culture regards trade as the most unclean occupation, so I’m not sure who’d run it.

10) If you were a sim, what would be your aspiration and lifetime want? Feel free to translate that to your own game version - I only speak TS2! My aspiration is Pleasure/Knowledge, with the Pleasure bit being more “stay at home and play games all day” than “go out clubbing and dating”, and the Knowledge bit being limited to my major obsessions: Sims, dice, notebooks, vintage 90′s My Little Ponies, and Plants vs. Zombies. But my LTW would be "reach golden anniversary” - I am a hopeless romantic despite my asexuality, and I’m fed up of getting close to people (mostly support workers and therapists) and then never seeing them again. I want a long-term partnership like my parents have (over 30 years and counting!) with someone who isn’t a support worker or a therapist or other person who listens to my problems partly because it’s their job.

11)  What do you think Sims 5 will be like? *VT Cynic Powers Activate!* It will probably feel more mechanical and repetitive than TS4, and be more goal-orientated than sandbox play. It will probably also have more online features and in-game ads. The hoods or worlds or towns or whatever they’ll be calling them by then will be harder to customise, be designed for legacy style play with some form of annoying story progression, and feature several familiar TS2 premades warped beyond recognition. Modders will find that game behaviour will be much harder to alter, because EA will want to stop fans adding new features so they can release said features as overpriced add-on packs. It will run on patch levels which will force players to update every five minutes, then sneak little bits of the latest pack’s coding into games that don’t have it installed, so that everyone has to have ALL THE PACKS for it to work correctly. (This was one of my major gripes with TS3 patch levels - and then TS4 topped that by adding new functionality into the stuff packs.)

....rant over, time for bed. :)

As for writing questions and tagging other Simmers, that is one area where I fall down, so I’ll leave it there. But thanks again to Shannon & Starr for the tags!

[fandomsandfeminism]

William Shakespeare- the Bard of Avon, Legendary Wordsmith, was, in all probability, super queer. We're going to look at the evidence, read some lovely poems, read some raunchy poems, and generally just talk Shakespeare.

Closed Captioning Available 

Transcript below

Today we are going to talk about how William Shakespeare was super bisexual.

William Shakespeare- love him or hate him, you know who he is. This guy. The Bard of Avon. England’s National Poet. Good ole Billy Shakes. Willy “Dick Joke” Shake-a-Spear. He’s sort of a big deal. He was also super into dudes AND ladies.

So before we go any further, I do want to quickly address an important point- as I mentioned briefly in my Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman video, discussing the sexual orientation of historical figures can be tricky. Modern terms and understandings of sexuality and sexual orientation are, well, modern. The word “heterosexual” wasn’t even coined until 1892. So, keep that in mind. If you were to ask Shakespeare if he was bisexual, he wouldn’t have known what that word meant.

So I’m not going to argue about whether or not Shakespeare would have personally identified with the label bisexual, or if he would have prefered pansexual or queer, or whatever, were he alive today. Rather, I’m going to argue that, from the evidence we have, Shakespeare seems to meet our modern definitions for bisexual- someone who is attracted to two or more genders, someone who is attracted to their own and different gender or genders, someone who is attracted to both men and women (and nonbinary people.)

We’re also going to be approaching this topic with the deliberate intent to disregard heteronormativity. Heteronormativity is an attitude which presumes heterosexual is the normal, default, and expected sexuality and that to assert anyone is anything else requires us to disprove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are NOT straight first.

We will not be doing this. Instead, we are approaching the topic from a neutral standpoint. With ALL of the evidence, which modern label most closely matches what we know about Shakespeare, treating all labels as inherently likely.

So no, we’ll never be able to say with 100% certainty which label Shakespeare would have used for himself had those labels existed then, but we can talk about which label he would most likely fit today using what evidence we have.

So With that, let’s first talk about who William Shakespeare is, what we know about him, and the evidence we have that he was playing for more than one team. -

William Shakespeare was born in late April 1564 in Stratford upon Avon. He was baptized on the 26th, so he was probably born on the 23rd or 24th, but we can’t be sure. He was the son of a glover and was educated at a public grammar school.  When he was 18, he married the 26 year old Anne Hathaway, who was already 3 months pregnant with their first child, a daughter named Susanna. 2 years later, the couple had a set of twins, a son Hamnet and a daughter Judith. Hamnet would die of unknown causes when he was 11, and inspire the tragedy Hamlet in some ways.

By the 1590s, Shakespeare had moved to London and took up acting, writing,and directing. He wrote 38 plays (some of which have contested authorship) and 154 sonnets. We aren’t totally sure about when all his plays were written, and there are multiple different versions of each play in existence (collected in what are called quartros and folios.) There is a whole interesting history about the publication of these plays that we won’t go into now.

He died April 23 1616 of unknown causes, leaving the majority of his estate to his daughter Susanna.

Shakespeare was well respected in his craft at the time, but was certainly not the legendary figure he is today. (And the fact that he is so worshipped today would make poor Christopher Marlowe just as mad as a bee hive) His plays appealed to members of all classes in society, exploring themes of nobility and the nature of the soul right along side fart jokes and fat jokes and dick jokes. A lot of dick jokes.

Now, despite all this, we don’t really know a whole lot about Shakespeare’s personal life. He didn’t keep a journal as far as anyone knows. Aside from some very basic legal documents, like his baptism, marriage, and death records, we don’t have a lot of contemporary sources about him. He wasn’t rich or noble, so despite his notoriety, no one was documenting his life very carefully. He wasn’t even consistent with how he spelled his own name (English spelling hadn’t been super formalized yet, and wouldn’t be until Samuel Johnson wrote his very popular dictionary in 1755.)  

We know he was married, when he lived and died, when his plays were released for the most part, and what general times he lived in London (leaving his wife and children back in Stratford) -

So, how can we speculate about the personal life and desires of a man who died 400 years ago if we don’t even have as much as a journal to work with? His plays don’t help much- even if we accept that events in his personal life can and did impact his plays, such as Hamnet’s death being an influence on the play Hamlet, his plays are often based on earlier stories or historical events, and are too fantastical to base much biographical meaning on.

Quick Shout out though to As You Like It, which has a woman disguised as a man, using the name Ganymede, and then dressing up as herself to fake date the guy she has a thing for. And Twelfth Night which has even more cross dressing. And Merchant of Venice.  And remember, that all the actors would have been men and boys originally. So, what I’m saying is that Theatre has always been pretty queer. And Shakespeare definitely had a penchant for exploring queer themes in his works at times. And, well, it’s not impossible for straight dudes to write queer characters or explore queer themes. But...it is something to remember.

However. We do have his 154 Sonnets. Poetry, my friends. Poetry is key. And I’m going to read you some of his poetry in this video. I’ll do my best.

The sonnets deal with love, and desire, beauty, and the passage of time. They all read as highly personal. And of those 154, The first 126 sonnets are addressed to a young man; the last 28 to a dark skinned woman. These are referred to, respectively, as the Fair Youth, and Dark Lady sonnets.

The poems are all dedicated to  "Mr. W.H." (called the sole begetter of the poems, whatever that means), and who WH is, and whether or not he is the Fair Youth, or just a patron is the source much speculation and controversy. Is Shakespeare himself the speaker, or is there an imagined speaker? Again, we don’t know for sure. Though it does seem that the speaker and the subject are consistently the same for the first 126 sonnets, then the subject changes for the last 20+ poems with the same speaker.

And yall, these Fair Youth Poems are something else. Don’t let the haters tell you these are platonic. One of these Fair Youth poems? You’ve probably heard of it:

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  And often is his gold complexion dimmed,  And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

This is written to a man. And it’s very romantic.

Or look at Sonnet 20, when he clearly laments that the fair youth isn’t a woman.

This one is so great, I want to share with you the No Fear Shakespeare paraphrase of it. Because its a little easier to understand.

Your face is as pretty as a woman’s, but you don’t even have to use makeup—you, the man (or should I say woman?) I love. Your heart is as gentle as a woman’s, but it isn’t cheating like theirs. Your eyes are prettier than women’s, but not as roving—you bless everything you look at. You’ve got the good looks of a handsome man, but you attract both women and men. When Mother Nature made you, she originally intended to make you a woman, but then she got carried away with her creation and screwed me by adding a certain thing that I have no use for. But since she gave you a prick to please women, I’ll keep your love, and they can enjoy your body.

That’s just beautiful. I also want us to quickly enjoy Sonnet 52, which enjoys an excellent dick pun.

So look at this one for just a moment.

Pfffft. his imprison’d pride. Yeah. That means what exactly you think it means.

And yall, the poem I read to my husband at our wedding is one of the Fair Youth sonnets,

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds   Admit impediments. Love is not love   Which alters when it alteration finds,   Or bends with the remover to remove:   O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken;   It is the star to every wandering bark,   Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.   Love ’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks   Within his bending sickle’s compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,   But bears it out even to the edge of doom.    If this be error, and upon me prov’d,    I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.

Side note: Sonnets traditionally end in a rhyming couplet. You will notice that proved and loved do not rhyme though. They used to. The pronunciation of proved has changed in the last 400 years. From provd to proved. So provd and loved do rhyme. There’s actually a lot of examples of this in Shakespeare- rhymes and puns that break because of modern pronunciation.

But yeah. I love that poem. I love it and recited it at my wedding. And Shakespeare wrote it for his secret London boyfriend. Probably, ya know.

Now we need to talk about the Dark Lady. Based on the descriptions we have in the poems, we can conclude that this lover was a black woman, though like the Fair youth, her identity remains a mystery. This sequence of poems is not only romantic, but also much more explicitly sexual. Yes, more sexual that the repeated dick references we’ve already seen.

Sonnet 151 talks a lot about his erection, for example. Yeah take a moment to read this.

Yeah, so his flesh is pointing out his triumphant prize. Jeez, Billy. Calm down.

Also, the famous Sonnet 130 is written to the Dark Lady.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head; I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some pérfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound. I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare   As any she belied with false compare.

And this is a really sweet poem. It’s all about how even though the Dark Lady isn’t some idealized goddess- coral red lips and snow white skin and perfume breath- rather she has brown skin and wiry hair, even though she is a normal person unadorned by hyperbole, he finds her rare and beautiful and lovely all the same.

I also want to take a minute to appreciate Sonnet 135, simply because it is SO RAUNCHY.

Yall. Her “will” is so large, that he wants to put his “will” into hers. …like...God damn. Not only is that a pun on his OWN NAME, it is also very dirty.

Ok, so that’s a lot of poetry I just threw at you. I could probably go all day. I love the sonnets. But let’s move on.

Now, when the sonnets are brought up in the great Sexuality Debate, detractors will often go to this argument that we can not know if Shakespeare himself is the speaker, or if this private collection of over 150 poems is an extended exercise in dramatic storytelling- the speaker being an invented character who has no reflection on Shakespeare himself.

To address that, I will turn to the Scholar Arthur Freeman who answers more succinctly than I can. “I cannot think of any responsible editor who would dismiss the premise of homosexual, as well as heterosexual passion pervading [the sonnets],” Mr Freeman has written. “Why should Shakespeare alone be thought so committed to the ‘negative capability’ of his dramatic craft that all his most personal writings are treated as potentially artificial?

“And even if we insist on regarding the sonnets, wholly or in part, as a kind of long-term dramatic narrative... Why on earth would Shakespeare choose so often to impersonate a pathetically ageing, balding, lame and vulnerable bisexual suitor, abjectly whingeing about rejection and betrayal — unless the self-humiliation that surfaces again and again through these particulars were both genuine and cathartic?”

I will also turn to Professor Wells, who said: “When a poet whose name is William writes poems of anguished and unabashed sexual frankness which pun on the word ‘will’ — 13 times in [Sonnet] No 135... It is not unreasonable to conclude that he may be writing from the depths of his own experience.”

So, remember that we are working from a non-heteronormative starting place here. Taking all of the evidence we have, with all the needed grains of salt, what is the most likely explanation for all of the assembled evidence?

We have a poet who often wrote about cross dressing characters in his plays, exploring queer themes,  who wrote over 100 love poems to a man, dozens to a woman, was married, and to some extent did seem to be drawing on his personal experiences in his poems?

Well.

Bisexual.

He was most likely bisexual.

Which is awesome. Glad to be in good company.

Now, Hollywood. Give me a buddy comedy about Gay Christopher Marlowe and Bisexual William Shakespeare being snarky best buds and causing mischief in Elizabethan England. Bonus points if Marlowe is a Crown Spy. I will give you all my money for this.

Thanks for listening! I’ll be sure to see all of yall down in the comments. If you enjoyed listening to this queer millennial feminist with a BA in English ramble for a while, feel free to subscribe.

[metng]

ME: The Next Generation Update 2

Episode 1: Remnant of a Dead God

Rating: M - language, violence, sexuality

Summary: 100 years after the Reaping and the Crucible Event, the galaxy is rebuilding into a new golden age. As optimistic as times seem, the darkness between stars threatens to return in the form of infighting between the remaining Reapers. The Shadow Broker silently pulls strings across the galaxy to guard against the Reapers’ infighting, but even she can’t end this alone. When bounty hunter and synthetic-organic symbiote Samus Aran is called on to investigate a Reaper’s mysterious death, she discovers truths about the Reapers’ motivations and the century-old Crucible that could end the civil war–or ignite it into another Harvest.

Scene 4: Chances 

Samus drops down through the cockpit hatch once they hit the relay. "We're in hyperspace," she says to Kiriki, "the Reaper can't follow us now."

"If it's interested," says Varia. "It didn't come for us, but for the corpse."

Varia's holographic avatar is a twin, in appearance, to Samus, albeit in the translucent, shimmering colour of virtual intelligences. No, not a direct twin, Kiriki corrects xemself, there are differences. They are female turians, slimmer in build and lacking the head-crests of males, and their colony markings are an unusual, asymmetric pattern. Samus keeps her mandible flanges filed short and trim, but Varia's are longer, with more delicate tips. Samus is in a form-fitting bodysuit, but Varia has chosen the layered tunic look fashionable on Palaven.

If Varia wasn't translucent, they'd be sisters.

"Synthetic intelligence," xe says, head tilted quizzically. "Living ship."

"Varia and I are partners," explains Samus, who takes a seat next to Varia's avatar at the table. The living space beneath the cockpit is not a large area, and the small circular table is a holocomm as much as a work and eating surface, surrounded by four stools that can be retracted for extra room. There are four sleeping pods built into the walls around the living space, a food synthesizer between two pods on one wall, and a hatch door between the two pods on the other wall leading to the bathroom.

"Partners," repeats Kiriki. "Common term for symbiotic relationship between synthetic and organic intelligence. Similar bond, yes?"

"That's exactly it."

Kiriki pulls back xeir hood, revealing the air tubes and wires coming from the back of the exosuit's headpiece. Xe presses a finger on each side of xeir head, just behind the faceplate seam, and there's the distinct hiss of the suit seals releasing.

"Should you be doing that?" asks Samus, curious despite her misgivings. She's never met a suitless quarian in person before, though she has a friend on Rannoch she's seen suitless plenty of times, through holocomm. "We're not exactly a clean ship."

“Strong immune system,” Kiriki assures her. “Will be fine, no worry.” Xe removes xeir faceplate, and Samus gets her first real look at xeir face.

The most noticeable thing about Kiriki’s face is xeir left eye--the geth eye. It sticks out from xeir face more than the large, much more delicate-looking, organic eye, giving xem a lopsided look that’s only exacerbated by the extensive cybernetics crawling across xeir mouth and jaw on the left side. The accident Kiriki had mentioned must have nearly destroyed half xeir face, Samus realizes. The organic eye is mostly blue, with the usual quarian bioluminescent glow. The geth eye, for now, is a blue tone that more or less matches. The default setting, she supposes.

Quarian skin tones range from warm grey to dark brown, and Kiriki falls on the grey end of the spectrum. Xe has a heart-shaped face, a wide mouth but a narrow nose, and prominent cheekbones. As xe removes more of the headpiece, xe reveals tightly-curled cerebral tendrils, which slowly unfurl themselves when fresh air hits them. Quarian tendrils aren’t like human hair or turian fringes--they’re part of the quarian nervous system, and are extremely sensitive. The tendrils move involuntarily, and they’re known to curl more when the quarian is thinking hard about something. Kiriki’s tendrils have the occasional flash or glow, an indication of how extensive the cybernetics really are.

A true hybrid. Amazing.

Xe takes a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the ship without air filters, then notices Samus staring at xem. “You’re thinking?”

“Yeah,” says Samus, scratching the back of her head. “You really are a true hybrid.”

“Yes? Is that bad?”

“I… no. Probably not, anyway. It’s just--you realize there’s been no other cases of real synthetic-organic integration like that? Partners like us, we’re still individuals. Two minds thinking together. Not the same thing as you.”

Kiriki nods, cerebral tendrils curling around xeir face. “We know. Must always be a first, yes?”

“Yeah… that’s true. I hope the rest of the galaxy doesn’t see you as a problem. Or a threat.”

“Threat?” Kiriki looks down at xemself. Samus’s mandibles quiver with her soft laughter.

“Organics tend to fear what they don’t yet understand,” says Varia gently.

Samus laces her fingers together. "The Shadow Broker wants to understand. That's why we're taking you to the Watcher, our contact in the Shadow Net. The Watcher's the guy who sent us to the Reaper in the first place--he'll want the info you found."

"Mission's not done, have to find Last Chance," says Kiriki. "I want to see this through."

"Are you sure? If that Reaper is looking for the same thing we are, we haven't seen the last of it."

"Am on Pilgrimage, yes? Searching stars for something of value! Willing to give of self for greater good! Can't turn my back on this, not now or ever."

"Nothing dampens your spirits, huh?" chuckles Samus. "I like you, kid."

"Like you too, Samus-Aran and Varia-Aran!"

Samus leans against the table and crosses her legs. "Well," gesturing around them at the ship, "this is Varia."

"Not very big," observes Kiriki. "Just you two?"

"I'm a living ship, like you said," says Varia. "I function without a crew. Quite well, I might add. Would you like a tour?"

"Yes!" Kiriki claps xeir hands together in excitement. Varia, flattered, rises to her feet and starts explaining the intricacies of the ship's design and functioning.

Samus tunes them out and goes to the synthesizer to make herself kaveer, a coffee-like turian drink made from the root of the kava plant. They just left hyperspace; they're in the Utopia system now. Eden Prime is less than half an hour away. She drinks the kaveer, watches Varia and Kiriki, and thinks. Kiriki's a good kid. Smart. That boundless optimism could get annoying after a while, but she's finding it refreshing. Hell, it's nice to just meet someone who genuinely enjoys discovery and helping, after five years of assholes in prison jumpsuits and warden uniforms and a year of assholes worth credits since.

Maybe she can help the kid with xeir Pilgrimage. Bounty hunting isn't exactly a glamourous lifestyle, but it does take her all over the galaxy. And if the Shadow Net wants to keep hiring her, the jobs will be considerably more interesting than just hunting down idiots. She feels protective of the kid, though. Hopefully Watcher 21 will be satisfied with just an interview. The Net would be a very bad group to make enemies of.

Plus, the Broker made her a deal. She has to make sure that comes through.

Continue on AO3

[troyonut322-blog]

Photo editor Windows 10 to rotate pictures

Photo editor Windows 10 to rotate an image or software edit photo to write texts in photos for experts

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