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Purple Ruffles

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I love Kuni so much! I thinl aboit him every day 🥺 But I can't seem to focus on one idea enough to write a fic that makes sense, just scenes without any connection :( So if you want to send a request they're welcome.

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omg if we’re talking about his body parts idk why but the nape of his neck looks so 🤤🤤🤤 like i just wanna kiss it so bad, especially on his mark

anyways yeah about his ass i would eat it on everyone’s soul brah

The nape of his neck is so BITEABLE

I can't be normal about him I love him too much 😭

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i suck at colors

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You get called an "insane scara fan" because you want to do unspeakable things with him in the bedroom

I get called an "insane scara fan" because I not only want that too but I also have been hyperfixating on him since 3.1 and I know his whole lore to a disturbing degree

...

"You're crazy but I'm crazier" ahh post but what can I say LOL

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Stardew Valley: Headers

•The Stardew Valley Collection•

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Dottore vs. Wanderer, Eva paro delulu

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We're going to nod-krai! 🧳

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Look, I’m just like you now! 💜🔥

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Character(s): Wanderer x GN Reader

Genre: Fluff with a bit of hurt/comfort, established relationship.

Summary: You take a break with your emotionally repressed boyfriend.

A/N: This was written with early relationship in mind! I didn’t proofread this so I'm really sorry for any mistakes, please tell me if you find one! ^^

When you started dating your boyfriend, there was one not-so-unspoken rule between him and you.

Do not touch.

Yes, that's right, because every time you would get even a little bit closer than necessary, he would pull away and start hissing like a stray cat.

Thankfully, he has gotten better with time (mostly because you couldn't imagine never being able to touch your own partner), but that didn’t stop him from having 'those' days, where just the idea of holding hands was enough to make his skin crawl.

You two had been strolling for ages now, feet dragging through the floor and making a whole new trail behind you.

This was one of those days.

It took some convincing, but after a while Wanderer agreed to take a break, sitting under the shadow of a tree to recover your energies, finally able to take a deep breath and just stare at the scenery around.

The first rays of sunset were starting to show, slowly painting the sky with warmer hues. And yet, what was truly breathtaking was nothing else but your boyfriend sitting to your side, the casting sunlight illuminating his features just right. So beautiful, maybe more than he had the right to be, hat set aside and making it easier to see the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks.

However, you couldn't admire his beauty for long, because he was quick to speak again, opening his eyes to glare at you through the corner of them.

"If you have enough energy to stare, you have enough energy to get moving."

Ah, what a shame that his thin lips were made to speak instead of kissing you.

"Give me a break, will you? We have been walking all day." You retorted with an exasperated sigh, leaning back to focus your gaze on the leaves instead in hopeful thinking he would drop it. But of course, this was your man we were talking about.

"Hah? Don't tell me you are so weak you get tired this easily? Humans are truly absurd."

His voice came with the tone. Maybe a lure for a trap, maybe an invitation to your familiar bickering. Either way, you weren't in the mood nor had the patience for either.

"Cut it off, Wanderer. Not right now."

Your tone wasn't exactly sharp, but was firm enough for him to get the message, holding back whatever counterargument he had on the tip of his tongue. Then, he turned away, crossing his arms.

...

Silence followed for a minute or two, enough for you to actually start overthinking. Sure, you hadn’t been harsh, but you knew exactly what type of thoughts ran through his mind at the smallest hint of rejection. Maybe you should have worded it better? Should you say something to fix it?

Well, your shift in expression must have given you away, because after a quick glance at you, he spoke once more, his tone a bit more neutral.

"We still need to find another five of those yellow lotuses." He shifted a bit closer, even when his eyes refused to find yours once more. "If you want to actually complete the commission, that's it."

You stared back at the skyline, the sun almost halfway through hiding behind the Sumeru trees. "We should head back before it gets dark. We can go searching tomorrow." But you didn’t make any attempt to move, closing your eyes and letting the sunlight gently caress your skin.

He hummed in acknowledgement, his fingers awkwardly brushing yours before gripping the grass instead.

You didn’t think twice, your hand already moving on top of his. However, the contact didn’t last long, recoiling as soon as he felt the warmth of your palm like the touch alone burned him.

Your eyes snapped open to check his reaction, just to see his expression shift from calm to something way closer to ick. Yeah, okay.

Swallowing your own feelings back, you returned your hand to your lap. "Sorry" you mumbled under your breath, so quiet you didn’t even know if he caught it.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, debating between snapping, changing the subject or apologizing himself. He didn’t do any of those, settling by glaring at you while trying to find the right answers. Too much to both of your disappointment, things weren’t that easy, and you knew beforehand that this fog in between was thicker than it would seem from afar.

It went without saying how many times the blurred lines made you hesitate, and how many times you were completely in the dark on what to do. And it was that same reasoning that made him so afraid.

"It's not—" He started, but cut himself, words failing him for a second. "It's not you."

"I know." That was all you could give him as a reply, the acknowledgement of how this ran bigger than you. But knowing didn’t make it better, and now things were too weird to pretend it did.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to." You spoke again, offering a clean closing to the topic. He didn’t take it.

"I want to. Why else would I be with you?"

"Because I'm cute and I make you laugh?"

"All you do is embarrass me."

"Then pity it is."

His body turned to you, completely facing you this time. The sky was already dark blue, but those indigo eyes still shone brighter than any star above, annoyed, yes, but also helplessly in love, more devoted than the most loyal of fallowers. And just that was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

"Are you serious right now? Do you seriously think I would even waste a second of my time on someone I 'pity'?" He leaned closer, as if trying to make a point, crossing the space he placed before. "I am with you because I care dumbass, and I will spell it to you as many times as I need."

The tip of your ears must have been a deeper shade now— you were sure of that. But that didn’t stop you from doubling up, if anything, it just made the burn inside come out of the depths of your chest. Awfully so, the way only he could do.

"Then you could try actually acting like it instead of running away at the first sign of affection."

He sneered. "Oh, really? How rich of you, taking into account you were the one shutting me off at the very start."

"Maybe if you weren't so annoying I wouldn't!"

...

More silence. However, this time, none of you turned away, instead you squinted your eyes, and he mimicked the action, able to see your own reflection in your irises. You could practically count his eyelashes by how close he was, red eyeliner making them stand out even more... with that porcelain skin that was, oh so soft to touch.

Yet, to your surprise, you were not the one to initiate the touch this time, lips on you before you could even react. Surprisingly tender, maybe even more than he had the right to be in this situation, melting every doubt and argument you had to say.

Because god, if he didn’t make it hard, always so sharp where he was nothing but soft to you. From every single angle he took, and for every breath that got stuck in your throat.

He loves you. Terrifyingly so, but he does.

And this time, when your hand found his in the middle of that heat, he didn’t pull away.

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…hi……. i’m the one from seika’s asks talking about scara’s booty…. i’m here…… gulp…. even tho he’s flat as hell………..

HI ANON IM SO GLAD TO SEE YOU

It was so crazy bc I literally opened Tumblr after like a week of not using it only to post abt Scara's booty and the first post on my feed was your ask on seikas blog about it 🤯🤯🤯

Scara's flat booty is love, Scara's flat booty is life. I imagine it's probably super chilly to the touch and amazing to cool off your hands in the summer ☺️ I might draw it.

Srsly I love all his bodyparts but this week is booty appreciation week 😈 or maybe month. I also have a thing for his back and his electro mark and I hc it with scars from the shouki no kami tubes. I hope tonight we dream of naked scara and his pretty booty 😃

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Listen to me. Scara has the tiniest, flattest butt in the world (wanderer ig model confirms) AND HE ROCKS IT! AND I LOVE IT! I love to imagine him with the most 2000s emo boy look and tightest jeans and hey, hey, emo boy, hey hey emo boy, fuck me emo boy,come on fuck me emo boy, fuck me emo boy, fuck me emo boy 🔉🎶🎵🎶🎶🎶

(Returns to her cave)

Yes I love being what they call "gen Z"

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"First Morning of Forever"

a/n: The first morning after moving in together is special in such a quiet, magical way — nothing fancy, just the comfort of waking up in the same bed knowing you don’t have to say goodbye at the door anymore. Anon request!

pairing: scaramouche x you

genre: fluff

The first thing you noticed wasn’t the light through the curtains.

It wasn’t the faint noise of cars passing on the street outside your new apartment.

It was him.

Warm. Heavy. Draped over you like he’d melted in his sleep. His arm was curled snugly around your waist, one of his legs hooked lazily over yours, his face tucked into your shoulder like he was trying to fuse with you.

The scent of fresh laundry lingered faintly in the room — not because everything was actually fresh, but because all your clothes had been washed before packing them. The cardboard smell of moving boxes still clung to the corners, and there was the faint, sweet note of his shampoo in your hair from last night’s shower.

Everything was new and a little messy. The curtains weren’t hung properly, just clipped to the rod with binder clips. Your nightstand still held a half-empty mug from the exhaustion tea you’d shared after unpacking. And yet… the bed felt like home already.

You shifted ever so slightly, trying to stretch your legs.

Instantly, the arm around your waist tightened.

"…Don’t," came his low, sleepy mumble.

You smiled into your pillow. "Don’t what?"

"Don’t move. Stay here."

"I was just going to get some water."

"You were going to abandon me," he corrected, his voice muffled and warm.

You turned just enough to see him. His hair was rumpled, sticking in every possible direction. His eyes were only half-open, a little glassy with sleep, his cheek pressed into the pillow. He looked impossibly soft like this ��� which was unfair, because he’d argue later that he "looked like a zombie."

"You’re ridiculous," you said fondly.

"I’m comfortable," he countered. "And you’re ruining it by thinking about leaving."

You let yourself sink back into the pillow. "What if I wanted breakfast?"

"Order in," he replied instantly.

"What if I wanted pancakes?"

He shut his eyes again. "I’ll make them. Later."

"How much later?"

"When I feel like letting you go."

Last night had been a whirlwind.

You’d carried the last box up the stairs, both of you groaning about how your knees weren’t built for this. You’d argued about where to put the couch, laughed when he insisted his game console deserved its own shrine in the living room, and ended up eating takeout straight from the containers while sitting on the floor.

By the time you’d both collapsed into bed, you were too tired to do anything but curl into each other. He hadn’t let go of you since.

"Scara?" you murmured now.

"Mm?"

"What if I wanted to shower?"

"Then I’m coming with you," he said without hesitation.

You rolled your eyes, grinning. "Of course you are."

The room was quiet except for your breathing and the faint hum of the fridge from the kitchen. For a moment, you thought he’d fallen back asleep.

Then his voice came again, softer:

"I like this."

You tilted your head to look at him. "Like what?"

"This," he said simply. "Waking up and you’re here. No texting you in the morning, no waiting for you to come over. Just… here."

Something in your chest fluttered.

"I like it too," you whispered.

His mouth curved into the smallest smile. "Good. Because you’re stuck here."

You laughed quietly. "Forever?"

"Forever," he confirmed, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple before burying his face in your hair again.

The water could wait.

The breakfast could wait.

Even the half-open boxes waiting to be unpacked could wait.

Because it was your first morning together, and the only thing that mattered was the warmth between you, the quiet certainty of his arms around you, and the unspoken truth that this — the slow mornings, the shared space, the easy closeness — was exactly where you were meant to be.

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"This House Is Loud (And I Love It)"

a/n: Request from anon! This can be taken as a timeskip from this or just a separate story. Anyway, Scara’s trying his best. He really is. (He’s losing.)

pairing: scaramouche x you

genre: fluff

Your mornings had changed a lot since the "just-us" days.

You used to wake up slow — tangled in sheets, Scaramouche curled around you like he was guarding something precious (because he was), the sun peeking through the curtains lazily. He’d grumble if you dared move before 10, swearing you were disrupting his 'beauty regeneration cycle.'

Now?

Now you were being woken up by a xylophone.

"Rise and shine, Mama and Dada! It’s concert day!"

The metallic twang of off-key notes echoed across the bedroom as your four-year-old proudly banged her musical weapon of choice, standing on the foot of the bed like a victorious general.

You groaned into your pillow. "Sweetheart, It’s Sunday. That means quiet cuddles, remember?"

"But I made a song for the family cat!"

"We don’t have a cat," Scaramouche said, voice muffled under the blanket.

"I pretended we did."

"That’s worse."

Eventually, you dragged yourselves out of bed — Scaramouche grumbling the whole way, hair in a state of rebellion, clutching his coffee like it was holy water.

Your daughter was already at the kitchen table, surrounded by crayons and a sheet of paper she proudly called her "adoption contract" for the imaginary cat. You couldn’t help but laugh when she demanded both your signatures in pink glitter pen.

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow. "Where’s the clause that says I won’t be scooping anything out of a litter box?"

"She said you’ll handle the 'emotional support cuddles'," you said helpfully.

He gave you a flat look. "I hope our next pet is imaginary too."

By midday, your living room looked like an art exhibit curated by a toddler on a sugar rush. Paper scraps everywhere. Glitter on the couch. One sock in the fridge (you still don’t know how that got there).

Your daughter was in the middle of constructing a "princess pirate palace" using every pillow you owned.

You were curled up on the couch watching her, mug in hand, when Scaramouche dropped beside you with a deep sigh.

"I stepped on a Barbie shoe," he muttered. "I think my foot has filed for divorce."

You laughed, patting his thigh. "At least she didn’t glue googly eyes to your computer again."

"She named them last time. And gave them a backstory.”

"Be honest. You kinda liked it."

"…Okay, yeah. Officer Wiggle-Eye did have a tragic past."

Later that afternoon, after the chaos had calmed down and your daughter was happily watching cartoons while lying upside down on the bean bag, you and Scaramouche snuck into the kitchen for your rare moment of peace.

You were sipping your drink, back against the counter. He was beside you, arm brushing yours.

"She’s too much like you," he said suddenly.

You smirked. "She gets her stubbornness from you."

"I wasn’t talking about the stubbornness. I meant the sparkle pens, the dramatics, the bedtime refusal speeches—she’s you."

You laughed, warm and full. "Is that your way of saying you’re doomed?"

He grinned against his cup. "I’m saying I’m already outnumbered."

Then—

From the living room:

"Mama! Dada!"

You both turned your heads at once. Scaramouche called back, "What is it now? Did the couch become lava again?!"

"No!" she shouted. "I want a baby brother! Can I have one?"

Silence.

You didn’t move.

Scaramouche visibly froze with his cup mid-sip.

"…I’m sorry," he whispered. "What did she just say?"

You bit back a laugh. "She said—"

"I heard what she said, I just—what kind of cartoon gives kids that idea?!"

You shouted back, "Why a brother, sweetheart?"

"So I can boss him around!"

Scaramouche wheezed.

You reached over and gently patted his back as he coughed, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "You okay there, love?"

"She wants to lead a cult," he gasped. "A bloodline."

You were cracking up now, leaning into him for support.

Your daughter peeked her head into the kitchen, casual as anything. "So? Can I have one?"

You and Scaramouche looked at each other.

And then he turned to her with a totally serious face and said:

"Ask me again after I finish this cup."

She blinked, then nodded solemnly. "Okay."

As soon as she left, he turned to you with wide eyes. "She’s not serious, right? Right?!"

You smirked and leaned in, voice sweet and deadly: "Well, she did draw a family portrait earlier. And it had four people in it."

Scaramouche looked at the ceiling like it might give him divine answers.

You kissed his cheek. "You’d survive another one."

He gave you a look. "I barely survived the first one."

"But you’d do it again, wouldn’t you?"

He stared at you.

And then slowly, reluctantly, lovingly... sighed. "Only if it comes out as chill as me and not like a glitter-bombed hurricane."

You raised your mug to clink his. "We’ll see."

And in the living room, your daughter had already drawn a new family photo.

This one had a baby in it.

And the baby?

Had Scaramouche’s exact scowl.

He was doomed.

And he loved every second of it anyway.

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"The Littlest Things: A Baby?"

a/n: Married life with Scara has me giggling and kicking my feet every time — but writing him softly asking about having a baby? Yeah, I melted.

pairing: scaramouche x you

genre: fluff

The house was already quiet.

Dinner had been finished hours ago. The dishes were done, the lights dimmed, and the scent of clean sheets and your favorite candle still lingered in the bedroom air.

Your playlist of soft, sleepy love songs played quietly in the background — not loud enough to distract, just enough to fill the silence between your shared breaths.

Scaramouche had his arms around you, just the way he always did after a long day. You were laying chest to chest, legs tangled under the blanket, one of his hands absentmindedly stroking your back while the other stayed curled behind your head.

You loved this part of the night — when the world felt far away and Scara was just yours. No distractions, no sharp remarks, just warmth and weight and slow, lazy affection.

He always relaxed more like this. His tone softer. His walls lowered.

"Comfy?" he murmured into your hair.

"Mmhm. You’re warm."

"You’re clingy."

"You’re the one holding me like a stuffed toy."

"Maybe because you look like one."

You giggled and lifted your head slightly to look at him. He looked so pretty like this — loose hair falling over his forehead, lips slightly parted, sleepy eyes softened in the warm glow of the bedside lamp. Married life had made him a little more tender, even if he still tried to hide it.

You leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. "You’re staring."

He didn’t deny it. Just smiled a little. "Can’t I look at my spouse?"

"You’re being sappy."

"So?"

"So, I like it," you whispered.

Scaramouche hummed, his thumb brushing lazy patterns against your hip. You thought maybe that was the end of it — that the two of you would slip into sleep like usual. But then his fingers paused. His lips parted like he was about to speak. And then… hesitation.

You could feel it.

"Scara?"

"…Can I tell you something?"

Your brows lifted a little. You nodded. "Of course."

He was quiet for a second — too quiet. His expression unreadable, but not distant. More like he was gathering courage for something.

"I… don’t know why I’m thinking about this now," he began, voice soft and slow, "but… what would you think if we… had a baby?"

You blinked. You weren’t sure you heard him right at first. "Are you serious?"

He didn’t look away. "I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t."

You sat up just slightly, supported by your elbow as you looked down at him. His hand stayed on your waist, his gaze steady but nervous. Like part of him was scared you’d laugh or brush it off.

"I thought you didn’t like kids," you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension.

"I didn’t. I mean… I didn’t think I did." His eyes softened. "But lately I keep imagining it. Not random kids — ours. You. Me. A tiny little someone who looks like both of us."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"I picture you holding them in the kitchen in the mornings," he murmured. "And me sitting beside you while they nap on your chest. I think about decorating a little room, going to doctor appointments, folding ridiculous baby clothes. I don’t know. It just keeps popping into my head, and I don’t hate it."

You didn’t say anything at first. You were still caught on the image of him folding baby clothes and sitting beside you while a tiny little bundle snuggled on your chest. And the way he said ours like it was the most sacred word in the world.

"…Scara," you whispered. "I didn’t know you’d been thinking about that."

He looked away, suddenly bashful. "I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up. I didn’t want to pressure you. Or make it weird."

"It’s not weird," you said softly. "It’s… kind of beautiful."

He blinked.

You leaned in and kissed him again — slower this time. With more meaning. And when you pulled back, your hand rested on his chest, right over his heart.

"I’ve thought about it too," you admitted. "Not seriously. Not planning or anything. But sometimes, I’ll see someone holding a baby and think… I wonder what that would be like with you. I wonder what kind of dad you’d be."

He raised an eyebrow. "What kind do you think?"

"The kind that pretends to be annoyed but secretly loves every second of it."

He scoffed. "Lies."

"The kind that rocks them to sleep while complaining the whole time."

"Only if you’re not helping."

You giggled, and he smiled, pulling you down into his arms again.

"…So?" he asked quietly. "Do you think… someday?"

You placed your hand over his on your stomach, heart full.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Someday sounds really, really nice."

He didn’t say anything for a moment — just buried his face into your shoulder and let out the softest breath you’d ever heard.

And when he pulled you closer and pressed the lightest kiss to your temple, he whispered one last thing before you both drifted off to sleep,

"…Maybe someday… sooner than later."

[magicalink]

Hello again! So, about the fanfic you wrote for me, I really love how Wanwan just let himself cry in front of the Reader without being a bitch about it (unlike in most fics). Like, OMG, FINALLY. He lets his guard down around me for once. *big sighhh*

I was surprised that Reader could even hold a conversation with Alhaitham of all people, because me personally, I hate him with every inch of my soul. I only selfship him for his looks, and that's it. Bitchass trying to act unbothered with people, but no, it just makes you an apathetic asshole, bozo. <- not directed at you btw

Also, could you be reading my mind?? The reader has in some way a knack for art, my OC is that way, too!😂

And to answer your question about the Simulanka quest, the things about Wanderer there that upset me are at the beginning of his appearance. How he just wants to rush things and expecting others to follow. And also the part where he said "how many times do I have to save you?" Like, bruh, if you hate being kind so much, then maybe you should've just let me fucking die.🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️ I really wish Nahida was sterner with him, it just feels like she's enabling his asshole-ness.

Anyway, my muscles are aching from waiting at long lines in the Hoyofest. I didn't even get all of the freebie merchandise, which is sad, but I'm happy that I've (impulsively) bought the Scarameow plush!

That's all I gotta say for now, I badly need rest. Hope you're having a wonderful day!^^

-❣

Thank youuuu for your message 💙 I'm glad you liked the fic 😊 Since you didn't specify anything about your OC I went self indulgent with that LOL, I'm very artsy too. I imagined Wanderer and reader living in a beautiful little cottagecore house (cuz im a sucker for cottagecore vibes) with a backyard full of plants, either in Sumeru or in the Serenitea pot. (God I wish I had a house like that) I also imagine Wanderer to be an excellent cook and baker and also good at taking care of the plants. He is bad at words but he gives his best at taking care of things that are important for reader, like the flowers. He waters them and weeds them and whatnot so his beloved girlfriend has all the plants she wants to stare at, use in her studies, press for her collages or whatever project she has 💙 But I'm glad he realized words are important for reader and he started to be more open for the sake of the relationship and they made up 😊 (Yes I refuse to write sad endings. Not to quote Jane Austen or anything but my characters will suffer a bit (or a lot) but then will get their happy ending 😋)

On another topic, I'm not very open about this bc no one wanta to hear anyone criticize their favs, but to be completely honest I despise Alhaitham 🤭 I mean I get it he's hot and all, but the game is full of hot chars that are way less displeasing than him 🤣 Srsly I just hate how mean and conceited he can be. Some people say he is autistic coded? Idk about that, what do you think? I just see a big dude with big pockets who is super mean to poor Kaveh who deserves the world and is now trapped with that asshole. The first time I saw them together I was excited bc I thought the game would have more healthy gay representation (evading the censorship as much as possible as always) and it made me really sad to see their dynamic evolve into a clearly implied romantic relationship that is super abusive but it's portrayed as comedy.

I think maybe what doesn't sit well with me isn't Alhaitham being an ass or the depiction of a toxic relationship, but the tone in which this is portrayed. I hate how most characters and the narrative seem to praise Alhaitham and sing his virtues and reward him with lots of money, power and recognition, and never ever point out any flaws in him, when he has plenty. Some characters get slandered over minor flaws in comparisson and I find this unfair. And well I hate how the toxic dynamic between him and Kaveh is depicted in a lighthearted way as if the game is trying to force it 'hey, this is comedy! Laugh!' Down our throats instead of taking it seriously. Genshin has always had sad and moving stories and characters with heartbreaking lore and never had the need to sugarcoat it but suddenly with Kaveh they got that weird Disney syndrome where they feel obligated to interrupt any heartbreaking moment with a joke as if they think the audience can't take it 🤷‍♀️ Idk I find it weird. Justice for Kaveh.

Regarding Simulanka, I dont remember that line in particular (damn it was such a long time ago!) But I remember I felt endeared and giggled like a dork at the whole sequence. I guess bc I felt he was being teasing and acting like a tsundere bc he smirked multiple times and the VA performance really made him sound like he was flirting in a tsundere way 🤭 Very different from the cold expression and angry tone that made me cry in the Imaginary Theatre lines 😢 I was like srsly what happened?? He was so flirty and nice during Simulanka and then during the theatre he was so mad like something had happened to him. Maybe he just hates being put to work for real 😅 (He's truly my kindred spirit) I used that shitty attitude he had that made me feel so badas inspiration for the fic. A lot of paperwork=Wanderer grumpy and mean=heartbroken gf=relationship crisis.

Where's the Hoyofest? I'm so envious! 🥺 Last week it was announced that the only Genshin related event in my country was cancelled 💔😭 And it's been almost impossible to find Genshin related stuff in anime/videogames related events lately 😔 It's so discouraging. Out of my irl friends only one still likes Genshin. It's me and her against the country 💔

I got my Scarameow as a bday gift from my ex bf, it was impossible to find him in my country so he came from Ali Express and it was super hard to do all the paperwork. How is your Scarameow? I've seen many different models online. I want the one that's big and fat like a bodypillow :3 Someday I'll get him.

[magicalink]

wanderer is the type of person to not let go of a hug until you do. before you, he wasn’t used to affection but he sure as hell basks in it now even tho he’s a bit shy to initiate