#I tend to watch streams while drawing and the a

[heathenoushound]

He worked hard to keep his team safe 🪝

[luveline]

That family holiday kbd was soo cute😭

Can we get a blurb about playing at the resort’s pool with Steve and the kids? 🫶🏻

kbd — the harrington’s go poolside !! mom!reader, 1.4k

“Can we hold hands?” Beth asks. 

You throw your hand out to her showfully. She giggles as she takes it, rejuvenated after a good night's sleep and a huge breakfast from the buffet. You and Steve are probably happier about her gorging than she is; it’s never a bad day when Bethie eats well. 

Steve holds a toddling Dove’s hand, leaning down to accommodate her tiny stature, while Avery walks just ahead. “It’s gonna be fun, bubby,” Steve’s saying, “I promise.” 

Dove’s been to the pool a couple of times, but never for long. Last time she’d been in Steve’s arms for the whole session, while you shepherded Beth, and Avery played water games with her Aunt Robin. You’re a little scared to be taking them now with just the two of you, but Steve reassured you that everyone would be perfectly safe in the kids pool under both your supervision and the lifeguards, and you tend to trust his judgement. 

You leave the hotel lobby and step out into the resort’s back, white concrete and bright green sections of grass cut by paths that lead down to the pools and water features. Steve shouts for Avery to stay close, your oldest girl gasping with excitement as you draw near the pool and families already swimming in the sun. Her flip-flops slap the ground. 

“Mom, it’s too sunny,” Bethie whines. 

“This is why we all have hats. Do you want a hat?” 

“No.” She frowns. “I can’t see.” 

“You can’t see?” you ask. “I might have something that can help. Let’s just get to some seats and I’ll show you.”  

There are rows of blue plastic chairs and sun loungers outfitted with tables near the kiddie pool, more further down toward the adult pool. Families have already set up in places, but there’s plenty of room for you, your family, and your huge baby bag. 

Steve hoists Dove onto a sun lounger. Avery next, though she stays standing, her excitement catching. A sprinkler shaped like a flower rains generous streams of water down onto a laughing little girl and her mother. Avery watches them over Steve’s shoulder. “Can we swim? Please, dad, I want to go under the sprinkler!”

“Yeah. Let’s take your nice dress off first, sweetheart, put your arms up. Up, up!” 

She holds up her arms for Steve to help her out of her dress. You and Beth take the sunlounger opposite, where she’s quick to climb into your lap, hiding her face from the sun. 

You knew Beth wouldn’t wear a hat. She hates them, just like she hates flip flops, sandals, and any shoes without socks. Luckily she’s fine to go barefoot from here —you begin to untie her laces. “I have something new for us to try. I think you’re gonna love it, but maybe you won’t, I don’t know.” 

“What is it?” 

You unzip the bag and pull out a round blue container. It clicks open, unveiling a toddler-sized pair of sunglasses made of a strange soft plastic. 

“You can match daddy,” you sing-song, attempting to entice her. “And keep your eyes away from the sun.” 

“Will they stay on when I swim?” she asks. 

“Maybe not, but I’ve got you goggles for swimming. Are you ready to swim? Or are we gonna sit here for a bit in the sun?” 

Avery jumps down off of the sunlounger. The skirt of her swimsuit bounces as she runs to you, hands vying for your bag. “Mom, I want goggles too.” 

“I got you some, don’t worry. Let daddy do it. He has to make them smaller on your head.”

Steve outfits Avery in her goggles, and takes Dove’s dress off to leave her in her swimsuit (or scuba suit). Beth doesn’t wanna swim yet, but you take her dress off and begin the long process of covering each child in SPF. 

“There,” you say, wiping a smudge of sunscreen from Avery’s arm down into her hand. “Tada! You’re now safe from the sun.” 

“I love the sun.” 

“I know, but the sun doesn’t love us. It gets too hot.” 

“That’s why we have to drink.” 

“Exactly, baby, exactly.” You frame her face with your hands. “Hey, you look beautiful today. You do! Look at your lovely smile, so pretty, better let me have a little kiss.” 

“Mommy,” she giggles. 

“Just a little one, Avey, just one–” You kiss her cheek twice, one near her nose and the other her ear, before pulling her in for a slightly slimy hug. The sun warms the back of your neck, and her shoulders are warm where your arms slide over them. 

“That was two,” Steve says. 

“You rat,” you say, grinning as he leans down to hug you from behind. 

“Better give me one to make it even,” he says in your ear.

“Don’t think that’s how it works.” 

He gives you a quick kiss. “Hey, Dove! Babe, where are you going?” 

“Swim!” 

“Guess we better get in,” he says, thumb in your shoulder and then suddenly gone as he chases your waddling barely-toddler before she can get too far away. 

“Ready, Beth?” you ask. 

“You’re coming in?” she asks you. 

“Yeah, I’m coming in,” you say, forcing a smile. 

You've had three babies. You know you don’t look like you did when you and Steve first met, don’t look like somebody you’d see on TV or in the background of a Madonna video. He sees you naked all the time and he’s never had any complaints (the opposite, always), but these people aren’t used to you. You have a doughy stomach and the baby weight sticks to your chest and thighs; you’re so worried you’ll be judged for how you look you start to resent yourself for not trying to fix it. 

You pull your dress over your head hesitantly. 

An immediate wolf whistle echoes from the poolside. 

Steve’s ankle deep in the kids shallows, his fingers still in his mouth, the other arm wrapped around Dove. The sun turns his hair a dirty blonde, his mild tan lightened. 

“Steve, don’t,” you scorn, immediately flustered at the attention it draws. 

“That’s my wife,” Steve says to Avery, unaffected. 

You grab Bethie, kiss her under the chin, and try to act like you aren’t embarrassed as you meet them in the water. 

“Well hello, gorgeous,” he says, grabbing for you, not quite reaching. 

The water’s cold. “Stop, Steve.” 

“You’re so beautiful, come here, I need a kiss.” 

“Stop.” 

“Seriously?” he asks. 

You hug Beth. “Maybe one more.” 

“Mom, you’re beautiful!” Avery shouts. 

“Yeah, mom, you’re beautiful,” Beth says. 

Steve smirks from over Dove’s head. “Took the words right out of my mouth.” 

You and Steve kneel in the pool. The water isn’t that deep at its deepest, and the girls can stand without being submerged. Avery and Bethie hold hands under the sprinkler flower to stop from either girl getting lost, while you and Steve watch with Dove held in his arms. “How’s that, Dovey? Are you having fun?” you ask saccharinely. 

Steve sighs. “You really are so, so beautiful.” 

“Daddy’s feeling silly,” you say to Dove, “he doesn’t get it.” 

“I get it.” 

“You don’t think people wonder what you’re doing with me?” you ask, mostly joking, ninety percent as you give your stomach a self-deprecating squeeze. “You look like you're still twenty-two.” 

“No I don’t. I used to have abs.” 

You push through the water to poke his lean stomach. “Feels solid to me,” you say. 

He laughs and pulls away from you. His eyes dart between you and the girls, softened with his laughing, “Get off of me, you rascal.” 

“Rascal?” 

You laugh worse. 

Steve’s predictable. He makes sure Dove is alright floating in the water with his one hand on her back before he leans across to kiss you, a wet hand to your collar, his lips persistent as he pecks you twice, three times. “Love you, pretty girl,” he says. 

You flush with heat from your face to your fingertips. That’s a rare one. “I love you too.” 

[bitchslappin]

Figure Studies

 

Summary: Joel let's his you paint him like one of your French girls (kind of not really).

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, no implied age gap but do what you want, sexual tension, voyeur to some degree, exhibitionism kind of, M masturbation, overstimulation a little bit, fluff for sure, Joel's so in love, idk the tags make it sound lame lol

Word count: 2.5k

“Quit starin’ at me. It’s creepy.”

   Joel’s voice is gruff. He’s bent over the dining room table, summer evening sun streaming in through the kitchen window. He’s cleaning his rifle. It’s been too long, he hasn’t been keeping on top of it, it’s been long enough since he’s had to use it. He’s been at it for the better part of an hour, stripped down to his t-shirt, hands covered in a layer of gun oil, sweat starting to bead on his neck from where the sun’s been resting. His girlfriend is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, leaning on the doorframe, just watching him. She’d been down at the Tipsy Bison most of the morning, helping Maria draw up plans for the community garden expansion. Ellie is… well Joel doesn’t actually know. She hasn’t been home since last night. But she tends to couch hop around Jackson these days, and Joel can’t say he’s mad for the alone time while she bothers other people for once. 

   “Can’t help it.” She tells him with a slight grin as she cocks her head to the side, studying him. “You look so good right now.”

   Joel snorts and flicks his eyes to her, annoyed. “Yeah, right. Sweaty and greasy and angry. What a good look.” He snarks.

   He doesn’t have to see her roll her eyes, he can feel it. She walks in slowly. “‘M serious Joel. You look good.” She murmurs softly. She’s not teasing him this time, or even really flirting, her tone low and sincere. 

   He finally looks up at her then, pausing what he’s doing. His breath sticks in this throat a little bit. Even after years together, he’s not good at this. Accepting genuine compliments in a neutral setting. He’s gotten better at the flirting, and he’s more willing to give up some control in the bedroom, but this kind of thing? The softness? He’s still a little shy about it. He just shakes his head at her and says nothing. He won’t argue with her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He turns back to his task, wiping the stock of the rifle, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers. 

   She sits down next to him, pulling her legs up onto the chair and leaning her elbow on the table, her head in her hands. She watches him silently for a little while, and it’s easy for him to fall back into the rhythm of cleaning, zoning out a bit as he works. As he finishes up, fitting the pieces back into place, she interrupts the silence.

   “Can I draw you?” She asks quietly. He looks up at her with a furrowed brow. She’s quite the artist, always sketching and even painting when she has the time. One of her new friends had somehow gotten her a set of oil paints for her birthday, and Joel loved to sit for hours and watch her paint. She’s sketched him plenty of times. He’s seen some of them because she’s shown them to him, some because he spied them over her shoulder. But she’s never asked before. 

   “You… what, now?” He asks as his brows knit together in surprise. She just shakes her head with a smile. “Yeah now. Come on, please?”

   Goddamn him he can never resist that look on her face. Sweeter than sugar. He grumbles. “Fine fine…” He rolls his eyes as she smiles in triumph. “Where d’you want me?” 

   She stands and drags him by the hand into the living room, grabbing her sketchbook off the coffee table. The light is pouring into the living room as she pushes the curtains open. “Go sit on the couch. Just get comfy.” She tells him. He huffs about it but he goes to sit on the couch, groaning, when she turns back and makes a surprised noise. 

   “What are you doing?” She asks, an eyebrow raised in confusion. He’s hovering, halfway to sitting, and he frowns at her. “You told me to sit on the couch…?”

   She makes a noise in the back of her throat and pushes on her shoulder as she goes to sit on the coffee table in front of him, sketchbook on her lap. “You gotta undress first.”

   “What??” His lips part in shock and his eyebrows shoot up. “Fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

   She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Come on Joel, please? I haven’t ever been able to do real figure studies. Please?” She’s not teasing anymore, not trying to push his buttons. She’s genuinely asking. She’d always told him that when she was little, she’d dreamed about going to art school in a big city, sketching figure models for hours. But then of course… well you know what happened. He hovers there for a minute. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before. Hell sometimes he feels like they see each other naked more than clothed. But it’s not the same. This is more exposed, in the sunlight, with her just staring at him. 

   “Can I just… just take my shirt off?” He asks with a nervous chuckle. He meets her gaze and he can see the slight of disappointment there, though she nods and gives him a smile. “Sure Joel, that’s fine.”

   He pulls the shirt over his head and hesitates, watching her face as she flips to a clean page in her sketchbook, twirling her hair up onto the back of her head and pinning it in place with a pencil. The sunlight makes all of her look golden, the strand of hair that escapes down her neck, the freckles on her cheeks… she’s glowing and he is powerless but to give her everything. Even something he thinks is silly. He huffs and commits, unbuttoning his pants and shoving everything down like he’s annoyed, but he’s really just nervous for some reason, and flops back on the couch. He shifts a little as she gazes at him. It feels different from when they’re in bed, the way she’s looking at him now. Now, she’s looking at him like a specimen, like something to study. 

   “So… how should I sit?” He asks nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Her gaze seems to shift suddenly and her eyes get softer as she smiles at him. She sets her sketch book aside and comes over to maneuver him, her brow furrowed in concentration. She pushes him to lean back, muttering “get comfy” to him softly. He leans back, one arm instinctively going to the back of the couch, his legs falling open comfortably. She smiles at him and adjusts his arm resting on the couch, moving his hand this way and that until she likes the angle. She moves to his legs then, her hands are warm and sure as she pushes at his knees, his thighs, adjusting them a little wider. He lets out a slow breath, trying to keep his cool. ‘This is for art, that’s it’ he tells himself. But then she takes his other arm, adjusting it across his body, placing his hand over his cock, already semi hard from her attention. He bluescreens for a second, looking up at her with wide shocked eyes. She just arches an eyebrow at him.

   “This okay?” She asks, her hands hovering and ready to move him if she needs to. He looks down at himself for a half a second before back up to her. ‘Be cool, Joel. Be cool’ he tells himself and clears his throat. 

   “Yeah. Yeah it’s… it’s fine.” He nods. She smiles brightly then and leans to peck a quick kiss on his lips, before moving back to the table to pick up her sketchbook. 

   She quickly gets lost in the drawing, holding her book on her knees, her pencil skritching on the paper softly. Her focus on him is intense, almost like she’s not really seeing him, she’s looking through him. For a while, he just watches her, fascinated. The way her brow is furrowed in focus, and the way her eyes move rapidly as she flicks her gaze between him and the paper. It seems silly to think but he finds himself feeling like he’s never seen her so… intimately. There’s something about the demeanor she has while she’s creating. He feels that way when he watches her paint, too, but he’s usually sitting behind her then, watching the colors take shape, looking at the landscapes with her. He’s never been the subject. He watches her fingers, delicate to him, though she might argue after the years of post-outbreak turmoil, as she uses her pencil like a magic wand. The movement of her hands is mesmerizing, the way the light catches her skin…

    It doesn’t take long for him to start getting hot under the figurative collar. ‘Stupid caveman brain’ he thinks to himself. He can’t help it. She’s so beautiful and she's looking at him like that and he feels so… vulnerable. He tries to stay still, to hold the pose, as he starts to harden under his palm. The couch under him, the sun streaming in, his hand on himself… everything is sticky and warm and his hard is beating faster. He shifts a bit in his seat, trying to hide it, to stay still for her, but catches the way he shudders as he slides against his sweaty palm. She’s doing some shading and doesn’t even look up from her paper when she breaks the silence in a low voice. 

   “Do you want to touch yourself?” She asks softly, her gaze fixed on the drawing. His head snaps up and his eyes dart around for a minute like he thinks she’ll be talking to someone else. He clears his throat.

   “Wh-what?” 

   She looks back up at him then. Her face is open, almost confused at his confusion. “Do you want to…” She gestures with her pencil at where his hand rests covering himself, speaking matter-of-factly. He glances down at his hand, curled around his hard dick. His brain still can’t process fast enough and he looks back up at her, just staring for a minute. 

   “Do you want me to?” Is what eventually spills out of his mouth. He swallows thickly as he keeps her gaze, a flush burning on the back of his neck. He’s never done anything like that before, not like this with her fully clothed and sitting five feet away from him. She smiles at him softly, the sweet look on her face is making him feel fuzzy and warm and he squirms a little bit, trying not to gasp at the friction against his palm. She nods after a beat.

   “Yeah honey, you should.” She says simply, sitting back again and picking up her pencil. She continues sketching like it’s a simple as that, but he feels caught in limbo. He doesn’t do anything at first, just sitting there with his hand curled around his cock, in the same position she put him in, a blush burning hot on his cheeks. She looks up at him for an extra beat before nodding her head at him. It’s like a signal and he jolts into action, sliding his hand loosely over his cock. 

   It feels… way better than it should and his eyes slip closed for a second, his breath hitching in his throat. Maybe it’s the build up, maybe it’s the heat in the room, or maybe it’s just the way she’s staring at him and how easy he is for her… He keeps his fist loose at first, but quickly tightens it as the movements become slick and easy, his arousal spiking. His head drops back against the back of the couch as he starts to lose himself in the movement until her voice cuts through his foggy mind.

   “Hold your pose please.” She asks firmly, her voice low. He snaps his head up and finds her eyes trained on him, his breath stuttering. She arches an eyebrow at him seriously. “I’m not finished with my drawing. Wait until I’m done.”

   The tone of her voice, the command to wait… it’s like flames licking up his spine and he barely suppresses a whine, his eyes squeezing closed. His hand is still sliding over his cock, slick with his steadily dripping arousal. She’s nearly ignoring him and it makes him feel hotter, desperate. 

   “Sugar…!” He whines. “I don’t think I can… I’m..” 

   She looks up at him again, her stern expression making him choke. 

   “You can.” She says firmly. It’s a little encouraging, a little humiliating. “Just five more minutes.” 

   He groans but finds himself nodding. She’s not usually so direct and it’s lighting a fire in his belly. He should slow down, back off a bit, but he can’t. It feels too good as he watches her pencil gliding over the page. His hips roll off the couch just barely, trying to meet the rhythm of his hand, and she either doesn’t notice, or more likely she doesn’t stop him. He’s whining through his teeth as he holds onto that knife's edge, he can’t help it. 

   “Sugar… baby…” he mutters softly, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, his mouth hanging open as he fixes his gaze on her. Maybe it’s the tone in his voice, the needy way he calls to her, or maybe she really is done, but she sets her sketch book aside, putting her pencil down, before leaning back on her hands casually. 

   “Go on then.” She tells him softly, and he breaks. The moan that tumbles out of his mouth would be embarrassing if he could hear it, but the static fills his ears as he comes hard all over his stomach. With his head tossed back against the couch, he doesn’t see the hungry look on her face, or the way she moves off the couch and kneels in front of him. He works himself through the high, his hand starting to slow and his chest heaving when she pushes his hand away, taking him in her own. He gasps sharply and looks down at her. 

   “Baby wha..?” He stutters out as she starts to stroke him firmly. She just smiles at him, leaning in to kiss his inner thigh as she works him over. Her grip is tight and slick, hot from her skin being in the sun, much smoother than his own hand, and he moans brokenly through the oversensitivity, squirming in her grip. “J-jesus baby.. Y-you…” He stutters out between sharp chirping breaths, his eyes rolling back in his head. 

   Eventually she slows her hand as he starts to soften, her movements still firm but stilling. She holds him until his breathing has calmed down. And he looks down at her. “What the fuck was that?” He asks, his voice raspy. She just laughs and shrugs. 

   “You just looked so pretty, I wanted to join in.” She tells him as she leans her head on his thigh.

   He blushes hotly and looks away for a minute. The afternoon has left him feeling vulnerable, but also syrupy and soft, better than he has in a long time.

   “I… you…” He looks back down at her before huffing in frustration. “Just get up here.” She mutters and grabs her by the elbows, manhandling her into his lap as she laughs. He drags her in for a kiss, hot and lush, before flipping her over onto the couch, looming over her.

   “My turn.”

[kararisa]

between you, me, and these bookshelves

synopsis: just the little things that happen in a little bookstore.

— featuring: albedo, ayato, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader (separate)

— cw: modern au, swearing, yn is an avid reader, use of childe's real name, none of the books i mention here are real lol

— author's notes: first headcanon post with multiple characters~ very self indulgent so hope you guys enjoy <3

Working at a bookstore isn't the most glamorous job in the world.

The pay is good for the amount of work you need to do, and most days nothing much happens.

But sometimes, there are just some events that happen between the bookstore's mahogany shelves that make your days just a bit more colorful.

Albedo

The bookstore has a chalkboard stand outside that details new releases, promotions, or events that the store has. Displayed on it are elaborate illustrations or hand-lettering, all of it done by the same person.

And he comes by every other weekend to re-do its contents.

You sometimes watch him as he draws, his nimble hands becoming dusted with colored chalk as he sketches on the blackboard, his light blond hair tied back as he furrows his brow, deep in concentration.

He’s caught you staring a handful of times, to which you turn away in hopes that he doesn’t bring it up. Thankfully he never does.

This week you watch as he colors in his artwork, a dragon and a young man with wings at the center soaring over rolling plains and sharp cliffs.

As the boy gets started with the lettering, you ask him a question.

“Do you really just come up with all this on the spot?”

The boy looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, “So you do talk. And here I was wondering if you just didn’t like talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know what we can really talk about. You’re a freelancer right?”

He smiles as he returns his attention back to his illustration, “You can say that. Well to answer your first question, I usually have a final outcome in mind before I start sketching. Your boss sends me a gist of what he wants and I draw it. Simple as that.”

You converse with him until he finishes, sprinkling in some questions about his work in between. As he packs up to leave, you ask him one last question.

“I never got your name, chalk boy.”

A silent question, but one that he still understands.

“It’s Albedo.”

The two of you end up striking up an easy conversation every time he visits, with you always watching him draw

If you express interest in his other works, he’ll let you browse his sketchbook 

One day while flipping through his drawings, you begin to see some familiar sights: a vending machine outside a nearby convenience store, a food stall, and the outside of the bookstore. Some pages have small doodles in pencil and ink, and some in color. Others have full illustrations.

The next page that you flip to, though, nearly takes your breath away. 

You find a colorful illustration of the bookstore, a blend of paint and ink. Sunlight streams through the glass walls and envelops the scene in a warm light. Boxes lay strewn on the floor, all of them brimming with books. And among the boxes stands you, a stack of books in hand as a small smile graces your face.

You look up when Albedo spots the page you’re on, “Ah, I hope you don’t mind that I sketched you a handful of times. I tend to draw what I find interesting.

“So is it alright if… I sketched you more often?”

Scaramouche

Scaramouche pisses you off most days.

He distracts you while you try to do your work, he steals the pen by the cash register whenever you need to use it, and worst of all, he always makes fun of whatever book you read.

No matter what genre it is, mystery, fantasy, or heaven forbid, romance, he'll always find something to tease you about.

But it’s odd. For someone who claims to hate every novel that you've taken interest in, you find yourself discussing with him each and every book you’ve read.

“Sure, Forest of Lies had a strong opening,” he starts, leaning back on his chair, “But did the princess seriously need to go through those arbitrary trials just to prove that she was determined to save her kingdom?”

“Fine, I thought it was stupid too,” you say, “But you have to admit, the characters are actually well-written and have interesting subplots. The knight having a backstory connected to the princess’ was a good twist.”

“But does anything really come from that twist? Or was it just there for shock value? When you get to the part where–”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, “Spoilers! I just got past the twist, asshole.”

“You should read faster then!” he says, going into the storage room to fetch some supplies, “Whatever, we’ll continue this when you finish the damn book.”

You’re about to continue reading when Scaramouche pops his head out and adds, “The next two novels in the series go downhill in quality from there. Trust me.”

“But this is a trilogy??”

“That’s the point!”

You realize that he had a point when you finally got to the second book.

Around halfway through reading the book, you catch him reading over your shoulder. You turn to look at him and he simply gives you a smug smile. You simply rolled your eyes and continued reading.

A couple of days go by after you finish the second book when he approaches you.

“What’s the occasion?” you say as Scaramouche hands you a book, a pen, a highlighter, and some book tabs.

It’s a novel on your wishlist, you notice; one that you had mentioned to him in passing. Small colored tabs stick out from the side of the book. Thumbing through the first few pages, you see that he underlined some passages, his neat writing occupying the margins, the blue highlighter bringing your attention to a handful of quotes. Just from reading the first sentence as well as Scaramouche’s comments, you could tell that you were going to enjoy reading this.

But you recall a casual remark he during one of your past conversations — he doesn’t typically annotate his books. Did he do this for you?

“Nothing. Just thought you should read a good book for once,” he answers, not quite looking at you.

“Excuse you, I read good books sometimes.”

“The last book you read, you kept ranting about how the writing wouldn’t just ‘let the characters fucking talk’. Your words, not mine.”

“And the last book you read, you literally couldn’t finish because you kept getting fed up with the protagonist doing nothing.”

He groans, “Are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

You give him an unimpressed look, setting the book and stationery aside, “This novel better be as good as you say it is.”

He was right. The book was actually good. You even ended up adding your own annotations alongside his — like having your own conversation amidst the pages of the book.

His comments, whether they be snarky, insightful, or analytical, definitely enhanced the experience. And thanks to that, you end up finishing the book in just two days.

Another one of your story discussions happens and, amidst the bickering, a book he mentions piques your interest.

After making fun of the ever-growing list of books he wants to read, to which he retorts by saying you’re not better off, an idea pops into your head and you search for the novel he’s looking for.

It’s in a genre you wouldn’t typically go reaching for, but this is the least you could do for him, right?

You spend the next week reading and annotating the book, using the highlighter and tabs Scaramouche had given you to highlight passages and give your comments.

The shocked look on his face when you gave him the copy of the book was definitely worth it.

“Just thought you should read a good book for once,” you say, sliding the book toward him.

“Huh. Don’t you hate this genre?”

“Surprisingly enough I actually liked the story; you have decent recommendations when you’re not being such a dick. So, are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

He rolls his eyes, snatching the book from the table, and mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’. 

You pretend not to see the blush that reaches his ears.

Ayato

It starts off as most days do, with a delivery of new books.

You open the box to find the newest releases as well as some bestsellers. One of the covers catches your eye, the title Child of the Roses emblazoned in front of an illustration of two women laying in a field of red roses — one of the books you’ve always wanted to get your hands on ever since the author announced the plot.

Sure you could purchase the book right now, but your budget for the month didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. And if you did wait until next month, you couldn’t exactly guarantee the availability of the book since it always manages to sell fast.

While you’re restocking the shelves, the door to the store opens, and in come a man and woman with pale blue hair. 

The girl starts looking around while the man walks up to you.

“Does your store happen to sell the book Traingazing?” the man asks. There’s an elegance in the way he carries himself — well-dressed, handsome, and dignified in the way he speaks, “It’s alright if you don’t.” 

You confirm its availability and lead him to the nearby shelves, “You lucked out today, sir. This is our last copy.”

He laughs. Fuck, even his laugh sounds expensive, “Lucky indeed. My sister and I have gone to five stores today just looking for it.”

The girl, his sister, you presume, comes up to you two with a small stack of books in hand, “Did you find it?”

The man holds up the book, its silver-edged pages gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the store, “Got their last copy, too.”

She sighs in relief, “Good. You can finally stop nagging me about you never being able to grab a copy before they sell out.”

“Says the one who dragged me to eight stores looking for a book you ended up hating.”

The siblings leave shortly after purchasing their books. 

The rest of the day passes by as normal. Rush hour usually comes around early afternoon to late evening, when students get out of school and people usually get off work. 

Unfortunately, your shift just about lines up with the store’s more chaotic hours.

You spot a familiar blue-haired man again later that evening while you’re in the middle of helping another customer. He’s browsing the shelves when he spots you.

“Can you help me with something? I’m looking for a gift for my sister.”

“Oh, the girl you were with this afternoon, right? What kind of books does she like?”

He describes the types of books she favors along with a handful of her favorite authors. You lead him to some nearby shelves, picking out some books and giving him a brief synopsis of each one. He listens intently to each of your suggestions, his lilac eyes focused on you.

As you’re finishing up, he spots a book behind you and grabs it from the shelf. You spot the familiar title, Child of the Roses. As usual, whenever you restock it, it’s the last one in stock. “You thinking of buying that one? It’s our last copy.”

The man reads the synopsis as you summarize the plot, “Seems like quite the interesting book if it got you so excited.”

You laugh at his remark, “Well, I’ve been wanting to read that book for a while now, but I never manage to get a copy before they sell out.”

He considers the book before saying, “Is that so?”

Your co-worker calls for you before you can respond, saying that they need help with manning the cash register.

After almost an hour of helping with scanning barcodes and packing books, the blue-haired man stands in front of the counter.

He holds up Child of the Roses, “If it’s alright, I’d like to make this a separate purchase.”

Figures he’d buy the book if the reviews and your excited ramblings are anything to go off of. While you were sad that the chance to purchase the novel had once again slipped away, at least you could be reassured that it would be in good hands.

After giving him the book and the receipt, he simply hands them both back to you, “You were quite passionate when you described the book to me. I thought I should buy it for you before someone else gets it.”

This has to be a dream, “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I mean don’t get me wrong! I’m grateful, but don’t you want to read this, too?”

A smile graces his face, “Of course. You helped me find what I was looking for this afternoon, so this is the least I can do for you.”

When you finally get home and settle down for the evening, you open the book, intending to get through just one chapter.

That’s when you find a calling card in between the pages of the index and the first chapter, the name Kamisato Ayato in immaculate handwriting on one side along with his number.

On the back was a message: I’m actually currently reading Child of the Roses, so I have no need for another copy. But if you’d like, we could go out sometime and read it together. What do you say?

Childe

Most days there's not really much to do aside from the usual talking to customers, restocking the shelves, and helping close up shop. 

So sometimes you read just to pass the time. 

You’re just finishing up a chapter when the door to the store opens.

Ajax, you learn his name, is a massive flirt. Instead of talking to you like a normal person, he instantly says the cheesiest pickup line you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t need glasses,” he says, leaning on the counter, “ ‘cause I can clearly see that we were meant to be.”

It’s way too early for this shit, “... sir are you going to buy a book or not?”

He tips his head back and laughs, “C’mon! You have to admit that one was good.”

And he’s come by the store every so often ever since.

He’s quite the chatterbox too, talking about anything he can think of whenever you scan his items at the counter.

You learn he’s an older brother when he asks you for book recommendations for his younger siblings. His attentiveness to his siblings’ taste in literature never fails to put a smile on your face.

You also learn that he’s very knowledgeable in literature.

He comments on one of the books you’re reading during one of his visits, talking about his favorite scenes as well as discussing the characters with you.

A week of nearly daily visits turns into a month, with you getting used to his corny pick-up lines and little conversations.

But then it suddenly stops. A week passes without Ajax’s visits.

You don’t think too much of it until that one week turned into three. 

He was under no obligation to come back every day, of course. He was a customer, at the end of the day, and there was never any guarantee that he wouldn’t suddenly stop visiting the bookstore nearly every day.

But you couldn’t help feeling dejected at the thought of just never seeing him again.

Then, on one unassuming Monday afternoon, a familiar face returns to the store.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Ajax winks at you, “Mind if you help me look for a book?”

You smile, doing your best to hide your surprise, “Good to see you’re still doing well.”

He gives a vague description of what he’s looking for: a sci-fi series that’s appropriate for his little brother Teucer, the third book to a series his sister Tonia is currently reading, and “whatever you think is good” for him.

Walking over to the shelves, you could feel his eyes on you as you started picking out the books for his siblings. A soft smile is on his face when you turn to face him, becoming wider when your eyes meet his.

“You were gone for a while,” you say, unsure of how to continue. His life is none of your business and like hell were you going to admit that you missed him.

He sighs, “Yeah. Work has been a lot these past few weeks, but now that it’s loosened up I can finally start seeing my favorite person more often.”

“Your favorite person huh?”

“Getting the chance to talk to you is the highlight of my visits. Of course you’d be my favorite person.”

He leans in close to you, “Y’know, I just realized that I’ve lost my number. So can I have yours?”

You roll your eyes, still smiling, “You could have just asked for my number like a normal person.”

Ajax laughs, and you find yourself wishing you could listen to it every day.

[greekceltic]

how often do you draw? I am curious how much I should be drawing for improvement.

Daily! Although there's much quicker ways to improve than the way I draw daily. My improvement is at a crawl most of the time because I don't explicitly try to get better (but I'm satisfied with that). I'm going to speak generally from here, to anyone who happens to read this, with I guess a disclaimer that this is from personal experience and I'm sure no one learns art the same way. If you really want to get better, do personal art and do art that makes you happy. If you're looking for a how-to book, buy one that will motivate you to draw more, not one that will bore you. Drawing is staying motivated to do it a lot. There are no bad how-to books if having it in your hands keeps you interested in drawing. There's also the internet. I tend to focus on books because I was a kid books were what I had. Anyway, that's the staying motivated part.

If you want to improve, look up Andrew Loomis, there's a lot to learn there. Set aside a little time to draw from reference or life. Ten minutes of loosely sketching poses from google or line-of-action.com doesn't feel like it does anything when you're doing it, but it builds over time. In fact, when you're doing things that will help you improve, it will almost never feel like you're improving while you're doing it. The payoff comes later (and quietly). If there's something you struggle with, spend 10 - 30 minutes drawing ten of that from reference. Ten hands. Ten feet. Ten noses. You don't need to finish the art or refine it. Messy is fine. It's not meant to take a lot of time or look good. It doesn't have to be thirty minutes either, it could be three. Watch streams! Watch other artists draw. Hang around other artists if you can, especially in environments where art is being streamed. Watch videos on youtube. There's so many resources on the internet that weren't there when I was a kid. It's incredible.

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Jason Todd x Reader

Title: “He Loves Me.”

WARNINGS: ABUSE (domestic, verbal, and emotional abuse), Strong language, if you are in anyway triggered by the topic of abuse, please do not read. If you have gone through abuse, please, be aware when reading this, because it could set off triggers. 18+ due to the topic of abuse.

Characters: Jason Todd and F!xReader, Brent and Lily made up characters.

Based on some true events. Please be kind. This is someone else’s story being told from my perspective, and in my writing. It has been requested by a friend, and friend has approved of this x reader.

————-

Tears streamed down your face as you sat on the bathroom floor. Quiet sobs escaped your lips, your body trembled as your fingers shook over the bruise that now adorned your cheek.

You held the handheld mirror out in front of you. Tears stained your cheeks and your eyes were red and puffy. “He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He really does love me. He’s just having a bad day.” You whispered to yourself.

The sleeves of your sweater raised up, and bruises were scattered all along your forearm. A pounding sound on the door made you drop the mirror to the floor, and you brought your legs closer into your chest. “I’m not finished with you yet!” A loud voice boomed on the other side making you shudder.

You leaned your head against the cabinet, wishing you were anywhere but here. “He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He really does love me. He’s just having a bad day.”

Regardless of how you felt now, you knew better than to open that door. You knew how he got when he was drunk. You knew how he felt when dinner wasn’t on the table or the clothes weren’t folded and put away. You also knew how he reacted when you brought up his cheating. And yet, somehow, you always believed the next time would be different; even though every time he showed you his reaction would remain the same.

It started out small. Your hard headedness, and fiery attitude would earn you a few grabs of the chin, or him grabbing your face to force you to look into his eyes. Small bruises would form and you would cover them up. No big deal, right? You deserved it because you had your own personality.

Wrong. Your friends had told you how wrong it was. But your mind led you to believe other wise. He loves me. He’s making me a better person.

Then it turned into him grabbing your wrists, arms, hair— whatever he could grab in the heat of the moment, he grabbed. After his small rampages, he would kiss your lips, whispering, “Baby… I’m so sorry. I promise it won’t happen again. I’m trying to be different, I’m trying to change, but it’s hard.” He would cry into your shoulder.

He did change— for a while anyway. Your daughter was born. He was in love and in awe of her— until he wasn’t. The drinking started again, and then the affairs happened. Multiple affairs had started. Constantly, you would cry to him, “I love you! Why do you have to find comfort and understanding in another woman’s arms?”

That resulted in him slapping you for the first time. “Shut the fuck up! Just shut up! You nag me so much! That’s why I do it!” He would scream at you, and then leave in a fit of rage.

After that, you were quiet. You didn’t speak unless spoken to. You knew when and when not to speak; he was a ticking time bomb. You tended to your daughter, and did what was expected and asked of you.

Tonight, it was different. Two years of him being abusive, tonight was the worst. Brent had been gone for three weeks. He never text, called, or came home to tell you where he was. You were genuinely worried about him… was he dead? Alive? The landlord had came knocking on your door at 7 that morning.

“Y/N, listen, you haven’t paid rent in a month and a half. You know I’m partial to you because I know your situation.” The older man said, as he looked around you, seeing your small daughter watching the television.

“But I have to draw the line somewhere. The yelling and the fighting, your neighbors have asked me to remove the two of you from the building.” He said rubbing the back of his neck.

“If— if you leave him, I’m sure I can make other arrangements for you to stay. My daddy treated my mother the same as your boyfriend does you. That’s why I have a soft spot for you, but if you choose not to— I have to evict you.” He whispered, and he glanced over your shoulder.

“Do it for that little girl in there. You have three days to come up with the rent payment for last month, if I don’t have it, or if you don’t get rid of the scum bag, you have thirty days to vacate the premises.” He handed you a sheet of paper, and slowly walked away.

Tears streamed down your face, as you remained frozen at the door. “Do it for that little girl.” Rang in your mind, and you closed the door.

You walked over and got on the floor, and cradled your daughter close to your body. “He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He really does love me. He loves us.”

That night, you had put your daughter to bed, and Brent had decided to come home. He threw his jacket on the couch, and tossed his keys on the table near the entry way.

A paper caught his attention, and he picked it up. “When did you get this?” He questioned, and you leaned against the island that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Today. The landlord said we have three days to come up with last month’s rent, or we have thirty days to leave.” You said and he crumpled the paper and threw it to the floor.

Anger filled your body, and you couldn’t control the words that fled from your mouth. “Brent! You haven’t been home in three weeks. Three weeks! You haven’t called or text— I didn’t know if you were dead or alive!” You shouted. “Lily and I have been living off of scraps for two days, and the rent is overdue, and—“ before you could finish your sentence a stinging pain across your face made you freeze.

Brent was standing in front of you, “Shut up, Y/N! It’s none of your damn business where I was.” He said and you began backing up towards the couch.

The back of your knees were pressed to the edge of the couch, and his face was inches away from yours. “I don’t know why you think you can talk to me like that. I’ll pay the damn bills when I’m good and ready.”

“Where were you?” You demanded. “I’ve been here struggling, taking care of our daughter, while you’re out fucking some whore for three weeks?” You spat.

Angrily, he shoved you down on the couch. His body straddled you—his knee was pressed into your hip, making you squirm underneath his weight. “You’re lucky I’m even with you. You deserve to be treated like this. You don’t deserve my attention—I work hard all the while you sit here all day.”

You tried to push him off you, and with one hand, he had your hands pressed into your stomach. His other hand caught your gaze; it was cocked back and he was ready to punch you in the face.

“Brent—get off me, please!” You pleaded with him.

“You deserve this.” He said, but a small voice came from around the kitchen island. “Dada? Momma!” Your daughter squealed as she came running up to the two of you.

She had a smile on her face, and Brent jumped up off you. “Play time?” Lily asked, and you quickly grabbed her and ran to the bathroom locking the door behind you.

You sat Lily down, and she went to the basket where her bath toys were. That’s when you finally broke down into tears, watching your daughter play with her toys, oblivious to what was going on around her.

You picked up the handheld mirror and stared at yourself, why? Why did you let things go this far. Brent started pounding on the door, “Come out here now! I’m not finished with you yet!” He yelled. You pulled your legs closer to your chest, resting your head against the cabinets.

Lily stared at the bathroom door, and then looked back at you. “We’re okay.” You whispered to her, and she went back to playing with her toys.

“I’m going to go get beer. When I get back, you better be out of that bathroom.” He threatened.

When you heard the front door shut, you unlocked the door and quickly grabbed your cellphone. You dialed a number you knew by heart, and raced to the bedroom to pack up some of yours and Lily’s belongings.

“Hello?” Your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice. “Y/N, are you there?” Jason Todd asked, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore.

“Jay— I need your help. But you have to get here fast. Please.” You whimpered into the phone. “I don’t know how much time I have left, before- before he comes back.” You said.

Instantly, you heard a car door slam. “I’m coming.”

——————

You had packed up important documents, all of yours and Lily’s clothes, and her favorite toys. A knock on the door made you jump. You slowly opened the door, and a pair of dark brown eyes stared into yours.

You flung the door open and Jason pulled you into his body. His forehead pressed against yours, “What’s wrong Y/N/N? Why do you have to leave? Where’s Brent?” He asked and he pulled away from you.

The bruise across your cheek had darkened, and so did Jason’s eyes when he seen it. “Did he do this to you!?” He asked and tears filled your eyes.

Jason brought you back into his body and cradled your head. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna fucking kill him.” He said into your hair, and you pulled away. “Why did you stay?” He asked.

“We have to go. Before he gets back—” you say, and Jason’s eyes were fixated on something behind you. You turned around, and your daughter was standing near the kitchen island.

“Momma, I sleepy.” She said rubbing her eyes. You went over and picked her up, and placed a blanket over her little body. Jason’s eyes went from Lily to you.

“You.. this is why you stayed.” He said answering his own question. You nodded your head with tears in your eyes.

He picked up your duffle bags, and your daughter’s small backpack. “Let’s go.” He whispered and he led you down to a car you knew had to belong to Bruce. It was unlike Jason to not drive his motorcycle.

Jason helped you put the car seat into the car, and you buckled her in. Lily was sound asleep, and you pressed a kiss to her little head. You turned and stared up at the apartment building, questioning your decision to leave. He’ll just find me. He’ll apologize, he loves me. He needs me and I need him. But the old landlords words rang in your mind, “Do it for that little girl.”

With a deep breath, you tossed your purse into the passenger seat, letting Jason help you into the car. He closed the door and got into the drivers seat. Jason was silent the entire car ride to Wayne Manor. He had reassured you that Bruce was in Beijing on business, and the rest of the batboys were off patrolling.

Jason took you to his old bedroom, and he sat your bags near the closet door. Quietly, you placed Lily down on the bed and covered her with the blankets, leaving her teddy bear next to her.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pushing the loose strands of hair behind her ear. Jason leaned up against the old oak dresser staring at the two of you.

“What’s her name?” He asked, and you quietly replied: “Lillian Jayde. She’s two and a half.”

You looked over your shoulder. “Her middle name, Jayde, was inspired by you, Jay.” You said quietly, and he came closer to you, kneeling down to the floor.

“When did he start hitting you?” He asked and you clasped your hands together. “Six months into the relationship.”

“Why did you stay?” He questioned and you looked down at your hands. “Because I loved him. I was scared to leave him. He- he isn’t like this all the time…. I am stubborn and you know me, I have a big mouth and say things that are out of line-“

Jason cut you off, “What the hell- do you hear yourself? Why are you making excuses for that piece of shit?” He asked, and he held your hands in his.

His gaze softened, “A real man would never forcibly change you. You are perfect. Do you hear me? You are not worthless, you are not his punching bag, and if he loved you, he wouldn’t have done this to you.” He said pulling up your shirt sleeves.

“You could have easily kicked his ass. You were trained to fight- you are so strong, why?” He stared into your eyes searching for answers.

“Because I was tired of fighting. I felt safe with him, and I- and I got pregnant, and things changed, Jay, I don’t know.” You cried out, and he pulled you into his body. You explained everything that had happened that night, and after you had finished he said, “I will be right back.” There wasn’t enough time to ask him where he was going, or what he was doing.

You laid down next to Lily, expecting Jason to just run downstairs, but he was gone for over an hour. When he had finally come back, you got out of the bed and walked towards him. His lip was split, and his knuckles were starting to bruise- there was no need to ask where he went or what he did, because deep down you knew.

His brown eyes stared at you as he gently touched your cheek; Jason pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, Y/N. I’m not going to let him come near you or her. I’m going to protect you both. You hear me?” you hugged him tighter. “We will figure this whole thing out, and I’m going to be with you every step of the way, okay?”

You looked into his eyes and gave him a grateful smile. You felt safe in his arms. Jason Todd had saved you and your daughter from a life of torment and abuse. The words “He loves me.” Had a whole new meaning to you, and you had finally done it for that little girl.

————

I know this was rough and sad. But I was asked by a friend to write this and bring awareness to abuse. Some of these events are based on a true story and real life, minus Jason Todd, but I am happy to say that his friend has met her “Jason”. This was difficult and different for me to write about this topic. Please do not send hate.

You are worthy of love. You deserve someone who will love you. You deserve to be happy. My inbox is always opened, even if you just need someone to talk to.

Much love,

Kaleidoscopewritings19 ❤️‍🩹

[vermil1ion-sky]

Streamer AU

Some of our favorite characters as streamers or youtubers! Including some I haven't seen done before so I wanted to bring something new to the table.

Characters: Ayaka, Xiao, Wanderer/Scaramouche

A/N: this ended up... being really long so I did less characters than I originally intended but if you guys like it I can do more!

--

Ayaka

A fashion-focused youtuber, who occasionally dabbles in traditional practices, such as tea ceremonies and dances, and explains the stories and origins to her followers.

Most of them follow her for her fashion content but they religiously watch whatever she posts because her demeanor is so polite and elegant, it's almost like they can't look away...

Found a sudden influx of comments about her brother the first time he appeared in one of her videos, in the background asking if she wanted dinner, which she finds entirely embarrassing (Ayato thinks it's amusing).

After a lot of convincing from her fans, she ocassionally collabs with Ayato, both of them posting content on their respective pages featuring each other. Those videos tend to be their most popular.

Ayaka thought the teasing over her 'hot' brother would end after the hype sort of died down...

She was right but wrong as another wave of playful, teasing comments was soon to come.

You, like Ayato, appear first on accident; you just wanted to check in on your girlfriend who hadn't left her room in a while, unaware she was recording.

Ayaka turns to the door opening just as she was trying on another outfit from a recent purchase. She sees your face, blushing slightly though its entirely off camera and just for her to see, and giggles when you start to apologize.

"It's alright love." Ayaka's voice is... softer than her followers are used to. In the video, they can hear your voice in the background as you speak. "You... look really cute... Cuter than usual I mean."

She laughs at your awkward compliment but smiles, soft and lovingly, as she thanks you.

"Maybe you could wear that for our next date." That's the sentence that made Ayaka blush, making her turn towards you and punch your shoulder playfully, off camera.

"Aight sorry, I'll go, have fun." You kiss her cheek, your face only appearing in focus for a second, before leaving the room.

Even though it wasn't related to the video, Ayaka kept the footage in because she found it endearing.

She slightly regretted it as 90% of her comments after that were yelling that they wanted to know this mystery person that Ayaka's clearly dating.

She tries to draw attention away from you but it only works for a little bit. people really seem to want to know you.

Ayaka sighs, her face in her hands, but a small smile on her face. Guess she should bring it up with you one day, to see if you were okay with the idea of appearing once in a while.

Xiao

A gaming streamer, famous for beating most games without much effort.

People flock to his streams for his careful plays, like he's analysing every possibility to win fast and easily. Also his voice and looks are nice, so it's a bonus for them.

Does both single and multiplayer content. The latter he usually games with his friends, also streamers.

Gets along the best with Venti, argues the most with Scaramouche, gets eye twitches when Heizou purposefully does a bad play to see everyone's reactions (but otherwise he bites his tongue and stays quiet) and with Kazuha, he's oddly patient, with him being the least into games in the group.

People are naturally curious about his life, as Xiao's usually very reserved and doesn't mention anything private. He tries to keep it at an arms' distance from his fans, just because it's what makes him feel more comfortable.

That quickly comes crumbling down when you make an unexpected appearance in his stream one day.

Xiao's usually very aware of his surroundings even while gaming, so catching him off guard is extremely hard. This time, however, the volume on his headset was higher than usual and he doesn't hear you enter the room.

You call out his name and he can't hear you but his chat definitely can. They're exploding the chat, asking who that is; unfortunately for him, he's entirely too focused on the game to look at chat.

You call him again, touching his shoulder slightly and he immediately jumps, cussing outloud, his headset falling from his head.

He sighs as he tries to steady his heart thats about to jump out of his chest. The chat can now hear your voice clearer.

"Sorry baby I didn't mean to scare you..." Your voice is soft, a hand reaching from off camera to run your fingers through his hair. Xiao closes his eyes and starts to lean into your touch but stops midway, remembering he's live and hopes his chat doesn't notice.

They definitely do.

"...it's okay..." He speaks softly, looking at you and it's so obvious that theyre's a lot of love behind that stare. "Did you need something?"

"Oh no, I just... I thought you'd be hungry after playing for so many hours... I brought you some almond tofu, a little snack..." You smile shyly at him and Xiao can swear he feels his heart melt, grabbing the plate so gently.

"...thank you..." He smiles and it's so soft, so full of affection... His cheeks are dusted with a slight pink color and everyone's teasing him about it. "...let me know when dinner's ready I'll join you..."

"...yes of course... I'll leave you to it, have fun baby." You lean closer, slightly in frame as you kiss his forehead, before stroking his cheek lovingly and leaving the room, leaving behind your flustered boyfriend who is only now reading all the comments.

From people asking to know his significant other, fans and even friends, to others teasing how red Xiao's face is, how 'whipped' he is, etc.

You can hear him yelling from outside the room, into the mic that he's not a 'simp' and you can't help but giggle at how... flustered he sounds.

Wanderer

Also a gaming streamer like Xiao, and they usually play together with their other friends. Those two are also the two who fight the most and Kazuha's the one who breaks up their spouts.

Besides the occasional gaming with his friends, he's mostly a single player content kind of guy. He just gets mad at random people if they don't play as well as he does.

Gets jokingly called emo boy by his fans, which terribly annoys him.

Also similar to Xiao, he keeps his personal life to himself, not wanting people to meddle on his business. So, he tries to keep you off camera and not mention you while he's live.

Unfortunately for him, he chose to date someone who enjoys teasing others and being a little shit just as much as he does.

You really never minded the possibility of appearing on Scara's streams but he never offered so you kept it at that, not wanting to possibly push a button by asking.

Still, one day you feel particularly cheeky and want to play a small prank on him.

With his stream on your phone, you pick a time when he's clearly too focused on playing to possibly noticing you entering your shared bedroom/recording room. You open the door slowly, his back facing you as hes hunched over, mashing keys as he seems to be trying to beat a hard boss. You smirk slightly, slowly coming closer, waving at the camera and putting your index finger to your lips, to tell the viewers to not say anything or redeem any tts that might startle Scara.

Right as he died again and he grabs his face, sighing in frustration, you make your move. You grab his shoulders quickly, out of nowhere and it's impossible to not laugh at how he jumps from his seat, yelling and falls off his chair, with only his legs in shot.

Well, that and you laughing way too hard, clutching your stomach as you cant stop giggling; your boyfriend's glare certainly doesn't help, he looks entirely not amused at how you're laughing at him.

"The fuck's wrong with you?!" "So many things babe, take a pick."

He grumbles as he picks his chair up and sits back down, running a hand through his fringe. You smirk, hugging his shoulders from behind and it's certainly funny to you how he tries to shake you off with no real malice nor effort.

"You're so cute when you're mad, Kuni." "I swear to God one of these days I'm going to change the locks of this house." "Oh noo I'm soo scared~"

Scara rolls his eyes, and yells at his chat to shut up with all the comments professing their love towards you. You get closer to read them, still clinging to his shoulders and you laugh.

"They love me already, probably more than you do~" He frowns when you say that. "That's not possible you-"

He catches himself too late, realizing what the implications of his... choice of words could come across. You stare at him in slight shock but it soon wears off. tightening your grip on him and nuzzling his cheek.

"Oh, my Kuni is so sweet~ Chat aren't I lucky?" You wink at the camera and the blush on Scaramouche's face is bright pink; his face gets redder as you press a kiss on his cheek as he tries to push you away.

"Oh my God get OUT." You giggle as you finally release your boyfriend, waving a goodbye to the camera, leaving your boyfriend behind to deal with the onslaught of comments asking for more details about you.

You turn the stream back on and see his cheeks are still red, partly from what happened and from how mad he is at his chat. It makes you smile as you can hear him yelling in your room to his chat to stop trying to get you back in.

[bloodylullaby]

Grief

Pairing: Noah X Reader

Word Count: 712

Author's Note: I am having a tough time today, so I wrote this short story. I hope you enjoy ❤️

While it's commonly thought that grief becomes less burdensome over time, for some, the pain only intensifies. Today marks three years since you lost a close friend, a friend whose soul brightened not just your life but also the lives of others through their everyday actions and words. Every day, you carry their license in your wallet just so you still have a piece of them with you, have their name tattooed on you, and constantly keep their memory alive. Most days, it does seem like the grief has become more manageable, but when it comes to the anniversary of their death date, that is when time stops, and the pain becomes too much. 

This year, the anniversary caught you off guard; amidst the hustle and bustle of a hectic week, you had yet to consciously keep track of the date. The day began strangely, a heightened sensitivity nagging at you without apparent cause. It felt like everything was out of sync until you stumbled upon your sibling's social media post and suddenly realized the day's significance. That was when time stood still, and the tears began to spill. Thankfully, your job let you go home early when you told them about the situation. 

One significant source of solace in your life is Noah. He remembered the date and understood its significance. With thoughtful planning, he ensured that you felt safe and that the household responsibilities were taken care of, allowing you the space to rot in bed and tend to your emotions for the day. He was surprised that you got up and went to work, but he didn’t want to say anything due to not wanting to see you hurt and in pain. So, as he watched you head out for the day, he got ready and went to the store to buy you a few things. 

On his little shopping trip, he went all out; nothing was off-limits when it came to you. His first stop was the greenhouse, where he selected a new plant and the perfect pot to complement it. Next, he headed to the grocery store, stocking up on your favorite snacks and drinks, anticipating that you might need them to snack on your feelings throughout the night. Finally, he stopped by your favorite place to stop by and got you a gift card, knowing how much you appreciate retail therapy during tough times. 

Halfway through your day, you finally realized the date. After your boss granted you an early release, you called Noah to let him know you were heading home, the reminder of the day's significance heavy in your voice. Noah offered nothing but reassurance and comfort during the call. Once you hung up, you found yourself sitting in your car, tears streaming down your face, grappling with guilt and questioning whether you were a bad friend for forgetting.

As soon as Noah heard your car pull in, he was already prepared to provide comfort. As you walked through the door, he opened his arms wide, and you practically collapsed into them, sobbing with the weight of your emotions. Pouring out your feelings to him, Noah gently rocks you, planting kisses on your head and soothingly rubbing your back to calm you down. He shares his own personal tips for coping with grief, drawing from his own experiences of loss. 

Once the flow of tears subsides, you gaze up at Noah with gratitude, expressing your heartfelt thanks for the love and support he has shown. "I love you more than the moon and the stars," he whispers tenderly as he runs his fingers through your hair. When you finally feel ready to leave his embrace, he guides you to the bedroom, where he has arranged all the thoughtful gifts on the bed, a tangible reminder of his care and thoughtfulness. Noah stays by your side so you don’t feel alone.

As the day slowly fades into the evening, Noah remains steadfastly by your side, a reassuring presence in the midst of your grief. Together, you find solace in each other's company, finding strength in love and shared moments of quiet understanding. In Noah's embrace, you feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, knowing that no matter the challenges, you will face them together.

[o2studies]

22:28 || ༻`` 15 Oct 24 — Tuesday

Didn't end up studying or doing homework tonight but I did draw! We also started a practical in chemistry today and it was so much fun (more because of the conversations and how everyone kept getting sidetracked)

Something I really want to highlight tho is:

Engage with life and the simple/mundane!

In the past few weeks I've been floating in the good-or-bad-but-mainly-meh feelings and I wasn't doing much with myself at all. Then a few days ago I watched a stream of someone playing a Papa's game and commenting on the customers and what they order or how they rate the food, and I tried doing it myself. Just talking into the screen and coming up with some personalities for the customers. Yesterday before my bath I did 21 pushups almost in one go and while in the bath just suddenly though of how I could've tried to so a few more and then—in June I was managing to do between 20-25 pushups in a row—I realised that I had just done 21 pushups. When my wrist got hurt I couldn't do a single pushup and after my wrist got better my arms were just a lot weaker from the lack of consistent exercise so I tended to do 5-8 at a time. So with the achievement of 21 I applauded myself and gave a silent cheer. Today in study I was listening to music and consciously moving my head and body a bit side to side in time with the rhythm.

After all of these simple things I got very very happy! Right after them! And the happiness level will of course vary from person to person and even between what it is that you do, but I strongly reccomend just trying to interact with the things around you, especially if you're by yourself or in a low mood.

I hope this helps somebody like it helped me ^^

Day 27 clean (Vee 💕)

Day 0

Floor time ☑️

^ I keep forgetting about the last 2 and just not doing anything about them... Need to change that // 🍊

[aiyanakopa]

2, 13, and 23 for Artist Asks

thank you! 💕

2. 5 favourites of your own work?

I answered this one here ✨

13. show your favourite drawing from last year

this was one of the answers from the previous question too but I'd have to say the horse one!

purely based on the fact I worked on it over several months and I was really happy with how it turned out in the end

23. do you listen to music or watch shows while you work? If so, what’s your favourite?

oh absolutely I cannot draw without some kind of background noise. I tend to jump around between favourites, but recently I've been really into either putting on a drawfee stream or quinton reviews's icarly / victorious series, and before that I binged like half of malcom in the middle working on levihan art

if I have music going sometimes I like to have a related playlist or soundtrack playing (I love to make a ship playlist for this purpose specifically ✨)

[emovulture]

Dear parents.

( this is a rant, but please read it anyways )

If your child is showing or has showed VERY OBVIOUS SIGNS OF A MENTAL ILLNESS, wether that be ADHD, Autism, Dyslexia, BPD, whatever - for the love of God, please dont ignore them.

That child is going to grow up, and they're going to realize they're different from everyone else, and it could very well affect them mentally.

I'm not a phycologist, I don't have any degrees, I'm just a teenager going on a rant, I bare with me adults, please. But I've been showing very clear signs of ADHD and also social anxiety my whole life. No, I'm not going to say stuff like "Oh I'm forgetful, I have must ADHD!", or "Ugh, I just hate people, I'm so shy, I must have social anxiety!". I've done research and I've asked people with ADHD what it's like, and I relate very heavily to them (more specifically inattentive ADHD). Plus, my dad said he's gotten diagnosed, and ADHD is hereditary.

Some symptoms I have of ADHD consist of forgetfulness, lack of motivation, daydreaming frequently, easily distracted, appearing withdrawn, I very often blurt out things without thinking beforehand, I'm sensitive, I fidget A LOT, can't seem to stop moving (finger tapping, leg bouncing, etc), my thoughts are an endless stream of words and noises, and there's more. I also struggle socially, and I pick up phrases that I'll say constantly for a few months, I'll get 'obsessions' that last for many months or even years that I can't seem to stop thinking or talking about. It makes my friends annoyed. My interests affect my learning (and life in general), to which gets me in trouble. I get called lazy, or get told I'm "not trying hard enough", or at home I'll often forget to do chores or something and I'll get told that "I'm difficult", or "just need to focus on the right things". I get really frustrated and snappy when people interrupt something I'm doing, such as drawing, playing a video game, or just watching something on my phone. It's a genuine problem, and I know for a fact that I'm not 'normal' like everyone else.

And I'm not sure if I need to be properly diagnosed for me to say I have social anxiety, but I've been "shy" my whole life and I never grew out of it. I'm not shy, I'm scared of people. I need to be by someone's side (my mum or friends) if I'm out in public (either school, or shops), or I'll get upset and really nervous. I don't like talking to strangers, even if it's just my mum's close friends, and I HATE ordering my own food. I hate eating in public, because I feel like everyone is just watching over my shoulder, judging every tiny movement I make. I worry about my looks way to much, and if my hair doesn't look the way I want it to, I'll be insecure the whole day, thinking that everyone also thinks I look terrible, and wonder why I stepped foot out of my house that that. It all makes me want run away and hide from the world.

My fingers look bad because I unintentionally bite off my nails in stressful situations, and rip off my skin until they unfortunately bleed. I excessively pick at my face/pimples until it's red, and my acne gets worse from that. "Just stop it", I can't. I can't help these urges, because once I'm doing it, I can't stop, no matter how much I scold or degrade myself for ruining my face or fingers.

I struggle in many topics in school because they just don't appeal to me, so my mind wanders, and I tend to just stop doing a lot of the work in those classes, all the while telling myself that I'm just lazy or to dumb to understand. I can't raise my hand and ask for help, because otherwise I'll be a bother to the teacher, and since everyone else gets what we're doing, they'll all snicker and make fun of me. At least that's what I tell myself. I've been trying to tell my mum about my worries about mental illnesses I might have, but I can't get the words out of my throat no matter how hard I try, and its like I go mute. (It's also hard to mention my dad having ADHD, because my parents aren't together.)

This has affected my mental health for years now, and I'll be honest, I had to go to a counselor a few years ago because I slipped into depression for a long while. (I'm much better now, thanks to a lot of help from professionals)

So parents/carers, if your child is showing signs of a mental illness, do some research and find ways to help them. It's hard for kids to speak up about this face to face. Even if you for some reason can't get them diagnosed because you don't have enough money (or there's a different problem), please don't call your kid "lazy" or "not enough". None of that jazz. That won't help your kid, and it'll make them feel like they're not good enough, or that they're stupid or something. It's your job as a parent to care about your kids, and make sure they're safe and loved. Mental health is sososo important, especially for kids/teenagers, because if they don't get the help they need if their mental health is declining or they have mental illnesses, it can lead to some really serious stuff down the line.

Please spread awareness about this, reblog and share so it can reach more people. I apologize for rambling, but I need more parents to actually care about and recognize their children's behaviors, because sometimes it can save lives.

Feel free to add onto this, because I don't think I did the best job at listing all of my concerns.

Thank you.

[crepes-suzette-373]

【Dengeki Blue Game Stream】Battle Fruits Nine w/ Stealth Black - Dengeki Blue carries the level while Stealth Black is Useless as always [off-camera view]

A kind of fanfic version of that one drawing I made of Niji and Sanji being Vtubers. There's no real plot. Just modern AU chaos and rambling and general silliness. Everyone's normal/happy, the Vinsmokes are a good family, no sad, no angst, no painful drama.

This all basically just a big joke because "Nijisanji" is a Vtuber company name.

[AO3 Link]

----

He’d brought this upon himself, Sanji had to admit. The last time Niji nagged him to “guest” in his livestream, Sanji said he’d do it if Niji got him Vegapunk’s new mini combi oven, just to get Niji off his back. All Vegapunk appliances are expensive, and even if their family was well-off he figured it’s still high enough up there in price to make Niji leave him alone for a while.

The oven showed up in the brothers’ shared apartment within 2 days.

Sanji wasn’t sure if he was more baffled about Niji having that much money to spare, or that Niji wanted him on the stream that badly. He still felt guilty about it, though, so he’d told Niji he promised to agree to be a guest without protest 10 times, as long as he’s not tied up with more important things to do.

Naturally, he got ambushed the very next day.

That was how Sanji found himself sitting and waiting for Niji to set up whatever it is that was required to have a second person on his livestream, and hoped that it wouldn’t be a “talk stream” session that day. Chattering idly with anyone for an extended amount of time without there being some other activity involved, like eating or watching TV or him cooking, always made him feel awkward. With a gameplay stream, at least there was the game they’d be playing.

Not to mention, “his” virtual character apparently had a specific backstory associated with it, and being on a talk stream tended to involve having to adlib some kind of fictional story on the fly. Fortunately, he wasn’t required to keep up play-acting the character the whole time, no, and he left most of the wild details to Niji. He still had to include the fictive anecdotes, though, because of… some reason he much preferred to not know.

It was very confusing the first time he got dragged into this. Niji sat him down and explained in great detail about the backstory of his virtual persona, and Sanji still had no idea why he didn’t immediately run away then. It was a complicated setting with superheroes (or was it supervillains?) called Germa 66, mad scientists, clones, and quite honestly he wasn’t sure he remembered all of it.

Niji did set up their characters to have mundane daily lives, like all good classic superheroes do. That way they can also mention some things about things they did in reality and pretend that was part of the mandatory “lore”-talk, and not have to constantly make up random stories about aliens and robots.

They still had to be careful not to reveal things that are too personal or private, though. Sanji almost called Niji by his real name instead of Dengeki Blue a couple of times at first, and Niji kicked him in the shins every time that happened. As thankful for the save as he did, he still always kicked back.

“Aaalright, and here ya go.” Niji finally finished fiddling around the computers and handed Sanji a controller and headphones.

“What’s the game gonna be?”

“We’re continuing Battle Fruits. Still remember how to play that?”

“Of course I do, damn you, I’m not a techno-peasant!”

Niji cackled. “If ya say so,” he said with an oh-so-smug voice, putting on his anti-glare goggles and rolled his chair to face the screens.

Sanji doesn’t reply. Yes, he played by random button mashing and can’t remember any skill combos. Yes, Niji usually does most of the work in clearing the missions. He still knew what button does what, though, so that still counts as knowing how to play. 

“Starting in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… And—Loyal Germa fans rejoice, Dengeki Blue is back with everyone’s favourite guest: Stealth Black!”

There’s a reason why Sanji was very glad his character was just a static image, and not a moving model like Niji’s, because he doesn’t have to worry about his movements making the model behave weirdly. Niji’s opening babble were always ridiculous, and he could never not have the urge to cover his face and groan.

The character image was not actually him, but some of his friends were regular viewers of this stream, and they will make fun of him for any character hiccups. There was that one time the image was for some reason displaying upside down, from the top of the screen, and Usopp then called him “ninja” for days upon days after.

“Black, say hi to yer fans.”

Sanji removed his hands from his face, and saw that it was not the game screen that was on, but the setup normally used for the talk stream. Immediately suspicious, he asked, “Aren’t we playing Battle Fruits?”

“It’s just a little chat. I’ll open the game in a sec. Just say hi for a bit.”

“Do I have to?”

“They already heard ya talking, so ya might as well. Come on, say something nice, or yer fans will cry.”

It was an annoying testament that he had been here for too many times when he looked at the chat box and actually remembered and recognized a lot of the names among the flurry of comments. Still, he wouldn’t deny it was flattering to see the excited welcoming remarks.

Oh, there’s Usopp. The name “GodSogeKing” flew by, and he said, “Hello SogeKing” instinctively.

“Oooh, ya said someone’s name!” Niji crowed, “Ya done did it now.”

“What? Why?”

“Yer not playing fair. The others are really mad jealous now~”

“How is that any different from saying ‘Hello everyone in the chat’?” Sanji protested.

Niji shrugged, grinning. “I don’t make the rules.”

The chat was, indeed, now peppered with new comments saying the varying forms of “Stealth Black say my name too”. Once again, it was somewhat flattering (if a bit weird), but he would never loudly admit that.

“Say, what if we make that a chat donations thing? Nothing special, ya can just say ‘thank you whoever’.”

“Are you trying to use me for cash bait? No!”

“Fine, fine, but speaking of yer fans though, ya ok with having merch of ya, at least? One Dr.Death has been a pest about Stealth Black merch forever.”

Sanji huffed a laugh. “Dr.Death? What kind of edgy junior high online username is that?”

He immediately realised his mistake, but it was too late. Niji was already hysterical beside him.

“Ya heard that Dr.Death? He said your name! I know yer there. Bet yer drowning in happy tears, aren’t ya?”

“What the hell? Did you just trick me to say that? What merch are you even on about?”

Niji shook his head, still howling with laughter. “No, really, that right there is your biggest fan. Back me up chat, tell Black what Dr.Death said. And here’s merch.” He then pulled out his phone and showed a picture of a little Dengeki Blue keychain.

Well, if it was just the illustrated character and not him having to dress up, then it’s no issue. “Okay by me, about the merch, but...”

“Yes!”

Niji proceeded to go on about the logistics of the merch, so Sanji looked at the chat box again. Lo and behold, there actually was a Dr.Death in there. The aforementioned user was vehemently denying the barrages of comments providing so-called proof that Niji was right and other teasing remarks.

Dr.Death: Hey, Black, if you’re seeing this, I was NOT like that!

It was immediately followed by a ton of more comments, all saying “lies lies”.

SuperFrankyR0b0: Bro, the previous stream chats are all still there. Everyone can see it.

Damn. With even Franky saying that it was true, Sanji decided it was definitely too weird and ignored the chat until Niji finally started the game.

Despite even the game’s tutorial recommending using different Fruit Battlers for each stage, Sanji always picked the Orange Battler. She was his favourite and no amount of whingeing from Niji or the viewers about her being useless in certain levels could change that. Niji selected the Banana one this time, probably because that’s the actual best character for the level.

“The banana matches your hair,” Sanji said.

“Shut up!”

That was true of both Niji and Dengeki Blue, so Niji couldn’t kick him. Rather, he shouldn’t have a reason to, but still tried to kick anyway. Sanji dodged it.

Many minutes into the game later, the conversation topic had turned to future streaming plans, which was mostly answered by Niji.

Someone suggested another cooking talk stream, and this was the only kind of talk stream Sanji had no problems with. One stream session long ago, he’d been dragged onto a talk stream that he’d tried to leave multiple times, until somehow the viewers and Niji conspired to finesse him into talking about cooking. He ended up staying for 3 hours. Aside from the chat being flooded by people whingeing about getting hungry, it otherwise went pretty well.

(The viewers in that session, of all people, happened to include Luffy and Ace, who both came to him demanding to be compensated with real food the first chance they got.)

Another suggested a live cooking stream. That would be a no; not unless there’s some empty kitchen they could borrow or rent. Everyone in the apartment agreed that the livestreams should never show their building. Not even inside Niji’s room.

“Winch Green? Eeh, probably doable soon. No promises on Pink.”

Then the topic turned to guests. There were frequently requests for the other “Germa 66” members to show up. Niji had set up Dengeki Blue as a part of a team to make it easier to cover up slip ups when he accidentally mentioned overly-revealing real life things in his early streaming days. The 4 of them brothers share an apartment, besides. The backstory served as a handy excuse in case of noises of people walking around or talking can be heard through without breaking character. Yonji, especially, can be rather loud.

Getting Reiju to come on the stream was naturally difficult, since she lived with their parents and had full time work, but she was otherwise very agreeable. With Yonji, it’s only a matter of catching him between homework and classes and bribing him with a ton of food.

Ichiji, well…

It was just then that Sanji looked at the chat that he had been ignoring, and noticed that there was a wall of comments about “Sparking Red”, a.k.a Ichiji.

“Why are these people so obsessed with Red anyway?” he asked, “Is it because he’s the only one who’s never been on stream?”

“Oh that…” Niji said distractedly, his fingers hitting keys furiously to execute a combo attack, “I never told ya, huh? Hold on.” He didn’t speak again until after the Banana Battler on the screen mowed down a field of enemies, and “Objective Cleared” flashed on the screen. “Red came in yelling at me once, and everyone heard him. Chat’s gone insane ever since. It’s like those crazes over trying to catch a phantom beast or something.”

That was news. It was one thing to just hear about a character through the lore talks, but Ichiji has actually been heard clearly and not just vague noises through the door.

“How long ago was this?”

“Maybe almost two years ago? Around… around after that time ya crazy weirdos kept saying I was a zombie.”

Ah yes, the Zombie Niji incident—wait a second. Sanji straightened up. Wasn’t that also around the time when…

“Red’ll murder me if I ask him to come on, but eh, figured there’s still ya guys,” Niji babbled on. “The chat love it.”

That was about the time when Niji started pestering him and Yonji to come on the streams. To think that the entire reason for it was Ichiji—Ichiji!!

Sanji fumed. He decided it would be his mission to somehow, by hook or by crook, drag Ichiji on to the stream as well. Damn it all, even if it actually would make Niji and his weird chat group happy, he would still get it done. Ichiji caused it, so he should get to experience it too.

Maybe he’ll get Yonji and Reiju to team up for this mission later.

----

The quadruplets are still in uni/college, and they live in this apartment away from home. Ichiji working at the family company, whatever it is, part time. Reiju already working there full time. Niji is a Vtuber on the side when not in school. Sanji works at Baratie part time. Yonji is just a student full time. Sora still alive. Not sure how Judge would be like TBH, maybe just a normal standoffish dad, but otherwise okay.

I'm so sorry Law, but the meme of him being a Germa nerd is too funny.

[moocfitab]

so... Ive been rewatching Mythos and Magic after HeyHay's world lore stream and now have headcanons :D

-The first time Marcos heard Arlos talk- he assumed that someone was fucking with him at first, but then respectively freaked out at Arlos talking.

-After the group hug, Alastor tried going up to Mark but ended up getting vaguely threatened by Mal and Rai.

-Marks love language is physical touch- Whenever he sees one of his friends upset or having a rough day, He'll go up to them and ask if they want a hug or if they wanna talk about it. Arlos feels bad that they can't hug back, but still appreciate the hugs.

- Perry, Mark and Arlos can't cook for shit, it's always up to either Mal or Rai to cook

- Once when Rai was molting, Mark found one of his feathers and decided to keep it in his bag.

- Speaking of molting- Mal and Arlos tend to help Rai with their wings while Perry distracts Mark, Most times they either go to the nearest town to buy food, or take a walk and just ramble to each other while the others help Rai.

- The party dog piles anytime they're camping or far away from civilization- Mark always falls asleep first and ends up using Arlos as a pillow (No they don't mind)

- Rai is actually really good at drawing, and whenever they need to do something with their hands- he'll end up drawing whatever pops into their mind. (Would they show the rest of the party? If theyre proud of their work- then yes! But everything else is either discarded or put in their bag and forgotten about)

- Mark braids flowers into the party's hair. (don't question the fact that Perry and Mal don't technically have hair- it's fineeee)

- Mark is surprisingly good with animals. Most animals will just look at him and go "hm, thats so friend shaped" and walk up to him. It happened so much that the party is slightly less convinced that he's human.

- Mark 2 and their mother watched the chariot race- and cheered on the party from far away.

- Everyone in the party has slight nightmares of their time with Elias.

...I am now realizing after writing this that about 85% of this post is just abt Mark.

Listen- I have *a lot* of thoughts and feelings abt Mark, I love him so dearly.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

hello i’ve got some thoughts and updates for this blog.

i’ve been on a bit of burnout for a while, including life outside of writing. naturally the termination has sped up that burnout. i’m exhausted and struggling to be graceful about it, but that’s to be expected. i’m not one to sit on my feelings even though i’ve lacked the energy to write. which really bites because that’s my number-one passion really.

however i’ve taken some time to relax by diverting my attention away from social media and niji streams. i’ve relearned an old hobby and splurged a little too much on a new one, and i kind of can’t believe how much i missed drawing on real paper with a real pen and pencil. and thank god the love and deepspace sponsorship wrapped up before the termination, because that game has me in not just a chokehold but like one of those umbilical cords from astral projection. the silver cord? that

i’ve been watching other vtubers lately as well. i’ve always considered adding holostars en to my list but hesitated because everything else on my blog was niji-related.

consider this confirmation that i will be adding holostars’ tempus hq, vanguard and armis, and first stage productions’ avallum to my list of characters i will write for. i admit i’m not as familiar with armis, but i’ll be paying closer attention in the near future as i branch out from strictly watching niji only.

(might also be adding idol corp’s e-sekai? maybe? i watch them once every few months and i haven’t seen pochi or yuko stream since they debuted 💀 no clue on their gen 2 either)

i’ll be overhauling my masterpost for organization soon. so apologies for the horrors about to come… to be clear i will not delete any of my writing so don’t worry!

i’m unsure how much niji i’ll write in the future. give me some time to think as the situation hopefully cools down. i appreciate your patience.

and who knows maybe i’ll write for non-vtuber fandoms too

i think it’s about time i clean my inbox out soon too. i‘ll answer what asks i can and delete the remaining ones. i’ve had a few requests sitting in my inbox for nearly a year now and i’ve recently realized how stressed i was over them and learned about some boundaries i didn’t know i had beforehand, among other things, so so it’s about time i face them head-on. i apologize if i never got to your request! please don’t take it personally if i don’t answer your request. but above all else thank you for being patient, understanding, and kind enough to send in a request. even though i tend to bite off more than i can chew i always get so happy whenever i see a notif in my inbox and i appreciate your time for a little unit 4402.

even though i’m not watching niji streams atm i’m hesitant to stop writing for them because, like, i keep thinking of this clip of doppio saying he feels like he’s allowed to buy healthy/organic food because of fan support and donations, and among other reasons... it’s very easy to make conclusions on people you only know through a screen and i just can’t bring myself to cut them out so abruptly, even if i’m a fan creator on a site none of them use.

idk when i’ll post next and it feels nice to say that. i usually try to post once every 2 weeks, but considering how i’m trying not to think about niji right now and am instead embracing other parts of my life, i dunno. it’s nice. this blog is a major source of joy for me and it feels like i’m preserving what makes it so special for me instead of turning it into a chore. hopefully with time and rest i’ll have a clearer idea of where to go from here.

that’s pretty much everything on my mind, i think? thank you for bearing with me and my yapping. i hope to return soon and that the next time you see me, my blog will be cleaner, more expansive, and with a fresh mindset. take care of yourselves and don’t get immersed in toxicity. don’t forget to do what you love 💛

[venomouschocolate]

Why Do They Talk Like That: a stream of consciousness

Fantasy linguistics are so hard like where do you draw the line... I mean none of my characters are referencing major theistic religions or using real life loanwords or expletives but then there's quote-unquote fun stuff like "sadism" or "lunatic" or "sinister". i.e the Marquis de Sade does not exist in this world, but the concept of pleasure from cruelty does... Latin is not a language there, but I, personally, am writing in English, which has much of its etymology rooted in Latin (as well as pretty much every other language ever), even if there is no hate for left-handed people or indeed the left in this world, so "sinister" is inexplicable in itself now (odd how the left has historically been demonised and that it's also the socialist side of the political spectrum. not that odd really. thank you robert walpole?). The same with "lunatic": the moon is literally worshipped in some areas of my world, but it's still a term characters use, despite the moon having positive connotations.

Where Do You Draw The Line... I can't write in a conlang because a) I am not masochistic but b) I want my work to actually be read. You can imply different languages with accents and word choice and compound words, but ultimately I am writing in the same language for all (despite being bilingual, go me!) and ultimately that language is one that exists only in our world and not in the one that I've created.

While we're here, let's talk about swearing (cursing if you're american?) in fantasy settings. I don't mean "oh my god/s", that's arguably blasphemy and certainly not explicit; I don't mean "bloody" (not really explicit either) because frankly that does tend to fit a fantasy vibe with the type of characters likely to use it (considering the real world stereotypes and thus the archetypes an author will write using it). I mean expletives like "fuck", "bitch", "shit": STOP USING THEM. you absolute buffoons.

Recently I read a fantasy novel which included a whole magic system and several countries with absolute monarchies, etc, and they kept using expletives and it just did not work, and it never does. A step back: I believe that using expletives when writing in a real world setting (provided it's period-believable, of course) can work, and often (not always, not even mostly) works - I do it myself. However, believable expletives and exclamations and intensifiers can and sometimes do make or break worldbuilding, at least for me. The worldbuilding in the novel was fine, good even! But every time the (twenty-eight-year-old) mc used "fucking" or "bitch", I was immediately yanked out of the story and into reality. It was like reading a period piece (say, in the 19th-early 20th century) and seeing "bitch" in the expletive (slur) sense. I don't care whether it would be used: I don't BELIEVE that it would be.

Suspension of disbelief is everything, which (as a theatre kid...) is, I suspect, why musical films don't work: we're primed for a more true-to-life piece, whereas in a theatre, we're prepared to cast a lot more aside. We KNOW they're actors, we know bursting into song is unrealistic, but it's the stage! We believe it anyway. Seeing a fantasy character, particularly one that was meant to be a minor royal, consistently THINK in expletives (and not just exclaim them!) felt to me like watching Mean Girls The Musical The Movie. I did not believe the magic (which was a major plot point so it kind of sucked). I did not believe that the characters saying "bitch" and "fuck" would say those words, especially since those characters were almost exclusively limited to the middle-aged queen, an almost thirty-year-old established to be groomed into mild-mannered obedience, the former queen's guard and a (bastard) prince. I did not believe that the characters whose thoughts I was reading would think them, and thus I did not believe in the story.

If you're going to create a prose-based world intended to be separate from our own in terms of religion/history/sociopolitical structure/magic/etc, you NEED to think about the linguistics. I'm not saying think HARD or be super mega creative: in my sky-worship country, a common exclamation is "stars-be", short for "stars-be-dimmed", ditto "skies-be" and "skies-be-felled". My sun-based little sillies go "be-set" as in "sun-be-set"; the only country in a technological revolution (also the only country with guns): "I'm not wired that way"; "he's gearing for a fight"; "I was shooting for you". Furthermore, when explaining their culture in other languages, they struggle for words, because, for example, a train is a monolingual concept (one falters when about to describe someone as a "train wreck" and just goes "sorry"). It's not clever, it's not particularly original, but, in my opinion, it makes the language, and by extension the world, more believable.

While I'm mid-rant: there's a marked difference between characters of different class and upbringing. My more religious, self-righteous queen of skycountry says "my stars": she rules the country, she is a little crazy insane, she feels that she owns the sky, too. A less-educated character uses slang like "lunar", "feared", "heartfulness" where his posh boy counterpart says "insane", "afraid" and "empathy". And yes, I am totally neurodivergent, and I think about details, and I also study the development of the English language and want to continue to do so at university, so of course I am more drawn to it, but at the end of the day if you're writing prose then the words are really bloody important.

TLDR: worldbuilding is hard; do your high fantasy (or even low fantasy) characters NEED to say "fuck"?

[benwvatt]

scavengers reign

[Image ID: A drawing of a lush, green forest on an alien planet in the TV show Scavengers Reign. On the left is a large, thick, white stone column covered with large, green, round globules of moss. The center contains large, white circular stepping stones on the ground, much larger than any living being in the image. A grey, deer-shaped alien with a slightly lighter grey underbelly and round, grey protrusions coming from its face sits curled up on one of the stones. On another stone, further back, sits a grey robot made up of a three large metal ovals next to each other. It tends to a small lily with four large, white petals growing from the stone.

In the center of the image, two thick, brown columns that could be stone or tree trunks rest behind the alien and the robot. One is diagonal and points to the upper right. The other is nearly upright and is tilted slightly to the left. The right side of the image contains three tall yellow broomstick-shaped stalks of what look like hay, and there are three jellyfish-shaped creatures with very short dark grey legs, small round red eyes, and dark grey bodies. One of the creatures looks sadly at the deer alien and the robot. The other two are walking away, out of the frame. End ID.]

Title: Scavengers Reign (2023-?)

Channel: HBO Max.

Origin: U.S. American.

Genres: 2D animation, science fiction, science fantasy, adventure, and horror.

Runtime: As of March 2024, there is 1 season with 12 episodes. Each episode is ~25 minutes. The show’s executive producers have mapped out future seasons and are excited to do more, but with HBO’s penchant for cancelling animated/sci-fi TV shows and removing them from streaming, I’m not sure if it’ll get renewed for more.

This show feels: Enthralling, wondrous, hypnotic, and horrifying.

Premise: Scavengers Reign is a science fiction show about the marooned survivors of a damaged cargo ship in outer space. They explore their mysterious, lush, and hostile new planet with caution, and, due to the crash, they have been isolated in three groups who must eventually make their way back to each other. Most of the cast are human, but one main character is a robot. The new planet contains fantasy-transformed plants, animals, and aliens. Does danger lurk around the next corner?

Themes explored by the show: Social isolation, mental health crises, survival in the wilderness, the ability to trust, human-alien interactions, grief, death, community, psychological horror/trauma, and the poisonous control that nostalgia holds over humans.

Representation & marginalized voices: Scavengers Reign has several nonwhite main characters, and about the half the cast are female while the other half are male. The nonwhite characters are also voiced by people of color, and there are many female voice actors in the cast. I appreciate that romance isn’t a core part of the show, as the story explores themes like survival and mistrust instead.

Notes:

Scavengers Reign is well-received by the public. It has a 100% approval score on Rotten Tomatoes with an average rating of 8.7/10.

Scavengers Reign originally aired as an 8-minute, dialogue-free animated short film in 2016 on the Adult Swim channel. It is available to watch here on Vimeo.

Most U.S. American shows created by major streaming services or TV networks are available to pirate. Sites like FMovies or LookMovies should have it.