#and so is adapting random parts to her system

[bacchuschucklefuck]

space sweepers but they're delivery people and are at no point on screen through the entire movie

[shuastar]

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ .3 (JWW)

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴄ: 9.9k (holy shit) warnings: none for now?? hot wonwoo, lowkey obsessed wonwoo, seungcheol featuring!! y/n does like kinda get hurt (you'll see) but nothing like bad, a lot of crying?? sorry i make y/n cry so much, ᴀ/ɴ: i told myself i would post this like three days ago but i just finished the last part so here you go!! sorry sorry sorry for the delay! im also trying to go through requests at the same time so if i like dont answer for a while i promise im writing it!! just wait!! anyways, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ᴘʟꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ <3

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ; ɴᴇxᴛ

Wonwoo 

The palace feels extraordinarily wistful tonight. 

His coat trails after him in the dark of the night. He shouldn’t be awake at this hour. It’s unhealthy, or whatever Hoshi had told him for the years when he was on the battlefield. He couldn’t help it. It was a coping mechanism of sorts. His mind would spend the day experiencing everything that happens and would spend the night sorting and processing through each and every event. And on those days where the empty company of his desolate, cold commander’s tent seemed too loud, he would take a long evening stroll around the camp grounds, brushing it off as an evening check-up on the midnight-round soldiers who seemed more asleep than himself. 

He thought the systems of his mind would have adapted to Society’s peace by now. 

Apparently not, because he found himself in a random hallway in the royal palace, thin rays of the moon streaming in through the windows and the midnight air chilling him, even through his layers. 

He hasn’t ever seen the palace so silent before. 

When he was younger, running the hallways of the palace with Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Hoshi, he had always remembered it to be bright, sunny, almost over-crowded with laughter and giggles from the maids and royal court officials who would pass by the halls frequently. Now, in the cover of a twilight moon and a midnight blanket of stars, the palace was almost eerily, strangely quiet. Silent, almost. Each flickering lantern casts soft yellow shadows along the stone and tapestry walls, illuminating the bare minimum of each section of the hallways. 

He prefers it like this, he thinks. Alone. 

Alone with the clangs and clashes of swords. Alone with the cries and yells of his far-away officers, now sleeping peacefully, forever. Alone with the tears that were spilled on off-handed solitary nights over old parchment letters. Alone with the burden of duty that seems to haunt him wherever he goes. 

He turns a corner. 

He prefers it this way. And maybe he was-

He stops in his weary tracks. 

He notices her fluttering hair first. First her dark hair that flutters with the icy winter wind from the opened window that she leans against. Then her rather thin-looking shawl that leaves nothing of her nightgown up to anyone’s imagination. And then lastly, how the moonlight shines an ethereal glow upon her face, tilted up towards the stars, lost in thought. Her posture is tense, almost as if she is expecting something to jump out of the shadows at this hour of the night. 

Well, him, technically, he guesses. But still. 

He stands, rooted to his place, as she shivers with a small breeze. One side of her shawl slips down her shoulder, but she makes no move to adjust it back up her shoulder. Almost as if she does not notice it. Her hands remain folded in front of her on the windowsill. A small hand-held lantern rests almost forgotten on the corner. 

He hesitates. Every fiber of his body begs for him to take a step closer – to take in her perfume again, to run his fingertips down her porcelain skin again, to make up for the time he had given up. 

Joshua’s words ring in his ears. 

If you really like her, you would do something. 

He takes a step closer. 

“It’s late.” 

Y/n whips around, a hand on her chest and another on the windowsill, surprised by the sudden sign of another person. The way her face slightly falls as she turns back to the window pinches Wonwoo’s heart. 

“It seems the palace is enduring a restless night,” she replies. But her words are clipped – voice soft and light but tone careful. As if she is afraid of him getting too close. 

Wonwoo takes another step, then another, and then another, until he stands behind her, leaving just enough room for another person. His eyes dart to her hands that rest against the ledge. There are white bandages, starkly contrasting against the dark stones of the palace walls, that wrap themselves around her hands. His brows furrow. 

His chest tightens. He feels his hands close into fists at his side. He tries to keep his voice casual – keep his worry from seeping in too much with his words, “What happened to your hands?” 

Y/n stiffens as her gaze drops. Her hands slowly move in to tuck into the folds of her thin shawl. “Nothing worth mentioning,” she murmurs. 

Wonwoo tries his best to force down some sort of disappointment at her short response. Her obvious attempt at pushing him away. 

For a good reason, too. 

No. 

Fix this. 

Another breeze drifts through the opened window. Y/n shivers, tightening her hold over her shawl. 

Before he can even think through his actions, Wonwoo’s hands are reaching for his coat. In the next second, when he finally realizes what he is doing, his coat is already over y/n’s shoulders, draping it over her bare skin. In a desperate attempt to prolong his distance, his fingers linger on her shoulders, smoothening the fabric over the curve. 

“It’s cold,” he murmurs. He waits for her rebuke, a snark, a comment, or a shove of his coat to his chest, but it never comes. Instead, he sees her fingers curl around the fur and pull it tighter around her. Something, deep inside of him, lights in a proud flame, seeing her draped in his furs. 

Y/n suddenly scoffs. “Is this part of your duty too?” Wonwoo easily picks up on the bitterness her voice is laced with. 

As much as Wonwoo tries to ignore the underlying stab at him, her words still sting. The words are laced with a certain pain he wished he could erase. Instead, he has become the cause of it. 

Fix it. 

“Not everything I do is duty,” Wonwoo pauses, unsure of whether to continue, “your grace.” 

Y/n stills, before a laugh is ripped from her throat. It sounds so genuine Wonwoo is almost taken aback. “What did you just call me?” she huffs, giggles flowing out of her mouth she tries to stop. 

Wonwoo can’t help the smile that spreads across his own lips at her laughter. “Your grace?” 

Why was that funny?

“God,” y/n sighs, turning to finally look at him over her shoulder. Her cheeks are a rosy red and her lips are glossed, eyes wishful for a second. “I’ve never heard you call me that before.” 

Wonwoo perks up. “Do you prefer me call you that?” 

Y/n shakes her head almost vehemently. “God, no. That would be terribly formal,” she argues. 

Wonwoo cocks his head. “But you call me that, y/n.” 

She freezes, laughter dying in her throat. “That’s-” she clears her throat, “That’s different.” 

And just like that, she stands away from him, expression guarded again. 

A blanket of silence falls between them before Wonwoo breaks it. 

“Everything I do is not just duty.” His words are firmer this time. Rooted deeper in his own conviction. 

She looks at him, eyes unreadable again. “Am I?” her voice is soft, almost as if she’s testing him. 

The question, oddly vulnerable, hangs heavy in the air – fragile and sharp. She looks especially delicate at this moment. As if one wrong word from his mouth can break her from the inside. His heart tugs painfully at the anguish he can puzzle together in her eyes. He steps closer, closing the remaining distance between them. His eyes hold hers and he wonders if she can see the longing swimming in his eyes. 

“Am I, Wonwoo?” she repeats. Every utterance of his name falling from her sweet, saccharine lips makes him feel like he’s falling for her again. 

“No,” he shakes his head. He tries to weave in every ounce of conviction into his next words, “No, y/n, you’re not.” 

They stand in silence. Y/n against the windowsill, Wonwoo in front of her. For a moment, he feels as though the silence can convey everything he had ever wanted to say to her. They stand in silence, their breaths mingling in the cold night air. Wonwoo stares into her eyes, his metal-frame glasses slipping down his nose. Her cheeks are flushed and he can’t help but think how breathtaking she looks – haloed by the moonlight, wrapped in his coat, hair cascading down, strands tickling her face. 

She breaks eye contact first, glancing down at the coat that wrapped her shoulders. “You left, Wonwoo.” When she looks back up, her eyes seem glassy, glazed over with unshed tears she refused to let out. 

Wonwoo’s throat tightens at her expression. She seems so pained. So frightfully alone that he wants to pull her in an embrace – gather her up in his arms and never let her go. Never let her go. A voice nags in the back of his mind. 

See? No good for her. You're making her cry. Fucking again. 

“Y/n,” he trails off, hand reaching for her before he physically has to force it down. Now, he is the one whose gaze drops. “Fuck, don't look at me like that,” he mumbles. 

Y/n lets out a bitter sort of laugh. “Like what, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo looks up and he can't help but feel a thick pressure behind his eyes. “I never meant to- to cause you pain,” he tries to explain, but his voice catches on the lump in his throat. “I- I have never wanted to cause- to be the cause of your- your misfortunes. Or your pain. I've only ever wanted to-” he cuts himself off. Eyes pained. If he says this now, y/n would probably scoff in his face. 

I've only ever wanted you, he wants to say, but he bites it down. 

There is now something else in her eyes. He can see it for a split second before it disappears back into the depths of her irises. When he searches her eyes for it again, she suddenly seems so vulnerable. As if she is finally letting him in. 

“I was sincere,” he starts, stepping ever so slightly closer, “at the ball.”

Y/n lets out a huff. “Before or after you kissed me?” Her face is hard again and Wonwoo wants to curse himself out. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “No, um,” he swears under his breath, “before I-” his cheeks heat and he averts his gaze, “-I kissed you,” he mumbles. 

“Yeah,” she says, “fat amount of good you kissing me did.” 

Wonwoo winces. “I'm sorry,” he apologizes. “I really am. I just-” 

Y/n suddenly covers his mouth with her hand. She shakes her head. “Stop talking.” She reaches for her lantern. “Come talk to me after you've sorted out your own thoughts, your grace.” She turns down the hall. “You said you do not view me as a duty?”

Wonwoo nods. “Yes, of course.”

Y/n gives him one look over her shoulder. Even then, Wonwoo cannot help but swallow at how his coat envelopes her figure. 

Her eyes seem more desolate in the shadows of the hall. “Then why does it feel that way?” she whispers before she turns and walks away, down the hall. Away from him. 

Again. 

y/n

It is by pure coincidence that you hear your name outside of Sungcheol’s study a couple of days after your rather forced midnight escapade with Wonwoo. 

However, it is by your choice that you stay, ear pushed up against the rather thin oak doors that are slightly ajar, a soft yellow light seeping out, listening into a conversation that apparently concerns you. 

“...marriage to …” 

Your brows furrow at the words. Marriage? Why did marriage have anything to do with you? And then you remember it’s Seungcheol. Him and his obsession with seeing you marry before he gets married. Before he opens the entirety of your powers. At this point, after everything, you might as well turn in a resignation letter or something, because you weren’t quite sure how you were supposed to survive high Society after the event a week ago. 

And you know. You’re listening to a private conversation of two men, one of whom is the king. But you couldn’t help yourself. It was like something rooted you to your position, brows furrowing as you tried to pick up all the words. 

“But why?” The voice sounds oddly familiar. “You’re not married. I’m not …marriage … who?” The sentence is chopped up but you can loosely string together a translation in your head. 

You recognize Seungcheol’s frustrated sigh. “Friend,” he mutters, “Wonwoo,” he groans. 

You freeze. 

The world around you comes to a standstill. 

You want to laugh at your continued stroke of misfortune. You and your fate’s delectable horrid need for pushing you towards someone you swore off years ago.  

“You can’t keep running from this. The elders want you to get married – preferably to someone with equal or around the same standing as you,” Seungcheol continues, and you feel your chest tighten. This feels like a page out of one of your conversations with the king. “I’m not even going as far as saying a love marriage, Woo. I cannot give you full title and power over your duchy until you do, you know this. An arranged one, a contractual one, a construct only, I don’t care.” It sounds so familiar it gives you shivers. “Just get married. If not to y/n, then to someone else. I’m not saying this again, Woo. Last time was your first warning from the council elders. This is your second from me.” 

“... I can’t. Cheol do you know how hard it is to get-” 

“-yes. I do. But you cannot take on the full title and powers without it, Wonwoo. I cannot control that.” 

A groan. Your foot taps against the floor. “I don’t know who-”

“-Y/n.” 

Seungcheol’s utterance of your name makes your heart stop in its cage of ribs. Your mouth goes dry and you finally realize the gravity of the conversation you just walked yourself into. 

Why doesn’t he ever just close his door when talking to someone?

“You know as well as I do, Wonwoo,” Seungcheol continues, a rare softness in his tone, “that the title of Archduke Jeon isn’t simply yours by name. The council has strict expectations—and right now, they expect you to marry.” He says the entire thing so matter-of-factly that you can’t even protest against it. Well, that and the fact that the exact thing was happening to you, but perhaps maybe less. Just a little bit. 

“Was all of that night because of your marriage?” Seungcheol asks. 

You backstep, blood running cold. 

What? 

Wonwoo’s next words almost tear your unassuming heart into shreds. 

“... it was.” His voice is hard. “My claim … based … marital status…” 

Seungcheol sighs. The noise shakes you to your core. 

There was absolutely no way a human could be this cruel. No way he could ever be this cruel to you. You had to mean more to him than just another duty he had to fulfill. You had to because if you weren’t even the smallest parts of you that had waited for him during the mundane pieces of life would seem so meaningless. So hellbent on your societal ousting. 

You had to be hearing something wrong. 

“Whatever you have with y/n…”

“...nothing.” 

You hear a chair scrape. It scrapes with it the remnants of your heart. You can hear it shatter onto the floor again, the pieces now so small you cannot be bothered to pick them up. There are pieces that lodge in the corners of your lungs, blocking blood vessels as cells carry oxygen into your head. Your hand grasps the wall in a desperate attempt to ground yourself

What did you even expect?

Seungcheol clicks his tongue. “You have a duty, Wonwoo. If not to yourself, then to this country, to the ducal people, to your king.” You hear the scatterings of paper. “And I advise that you fulfill that before you move on to more ambitious fulfillments.” 

That was what you were. Fulfillments. A solution for his aggravating empty ducal responsibilities. 

That was everything you were in their eyes. No, in his eyes. In his eyes, you were a means to an end. A sense of duty he felt that he had to accomplish. And of course he would go for you. Of course he would march back into your life like he had never left. Of course he would have kissed you under the moonlit twilight, not a care in the world about if anyone could see you two. 

Because he would have heard. He would have known everything already. He would have known your scandals, your engagements, your whereabouts in Society – how you were one scandal away from no prospective marriages – one scandal away from losing everything. 

You feel bile creep up your throat. 

Were you only duty for him the entire time? The entire fucking time?

Were you only a means to an end, a convenient solution, another Society whore in the rough for him? 

All this time?

You feel like your lungs are caving in. 

Your hand goes up to knock. 

Your knuckles rap against the wooden door. 

It creaks open. 

Creeeaaaaak. 

Seungcheol and Wonwoo both whip around. 

You bow:

Low, respectful, dutiful. 

You try to mask your sniffles with a quiet cough. 

“The nation’s humble servant greets the king,” you murmur. You are still in your bow when you feel a tear roll down your cheek. Your nails dig crescents into the meat of your palm. 

“Y/n?” Seungcheol pushes off of his desk, making his way over to you. You can picture his look of confusion painted on his face when you don’t rise from your low bow. It’s not like you, you know. You usually bring him into a warm embrace, a smile on your face. You usually give him a teasing bow. 

But you can’t look up right now. If you do, you know you’re going to break down sobbing in the middle of the royal study room. If you do, you’re so afraid of meeting his cold sharpened eyes and recognizing none of the imagined emotions you had found four nights ago. You’re so afraid you were terrifyingly wrong. 

Seungcheol stops right in front of you. From your line of vision, you can see the toes of his shoes. 

“Y/n.” His voice seems much more urgent, as if he’s worried. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” 

Your nails dig further into your palms. You feel the tips rip open the first thin layer of skin. You can feel tears welling against your waterline. How could his words feel so real?

“Your highness,” you whisper. Your hoarse voice echoes through the room. You can almost feel Seungcheol’s startle backstep at your sudden title. “I apologize for intruding on your conversation, but I feel as though I will not be able to attend our afternoon tea today.” 

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow. 

You can feel warm tears drip down your bowed face. Your eyes squeeze shut. Your brain feels foggy. You feel foggy. 

“Why not?” A warm hand is placed on your shoulder, trying to force you up, but you refuse to budge. Seungcheol sighs. “Y/n, look at me. What’s wrong, kid?” 

Your teeth bite down on your bottom lip. Hard. The habitual nickname digs a sharp blade into your throat. “I just-” 

At that moment, your nails, which you had forgotten were still tight against your skin barrier, finally break through the last of the tension, stabbing into your palms. There is a surge of pain before the crescents fill with warm, wet, dark blood. 

“Ow,” you mumble. When you slowly open your hands, your palms are dark red. You finally lift yourself up, meeting Seungcheol’s eyes, which blow wide at your tear-streaked face. But he does not say anything. You move your hands behind you. 

“Why are you-” Seungcheol cuts himself off with a quick glance behind him. Your eyes trail his, only to see Wonwoo sitting rigidly straight, facing the other way, at Seungcheol’s desk. “-Nevermind. Why can’t you attend tea?” Seungcheol pouts. 

You swallow, mustering a small smile. Just big enough for Seungcheol to not worry. “You know. Duties. I think-” you heave in a breath, “-I think it will be best for me to head down to my estate in a couple of days, you highness.” 

It is evident Seungcheol does not enjoy your continued usage of his title because his nose scrunches and his pout deepens. “Already? You just got here,” he whines. 

You hum, eyes darting to Wonwoo’s form at the desk. He isn’t looking, but you know he can hear every single word. “It’s been a while since I’ve been down at the duchy. Plus,” you add, “I do not want to intrude on guests who feel as though I am merely a duty to be fulfilled.” Your words come out much more scathing, and when you glance at Wonwoo’s turned figure, it is frozen in place. 

Seungcheol does not get the hint because he suddenly grabs your shoulders, gently shaking you. “Who is saying that? I’ll have them exiled,” he huffs. His big arms cross across his chest. You can’t help but break out into a genuine smile. “What?” he asks, sniffing. “You come before this country,” he says matter-of-factly. 

You tilt your head. “So, actually, no, I do not,” you laugh. One last look at Wonwoo, who is tapping his foot. You swallow down the rest of your tears and force a grin. “God, you need to get yourself a wife, Seungcheol,” you hum, patting his bicep. 

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Needa find you a husband first. Then we’ll talk about my love life, Miss Cupid,” he retorts, shaking his head. “Won’t you come to tea?” 

You shake your head no. “I’ll see you around, your highness.” You spare one fleeting glance towards Wonwoo, steeling yourself. “Your grace. I apologize for my intrusion again.” You bow before you can see Wonwoo turn at your sudden calling of him. 

You step towards the door before stilling. “Oh, and if I may,” you clear your throat, “perhaps close your door in the future, your highness? You would not want unassuming,” a pause, “passerbys listening into rather private conversations.” 

With that, you close the door behind you with a soft click. 

You miss Wonwoo’s gaping mouth and Seungcheol’s taken-aback stare that you leave in your wake. 

However, you do hear one sentence before you make your way down the hall: 

“Fuck, Seungcheol, what am I gonna do?” 

That and the shattering of your glass heart you had carefully glued together three years ago. Every step you take, further into the palace, leaves broken shards in its wake. 

When you reach up, fingers brushing over your cheeks, you feel a warm wetness. Its excruciatingly amusing, really, that you keep fucking yourself over with the same man. Same stupid stupid man with the same stupid fucking face.

Him with his dark hair. Him with his glasses. Him with his gentle smile, low voice, dimpled cheeks. Him with his stupid old letters that are in a meticulously organized pile in a drawer back at your estate. Him with his fast-beating heart under your hand during the ball. Him with his piercing eyes that you can’t help but blush under. Him with his knack of squeezing your poor naive heart until it explodes into shattered glass pieces. 

You forcefully rub at your eyes, tears coming out of you in staccatoed sobs and gasps of breath. You probably sound ridiculous, gut-wrenching sobs escaping your covered mouth as you stop in the middle of a hallway, one hand against the wall as you slide down, skirt covering your legs. You must seem crazy, insane, as a lady of your standing to drop into such an alarming position in the middle of the royal palace’s hallway. 

But you can’t help it. You can’t help the tears pouring down your face, the throaty gasps of breath as your hand clutches at your heart. You can’t help your fists slamming into the brick walls until you can physically feel the stone breaking your layer of skin. And you can’t help but lean back against the cool stone, staring up at the painted ceilings of the palace, wet tracks marking every tear you shed because of him. 

And you don’t even know why you’re crying in the first place, anyways. This concept, this dreadful soliloquy of duty, of honor, of responsibility has always followed you. Has always followed him. What did you even expect? Maybe, you dread to admit it, but maybe, just maybe there was – still is – a part of you that got excited at his sudden return from the battlefield. Maybe there was a part of your heart that still longed for something, a lost spark, a reunited kind of flame, to blaze to life again the moment you two locked eyes in the ballroom. Maybe there is still a piece of you – naive and stupid – that wants to run to Wonwoo, tears in your eyes, and pour out your soul. Confess to him the extent of your missing him. Confess to him the deeper, chained parts of your memories.

Maybe that part of you still wants to let him know the space he took up in your thoughts, your everyday routine, your unconscious spirit. Still wants to let him know how violently, terrifyingly your heart shattered when twenty-year-old you, still new to Society, still new to the idea of a responsibility, of a duty, heard him and Seungcheol talk about him leaving. Leaving into the battleground of bloodied wilderness – back to the northern borders of his duchy, and thus the country. Leaving the Capital, leaving his life, leaving you for something as measly as duty? 

And you could live with it. You swear. 

If it was just that – if it was just him leaving and never coming back to face Society again, you could do it. You think you could have powered through the rest of your noble life. You would have probably settled for some second-rate high-class noble who could bring, at least, value to Seungcheol’s life in the royal courts, if not yours. You would have given birth to two children and would have then gone down south to your sprawling country estate you hadn’t been to since you were twenty. And you would go down and see the nostalgic halls that chronically had sunlight beaming down on the limestone columns. You would have gone down and seen the visages of your younger self, running, laughing, tripping, and then falling in love with a man you thought you had erased from your life forever. You would have raised your children peacefully with Nai and a governess, teaching them subjects your father had not taught you when you were six and ten. Then, maybe you would have died a peaceful death – loved by at least, hopefully, Seungcheol, Mingyu, Joshua, and your children, if not your husband, living on in memories as the one noble lady who resolutely carried her burdens with a smile. The one who was untouchable, the one who sacrificed her dreams for the duty she wore like a heavy crown.

You would have been okay with the slow burn of regret over the years. You would have turned it into something manageable, something to grow old with in your desperate solitude. 

And you would have been okay. You would have lived on like he didn’t – never – existed. 

But then he came back. 

He came back like a ghost of your past you had just finally laid to rest. He came back like a phantom resurrected with the only purpose being to torment you with the memories you had buried meticulously in each polished hallway, echoing ballroom, whisper of silk, hurried glances, judgemental eyes of Society. 

You hug your knees close, face burying as you try to hide your tear-streaked face, gasping pathetically into the silence of the palace hallway. Suddenly, the very idea of knowing what he had felt – every glimmer of hope, every wishful unspoken feeling, every lonely night you spent dreaming of a different life – was all constructed. That all of your naive daydreams were for nothing. Wonwoo’s words ripped through your psyche, like sharpened daggers: “Nothing.” 

How cruel, you think, a laugh bubbling up your throat. How cruel to have meant absolutely nothing to him. To have been reduced to a mere patronizing duty, a role he, as a man, must fulfill because of popular demand. Because the crown required it. Because the court required it. Because you were a convenient solution to such an inconvenient fucking problem. And then he just comes back from his battlefields up north with just a little more pain in his eyes – enough to tear down your walls with just a little bit of help from his stupidly sweet words. And he kisses you.

The slightest brush of his lips – a constructed play of his – it wasn’t real. It was never yours to begin with. It was a ploy into his obligation to his title, his land, his legacy, his duty. 

You feel the coldness of the wintry palace air and the frigid stone floor seep into your skin, mirroring the slow chilling of your soul. There’s a dull jab of pain in your heart. You feel stupid – foolish. Foolish to dream and even more foolish to believe he had come back for you. And now you were to bear the weight of a revelation you knew was coming. A revelation that solidified your position beside him: a duty to shoulder, a burden to silence. A requirement to complete before he advanced to the next stage. Like you had always been with everyone else. 

You don’t know how long you stare into the dull darkness when you suddenly hear a pair of soft footsteps approaching from the dark. You hurriedly collect your breath, your sobs leaving now in small gasps. Your fingers rub almost violently against your eyes, trying to compose yourself. You get to stand up – an archduchess should never be on the floor – but when you look up, the face that stares back at you makes your shattered heart press miserably into your ribs, thudding with traitorous beats of hope. 

It’s unfair how the moonlight glints and reflects and twinkles off of his glasses that sit low on his nose. It’s unfair how he looks at you with a certain sense of grief, of regret, of pained sorrow. 

“Y/n?” 

You stand the rest of your way up to your feet, whipping around to face the other end of the hallway, your scrambled mind trying to come up with some sort of excuse other than “haha, you made me cry!” to tell Wonwoo when he asks the question. 

You start, “I apologize for-”

“-It’s late.” Wonwoo’s voice is thick with some kind of emotion you can’t really understand. “And cold.” An emotion you can’t place your finger on. 

You stay turned to the dark end of the hallway, but you can feel the warmth radiating off of Wonwoo’s body. And when you feel a thick, heavy, warm cloak being placed around your shoulders, you want to tear out your thudding heart and throw it on the floor, stomping on it until it finally bursts – until it finally stops beating for someone who did not want you the same way. Who only saw you as a duty – a wish to be fulfilled. Another box to tick off on his Archduke Requirements. 

“I will live,” you mutter, shrugging off the cloak. The fabric piles to a thick lump on the floor between you and him. You feel like you’re trying to convince yourself. “Perhaps it is time for both of us to return to our chambers, your grace,” you state. But you know Wonwoo can hear you swallow the rest of your tears back, your last breath going in stuttered and gasping. 

Wonwoo is quiet behind you, and you think he’s already left (leaving you to talk to yourself and an empty hallway, which would be rather embarrassing), but you feel his presence again as he leans down – picking up his discarded cloak.

His next words fan over the open expanse of your neck. “I bid you goodnight, then, duchess.” His words are quiet and reserved, and you can hear the small clangs of his sword and the cloak chains hit against each other. For some reason, his parting formality stabs a more piercing pain in you than anything else. 

Perhaps he is also reconsidering.

The next sound you hear is his parting footsteps and a thud against a wall that sounds disturbingly similar to a fist meeting the jagged stones followed by a shudder of an exhale.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Technically, you should be at Seungcheol’s tea. Technically, you should be indulging the king in his weekly rant about the royal court members, his prospectives for a wife, his dreadful repetition of his day, the like. And technically, you should be smiling and laughing with him, sipping one of the most expensive tea steeped from the tea leaves from the West. 

But every time you stepped in a hallway a little further from your wing of the palace, you felt a hard lump in your throat, the words that had pierced you last night ringing in your eardrums unfairly loud. 

The library is silent at this hour of the afternoon. The royal court had convened in the morning – a meeting you were conveniently exempt from – and the advisory council had also met just a few hours prior. The maids and servants are busy with meal preparations for supper, the knights have their afternoon training with Mingyu and Soonyoung, and every other guest in the palace is either outside in the gardens or at Seungcheol’s open afternoon tea. 

So the library is quiet. It’s cold and quiet – the kind of quiet that presses against your ears and makes your breath sound a little too loud. The kind that makes you come to a standstill at every scuff of your heels against the carpeted floors.

You’re here under the pretense of finding a book. You had to lie to Nai about liking the quietness of the library and the slanting rays of the winter sun the large windows had to offer. The lie was more the sunlight than anything. You had walked into the library wing thinking reading something, thinking of something other than your tangled mess of emotions stemming from last night, would distract your naive heart from thudding for him again. 

As your fingers graze the spines of the library’s collection, curated by the princess who was off at Reoka finishing her University education, the door creaks open behind you. 

You stiffen. 

This isn’t a common hour to be roaming around, especially as an unfamiliar palace guest. 

You can’t bring yourself to turn around until you hear the soft padding footsteps and the familiar quiet clangs of metal near you. Your heart squeezes before your mind can process who it is as you turn from your place. Under the archway opening to the private collection, where you stood in front of an old bookshelf, Wonwoo stands, silhouetted tall and almost commanding under the shadow of the arch. He almost looks as troubled as you probably do. Almost. 

You turn back to the books, feigning disinterest at his sudden presence. Your fingers pick out the first book you touch by the spine, pulling it out from its home in between the old books. 

“I thought you would be-” Wonwoo’s voice is loud against the once-silent room. 

But your barely-contained words spill out before he can finish and before your mind can catch up to your voice. 

“-I thought you would be off attending more pressing duties, your grace,” you interrupt. You can’t control how icy your words sound and you force yourself to stand facing the windows, staring out into the sparring courtyard where the knights are being led through a drill. “Perhaps fulfilling your own or taking your precious time to remind another of theirs.” 

Wonwoo’s boots, careful footsteps, scuff the carpet, coming to a stop a couple of steps behind you. He makes no move to turn you around, to say anything to you. Instead, you can feel him staring – his heavy gaze boring holes into the back of your head, almost. Grazing up and down your back. 

When the silence becomes almost awkward, he speaks. “I wasn’t aware I needed to inform you of my whereabouts, duchess.” 

Your grip on the book tightens after his last word. The same formality of last night brings up evening memories of the night prior … rather unwillingly. Your hands squeeze the book until the hard spine digs into the wounds on your palms from 2 nights, bandaged with white cotton. 

You lower your head. “Oh, I think you’ve made your priorities clear enough. No reason to inform me of anything when you speak so clearly with your actions, your grace.” 

Although you will your words to not trail off in the end, they do, with the quiet lull of your voice. You let the silence after your words stretch – thick, uncomfortable, taut – between the two of you, letting it densely fill up the atmosphere. 

“It seems you misunderstand,” Wonwoo states, like you definitely said something wrong. Like you were wrong and he was right. His words are softer but not any less firm. 

You let out a hollow laugh, fingers relaxing their hold on the book. “Have I?” Even to you, your words seem accusatory. “Then please, enlighten me on what there is to misunderstand after being reduced down to a convenient solution?” 

You finally turn, meeting his eyes in the wake. They look troubled and your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly at the detailings of the darkness under his eyes, shadowing his face. Behind his glasses, his eyes glint with something you aren’t used to. When he meets your eyes, his expression flickers. 

Frustrated, you think. And you want to laugh. Frustrated. Him. Because of you. 

He steps closer. “A solution? You think you are simply a solution for me?” His voice rises at his utterance of ‘you,’ and you almost flinch back at his sudden rise in voice. 

But when Wonwoo stares at you with frustrated eyes, a flame of indignation sparks in you. Who does he think he is to be frustrated with you? 

You scoff. “What else am I supposed to think?” You surprise yourself, even, with the rise in your own voice, echoing through the library. You can hear the bubbling smoke of the tears from last night in your words. “You suddenly show up – out of nowhere – back into Society, after three years, and suddenly you’re everywhere – talking about some sort of duty and expectation placed on you. Do you think of me as some illiterate or some unhearing noble lady, your grace?” You spit, “Do you think I did not understand what you and Seungcheol were talking about last night? About your marriage, your title, your more aspirational fulfillments after marriage? Do not think of me as stupid, your grace.” 

Your chest heaves with every snarked sentence that escapes your mouth. 

Wonwoo steps closer, eyes glancing down at your bandaged hands. “You think- That wasn’t-”

“-Don’t even,” you laugh, holding up your hand. You hope the desperation in your voice is enough to convince him to stay rooted in his place – no closer to you. Because you think if he comes any closer, you’ll actually snap. “I do think. And what wasn’t, when I heard you so clearly?” Your next words escape you before you have a chance to properly bet on the probability of them being true. “And you’re here following me into the only place I can ask for some peace and quiet for what? Because if you’re going to come up all close to me and hold my waist and kiss me under the stars, your grace, you chose the wrong day to do it.” 

You can visibly see Wonwoo’s jaw tighten, fingers curling slowly into fists. His eyes shut and then open, like he’s physically restraining himself. “That’s not why I’m here,” he mutters, composure so obviously cracked at the thinning edges. 

You cross your arms. “Then why?” 

“I came here because I wanted peace, too,” he says, his voice rough with frustration. “Because this is the one place where I thought I could breathe without feeling like I’m drowning. But apparently, even here, I can’t escape your assumptions about me.” 

He sounds so bitter that you blink, startled by his sudden tone. 

“My assumptions?” You laugh, poking a finger to your chest. “You’re the one who up and left!” You shove a finger into his chest. “You’re the one who made me not even worth a proper fucking goodbye!” 

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow and you immediately know you’re close to crossing some sort of line. “I left because of a reason, Y/n.” His voice is so calm still, compared to yours, that it stokes the fire of your anger.

And there goes his utterance of your name again. 

“Ha!” You laugh, slapping the bookshelf. The sound rings loudly against the quiet privacy of the library.

Wonwoo swallows. “You mean so much more to me than-”

You stand facing him, heart racing again as you feel the word prod at your tongue. “-Don’t do that,” you snap, stepping closer to the Archduke. “Don’t stand there and act like I mean something more to you when I’m simply a solution. You don’t need me, your grace. You need a wife, your title, to make the king happy. Me?” You laugh, and even to your ears, it sounds relentlessly bitter and sharp. “I’m the convenient solution for an inconvenient situation.” 

For a moment, you think your words have actually hurt him, because his face falters. But he quickly masks his expression. However, his lips tug down. Almost as if you had gotten some miniscule detail wrong in the fine print of your words. “Y/n, that’s not-” 

“-Then answer me,” you interrupt, sharp with accusation. “Where do I lie in your list of priorities, Wonwoo? Right after the organization of your troops? After Capital Estate renovations? Or am I closer to the bottom, near the niceties you need to uphold for society?”  

As you stare, the silence is almost deafening – suffocating – with the weight of your question. And you can physically see the guilt that finally swims in his eyes. And he goes to open his mouth but it falls shut soon after, almost as if he does not have anything else to say. And to you, that in itself is answer enough. 

“Exactly.” Your voice is uncharacteristically venomous and Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line. “You know I’m right. I’ve always been second, or third, or fourth to you and your duties.” Your words whip glass shards into the air. 

However, Wonwoo looks at you with a hardened expression, almost as if you had just insulted his honor – his pride. A flicker of pain flashes across his face. He steps closer to you, tone sharper than ever. “You think it’s easy for me?” The intensity behind his words catch you off guard. “You think I can’t– don’t think of you every waking second? That I go a day without regretting every single mistake I’ve made?” 

It must be the distance between you two, because you feel your defenses falling. “Regret isn’t enough,” you retort, mind made up. “You can regret every single thing in life all you want but it doesn’t change anything. Your regrets don’t change how easily you left – how you prioritize everything else over me.” You know. You know how selfish those words sound, but you can’t help them from leaving your mouth.

He flinches hard. The next words that come out border a frustrated yell. “I didn’t have a choice! You think I wanted to leave? To leave you? That I wanted to-”

“-Yes.” Your singular response makes him stop completely, pale cheeks flushed and body stiff. “You chose duty, responsibility. Your perfect little archduke life you always wanted. And now you want me to give back the pieces you shattered? Pieces I’ve spent months gluing back together?” Your voice trembles with anger and you don’t think you’ve ever been this angry. Or frustrated. “Don’t you even dare. I’m done.” 

Wonwoo closes the distance between you two, his breath fanning over your forehead. His fists are curled at his sides, and you know he’s holding back every word he wants to hurl at you. He doesn’t know this, but his emotions are almost palpable on his face whenever he gets worked up. Whenever he thinks the other person is wrong. And right now is no different. You can visibly see his expression change from frustration to desperation to some sort of in-between. 

“You’re done?” he repeats, incredulous. His voice is quiet, sharp, and edged with an unmasked pain. He scoffs. “Is that what you tell yourself to make it easier? That you’re done with me? That you don’t care anymore?” 

He almost leaves you speechless, words cutting into you. A pot of rage – more at yourself than him – slowly bubbles because how could he have figured you out? His stare into your eyes almost makes you give in. But you steel yourself, standing up straighter. 

“I’m done,” you state. It’s such a lie. It’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told, probably. Because if it were up to your heart, you would beg him to stay and stay and stay. Tell him how much you missed him these last few years. Tell him how much he meant to you. But you can’t. “I don’t care about you, us, or what we could have been. So just leave me alone, please. Let me forget you.” I can’t forget you, are the words you whisper to yourself in your head. You wish he could keep coming back. Over and over and over and kiss you under the darkness of the night again and again. But you don’t think you can handle the pain a second time when he leaves. 

Wonwoo stares at you, jaw tight, eyes dark with something now unreadable. You both just stare at each other, caught in the thick tension in the atmosphere. You refuse to back down from his stare, even though every passing second makes your breath come out in harder pants, even though it makes you dreadfully aware of your strangled breaths. Then, as if he’s forcing his entire body to retreat, Wonwoo takes one step back. Then another. Then another. 

“Whatever you want,” he says. His voice is cold, final. 

You try desperately to ignore how his words chill you to the bone. “It is,” you whisper, voice distant. Every word coming from your mouth feels like a big fat lie. 

Wonwoo exhales sharply, hand raking through his dark hair. You think he’s about to argue, but he doesn’t, instead turning to leave. And a small part of you shakes in fear because what if he’s giving up. But then the rational part of your mind hits it over and over until it is semi-buried inside your memories. His boots echo every step and the sound rings through your entire being. Just as you think he’s leaving, he stops, hand resting on the archway. 

“I’m not giving up on you – on us,” he states with so much confidence you might as well think you are already married or something. His voice is steady, filled with some sort of intensity that makes your heart ache desperately to run into his arms. “No matter how much you push me away and lie to yourself.” 

Then he leaves through the archway, down the hall and out the door. The oak doors slam shut behind him, leaving silence in its wake. Your chest heaves with anger, confusion, and something else. Something that feels too much like grief or regret or another one of those feelings. 

You stand there, rooted to your spot, forcing each breath out of you, but the chaos inside your mind won’t settle. Even after everything, all you can think about – wish about – is how much easier it would be if you would just let him back in. If you could just forgive him – him and everything he ever did. If you could just (keep) love (ing) him again. 

But you won’t. You can’t. Not when you know right now that he’ll always leave you behind. Whether or not the reasoning is chivalrous or not. 

You wake up the next morning to sunlight streaming through your curtained window and puffy eyes. Nai is already busy in your room, tucking the curtains out of the way of the streaming sunlight with practiced hands and tidying up the room. You eye your clothes strewn on the floor – the ones you had thrown off after going back to your room late last night from a long frigid walk in the royal gardens – with guilt as Nai picks them up, throwing them in the hamper she carries. 

“Sorry,” you sheepishly murmur, sliding out of your bed legs-first. Your feet immediately touch the fur slippers Nai had put out for you. 

Nai just looks up, a radiant but confused smile blushing her lips. “Your grace?” 

You sigh, padding over to the loveseat by the window, a blanket draped over you. “You know, for the clothes, the mess, everything,” you hum, forehead meeting the cold glass pane. You can hear, distinctly, the clangs of swords coming from the sparring grounds. Your fingertip draws small animals onto the frosted glass, fogged over by the juxtaposing warmth and coldness. 

 Nai laughs. “My lady, this is a rather trifling matter to apologize for. And I will need to not take up on your apology for that reason.” 

Your heart warms at her words. “Thanks, Nai.” 

Nai stands a few ways from you, and you know she’s studying your face – puffy eyes, dry lips, tired cheeks. “My lady,” she murmurs, stepping closer, taking one of your hands in hers. Her hands are soft – uncharacteristic of the work that she did for you. “Shall we go down to the South for the rest of this winter season?” she suggests. It catches you off guard. It was usually you who suggested leaving the Capital early because Nai had always loved the Capital. 

Your head swivels towards your maid, eyes wide. “What?” 

Nai frowns and you notice she has her brown curly hair in a braid today. Her fingers smoothen over your soft hands. “I feel as though the Capital has taken away your entire youth and color,” she admits, looking down, averting her gaze. “Especially…” 

You gently smile, pulling Nai to sit down on the loveseat. “Especially what?” 

When Nai looks back up at you, she looks almost indignant. “Especially that Archduke Jeon, my lady,” she huffs, arms crossed. “I think that dreadful man causes you much pain. I suggest you leave this season early, leave that man forever waiting for you, my lady,” she announces, hand coming down to slap her thigh. 

There’s a pause of silence and then you splutter out a laugh, hunching forward. The sound shakes through your body and your lungs finally feel a little bit empty. “Nai!” For the first time in days, you feel like it is a genuine laugh – not forced, not practiced. “How did you come to this conclusion?” 

Nai pouts, bringing her knees to her chest. “I’ve been observing, you know, my lady? I think you are much too good for that man. Even if he does send over flowers in the morning.” 

You blink at her words. Flowers? “What flowers?” You had never gotten flowers from Wonwoo before. At least not since his return to Society. 

Nai suddenly gasps, springing up. “Oh my gosh! Look at my attention span! I completely forgot to tell you, my lady!” Before you can even question her words again, she’s up and off the loveseat, almost running to the other side of the room where your delicately set-up tea table and lounge chairs rest. At your next breath, she comes running back, a large bouquet of flowers in her hands. 

Something tight entangles around your chest and you can feel the thing fill up your lungs again. 

“What- who is that from?” you ask, swallowing. To be honest, you don’t want to know. 

Nai simply shrugs, handing you your bouquet. “No idea.” Her words change into something much more casual – a tone you are familiar with from when you two grew up together. “It came with the sunrise, but I think,” she dramatically pauses, making you giggle a little, “it’s from that Archduke.” 

Her words completely stop you. Archduke. Of course. Of course he would send you flowers after last night. When Nai hums, stepping back to admire the bouquet, Wonwoo’s words come crashing back down on your briefly-empty mind. I’m not giving up on you – on us. You want to break down into tears. Really, you need to get a hold of yourself these days. You think you’ve cried more these past few days than you ever had in an entire year. No matter how much you push me away and lie to yourself. His words enrage you still. How dare he figure you out. How dare he march back into your life like he has you all planned out, your relationship all already mapped out inside his brain? How dare he make you fall for him again, just as you thought you had forgotten him entirely. How dare he send you flowers in the morning without even a thought of how you might have felt? Why you are pushing him away. Why you are forcing yourself to go to these lengths. Because you aren’t sure you can make it out alive if he up and leaves again. Because you aren’t sure if you can come out of another relationship sane if it ends in a fiery mess, let alone ends. Because you aren’t sure if you can trust yourself, let alone him, enough now to let your heart make the decision for you – the first time you did that, it ended with you in the Capital, not knowing what had hit you, and him on the battlefield, fighting it out with some enemy for a duty you knew not. 

“My lady,” Nai calls softly. 

When you look up to meet her eyes, her hazel orbs swim with a worried flurry of emotions. You crack a smile. 

“Irises and tulips, huh?” you mumble, tugging at a tulip bulb that stands up straight amongst the irises. “What a man.” Your voice sounds so bitter even to you and you wonder if Nai pities you. If she finally looks at you with the emotion you hate the most. 

“My lady,” Nai repeats. Her hand comes up to rest on your shoulder and it feels almost grounding, in a way, knowing that you at least have her by your side. “A note.” Her finger points to the side of the bouquet, in between the creamy pink parchment and the fresh winter flowers, where a off-white note card sticks out. 

You pluck the card out of the bouquet with almost trembling fingers. You aren’t ready to see – to read what he might have poured out onto a singular small note card. You anxiously fold and unfold the sharp corners, not able to turn the cardboard around from the backside, where the store name of the Capital’s most expensive flower shop glints in gold leaf. 

You sigh, closing your eyes briefly. When you open them again, you stare at the words on the front, written in almost perfect calligraphy with dark ink. You let out a laugh – though dry and humorless. “Thought of you,” you muse, repeating the three words on the card to yourself. Your fingers grip the edges of the thick paper until it crinkles. “Thought of you,” you mumble again, head dropping against Nai’s arm, eyes closing. 

The card doesn’t even need a signature. Neither does the bouquet. There is only one person who would meticulously remember all your favorite seasonal flowers, who would look back at his stupid book of flower languages you had written for your final Botany project during your years at the National Academy. There is also only one person who would be this infuriatingly obsolete with you – who would write his stupid three words on a stupid thick note card and send it over casually with the sunrise to your palace room so secretly even your maid has no definite idea of who sent it. And you would recognize the curve of his ‘f’ anywhere. 

You’re not quite sure if you’re more furious or in disbelief. Perhaps both? No, more so furious than in disbelief. Of course, in disbelief of his sudden profession of his thoughts to you, maybe. But more so furious in the aspect of the audacity of him. And you really can’t help the way it gets a little harder to swallow your spit. Wonwoo’s sheer audacity to come back into your life just to mess it all up. Just to maybe stir up some sort of hope in you until he leaves again for another one of his duties. You can just feel it. It’s like this bubbling pot of emotions you’re trying desperately to push down just in case Wonwoo actually does come too close and gets a peak at the bubbles. 

Your hands clench. 

“They’re lovely,” Nai comments, picking up the bouquet again. “The flowers fit perfectly with the season, my lady,” she adds, fingers the petals. “So fresh.” 

You prod the inside of your cheek with your tongue. “Yes, what a perfect fit,” you mutter, glancing outside. 

“Shall I set up a place for these in the drawing room?” 

“No!” You clear your throat, eyes wide at your own quick reply at Nai’s question. “No,” you repeat, this time less hurried. “Just set it up on the table here.” 

Nai raises a surprised brow at your words but does not argue, simply bowing and heading out, bouquet in hand, to find a vase big enough to fit the entire fistfull of flowers. 

When the door clicks shut behind her, you finally glance at the note again. 

Thought of you. 

You wish he could stop thinking of you. Then, maybe, you could finally erase memories of him too. Give yourself the chance to move onto perhaps bigger problems in your life (or perhaps problems you wish were bigger in your life). 

Thought of you. 

Your heart involuntarily pounds at the image of him hunched over at his desk, detailing his uselessly pretty calligraphy, just for you. Perhaps this was part of his plan? Maybe this was his tactic – the trick up his sleeve for when he wanted you to swoon for him. 

You shake your head, standing up from the love seat and heading over to your bed again.

“No, no, no,” you mumble to yourself, tongue swiping across your teeth. “Forget him, y/n. He only causes you pain.” 

But for some reason, your hand slips the note into a drawer, storing it for safe keeping with the hundreds of other letters and notes from your painfully naive youth. Even though you knew you could never go back – to then, to love, to him. 

: ̗̀➛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ @syluslittlecrows @gaslysainz @meowmeowminnie @luvjichang @peachytokki @nicoleparadas @haneulparadx @mj-szaa @lilylikesthat @ppaia @ameliamirabela @tearsdntfall617

[joojconverts]

TSM to TS3 Conversion of Random Medieval Garments

A TSM to TS3 conversion compilation of several previously unconverted clothes for all your Sims! I finished this project about two months ago but wanted to save it for a special occasion... and what's more special than a followers' gift? lol. Hope you like it!

This is part ONE of my 2000 followers' gift. Yes, there is more, and it’s coming very soon! :)

💖 💖 💖

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Based on my testing, I haven't found any issues with the clothes. They mostly use the same bone assignment system, and the only difference is how TSM handles skirts, which I adapted for TS3. If you come across anything, please let me know!

LIGHTING GLITCHES ONLY APPEAR ON CAS! (THE BURNT PAJAMAS LOOK ESPECIALLY BAD THERE)

* Note that teens and elders have neck gaps. This is sadly the price for having them available! For teens, try using this and this slider by gruesim! I might convert these for those specific age groups someday, but for now, I just activated them!

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ALL OG CREDITS GO TO EA AND MAXIS! IT’S NOT MY MESHES, AND IT’S NOT MY TEXTURES, I JUST CONVERTED THEM TO THE SIMS 3!

+ @aprilrainsimblr​ FOR THE EXTRA TEXTURES ON SOME CLOTHES & FOR DOING MOST OF THE WORK IN THE COMMONER WHITE DRESS! THANK YOU SO MUCH APRIL!

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NOTES (PLEASE READ):

As mentioned before, April played a significant role in this project, not only with her support but also with her contributions! The Commoner White Dress was primarily converted by her, and it comes in two versions: the regular one and one with a floor-length skirt! She also added extra presets to certain clothes, such as the Flowing Dress (purple), which has three lace variations! Once again, thank you, April!

IMPORTANT: Except for the burned pajamas for female Sims, you'll need to use the invisible shoes mesh by @danjaley​​, which you can find here! This is because TSM clothes have feet/shoes attached to them!

In the "Making Sims 3 Medieval" server, I saw an idea for making the Altar Necklace outfit (the one with the cross necklace and purple details) more historically accurate, along with directions on how to do it! So, for those who enjoy super realistic medieval gameplay, I included an edit aiming to achieve that, as shown in the preview! It's only available for male Sims. Hope you enjoy it!

The polycount for all the clothes is relatively low, as they were made similar to TS3's clothes. So don't worry about that and use them without hesitation!

All the clothes have 3-4 recolorable channels! They have many overlays, but I hope that won't bother you because I made everything I wanted to recolor recolorable!

These conversions have a different thumbnail style! I wanted to retain the original TSM thumbnails but added my logo to let you know these are mine! Here's an example thumbnail + the collaborative dress between me and April:

Now, to the download!

SimFileShare |  Dropbox

☕   buy me a coffee or become a patron!

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Credits and Special Thanks:

@aprilrainsimblr​​ for the extra textures, mesh work, and overall support!

Everybody at the “Making sims 3 medieval” server for the support and idea for the alternative version of the Altar Necklace outfit!

@danjaley​​ for the circle braid hair and the headscarf - here and here

EA and Maxis - The Sims Medieval

💖 @katsujiiccfinds​ @simsmedieval-fantasy @kpccfinds​  @xto3conversionsfinds​ @emilyccfinds​

[billythesimp]

Hellooo! I've seen your work and i was really amazed by your work. It's just pure mwah 🤌🏻❤️

I thought you were close on request before, so when i see it finally open i was in joy like fr. (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) I have few but im gonna slow with you since im sure you also busy.

So mine is Wise (you can add any other characters) x reader (prefer fem but gn is also okay). “when he saw someone else start to flirt with you (and he is jealous).”

If not, feel free to skip this request. I completely understand. Have a nice day and make sure take care of yourself (⁠/⁠^⁠-⁠^)/❤️

How do I write a Jealous Character... Oki here I go then.

[Proceeds to then stare at the screen for another 10 minutes trying to write a jealous character]

I think he came out more overprotective then anything ;-;

Who's This Dear?

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

Sorry for disappearing for a bit, decided to take a break and figure out a schedule that wouldn't give me writers block oh so quickly! Also another note, I promise I'm not just a Wise account, people just love this goof! Me included!

Wise x fem!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: OOC / Use of [Name] instead of Y/N

✦ Usually customers were not a big problem at Random Play, with the experience he had gained from being a store manager leading to him adapting to the more tougher requests and issues it came with. He keeps a calm face and offers solutions to many people's problems. And a lot of the time, they are satisfied with his care that regulars swear that Belle and Wise are some of the efficient and caring managers there are. They never get mad or yell, the handle almost every interaction with care and patience. Because of that, Wise prides himself in having gained that reputation on Sixth Street. 

✦ What he also has pride in is what a wonderful girlfriend he has working alongside them. Almost everyone they work with or know on the street know of Wise’s Girlfriend. While she may only work part time during the week, she’s made an effort in getting to know Wise’s connections and making friendly conversation with their fellow vendors on the street. Every time Wise sees her chatting up with their regulars or laughing with someone like General Chops or Master Tin, he can’t help but have his heart swell in joy that they really are such a great person and that everyone approves of them already. Really, Wise believes he scored with this one, the amount of times Belle has joked about them getting married may happen sooner rather than later. 

▿

That being said, it’s during one of the shop’s working hours that it happened. He decided to take inventory of what stock they had around the store, [Name] incharge of manning the counter as Bangboo 18 needed a well-deserved recharge. But as he was shelving some recordings, he heard the angelic laughter of his love that left him wondering just what they could have been laughing at. Peeking out the slot of the staff door, he watched as some random man leaned on the counter. He held a smug look on his face as she only waved him off, a pleasant yet confused smile on their face leaving a growing pit to form in his stomach. 

‘Who the hell is he?’

Wise straightened up his jacket before walking outside to see what they had been talking about. “Oh come now, don’t be so modest. After all, a pretty face like yours surely is what keeps this business going. Why not take a break, how about we get some lunch together after your break- eh?”

“Oh hey babe, how’s the counter treating ya?” Wise saddled up to the counter with his hand hovering over the small of their back, watching as they relaxed at his touch. “Oh- Wise! It’s been good, um. Do you know if we have this movie in stock by chance? I couldn’t find it on the system…” She tucked a hair behind her ear, smiling before letting him slide in and take a look on their small tablet holding all their movies listed in rented/overdue/in-house. The man before stepped back as he did this, slowly getting nervous. 

“Ah- yeah, I looked around and couldn’t find it. Hehe…”

“Hmm, oh [Name], you’re due for your break. I can watch things from here.” She perks up at this, smiling before asking him about sharing lunch together again. “I’m down for sandwiches- OH we could get to 141 and grab some snacks. I’ll go now actually!” With that, she entered the staff only only to return after with her purse and kissing him goodbye, waving to the stranger and wishing him luck with his movie search. 

“Hmm, sorry sir, Looks like what you’re looking for isn’t here. Could I recommend anything else for you? Perhaps something that isn’t already someone else’s property?” Wise sneers at the stranger, a kind-hearted look plastered onto his face despite the dark tone in his voice that only left the man to shiver at his work.

“Um, looks like it's not here… I’ll be going then.”

“Oh, please do.” With a wave, Wise’s closed eye smile turned into a deathly glare as he left and walked the opposite way from where [Name] had gone. Once he figured that he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon, he let out a sigh of relief and slumped down. The one time he leaves his girlfriend alone and someone already tries to make a move on them. 

“Well that was a sight, huh?”

Belle entered from the backdoor, playfully teasing her brother as he reeled back in shock out of her sudden timing, all the while Eous runs up to his second parent and leaves comforting pats on his legs. “What happened with [Name]? I thought she was watching the front for me?” Wise sighs before muttering out a small explanation, embarrassed as he never lost his cool like this before. Other than the time Belle got lost in a Hollow, he's never overreacted to this extent. He’s only glad that it was Belle and not [Name] who entered, he wouldn’t know how she’d react if she realized he was jealous and became protective of them.

“Way to show who’s the boss around here. Man, I kinda wish I could have seen it.” 

“Master, I have full access to the store camera’s and save every recording for the next 30 days until removal. I can pull it up on the H.D.D System for you.” Before Wise could refuse, Belle is already running into the Staff room to save the recording before it was too late. 

“Wise! I’m back! And I got your favorites!”

The bell rang as [Name]’s cheering caught his attention while they held up two small bags filled with various candies and snacks. He could only smile, approaching them and pulling them into a tight hug. “Thanks love, I really appreciate it. Now how about we watch a movie in my room for a while, huh?”

He is only grateful that he has such a loving and thoughtful girlfriend by his side.

[seldomscilence16]

Can't believe i'm actually apart of a zine! Its been fun working with so many incredible people and seeing their amazing talent! The @sing-it-togetherzine mods have been awesome and I can't wait to see it all come together. Random snippets of my contribution below!

...

Branch had spent 20 years of his life stubbornly alone and dedicated to the hard work it took to keep himself- and the village- as safe as it could be. He rarely had time for breaks, though his routine was something he’s grown accustomed to, a system that worked for him and allowed him to be as prepared as he possibly could be. A system that was currently being uprooted and redone as his life as he knew it changed, as he had to try to adapt to new circumstances and being a part of a society again- Not that he was complaining!

At least, not out loud…

.

Grabbing his basket, forcing his legs to stop shaking, he heads up and out to find… berries? Yeah that sounded right, he would find the heck out of those berries…

.

“Usually we’re keeping others from bugging Branch about a party, a little ironic that we’re going to bug him about preparations for one.” Boom remarks idly, smiling slightly at the thought.

.

The very thought of Branch being in trouble, from predators or otherwise, felt like a stab to the heart.

.

Grandma comes closer and brushes a gentle hand over his forehead, a sad smile on her face-

.

“Not getting rid of us, that's for sure.” Hype agrees, “If Troll eating giants can’t keep us apart, I don’t think a few scars will either, yeah?”

[fivenightsatnatemares]

Mangled #1

First part of a twoshot I'm writing for the beginning of the actual story (woohoo!)

It's not my favorite work but it is.. Acceptable. I hope y'all enjoy it. And I hope y'all will find as much love for these characters as we have.

Best to listen to Mangled while reading this story, considering music guides our adventure here 🎶

As always thank you to my lovely friend Boop for being my beta reader 🐰 - Beep

Wordcount: 1.3k

TW: Strong language

It had been years. Years of silence in the place where Mare Wily used to be the nightguard. At least when the children left and the lights went out.

Mare didn't remember exactly how it had happened. One day his brother that owned this pizzeria asked him to do a job for him, just keeping tabs on the security cams, the next he was growing deformities and feeling... Strange.

He had learned to adapt, he had taught himself how to survive amongst the animatronics that came to life at night, even befriending them.

Things changed when fresh blood entered the hallowed halls.

A new nightguard. A young girl, couldn't have been more than 24. Brunette, pretty short. The moment Mare laid eyes on her from within the shadows, he knew she was done for.

It started simple. She did her job, the animatronics came to life, she was terrified. Mare had experienced it all himself. No big deal.

But there was a change. Maybe Mare wanted to scare her off, tell her to never come back. Maybe he just did it for the thrills. Either way, he decided he wanted to involve himself in this little game the animatronics were playing.

It started with changing things on the camera's when he thought she wasn't looking. Moving an endoskeleton that had been dormant even before he was there, opening a pizza box that was previously closed. Little things, just to make her feel like this place was truly haunted... As if the evidence wasn't staring her right in the face in the shape of a giant animatronic bear.

It eventually evolved into banging on the walls and doors, turning off the lights and then turning them back on, and even breaking some of the camera's. Anything to make her feel like she wasn't welcome.

These nights kept going for weeks, until there was a certain night, a night where the young nightguard had been a little too vigilant, the night where she spotted him.

He assumed she had seen him on the camera's initially, as her next course of action was to poke her head out of the security doors and start yelling for 'the guy with long black hair'. No response. Mare wasn't going to go up and talk to her, he needed her out, not up in his business.

She was here every night, and every single night it drove Mare more to the brink of insanity. Why wouldn't she leave, why did she keep calling out to him, why did she care?

It was funny at first, imagining her going crazy thinking there was another human being in here with her. Pfft,as if. Human was far from what Mare would describe himself as nowadays. He was the one who told his animatronic friends about the best ways to go after her. Sure, he made sure they wouldn't actually get her, but what kind of person sticks murderous mascots on someone?

So he stayed away. Partially because he didn't feel like explaining himself. Partially because he thought he might hurt her.

He was a monster, after all.

Another night rolled around, this time the girl had learned something new. Over the weeks she had been clever enough to find out some things, like that she could wander around with a Freddy mask on and the animatronics mostly wouldn't notice her. But this night, she had found the speaker system. Now she was able to broadcast messages throughout the entire pizzeria.

It was getting on Mare's nerves.

"Hey!" He heard her voice loud and.. Well, not clear. But definitely loud. "I know you're in here. I don't know what happened to you, but I want to help."

Mare rolled his eyes. Why would this random girl who was probably gonna end up just like him if she kept coming in, be able to help someone like him? He had been messing with her on purpose, why couldn't she just see-

He groaned, mentally cutting his own ramblings off. She wasn't worth it. All of this wasn't worth it. He made his way over to her. She would have to find out the hard way he wasn't here to make friends.

So now here they were. Mare with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall in the hall across from her little saferoom. She had closed the door when she heard footsteps, just as a precaution, and was now staring at him through the little window.

"Who are you?"

A curious tone, riddled with caution. Mare smiled to himself.

"Nobody important."

The girl's brows furrowed in frustration. She seemed to hesitate.

"Can I open this door or will you kill me?"

Her voice came out stronger than he expected. Maybe this girl wasn't as scared of him as he thought she was.

He shrugged, "Can't promise I won't."

After another moment of hesitation, the girl stepped back, and to his surprise, the door was opened right in front of him.

Gone were the walls keeping them apart. She had put her trust in him.

Mare adjusted, pushing himself from the wall and taking a step closer, his arms still crossed. He raised an eyebrow.

"Are you stupid?" He asked, looking down at the girl in front of him.

"Are you bad?" She retorted, not answering his obvious jab. She still seemed cautious, but there was no sign of her stepping back.

He chuckled. "I suggest you leave this place unless you want the metal assholes to get you. Or worse, end up like me."

The girl frowned, crossing her arms in defiance. "I'm not leaving. Not until I find out whatever the hell is going on here, and until I find a way to help you."

Mare's face contorted into an expression of annoyance. He sighed and shook his head as he ran a hand through his messy hair.

"I don't need help."

She immediately shook her head, a solemn look on her face.

"You're obviously never leaving this place. Tell me why. Tell me it isn't cause you're somehow stuck here. I've felt it too, y'know. I've felt the pull to come back here every night. I've felt something drawing me to this place." The nightguard glanced around the room, vaguely gesturing towards the office before turning back to the man in front of her. "Hell, I'm here every day of the week just to figure out what's going on in this place. It's been months. I'm not stupid, no, far from it. I know something is going on here and I know you have something to do with it."

At those words, something lashed out in Mare. Anger built up rapidly as he snapped his gaze towards her. He felt the blue streaks on his face burn. Before he could even register what he was doing, he had grabbed the girl by her wrist and pressed her against the wall with his arm up to her throat.

"You have so much to say, huh? For someone who doesn't know shit. I have something to do with it? You act like we're to blame, but last I checked it was you wearing a damn mask and coming back every time." He barked at her, pushing her back as he let her go and stepped away. "Why are you even here anyway? Hasn't been a nightguard here in years."

She looked at him with this dumbfounded stare, as if she didn't know what to say for once. She brought her hand up to her throat and soothed the sore skin, her other hand reaching up to hug herself.

"My brother.. He.. He co-owns this place." She sighed. "He wanted to help me get back on my feet after I lost my previous job."

Mare's head snapped back up. Co-owns? He was talking to the goddamn sister of Seán Light? No wonder she was such a pain in the ass.

"Your brother, Seán?" Mare asked.

She nodded.

He visibly clenched his jaw, shook his head and turned to leave. Was this some sort of sick joke? He had finally accepted his fate, and now there was some sister who felt the need to waltz in here. Nah. Not his problem. If she died, that was not on him.

[snailfen]

not that anon but who's your favorite sluggy

so i never played the original MSC, but originally my favorite was the saint. i loved the idea of being able to just Leave situations and have a grappling tongue at all times as a newbie. i really struggled with platforming and survival back then, so i really liked them. fuck losing all karma upon dying, i could just Leave!

out of the vanilla scugs, monk was also my favorite back then. i REALLY hated the lore removal, but my gaming skills were already just Piss Poor in general so rain world was almost nigh impossible at first. also i liked being friends with lizards and scavs and i couldnt bring myself to attack scavs back then.

so, between then and now, my favorites have changed. between the MSC slugcats...

this is one of those few times i can answer from Every Possible Aspect of the candidate, like gameplay, campaign plot, etc. Which is really cool! when MSC dropped, Riv was the one  I played first using the "unlock all campaigns" cheat. I REALLY wanted to play saint first, but knowing from the start that the slugcats were ranked by difficulty and saint was locked behind 2 slugcats as opposed to 1, I curbed that urge and went for Riv since they were my second favorite.

now, their super exaggerated movement was hard to get a handle on, i will admit- but i hadn't played this game in a long time so i was just rusty on top of that. but i can confidently say im used to them! i love using their abilities to see just what i can do. there was a time i was playing with a randomizer and it was really fun having to adapt to each new situation like an opportunist. i wish i recorded it! but riv really helped me get over my hesitance when i was faced with predators, which was a bad habit I'd had for a long time.

campaign gameplay tested my lay of the land as well; especially by starting out in drainage system. i practically never set foot in drainage system back in the day, so i didnt know where in the world to head. I luckily detected the garbage wastes gate like, right away. trying to navigate the parts of the game more beaten off the main path of vanilla was difficult but fun! having only so much time to get from place to place was a fun challenge. then, after getting the rarefraction cell, trying to see how far i could go in 1 cycle was even greater.

now the plot is really where riv got me for sure.

looks to the moon has been a favorite character of mine for years. i never really stopped thinking about what happened between her and pebbles; every few months or so i would think about it. just how... hopeless things were for moon. It really made me sad. i think i speak for a lot of people when i say i wished that i could help her in some way. but the only thing i could do is bring her neurons, really. i never really made sense of pebbles side of the deal, like i knew what was going on with him and i felt bad, but it never really hit me how horrible things were for him. it all just felt so... tragic, yknow? that things ended up the way they did for the two of them.

exploring their superstructures was an experience. i originally planned to go to pebbles through shaded citadel after visiting moon on my first playthrough, but plans changed when i considered dealing with memory crypts, and the leg, AND underhang with my cycle limit (i had already sort of guessed that riv was after monks point in the timeline, but i didn't know that those areas got worse for riv so i was just thinking in terms of vanilla) so i went through the wall.

I kinda wish I saw at least memory crypts, but thats ok because the low gravity in the normally zero-gravity access shaft, plus the proto dll at the end, told me everything I needed to know before facing Pebbles chamber. Floating through his decayed structures... it hurt. I remember my first encounter with him in vanilla felt just a word away from being downright incomprehensible. he really came off as some god I couldn't percieve. but now, seeing the walls corroded by nothing but Rot, only small parts I actually recognized just barely peeking out amongst the decay, I just couldn't look. I felt like... like my arteries were clogged just by seeing his condition. Hearing him listen to Halcyon Memories, a favorite (previously) unused track of mine created a special kind of somber that I will Never re-experience.

Then, Moon's structure. This one is special. I got suuuper lost in here, but im glad I did. Up until a certain point, I had been taking the scenery in with a kind of reverence you would have while walking around a graveyard. I wandered for a few cycles, and at some point, Random Fate started playing. I didn't recognize the bass line yet, but when I had stumbled into what I immediately recognized as Moon's Memory Conflux, the Sundown melody kicked in.

Recognizing both things at once, I got all... like, choked up. Like... I'm finally helping Moon!  But... what about Pebbles? Why can't I help him? ...And like, I knew why; he brought this fate upon them both. But that didn't make it hurt any less. He asked me to do the only thing he wanted: to give all he had to redeem what he did. So in the end, this was all I could do to help him; in the same way that this was all Pebbles could do to make up for what he did to Moon.

Don't get me started on the ending. Seeing Moon restored to even a fraction of what once was had me so happy! It was exhilarating to say the least. But I was tearing up on the edge of my seat when she reached out to Pebbles. Watching the messages roll in slowly, seeing what she had to say, all the while praying that Pebbles could hear her.

Seeing Moon call herself Pebbles big sister is what broke the dam. From what I saw back in the day, people usually skirted that title of hers when it came to Pebbles, or never really acknowledged it. Even I did, for some time. But it never made sense to do that! Moon and Pebbles would never feel such anger, betrayal, or regret over everything that had happened if they weren't very close. I found it very important that that's who Moon was to him. Not just a great friend, but a big sister. I'm so glad the MSCteam felt that was important as well.

Speaking of which, seeing the names of community members and fans that I recognized in the credits got me sobbing again when I thought I was done. This expansion was a loveletter to the game from the fans, brought in officially by the actual developers. The Rivulet campaign especially enforced that feeling of love for the game- by having compassion for the tragedy two iterators and finally helping them reconcile.

I finally felt satisfied, not only because I was able to help Moon- but because I had also realized the tragic life that Pebbles had led. Those two things had never really left my mind.

anyways WOOOOO that was a lot of rambling. hope you enjoyed......

[marcussour]

Random musings about last nite's episode

"Right in my cancer".

Bony Stark

Get orbed Delilah!

No, but seriously, glad to see that they finally found a nice way to control that issue and turned her into basically a magic battery.

As someone who hasn't seen C2 yet -started with C1, saw all of the EXUs, and have been watching C3 from the get go- (but already know most of its beats because how could you not by now), kinda wish I had seen it to better understand how Braius' origin is tied to Nott and Jester. Like, it was obvious and everyone reactions when they realized was priceless. Still think I would've laughed more had I known the full context.

I love that Vasselheim saw the lifeless husk of the undead primordial titan from the ending of C1 and thought "IT'S FREE REAL ESTATE". But it's also an amazing sign to add to a city that's already thousands of years old, in terms of adaptability, of symbolism (the city of the gods turning a primordial titan into a building and source of resources), and just all around aesthetic -the fact that people are mining it, that they incorporated it into the cityscape, the fact that they made apartments and people have gardens growing out of it-.

Also, I'm pretty sure there's gonna be another undead outbreak in Vasselheim before the night's over. I would be shocked if it don't happen, because the seeds for it were firmly planted.

GROG!! J'MON SA ORD!!

Ever since it was clear that this campaign was a-ok for the cameos, and the moment it became evident that every major character of the 3 campaigns and EXU was gonna end up playing a part in the final conflict, I was waiting for the whole "EVERYONE IS HERE" moment, and we're finally getting there. It's gonna be so much fun seeing the art that's gonna come out of it.

But in a related note, it just dawned on me, as if it wasn't evident already, that we're entering the final stretch of the campaign. And like, I still think that we've got many months ahead, like, I don't think this is ending this year. But the fact that we're finally at the meeting where everybody is gathering around for the big fight, the fact that Delilah is finally under control, that Ludinus' invasion is finally underway. We're clearly in the beginning of the final act (even the wiki, which I know is not official, but has arc 6 starting point at episode 102). Between the 10th anniversary next year and the launch of Daggerheart (and assuming they might change systems for Campaign 4), everything's kinda fitting together.

[moon-swag-tourney]

Propaganda below!

Moon Knight

Moon Knight is an underrated character who's been around since the mid-70's, but has only recently gotten the more attention he deserves since the Disney+ adaptation. However, I am a firm comics supremacy believer and can attest he is even cooler in the comics. The current run (Moon Knight 2021) is the best he's been written in quite some time for example, as it's friendly to veteran fans and new fans alike!

Moon Knight is not your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man; he will fuck you up if you deserve it, and benefits from the fact that many villains are terrified of him.

Moon Knight is canonically Jewish, and though he is non-practising, it plays a major part in his story and identity.

It's also worth noting that Moon Knight has DID, with three identities: Marc Spector (host), Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley.

He's such an interesting and compelling character. The comics have spawned countless hilarious memes (I know you're here Dracula you big nerd wheres my money; random bullshit go; etc). The show was amazing, and Oscar Isaac acted his ass off

They are so cool; they're both canonically Jewish and have DID

One of the most unique superheroes out there due to being plural. Really cool, too.

I love him, your honor. I'd like to say more but the truth is I only watched the show and I will leave the propaganda to comics fans.

Looks to the Moon

I LOVE BIG SIS MOON AHHHH... she's literally so so sweet and perfect and i love her…

MY GIRL!!! She deserved so much better. She's one of the first of many MASSIVE supercomputers called iterators designed to solve a problem which her creators eventually gave up on any of them solving and thus was left behind to gradually fall into disrepair. Even though she appears as a small humanoid, iterators in their entirety are actually buildings full of machinery that have entire cities built on top of them.

As one of the senior iterators, Looks to the Moon, sometimes called Big Sis Moon, looks after her younger peers and is very caring towards her fellow iterators. Tragically, her kindness ultimately leads to her structure collapsing leaving her weak and with limited cognitive ability, but even then she is so sweet to the main character. You can bring her random items and she'll describe each one, even if it's just a rock or something. She also gives you advice whenever possible.

She's gone through so much and yet is still so incredibly kind please vote for her she deserves it

Looks to the moon is an iterator, a city-sized biomechanical supercomputer. When you meet her, she is trapped in the flooded and collapsed husk of her superstructure, barely alive. Despite this, she is warm and kind and will tell you about any object you bring her. Looks to the Moon also goes by the name Big Sis Moon, as she is the most senior iterator in the local group and views the other iterators in her care as younger siblings

Moon's the best! She's an iterator, a sentient supercomputer whose structure used to be so big it housed an entire city on top of it. However, the civilization that built her is long gone, and she and the other iterators were left behind, unable to die, unable to leave their structures. Imagine once being a god with an entire civilization relying on you for all their vital resources, only to be left behind, literally a mountain bolted to the ground, as the wildlife slowly takes over the land and your communications with the other iterator fail. Moon's little brother Five Pebble's couldn't accept this fate, and made some rash decicions. This badly damaged Moon's systems, causing her structure to come crashing down to the ground, and her to lose most of her memories and processing power. There's something magical in discovering her for the first time - this fallen Goddess taken over by rust, abandoned inside the giant ruins that used to be her body. Still, she's friendly, and should you be kind to her, she'll return the gesture. She doesn't have much, but she'll gladly give you company and tell you stories. She also still cares about her brother very much, even though he's the one to blame for her bad state. 

Moon is a superintelligent AI called an Iterator. She's designed to (basically) help the lesser beings of the world escape samsara, along with the potentially thousands of other iterators. She was accidentally killed by her brother as he attempted to escape samsara for himself. She's the only character the player can meaningfully interact with, and she's very sweet and kind.

[leolithe]

For the ask game, since i cant find the emojis i need:

Family hc

Random hc

Clothes hc

Hobby hc

Oh my god i managed a thousand words of headcanon THANK YOU LOL. Ask game here!

🧬 Family

After the New War, Lotus sheds the part of her that's the clingy and anxious mission mom, and it kinda transfers over to Natah and Margulis instead LOL

Natah is a backseat gamer, telling the Tenno about patch notes the second they drop, giving them unsolicited modding advice, putting way too much detail in a mission transmission as if she doesn't know that the Tenno do not have Sentient processing capability. She watches over missions like a hawk... Very very diligently.

Margulis is the "you've been playing for over a hour" message in chat, just in overbearing mom form. She's very reluctant about leading missions without Natah or Lotus co-conscious; it's very overwhelming keeping track of so many mission feeds. If Natah is too present during missions, then Margulis is the opposite. She really tries to see the Tenno as who they are now, as capable warriors fighting to bring order to the Origin System, but she understandably struggles! She just wants her Tenno to be home safe and sound.

Some Tenno complain about them to the Lotus but all she does is smile. "Let them have their moments," she says. They eventually mellow out, but the first few months Natah and Margulis take the lead are rocky. The Tenno keep their patience with them, and the Space Moms take the time to learn what their children need, swapping between alters more and more fluidly as time goes on.

📓 Hobby

All three space moms share the joy of design! On Tau, Natah wasn't given the time to make her own blueprints or models on account of being put to use as a spy, so building new things together with her headmates really excite her, whether it's weapons or architecture or simple cosmetics. It's honestly adorable, you get to see Natah's innocent side during a brainstorming session.

Natah is big on overall shape design, while Margulis delves deeper into details and intricacies. Lotus is obviously a mix of both, so the other two kinda go through her for design vetting lmao. Surprisingly, they don't argue much during a design-related project! They bounce off each other's ideas and find plenty of value in them. It's very soothing. Margulis gets to exercise her proverbial Archimedean muscles and Natah gets to catch up on what she missed out on in her past.

When Margulis gets too tired in the middle of a project, Natah MOURNS the loss of her design partner. She's devastated to need to stop, she gets so sad that it's funny. Lotus goes "You can keep working on it while she rests" but Natah is like "I CANNOT PROCEED WITHOUT HER BRILLIANT MIND".

Cue them sleeping together while Natah's mind is still spinning with the vigor of a puppy wagging her tail.

👗 Clothes

Living in the body of a Sentient Mimic makes dressing up very easy. Just think of an outfit and boom the shared body adapts to it. Margulis picks out clothes that are comfortable and easy on the eyes, Lotus goes for something classy and elegant but not pompous, while Natah goes for more...... unorthodox fashion statements. she has a distinctly Sentient lens on the whole self-presentation thing.

For example. I've been playing with a Natah who, when outside of her usual mech, presents herself with the features of a Xenomorph. With the long, skeletal tail and just creepier general anatomy. She's honestly a furry, just a Sentient version of one lmfao. I think she maintains her default colour scheme when she changes up her body

Lotus and Margulis share each others' wardrobes and in their headspace they take the time to do little Human rituals like actually painstakingly put their clothes on and do each other's makeup. They definitely lean towards more femme fashion, but they both will indulge in a good suit...

😶 Random

NSFW!!! UNDER THE CUT

SPACE MILF SEX HEADCANONS LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

Margulis: Bottom switch. Surprisingly commanding in bed if she wants to be. She is incredibly alluring and she knows how to tease... Ridiculously good at dirty talk........ Everything she says and does is like scientifically formulated to drive you up the wall. Being the OG Space Mom who owns the titty window I am inclined to say she can be verrrry slutty. Unfortunately still a regular Human in the datascape, but she's a curious woman and eventually finds out how to use the Sentient body for her own fantasies that i will not elaborate on 😶

Lotus: Vers Switch. Painfully. Excruciatingly. SWEET. In bed. She shows glimpses of herself that are so polite and innocent and affectionate that it makes you want to stop everything and just cuddle her and tell her you love her and she's safe. She NEEDS validation. It greatly upsets her if she thinks she's not doing a good job. Wins "most likely to cry while having sex" award (reasons range from being reminded of trauma or because you told her she's perfect the way she is or because she remembered again that she's free) and you HAVE to be nice about it...

Natah: Stone dom. Does not have nerve receptors and does not want them. She kinda just has sex to satisfy her curiosity and to fill her data banks. You should probably hope she likes you or she will not leave you....... Ahem. Alive? But if she DOES like you, she'll take joy in figuring out ways to push you to your limits and then give you aftercare. For her, sex is less about tactile pleasure and more about learning Human tendencies and how to best manipulate them.

Also she doesn't use her Human body (she reserves the intimacy it grants her for Lotus and Margulis) so you're stuck with her big beautiful mech shell thing and her clawed tentacles. Have fun!

[therealslimshakespeare]

I think this anon is really onto something- https://www.tumblr.com/precious-little-scoundrel/758937568196837376/i-think-part-of-the-reason-why-lu-puts-up-with?source=share -because I think part of why Lu is going to struggle is that she may be very used to living with other people, both on base and in the Stalag but she always lived with *that same group* and so having to adapt to living with random civies after the war is different. They have different ways of living communally in dorms than they did in barracks during the war due to the lack of military training. She's also grappling with not having her support system physically there for the first time in years. It takes more than walking over to them for guidance or comfort for the first time and she's going to struggle with school, the college environment, and her trauma and suddenly she's sort of physically cut off from everyone. Plus they're in a different life phase and that's going to be isolating as well. She's tough as nails and capable as hell but all adjustments are hard even when you're not overcoming the worst the world has to offer.

Oh excellent observations all!!!! Yes!!!

[thedenofravenpuff]

To Be Kind to Yourself - Fibromyalgia

Suddenly hit by a random memory from my journey of dealing with fibromyalgia. For once not about my still burning rage against my old GP. Giving me the urge to share some about my past journey.

Long talk about chronic illness

Freshly diagnosed but already struggling with the symptoms of my chronic illness getting worse, I was desperately clinging onto any hope to keep working. I didn't want to lose the familiarity, the career I had worked so hard for.

I was placed with kind and caring consultants and advisors to help guide me through a life with chronic pain, while agreeing that if they could keep me in the work force, it was best for everyone.

At the time they didn't fully understand how much I was hiding my pain. Sure I pushed through the medical system to get a diagnosis for what I was suffering from, but I also had another very dire issue - A late in life autism diagnosis and a lifetime of masking to be "acceptable" and "fit in".

My consultant helping me to adjust my work place to better accommodate my needs, only ever talked about the issues of my physical pain. I did listen that far, but sadly... since she focused on the issue of pain, even though I talked about my fatigue.. that I decided the pain was more important to worry about than my issues with fatigue.

So I pushed myself through the fatigue. I forced myself to move when my body refused. I limped, I shook, I trembled, I cried in the bathroom stall. And only reported when the fatigued was pushed so far the chronic pain truly kicked in. Which only caused more and longer sickdays.

I was on part time sickleave, and stupidly pushed myself to "make up for most time". I misunderstood my consultant's intentions being the focus on work, and not a focus on my well being.

Not until I broke down during a meeting with my advisor who called in my consultant so they together could sit me down and figure out where the communication broke down.

Where they could finally explain to me it WASN'T about keeping me working, it was about keeping me HAPPY and HEALTHY. Clearly I loved my job and clung to it, so their intentions had only been to help me keep something that was obviously important to me. But NOT at the cost of my health and well being.

And I was coached through to better word the issues and my own misunderstandings from THEIR misunderstandings. My consultant immediately changing her language about chronic illness to not just be about the pain, but inclusive of the many other symptoms too.

My advisor became my therapist, as they both agreed on putting me on full time sickleave, to give my body time to recover while working on my own understanding of my condition. And help me bit by bit unmask. Being sick and masking was just not a healthy combination. I had to be open about my symptoms and my changing health.

It was a battle on its own. I was still stubborn to get back to work, once I was deemed healthy enough. I had to learn a lot about myself and my own limitations, and why I was so eager to people please, to "earn" a "right to exist", to take up as little space as possible.

To this day I feel nothing but gratitude for these amazing women working their hardest to help me understand, that I cannot "walk it off" when suffering from a lifelong condition. That I'll HAVE to adapt to take up more space than I ever dared to allow myself.

I hated the thought of being a burden. Instead I learned.. all people in my life never saw me as one. And they all only want to help me where ever they can. All I have to do is reach out and ask. I don't need to "earn" anything. Least of all kindness.

Just a memory and part of my journey I felt an urge to share. I guess a reminder to myself how far I've come. To be able to remove the mask I've carried all my life and allow myself to be honest to others. And kind towards myself.

Today I'm on disability pension, a hard blow to my pride considering my battle to stay working. But I had to understand, my body cannot keep up. And I got nothing to prove.

Despite all the fears.. it turned out alright.

My life is still meaningful. Better in plenty of ways. Would I rather be working and free from my illness? Oh definitely, absolutely. But it doesn't mean the life I'm stuck with isn't worth living.

I wasn't the only one struggling to get me here. I had kind people to help and support me the whole way. I can never hope to repay them or truly show my gratitude for the effort put into helping me on my way.

Except for one thing, that I know they would want.

That I stay kind to myself.

[ronancecore]

Ronance lifestyle as a couple headcanon University edition

Robin and Nancy plan to have an apartment that closer to their university, it's outside Hawkins. Nancy adapt easily the new surrounding, Robin in the other hand still figure things out and nervous about taking a big step on their life.

The apartment wasn't big, neither small, it's perfect for them. Robin decided to handling the cleaning task. Otherwise, Nancy likes to lend a helping hand to her lover, they are flirting while cleaning the house it's part of their routine. While Nancy, cooks their meal as same as Nancy, Robin likes to help she always to what she can in the kitchen. They both shopping groceries and new appliances for their new lovely home.

Robin likes to sleep in couch. She easily sleep with her fluffy pillows hugging it tightly. Of course Nancy will join her, Robin likes being clingy around on their free time, sometimes nuzzling on Nancy's neck, or just buried her face on Nancy's nape.

One time in their warm dim light kitchen. Nancy cooking their dinner meal, Robin help her to cut vegetables and meats. When Nancy frying the ingredients Robin likes to back hug Nancy, placing her chin on her lovers shoulder.

Nancy have migraine that's why she likes warm and cozy lights, because too much light can ache her head. Also she have sleeping trouble, In short insomnia. Due to Vecna's curse in past. But Robin beside her helps to ease everything she been through, sometimes Robin gives light massage after she's doing her backlogs, Robin humms lullaby or random soft tone to help Nancy sleep easier, and comfortable at night.

Despite they have different program. Nancy helping Robin to finish projects or research on time. Robin takes film or Secondary education major in English. 'cause she wants to be English teacher, or work behind the scenes. Nancy takes her dream program which is journalism, but her second choice interest me so much it's forensic.(idk much about US educational system. Pls just correct me, I'm Asian btw.)

Nancy likes slow dance at night. The music background is mostly 70s music like How deep is your love by begees, Robin is not a great dancer she stumble and being clumsy around but there's Nancy guiding her pace every swirl, every twist and turn...they are still awkward even though their relationship is almost 1 year. Don't get me wrong they are comfortable which each other just blushing so hard and not looking directly mostly Robin can't handle Nancy's lovely eyes.

[fujowebdev]

✨Spotlight on Localhost HQ✨

Today we're here to tell you all about Localhost HQ, the first setting for the adventures of our protagonist (and fujoshi extraordinaire) Boba-tan.

Follow us under the cut to learn more about the #FujoGuide world and the amazing people that made it happen! And don't forget to back us on Kickstarter (and share this with your friends) so we can make this world a reality!

🏰 Localhost HQ 🏰

So, what is Localhost HQ? Well, we don't have—nor want!—all the details. The vaguer it is, the easier it adapts to any fanfic scenario. On the technical side, computers in a network use "localhost" to refer to themselves, for example to fetch a website they themselves host!

In the #FujoGuide world, Localhost HQ houses all programs that run on a user's own machine as part of the development workflow. Most importantly, the Terminal (a.k.a. Shell), but also programs like Git. In our version, Boba-tan has her very own (relatable) room within it.

🏰 Localhost Character 1: Boba-tan 🏰

Needing no introduction (ok, some introduction), Boba-tan is the author and protagonist of our zine. She was originally designed to serve as @bobaboard's own mascot by @essential-randomness, and brought to life by @ymske.

In our Kickstarter, you can see her all over the place, drawn by many different artists (some of which don't like the spotlight). For our character roster and avatar, she's been brought to life by @ikam177! Witness her in her full glory!

Want to know more about her? Well, she's the blankest slate of them all! Boba-tan is the quintessential fujoshi (or fujin, if you want), meant to embody the best quirks of transformative fandom folks: openness, enthusiasm, creativity, and heaps and heaps of thirst!

🏰 Localhost Character 2: Terminal 🏰

Is it Terminal or is it Shell? You too can now be part of one of programming's most pointless (and thus heated) debates.

Regardless of how you choose to refer to him, we all know who he actually is: the sexy live-in maid-pa of Localhost HQ.

Terminal is a powerful tool in the programming world, used to run other programs and orchestrate complex interactions between them. He also runs the show in the #FujoGuide world, and is able to quickly summon any local program, and to interact directly with the operating system.

(comic by @tempural)

Is there any limit to Terminal's powers? We don't know, actually, and we don’t want to know! Please play around with hi— I mean, it!

If you love his look (a powerful mix of Danny Trejo and Revolver Ocelot), you can thank—and follow—@mappapapa's incredible work! And if you've wondered what's on his apron...well, that's cowsay for you!

(Shhh don’t tell anyone about this still-unused version, with a terminal-looking eyepatch on his eye)

🏰Localhost Character 3: Git🏰

We've already spent a lot of time on our favorite catboy, but that's no reason to ignore him—not that he'd ever let us!

If you haven't yet, see him in action and learn all about him in our demo (link in the Kickstarter).

This time, the hard work of turning our technical and trope guidance into a bona-fide hottie comes from @brokemycrown—the master of sexiness who also helped us with the overall art direction!

(If you're wondering what the lines on his hoodie are, those are “git branches”.)

🏰 Localhost Character 4: GitHub 🏰

☁️ Cloud character 1: GitHub ☁️

Unlike Git, GitHub is not a program that runs in a "local environment"—that is, a developer's own computer. Instead, GitHub is a cloud-based service where programmers can upload their own "Git repositories" to share their code with other developers.

In the #FujoGuide world, characters like Git live in ~the cloud~, a network of data spawning around the world and a place we want to carefully avoid showing. In part, to keep an aura of mystery, and in part because mysterious places not well-defined in canon are fujin catnip.

So why is GitHub at Localhost HQ? Because Git is there, of course! The two share a powerful psychic connection. While Git hasn't yet accepted that they're meant to become one, that is not for lack of trying. Much to Terminal's chagrin, GitHub keeps teleporting to HQ, uninvited.

Once again, the amazing artist behind our favorite tentacled catboy is @brokemycrown. We'll probably keep shouting them out over and over again in these spotlights, so just go right ahead and follow them now.

(I'm sure you can appreciate the subtle character design cues here.)

...and that is all for the Localhost HQ spotlight! If you like the amazing work of our team, you can hire our artists and writers (and help us launch this project) by backing our Git Art/Fic tiers! You can also help us by reblogging this post and sharing our kickstarter link with friends, family, colleagues and Discord servers.

[being-of-rain]

My thoughts on Wild Blue Yonder! A little late because the time between the 60th anniversary episodes almost exactly lined up with a visit from my girlfriend. We had a great time, and watched this episode together, but I didn't want to take enough time away from her to write this!

When I saw some EU fans joking about how the episode was going to be an adaptation of Scherzo, I wasn't prepared for how many similarities it had. And it was soooo good. I love some really fucking great Doctor Who. I loved the horror aspect, I loved the duologue aspect, I always love a mystery opening act where the Tardis team has to search for clues and theorise about where they've landed. Oh and a shape-shifter who takes on someone's whole identity and thoughts is a concept that always tickles my fancy.

One of the few nitpicks I have is that I'm not quite sure how the countdown/shifting corridors and the robot connect: if they're part of the same self-destruct system, why is the robot seemingly much older than the ship? If they're not part of the same system, why is there a countdown to the moment the robot presses the button? Why not just have the ship destroy itself, and why would the ship need to 'reconfigure itself to become a bomb' if it had a self-destruct? But (much like Heaven Sent, which the solitary shifting setting is reminiscent of,) the small logic hiccups don't really take anything away from how good the episode is.

A slightly larger nitpick is that the ending isn't the strongest, with the TARDIS coming back right when and where the Doctor was thinking that it should, and then the Doctor realising he picked the wrong Donna because of a miniscule detail (that the audience couldn't pick up on, so it feels a bit of a cheat and a cheap emotional shot). So some of RTD's most common flaws there, but again the negatives really don't stack up to much compared to the quality of the rest of it. Also, I didn't notice the Tardis screen at the end that showed a scan of Donna's arm until my rewatch, and, in classic me fashion, it put me in mind of a random Dr Who EU story. In this case, Project: Nirvana where the Doctor reveals that the Tardis automatically scanned someone coming onboard and flagged an eldritch-monster-shaped issue with her. It does make me wonder if the Doctor thought to scan Donna himself, or if the Tardis did it (and he took the credit, perhaps trying not to think about how he might never have noticed).

But that's enough with nitpicks, what are some other fantastic bits? The throwaway phrase "goosebumps like Braille" is rad as hell, and would've made a great episode title I think. I've had ideas before about the Doctor's compulsion to think and solve problems in front of him being a direct threat, so it was cool to see that idea here. The Doctor worrying about 'invoking a superstition at the edge of the universe' at the end was a vague but incredibly compelling hook for future plots, and infinitely more interesting than the Meep's final line from the previous episode. I love all the tiny subtle ways the not-things were off and unsettling, as well as all the ways that were so over-the-top that I was laughing through my shocked horror.

The Timeless Child and Flux references were fantastic peeling back of the Doctor's emotional walls, and it was nice tying in with what is technically the show's previous season, even though it came out 2 years ago now. Also... it's a little hard to mention those references without dunking on Chibnall in comparison, who didn't tap into the Doctor's emotional state anywhere near as intensely in several years as this episode did in one scene (You could tie this into the Doctor regenerates into what they need/opposite theories, with Thirteen being a relatively repressed Doctor and Ten Point Three being a relatively expressive Doctor). It was particularly nice to have the show actually establish what the consequences of the Flux actually were, because god knows Thirteen's episodes weren't interested in doing that. On my rewatch of series 13 a few months ago, I was amazed at how basically every element of the Flux is confused and contradictory, and at the end my brother and I were convinced that the Ood in the Division ship (or God Ood as we started calling him) must have reversed the very almost total destruction of the universe, because the show simply refused to acknowledge any of that destruction itself. I guess they split the difference and said half the universe. But unpicking the bizarre illogic of the Flux is a whole other post.

Keeping in mind that the next episode hasn't come out yet, Wild Blue Yonder feels wildly out of place in the middle of an anniversary trilogy. A trilogy where the bookends are RTD modern-day blockbusters filled with fan-favourite character returns and niche villains from the show's long history, and the middle is a limited-cast sci-fi psychological/eldritch horror. But that absurdity detracts from the episode in absolutely no way whatsoever.

And speaking of absurdity; the mounting hype and talk of big things happening in the next episode, on top of bringing back a long-forgotten old villain and a long-awaited new Doctor, is just making it more and more ridiculous that the episode is called The Giggle. I can't wait for it though, I'm really enjoying these specials.

[master-of-the-railway]

Screw it, infodumping abt my AEG au because I have a lot of thoughts actually

*Prefacing this by saying: if you don't like this particular show, just keep off this post

(Most) events that happened in the other two series are canon to my au, but they happened without the characters who are children and therefore quite a few things are different. All of these events happened before the children came along or while they were incredibly young. Emily has her scottish accent in this btw, her AEG voice is great but it pains me that they didn't make her scottish. The events of AEG take place in modern day (based off of small observations, and Nia knowing what an emoji is).

One day, for an unexplained reason that still hasn't been fully figured out, a bunch of little machines just...showed up. All over the world. It caused a lot of confusion and panic, stations and companies were exchanging phone calls like mad to try and figure something out. They came to a worldwide consensus: the children will be adopted out to older machines who will become their new parents, and the parents will be guided to raise the children while the humans try to figure out what the cause is. This resulted in some not so great scenarios, and a lot of switching around, some machines just aren't fit to raise young kids. It's hard for all of them, even the good parents. These are the first machine children ever after all.

Sodor became a far more relaxed place with the introduction of the machine children, most places had to put in new laws and adapt, which includes the island. They had to create regulations to protect the children as well as invent a system to keep the new families in order, to track who is whose child. For the first few years they had rules set to keep the children from working, but they quickly discovered that it's instinct for them to work as much as it is their adult counterparts. They started to get antsy being forced to stay in the yard because they're meant to move and work. They get unhappy if they have to sit around all day.

So, when the kids got a little older, they started to get small jobs with the supervision of parents or other older machines. They all became far happier and so they were allowed to keep working and helping out around the island. Nowadays they don't have constant supervision and are trusted to work by themselves, so that they can already be adjusted to working by themselves before they get older. Some voice concerns considering the frequent mistakes, but they're assured that these mistakes are part of the learning process, better they make them as little engines than as larger ones that can do more damage.

All of the kids are around 10 years old at the start of the show's events, Sandy poofed into existence a tiny bit later so she's more around 8. Ages obviously subject to changing as time goes on in the series.

A very random tidbit based on how ADORABLE the episode Something To Remember was: Yong Bao, while not a father himself, is very very fond of engine children. He thinks they're all a wonderful gift to this earth and he's always thinking of Sodor's little ones. Does frequent babysitting for the few on his railway back in China that do have kids when he's not on the job himself. ...SERIOUSLY HOW CUTE IS THIS THOUGH:

And for reference, the family set-ups I have at the moment (might be subject to change) are: Gordon and Henry- Thomas and Percy's adoptive fathers. Gordon was a bit apprehensive as he isn't the fondest of children and doubted his ability to be a father, but he ended up being a very good father. Henry is the softer one and he has trouble being stern, so he appreciates his partner's ability to be tough with the kids. Percy and Thomas are sometimes a bit more than their fathers can handle, but they're a very tightly knit family and they love each other a lot. Emily- Adoptive mother of Diesel and Bruno, she had actually always wanted children of her own and didn't mind the idea of raising a diesel engine. She's determined to raise him to have no prejudice towards other types of engines, and she does her best to help Bruno learn to adjust to new things, she knows it can be hard for him after all. Also stands in as the caretaker of Nia, who was brought to Sodor when she was about 5 years old as her original mother from Kenya ended up being unable to handle the pressure of raising a child after a few years once it really set in, and Sodor had the room to take an extra kid. Cranky- Adoptive father of Sandy and Carly, originally just Carly's father until Carly uncovered Sandy and ended up attached to her. He was very against the idea of having a kid at first, but as the only other crane on Sodor (with the exception of Bereseford, but he just couldn't take a kid at all for unspecified reasons), Sir Topham Hatt managed to talk him into trying it out for Carly's sake. Now he adores both of his daughters and does his best to be there for them even as a stationary crane. Hiro- Kana's adoptive father, also a father figure towards Kenji. Kana stays on Sodor as part of an exchange program sort of deal, but she makes the occasional visits to Japan to spend more quality time with her father and older brother. Kenji does the same when visiting Sodor, Hiro tries to as well but he can't come as often as Kenji can. Hiro adores both of his children even if they're a bit fast and far more futuristic than himself, and he does his best to keep in touch with Kana. She's his special little girl!