#but i still have managed to do a little doodle every day

[citricacidprince]

doodle request on relativity falls - id love 2 see ur vers of fiddleford and where he stands in the story!! :DD

Of course!!!

Oh Fiddleford, my dearly beloved Fiddleford, he’s just a little guy who makes machines that hurt people and I love him for that <3

In my Relativity Falls AU Fidds is a kid from Tennessee who moved to Gravity Falls pretty recently, like in the past year.

He’s still really handy with mechanics, like a genuine prodigy, but he’s so riddled with anxiety that it’s a battle to get him to share any of his projects outside of his robots he makes to get revenge on those who wrong him!

He really does like hanging out with the twins, he thinks their both fun and is very happy they actually wanna be his friend, however their constant ‘Getting into weird and magical trouble’ is so stress inducing to him he’s going to get gray hairs by the time he’s 20 (Dipper can relate-)

I don’t have a lot of things solidified for him yet, other than I want him to be EXTREMELY tempted to use the Memory Gun on himself, to forget a lot of the horrifying things he’s seen over the summer, but is stopped by Candy (The inventor of the gun) at the last second. You see, Candy didn’t spiral like Fiddleford did in the show, she only ever used the memory gun on herself once. However, she used it to erase every bit of knowledge she ever learned about the weirdness of Gravity Falls, and Candy had spent YEARS of her life dedicated to it, she was arguably more curious about the weirdness of Gravity Falls than Dipper was. He was only curious out of morbid curiosity, she saw the whimsy and wonder in it all. So when Candy used the Memory Gun on herself and erased such a huge chunk of her memory it cracked her psyche, not leaving her a rambling and insane kook like Fiddleford, but more oblivious and unaware to everything around her while also being a liiiiittle ‘not all there’.

Between the two of them Candy definitely got the better end of the stick. Fiddleford was deemed insane and used the memory gun over and over again until he couldn’t even remember who he was anyone, his life falling apart. Candy used it once to make sure no one could ever use her research to hurt anyone after she learned her lab partner was literally working with an otherworldly being who could go into peoples heads and it cracked her mind because her research WAS her entire life, leaving her oblivious and dazed. However, Candy managed to find people who cared about her and were willing to care for her despite this. Sure she lives in the dump, but whenever a storm comes through or she gets hungry she can always go up to her friends Grenda, Mabel Mason, or even Pacifica at some point to help her out. Fiddleford had no one.

I want Candy to give Fidds a little pep talk, convincing him that despite those memories being scary and uncomfortable he’s going to need all of them because they’re what will help him grow as a person. He can’t just pick and choose which ones he wants because one day he’ll realize he doesn’t have any memories left to burn.

Maybe there could even be a moment where Fidds tries to use the memory gun on Candy because he convinces himself he NEEDS it and doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of hating choice, but freezes up when he realizes it does work on her anymore. The realizes what he just did because of how badly he wanted that memory gun seconds after he did it and starts to tremble, dropping the memory gun as he begins uncontrollably crying that he ‘didn’t mean it’ and he’s sorry. Candy wouldn’t hold it against him, just seeing a scared kid who was so desperate to make the mind numbing anxiety that he would do anything, and she’d hug him and tell him it’s okay before leading him back to the rest of the group.

Fiddleford makes me soooo ill I love him <3

[canisalbus]

Okay don't mind me, I'm going to yell into ether for a moment. It's four in the morning and I can't sleep and the slow-burn anxiety attack that has been building up all day seems to be finally coming to a head, and I feel like I'm about to crawl out of my skin.

This past month has been challenging. I knew stuff was about to get stressful way ahead of time and tried to mentally prepare for it, but life still managed to kick me in the liver and now that july is over, I'm left absolutely exhausted and frazzled and physically sick. And so goshdarn overwhelmed. Feels like my brain reached it's maximum capacity weeks ago and can't absorb anything new anymore, I'm just trying to get through each day without actively making things worse and all new tasks and information are just sliding off and pooling at my feet.

Acutely speaking, I'm also having a tiny little crisis here in my hands right now. It's silly but I've somehow managed to misplace my antidepressants somewhere and I haven't seen them since Thursday last week. Perhaps at this point I should just go and get them refilled early like a sensible person but some dumb mental roadblock is holding me back, so I'm just sort of stuck in this no-meds limbo. I'm normally seeing two separate therapists on irregular basis and both of them are currently unavailable until further notice and my sentiments about that aren't too gleeful.

I miss drawing, it's such an important part of my life and identity, but I haven't been able to do any of it lately and I feel like I'm strugging to get back in the right headspace for it. Every time I try to set aside a little bit of time to doodle something, my anxiety spikes massively and I have to try to do something else to calm down and it kills me.

I'm already dreading the upcoming winter. Every year my mood worsens with seasonal depression and I know I only have a limited number of months before life switches to survival mode again, and I have no choice but to try to live with that looming in the horizon.

[homunculus-argument]

I like it when books have storytelling in little hidden details that you would never pay attention to, before you go online and see that somebody, apparently, happened to have enough free time to notice connections between things that you hadn't even considered.

Like imagine a story where one remarkably unimportant passing side character is a Dead Serious, No Fun Allowed stern middle management authority, whose job is clearly their entire life and who doesn't make the rules, but clearly enjoys being astonishingly petty about enforcing them. When asked "what do you even do for fun?" they glare back and say "I like to take walks", and does not elaborate. Like okay damn, so their work is their duty and their duty is their life, this person doesn't allow any enjoyment for themselves, either.

And as an unrelated detail there's several mentions in the story that apparently somebody keeps scribbling moustaches on every person depicted in print or drawing and left in a public place. One character at one point even draws conclusions that a bounty poster they see must have been placed there recently, since the Doodle Bandit hadn't gotten to it yet.

There's fandom forum discussion asking, what's exactly the point of the Doodle Bandit? It seems like such a random thing that doesn't really advance the plot. Someone else says that they like that detail, actually, brings depth to the story to have unseen characters who have nothing to do with the main plot. And a third person points out that they've observed a connection: The moustache doodles are only mentioned to be present in the places where the Dead Serious Middle Manager was mentioned to be located in, and in one incident appear around in a certain city overnight, the day after this particular character entered the city.

Still has nothing to do with the main plot, though.

[straystarr]

From the Start; lmh

in which you end up getting partnered with the bad boy but it turns into something meaningful. (Somewhat strangers, to friends)

a little soft, a little boring, but comforting (at least I hope)

Blank minds were accompanied by bored expressions and still your professor ignored the dull atmosphere as her words drowned before reaching your ears. Philosophy of sex and love — while immersive in its contents and literature, it was oddly scheduled in the evening of the day. Naturally, you were drained, ready to crawl into bed and sleep the day away. Showing no interest was not your intention, in contrast, this had to be your favourite class of your crammed university schedule. Your days were filled with due dates after due dates. Exam after exam. One long lecture to another. Life was repetitive at the moment. And one can only enjoy the repetition  for so long.

You couldn’t help but allow your pen to draw minimal doodles onto the loose leaf sitting in front of you, anything to keep you sane. It was obvious you weren’t the only numb soul as the room seemed to be suffocating due to cumulative body heat and exaggerated exhaustion.

You were pulled away from your pointless observations, the door to the class swinging open, disrupting the scattered peace in the room as heads lifted at the sudden noise. Your eyes caught a glimpse of his dark clothed figure before you swiftly turned your head back towards your notebook, already anticipating the reactions around you. 

If it were any other late student, every person in the room would have nonchalantly returned to their business, carefree of the lives outside of their own. Instead, waves of whispers brewed as he confidently made his way towards his designated seat, which happened to be right beside your own.

He gave no attention to the soft chaos his presence ignited, but his plain eyes glared at anyone who daringly gazed for more than expected.

Something about Lee Minho always had people on the edge of their seats. Whether it be the countless rumours surrounding his reputation or the way he detached himself from any social setting. 

You never understood it really, the way people obsessed over him. He was popular, for all the wrong reasons. It was either romanticising his ‘cold’ personality or scowling at his existence. How he became known as the bad boy will always remain ridiculous to you. 

Some claim he spends his nights at clubs, some say his personality speaks for itself, others believe only people involved in illicit activity would stain their skin so “excessively”, thrown off by the tattoos visible when his arms were out in the open. Stereotype after stereotype was all it was. You found most of these reasons to be baseless, filled with the flaws of people's own beliefs and values. 

Sure, he wasn’t the friendliest person, but that doesn’t justify the shit he received on a daily basis. Even if what people said was true, what did it have to do with them? He was just living his life. And still, people managed to bury him six feet under. 

He never seemed bothered by the distaste he received, rather amused, a smirk flourishing on his lips with every new story created in his name. Even when all eyes were on him or when assumptions about his life were brought about in conversations, he always stuck to himself, never talking to anyone, a facade of oblivion hanging above his head. 

The only people you’ve ever seen welcomed into his own little world were his group of friends, specifically, Han Jisung and Bang Chan. But even then, he remained conserved, only giving small reactions in contrast to their big personalities. You always wondered how they got along. Jisung was known to be a social butterfly on campus, always waving, always laughing, a person one can’t help but be drawn to. One time, he mistook you for someone else and gave you a back hug, spending the next five minutes on his knees profusely apologizing for touching you. Chan was more laid back, but he enjoyed the company of other people. He always lightened the mood with his cheerful and calm persona.

Their relationship took the concept ‘opposites attract’ and played it into reality. It was comforting knowing such a friendship existed in a complex world. 

“Can I borrow a pen?” The request came from your right, somewhat hidden in your professor's speech about Vrangalova’s association of love and commitment to sex. You met eyes with him, face stoic and reserved, expectant of your generosity. It wasn’t the first time he had asked you for a pen, and it wouldn’t be the last time you held one towards him. “Thanks.” He muttered, eyes already gone from your sight. You smiled in response, even if he couldn’t see it. It was moments like this that solidified your liking towards him. 

In a way, you cared for Minho, watching from the sidelines, stealing little glances whenever he was in the room or catching yourself frowning every time his name was carelessly thrown around. It’s not that you had a crush on him, or that you pitied him, but it’s the same way you get concerned when you see a friend stumble. You flinch as you imagine their potential pain. You hope they're ok. And then you move on with your life. It is possible, and it does happen — caring for someone you know nothing about. The same way you can hate someone you know nothing about. 

You sucked in your bottom lip as your pen tapped a rhythm onto the table. His body became clearer in your peripheral, bringing the rhythm to a pause. His thigh slightly brushed against yours, sinking into the chair with his body shifting into a comfortable position. And like clockwork, the wave of gossip diminished as time passed by, and your eyes only continued to fall, forcing you to use all your energy to keep them open. 

“I’ll be ending the lecture early. But I am assigning a group paper since it seems as though you all would not be able to complete one on your own, judging from the lack of enthusiasm. To make things simple, your partner will be whoever is sitting to your right. All you need to do is research……” Her voice echoed into the air as you hesitantly moved your head to the right. Your eyebrows trailed up in surprise due to the set of eyes already directed at you. 

Minho raised his hand to his cheek, resting against his fingers as he cocked his head to the side. “Y/n, right?” An unconscious smile bloomed upon hearing your name, to which he straightened his posture. Your smile threw him off. He could always guess a person's intentions by their smile. It’s either genuine, or it’s not.  And he almost always received the latter. But with you, that wasn’t the case. He found himself fascinated at how quickly the smile came and left. It was an authentic reaction.  

It was new to him. And he simply didn’t know how to react.

“You know my name?” 

“I’ve been stealing your pens for a whole semester. How can I not?”

He was talking more than he was used to. What should have been a yes or no answer turned into an invitation to continue the conversation. And he again, didn’t know why. The side of your lips dropped at the sudden coldness glazing over his face but you thought nothing of it as you nodded and began to pack your things. “We should start the project tomorrow, are you available?” Standing, you twisted your head to look at him once again to which he just nodded before pushing himself off from his seat. 

Your fingers curled under your notebook, instinctively tightening your hold to no avail as he seized it from your hands. A sound of confusion choked from the back of your throat, prompting the questioning look you sent him as he began to write something down. Bringing his head up, he processed your stare, an unexpected wave of caution flooding his system as he placed the notebook back in your hands.

“My address.” The awkwardness he displayed was fresh compared to the certainty he previously held in his actions. “Unless you’d like to work on campus, I just assumed you wouldn’t since everyone is camping out here with the semester coming to an end—” Your shoulders vibrated from the amused giggle in your throat.

He was rambling, and you quite enjoyed it.

His nostrils flared upon hearing your stifled tune. It was odd, he found himself trying his best to ignore the urge to smile along with you. It was barely a success as he patiently waited for you to speak, a hand coming to rub his warm ear. “Maybe we can head to your place together after class tomorrow?” You advised, bag already over your shoulder and coat hanging from your arm, you were eager to leave. But the quick interaction with the stranger who always had your attention lined your thoughts amidst the fatigue. “Yeah— yeah, that works.” He said with a curt nod. Twisting in place, your hand flew in the air, fingers waving ever so slightly.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His lips fell apart, watching as you marched your way out of the room. He couldn’t read your mind, but he so badly wanted to. Because the many questions swarming in his head just about drove him crazy. You were weird. At least in the sense that he didn’t mind your presence. He didn’t mind how easy going you were or how you made him conscious of himself. He didn’t mind that you laughed at him or how he so easily talked to you. You intrigued him. You had ever since you were paired to sit together. And it scared him. He always wanted to talk to you — really talk to you, none of this pen borrowing bullshit he settled for even when his pencil case lay untouched in his bag. 

And now that he has, your voice echoed in his head like a soft melody, to which he paused the tune, frightened to dance along to the beat. 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

“I think so.” He managed to moan out. 

You turned your head away from the screen of your computer, waist twisting in place as you caught ahold of his weary eyes, soon widening at the sudden eye contact. It was a few hours after class had ended. You weren’t really keeping track. But you were constantly checking up on the boy who lay on the couch you leaned on.

“You sound like shit. And you still look like shit.” Your observation fell on deaf ears, your eyes blurred against the rays of the white screen staring back at you. “I’m fine.” He sniffled, buried in the blankets you had wrapped around him with care.

And to think a few hours ago, you were frustrated with him, having travelled from University to an unknown area with the only hope that the address messily written in your notebook would lead you to Minho. The frustration grew with each second you loitered in the apartment's hallway. You didn’t want to assume anything when Minho never showed up for class. So you took it upon yourself to find out what was going on.

And there you stood, a deep sigh collapsing along with your eyes as your knuckles came in contact with the door one last time. Pulling your hand away, you clicked your tongue against the top of your mouth, analyzing the options you had left. God seemed to take pity on you as the door swung open, sending you staggering backwards, hand over your chest with your eyes now wide open. 

Although his face was barely visible with the hood that covered his head, his feline eyes peeked through the fringes of his hair naturally covering his forehead. The scowl on Minho's face melted upon recognizing your startled figure. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, his body fell onto the doorframe. He was very much surprised with your visit, but his blank stare intimidated you into thinking your efforts may have gone to waste. 

Guilt crawled into his skin, unsure whether to explain himself or let you assume what you wanted. He would usually give less than a fuck, but with you — with you, he didn’t know what to do. A sigh of relief was given as you felt somewhat reassured by Minho’s presence. 

Readjusting the bag hanging over your shoulder, you paused as you felt the reassurance being replaced with confusion. You were ready to bombard him with the questions clouding your mind. Why wasn’t he at school? Did he expect you to finish everything yourself? Did he really not give a shit? Did he not like you? 

But the wandering questions were easily dismissed upon noticing the way Minho couldn’t seem to hold himself up, continuously leaning against the door frame. It wasn’t until frail sniffles came from the boy in front of you, his head tossed to the side as if to silence himself. It was then you noticed how his cheeks were painted in a harsh shade of pink, the way he tried to softly clear his throat, the shadows under his eyes. 

“I couldn’t go to school today and I didn’t know how to contact you—”

“You look like shit.”

The statement shot through his already weak state, but he wasn’t offended. Instead, a loose chuckle caressed his tongue as you smiled in return. You began to rock on your feet, unaware of what to do or say. Minho observed your actions, carefully stepping aside as his hand pointed towards the inside of his home. He didn’t approve of what he was doing, but he didn’t necessarily oppose it either. He was just as lost as you were.

Your body failed to move, eyes blinking while you began to comprehend his gestures. “What? You didn’t come here just to check up on me.” Dropping his hand to the side of his body, Minho raised an eyebrow, eyes glazing over the words that barely made their way out of your mouth.  “I think you should use this time to try to get better, I’ll just finish the project—“ “I can’t let you complete it by yourself.”

Your eyes fixated on the back of his head as he trudged into his home, leaving you to gawk at his figure, hesitation confronting you as you consciously entered through the door frame that separated you from the outside world. Minho watched as you observed the surroundings. It was nothing like you’d imagine, but also seemed to fit him very well.

The living room consisted of a brown leather couch and a circular glass table. Nothing seemed out of place, every decoration he had with a purpose. “Why hello there.” You crouched down, hands fluffing the cat that arrived at your feet. You directed your gaze to Minho. “I didn’t take you for a cat dad.” Minho picked up the cat at your feet before placing him on a cat tree tucked away in the corner of the room that you failed to notice. “I have three.” He managed to say. 

Nodding in awe, you set your bag down onto the wooden floor in front of the table, your body sinking as your jeans hit the cold ground. Burrowing his eyebrows, Minho gazed at you with curious eyes. “You can sit on the couch?” You lifted your head as you set your laptop on the table, a smile growing on your face while your hands strung your hair into a loose bun.  “I prefer the floor.” Your causality ignited a comfortable atmosphere to which he found himself drawn to. His feet carried him towards the couch behind you as he slumped onto it, his sick body hindering him from acting any further. The simple fact that you spit out about yourself traced through his mind, unknowingly settling in the depths of his memory. 

“You can rest for now, I’ll let you know when I need your help.” Your focus was directed towards the screen of your laptop, completely oblivious to the boy whose lips were ever so slightly curved into a smirk. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” A string of coughs followed his response, much to his dismay. “Yeah well, we have underlying circumstances so just listen and I don’t know, heal?” There it was again. That light tune that so easily infiltrated his thoughts. The sarcasm laced in your voice only humoured the smirk on his face, somehow guiding it to curve into a light smile as he continued to stare at the back of your head. 

How odd it was for him — for him to do as he pleased, not having to shelter himself into the colourless character he lived. How odd it was for him to lie there on a random Friday, a mere stranger on his living room floor as he tried to get some sleep. Well, at least he knew your name. He liked your name. And he was so at ease with the person linked to the name. “Why did you want to work here?” Your question halted his thoughts. “I don’t like public places.” He said with eyes closed. You absently nodded, fingers typing away. “Why don’t you like public places?” He remained quiet for longer than anticipated. “I don’t really like people.”

Silence corrupted the air, bringing your chest to slowly rise in contrast to its previous pattern. 

Your eyes soon landed on his face, as your head twisted in place, focus no longer directed towards the gleaming screen of your computer. It occurred to you that the line of questioning was heavy, too heavy and you were in no position to ask him such heavy questions. Especially with his weak state. Minho opened his eyes, his gaze trailed on the ceiling, avoiding your hard stare as the two of you shared the understanding that explanation was to follow. Although you were aware of the reason.

“I'm sorry.”

The apology was louder than a whisper but not quite full in tone. You inhaled, slowly turning back around as the hot air left your nose. The tapping of your fingers began again, spelling out a sentence that lacked your attention. “Why do you prefer the floor?” Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, nonchalantly resuming as your shoulders moved up and down in oblivion. “I’m not sure. I just find it more comfortable.” He hummed in acknowledgement, making an effort to rise from his place but immediately groaning while trying. 

“Now what happened in the span of a day that you went from being all healthy to barely being able to move?” You asked, still typing away on your computer. Minho sighed, embarrassed and hesitant to explain the ridiculous events that occurred the previous night. But with the way your expectant eyes gleamed in the dark room, his lips betrayed him. “Jisung made me dance in the rain last night because you apparently only live once.” His voice was barely a whisper towards the end but that only solidified the giggle shaking your body. Minho smiled, conscious of the highs and lows of your laugh and somehow harmonizing with the one coming from his sore throat.

You listened to Minho’s laugh, fully aware that this was the first time you had heard it. It was pretty and contagious. And you couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to hear it more often. “So you’re telling me, you’ve lived every girl's dream.” Your cheeks were full with pressure from the grin on your face. Minho’s smile melted into a smirk. “Jealous much?” You nodded before standing up. “Very much so.” 

Minho found himself searching for you as you made your way out of his sight. But soon enough, you returned, a bowl in one hand while you kneeled beside him. You hesitated before laying your hand flat against his forehead, falling to his cheek. “I think you have a fever.” Minho weakly hummed, unsure what to say. So he continued to watch you dip a towel into the bowl, lifting his bangs up before placing it on his forehead. The cool material felt nice against his hot body, prompting him to close his eyes.

He felt vulnerable. He was vulnerable. Never would he allow someone so physically close to him unless it was his friends. But here you were, hand to his cheek with no ounce of refusal in his gut. You were as close as anyone could get with him, and it only took you a few hours to do so. Perhaps that’s why he continued to speak, susceptible to you in ways he couldn’t quite understand. “People let you down.” His voice was frail, but you caught his words. “It's like they’ve pieced my life together without even asking me about the details.” He didn’t need to ask whether you understood what he was referring to, because with the way your face slightly fell, he knew you weren’t immune to the rumours. 

“People suck.” You left the towel on his forehead, turning away as you settled back down in front of your computer. “We make assumptions in order to help us understand the world. Even if our assumptions are ill-mannered. What makes sense to us, protects us.” You paused, now looking at him. “I’m sorry you’re experiencing the consequences of other people’s actions.” You spoke quietly, your bottom lip slightly pushed forward.

Minho said nothing, offered no expression of regard. Instead, he cleared his throat, letting his eyes fall shut. You bit your bottom lip, unsure how to interpret his nonchalance and choosing to continue whatever you were typing. “I’d like for you to hear about them.” Your fingers lay still against your keyboard. “The details.” The breath you were holding blew past your lips, subtly. “Well, you can tell me all about them while I finish up this paper of ours.” You stated, a smile threatening to break out on your face, a low murmur of acknowledgement coming from behind you. 

“How many pages have you done?” 

“Two.” 

“How many do we need done?”

 “Twelve.” 

Minho’s eyes shot open. “I— what have you been typing this whole time, I thought you had this shit locked and loaded.” You swiftly faced him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry for being invested in our conversation.” Your tone was entirely satire and he could only groan in disbelief. You both stared at each other, your face relaxing while his lit up, smiles breaking out as laughter filled the air.

“Should we ask for an extension?” Miho forced himself up, now sitting against the couch. “I emailed her the minute I opened my computer.” You shrugged, reaching for the towel that was now lopsided on his forehead. Minho could only stare at you with wide eyes. “Why’d you stay?” You tilted your head in confusion, as if it were obvious why you had been here for the past hour or so. “I wasn't going to leave you here to rot.” His lips parted slightly. 

He had your voice paused in his mind, replaying it to familiarize himself with your tone. He liked you. This he knew. And was more than willing to accept. It was new for him to welcome someone so eagerly into his small world, but with the way you dipped the towel into the bowl of water and casually placed it back onto his forehead, he knew a new friend would do no harm and probably more good than he deserved. His soul welcomed your presence. Something he’d never come to regret.

“I’ll invite you next time.” “Next time?” You continued to pat the towel down, retracting your hand and making eye contact. Minho nodded. “When Jisung asks me to dance in the rain with him.” You blinked slowly. You didn’t think much of Minho when you first sat beside him in class, other than his obvious physical attraction, you knew nothing but his fabricated reputation. And yet, here you sat in his living room, worried and cautious over him while simultaneously laughing and enjoying his company.

You were unaware that he would soon become someone you’d think the world of, someone who’d make you laugh a little harder and feed your soul. Until then, he remained the boy who borrowed your pens, had a pretty laugh, and was sick from dancing in the rain.

“I’d like that.”

AN: A gentle or not so gentle reminder that this is written fanfiction. xoxo

𝙎𝙏RAy𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍r★

[valeriehalla]

I don’t know what to do about the internet. It’s getting worse, and getting worse faster than I think any of us ever could have imagined even just six years ago. Tumblr shot itself in the heart at the behest of Apple, at the behest of whichever nameless evangelical finance perverts are in charge of credit card policy, whereupon people like me (artists and people who like art) fled in droves to Twitter, the present state of which I don’t have it in me to be funny about.

Even after that one-two punch, Twitter and Tumblr are still the only (major) social media platforms I can stand to use. I mean, they’re the last ones left where you can, for example, see posts that your friends have made. I might have said that that seemed like the whole point of social media; every digital elsewhere has now collectively agreed that it is, in fact, social media’s greatest flaw. Your friends like to hang out and post weird jokes and titty drawings — they don’t know the first thing about your favorite marketing trends, let alone your unslakable thirst for 30-second phone videos. We have to move on: I’ll die if I think about it.

Uh — I wanna let you in a little. Here’s where I’m at, okay? I’m working on this project. I like it a lot: it’s a writing thing and an art thing and a music thing all at the same time. I’m still struggling with art burnout, but every day I get to sit down and write or compose for this thing is an unending delight, so on the balance it’s been great to work on. It’s taken me a while to get here, though — I’ve blown past all my estimates about when it’d be done. Still, it won’t be much longer.

In the mean time, I keep having these compulsive worries. I feel that I should be posting, but the nature of a long-form project like this is that I don’t have anything to post. I tweet complete nothings now and then, as if to announce my presence, like a lighthouse pulsing in the distance. And every week the websites get worse. They’re bleeding out, and it feels like some of my blood’s in there, maybe. Like, maybe you’d call me naïve, but it wasn’t that long ago that I really, really liked all this online stuff. I never had the hustle culture mindset about it: by good luck alone I managed to make a living posting the stuff I wanted to post on the places I wanted to post it.

The places I liked to post don’t exist anymore. My experience of using the internet feels hostile, alien. The ground beneath all our feet feels eggshell-thin.

But I have to use the internet: it’s where my stuff goes. It’s where all of you are. Here is where art and artists and art-likers live.

The things I love live here, in precarity, as the saw blades and lava traps of our digital dungeon grow every day more numerous.

Anyway, what I’m saying is that the web sucks now, but as long as we’re here — and we will be here — I want to try loving it again anyway. I want to untangle myself from all this disappointment and expectation and try simply “vibing” again. I wanna use cohost more: I’ll even crosspost stuff to Tumblr like I keep saying I should. I’m making a cool thing and I should show it off! I should relearn how to draw a little doodle and post it without feeling like it’s a suboptimal use of my time or whatever!! I want to believe in what joy may find us, though our world be a dumpster.

[anemos-orca]

The Harbingers Cat

Balladeer x neko!reader smut, MDNI

cw: smut, female reader, reader is the Balladeers loyal assistant, reader draws NSFW, humiliation, fantasizing, probably more qwq

Series Tag: #▪︎HarbingersCat

NSFW under "keep reading"

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Being the assistant (and a neko one at that) of the 6th Fatui Harbinger was not an easy job, but you couldnt deny how much you enjoyed your work. Despite how you sometimes slipped up or were given a shocking flick of electro for doodling on the job, working under the Balladeers direct command was, to say the least, fulfilling. He tasked you with medial jobs that were "below him" such as paperwork, greeting new cadets, and cleaning his workspace. You found pride in your work and were eager to please, each subtle word of praise murmured by your higher up fueling you into wanting more and more. It was such a rare thing that, whenever it did happen, it was like all your hard work paid off and you were rewarded with something worth more than mora itself- i mean, who gets praised by the Balladeer??

Scaramouche was amused by you and your strange willingness to do anything he asked. Sometimes he would make up a "job" so rediculous, it felt painfully obvious how fake it was- but still, you never questioned him. If for the sake of not having to sift through countless morons, Scaramouche could brush off your stupid little mistakes and your gross habit of doodling. Though, as time passed, he noticed that you were beginning to act... peculiarly. He would catch you mimicing his expressions, the way he walked, the way he talked- he couldnt deny how pathetically adorable it was. His little neko assistant bossing a cadet around just like how he would, only to turn around with a cute, satisfied smile (despite your efforts to contain the satisfaction of successfully copying your boss) like a kid who managed to learn how to make a sandwich just by watching their mom do it. He couldnt take you seriously, not with the way your fluffy little ears flinched away each time he snapped his fingers right next to them just to startle you. Not with how your tail would poof up in excitement at the most meaningless and fickle of things. Not with the way those stupidly expressive eyes of yours seemed to sparkle each time he would murmur the simplest of praises.

After even more time had passed, he would catch himself studying the little doodles you had made in days past- whenever you were being covered by some idiot who didnt know the first thing about being his assistant, they reminded him that he wouldnt have to deal with his medial tasks once you came back. He would never admit it, but he tended to be more annoyed with people on the days you were gone. He didnt understand the strange, relaxing effect you had on him, and it was irritating.

You werent a puppet like him, so being in lethally cold conditions all the time weakened your body just like it would any other mortal. Therefore, you were often given a couple days off every few weeks to recover. Scaramouche couldnt imagine what you could possibly be doing on the days you spent cooped up in your tiny room all alone, but he figured you just slept through it. Besides, mortal activities were not his concern.

However, that changed on the day you accidentally forgot your sketchbook in his office. You had already left- it was late and you finished filling out his paperwork for the day- but you didnt notice the precious item you left behind. Scaramouche knew how valuable it was to you, considering the fact that it was always in your little satchel and you never left it unattended, so it piqued his curiosity. Why was a sketchbook, of all things, your most valuable item? Such a stupid thing to do, to hold something so fragile and easily ruined at high value. Despite his subtle curiosity, he couldnt care less about what you did, owned, or carried, so he never demanded to inspect it. Though, given this perfect opportunity to quell his after-work boredom, he couldnt help but take a peek.

The Balladeer leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk with a relieved sigh, satisfied to have a moment of relaxation. He flipped the cover of your tattered sketchbook open and examined the first page, reading, "If lost, return to (y/n) at once. Inspection is strictly prohibited. Doing so will result in high punishment." He scoffed, imagining your stupid kitty ears flattening back in seriousness as you wrote. The first few pages after were filled with redundant doodles of the most random things- creatures, expressions, trees, a large amount of dogs and cats- but as he continued thumbing through, he began to see drawings of... himself? He narrowed his eyes and sat forward, raising a judgemental brow. They started out silly and cartoonish, but within the next few pages, he found well thought out, clean, almost realistic drawings of himself in quite the suggestive poses. He couldnt help but snicker, amused by the newfound knowledge of your apparent crush on him. The drawings of the next page were even more suggestive and lewd, but compared to what he flipped to after that, they seemed tame.

He had plans for that sketchbook. Imagining the mortified, humiliated, and impossibly embarrassed expressions youd make when he would reveal to you that he had seen the way you fantasized about his cock- the thoughts painted a sadistic smile across his face, and for the first time in a long time, he looked forward to starting a new day.

Scaramouches eyes widened and his amused expression grew as he laid eyes upon a completely pornographic drawing of himself that filled the entirety of the page- he was sitting in the very chair he sat in now, fisting his hardened cock, a scandalously pleasured expression spread over his face, and thick ropes of cum cascading over his desk. He had to admit, it was a good drawing, but all he could think about was the lustful expression and blushing cheeks you mustve had while creating such lewd art of your own boss. He wouldnt have guessed your massive crush on him even with your overly eager-to-please demeanor, only thinking his little neko assistant acted in such peculiar ways from vehement loyalty- and he found the idea to be rather entertaining. He finished flipping through your sketchbook, studying every nasty drawing you made of him and, in turn, began imagining his own dirty scenarios about making his secretly filthy assistant help him with more... physical tasks. It excited him, and he could feel his body heat up at the tought of it. Slyly chuckling to himself, the Balladeer shoved your sketchbook into the top drawer of his desk and left for the night, being sure to lock the door to his icy office so you couldnt sneak in and take back what was rightfully yours.

You, on the other hand, were not. The moment you set your satchel down in your little room, the lack of its familiar clunk sound due to your sketchbook being inside made your heart drop. You frantically searched every inch of your room, overturning and messing up every nook and cranny looking for that blasted sketchbook, but it was nowhere to be found. It was too late to go looking for it- it was past curfew, and if you were found snooping about, you would be punished and questioned. How could you possibly face another Fatui member and explain that, "Oh, im not being suspicious, dont worry! Im just desperately looking for my lost sketchbook that contains highly inappropriate art of the 6th Harbinger, my boss." You gulped hard, an overwhelming feeling of guilt creeping through your skin and into your bones as you remembered where it last was. His office. Your tail bristled and your mind began to race, panicing at the thought of what was going to happen tomorrow- surely he had seen it and flipped through the pages, infuriated that his stupid little kitty assistant was drawing porn of him. Was he going to kill you? Imprison you? Exile you to the fridgid wilds of your homeland? Archons, your heart had never beat so hard in your life. It felt like it was trying to escape your ribcage to run away and hide. However, no matter how much you stressed, there was nothing you could do except face the consequences of your actions in the morning. Your stupid, foolish actions.

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[g1rld1ary]

overheard that she was nineteen - james potter x reader

wc: 1058

cw: nothing, one swear, reader is sad on their birthday, implied fem!reader but i don't think any pronouns

chat how many aura points do i lose for crying in the literal first 20 minutes of my nineteenth birthday :/ don't think about this fic too hard or you'll see it's more of a diary entry than work of fiction oopsie :')

You weren't feeling very special. To be quite honest, your day had been totally shit. It was your birthday, your nineteenth birthday and everyone had forgotten. Well, that wasn't true exactly, but nobody cared. Your parents had barely said 'happy birthday' when you called them, and only one of your friends had texted you. A sweet message, but still kind of depressing.

You knew it shouldn't have been a big deal, no one cared about nineteen, right? Eighteen was the big birthday and you'd had a good enough day last year, so you weren't really sure why this year had brought you down so much.

Maybe it was just because your love of birthdays was never reciprocated. A person's birthday could be the most exciting day of the year, and you were of the opinion that it should be, if possible. You were the one who showed up with a hand-baked cake on your friend's doorstep, without fail. It was something you enjoyed doing undoubtedly, you spent ages picking out which colour the icing should be and what edible decorations should go on top.

On top of that, you considered your defining talent to be writing cards. It was something you took pride in, penning almost-essays that encapsulated the breadth and depth of your love for your nearest and dearest. Proclamations of never-ending adoration, gratitude for years of friendship, the insides of your heart and soul sitting amongst fresh ink and scribbled hearts. You signed your name with a heart and a flower every time. Plus, you made particular efforts to come up with a creative pun or doodle for the front, just to keep things interesting.

So birthdays were things you held in high regard, and having yours seemingly mean nothing to anyone else was a bit of a mood killer if you were being totally honest. Still, what could you do? You picked yourself up, ate an uninspiring breakfast and went to uni.

You felt more anonymous than usual in class. With the semester having started only a week prior, you were in a sea of new people, none of them having any way of knowing it was your birthday, and you weren't quite at the point where you were begging for well-wishes from people you didn't particularly care about. And so you took notes, put your hand up for the participation grade and dreamed of your own cake and candles.

By the end of the day you were exhausted. The classes were long anyway, but carrying around your own personal grey cloud was taking a toll on your body and mind. It was at the car park when your phone dinged; James.

are you coming over tonight?

please

You smiled a little despite your sour mood. Even if James didn't seem like he was fully aware of your outlook on birthdays, being with him always made you feel better.

It'd already been dark for an hour or so by the time you reached the flat he shared with the boys, the winter weather making the sun disappear at four o'clock. You knocked on his door softly, unable to pluck up the strength to even make your presence easily known. James must've been waiting for you though, since you heard the heavy pad of his feet almost instantaneously.

The sight of him nearly took your breath away, though nothing was out of the ordinary. He was still the same old James, his glasses slightly askew on his nose, but he was looking at you with such softness that you felt the tears spike behind your eyes. You tried to push them down.

"I thought we'd have a bit of an early dinner. I know you won't have eaten at uni." He took your bag, setting it by the entry table softly. You managed to nod, hopefully not giving away all your awful feelings. You tried not to be cut up that he hadn't wished you a happy birthday yet.

All of your melancholy had been for nothing, you realised, when James led you to the dining table. He'd gone the full mile, with a cheesy red tablecloth and single candle as the centrepiece.

"Happy birthday, my love," He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You couldn't help it, the tears rolling down your cheeks before you even realised. Once they started you had no chance, sobs wracking through your body as James stood beside you, bewildered.

"Is this not okay? Do you not like it?" He fretted as you cried, and you rushed to reassure him.

"I love it, Jamie, promise. It's just," You managed a half laugh through your bout of tears, "I thought no one cared. I can't believe you've done this for me." James' brow furrowed deeper than you'd ever seen it before as he pulled you into a tight hug.

"I would do anything for you, love. I mean it."

Once your tears had subsided you had a lovely dinner, James making you double over with laughter as all thoughts of your previous shit day dissolved under the weight of the homemade pasta sitting in your stomach.

Just before the night died down, James presented you with a small box, wrapped in the most beautiful silky ribbon. You glanced up at him curiously, untying it slowly. Inside was the most beautiful bracelet you'd ever seen. Connected with a heart-shaped clasp and decorated with a single charm, a love letter. You were embarrassed by the tears working their way back up to your lash line, but James looked delighted by the reaction, he lived to make you happy.

"Thank you," You whispered, "I love you."

James didn't have to say it back for you to know, but he did anyway because it made him happy.

Maybe your birthday wasn't the flashy event you might've wanted, however deep down, but you were strangely okay with it. Despite the fact that no one showed up to your door with a hand-baked cake or essay-length card, you had James, and James would've pulled the stars down from the sky if he thought it would boost your mood. That was enough.

[ganondoodle]

so, inspired by the warm welcome the captain received with that rough doodle i posted, i made an updated design for Ki'ita as well (basic and with clothes)

i removed the piercings she had bc considering that they spend the majority of their time in arctic waters i think having metal directly in your skin is a bad idea, no matter how thick your blubber is; i also gave her typical white markings a green hue bc ... i liked how it looked and makes them stand out a little more

(i will not repeat what i wrote on the post about the captain but wanted to add a bit of more info about Ki'ita herself)

(i dont have ALL of their backstory done yet but) the captain and Ki'ita worked together in another organization, one in which the father of the captains child also worked at, before being betrayed and barely managing to escape, after which the both of them founded their pirate crew (possible name is the Solar Pirates bc of their solar powered boat stuff); since the captain had her daughter shortly afterwards Ki'ita managed most of the organisational matters at first, including the construction of their base on an abandoned island they had initially fled to

over the years they invented the solar powered ships that allowed them to gain control over a large part of an important trade route, leaving normal ships (mostly) alone but attacking those of hunters and similar, rescuing demons and mutants, even some humans from them, most of which also join the crew and it quickly lead to them becoming their own little community

Ki'ita does not like to spend alot of time among large groups of people, no matter how much she cares about them, and her originally being from norther lands gave her the idea to explore, and if viable, do underground missions in those norther areas to disrupt the infrastructure the hunters had built in recent years and overall keep the crew informed about things that may otherwise stay hidden; with each of their travels her time absent from the base increased but the patience of the captain is wearing thin so its likely a serious talk is underway on Ki'itas third solo mission she nearly died due to entanglement in abandoned nets made by hunters from an unknown material that she could not break, the massive scars on her tail especially come from that, only surviving bc the date they were supposed to return to the crew had passed and the captain grew to worried about her and made the entire crew rush into an emergency search, including the captain herself and her toddler, who were not suited for the cold climate just like the rest of crew, taking a huge risk that Ki'ita still feels ashamed of for causing; they stayed within the base for a whole year afterwards, not just to recover but also as a silent apology, taking time preparing herself to ensure theyd not get into a situation like that again

(before departing on their next mission the captain gifted her a sword with the blade made from the material of the net, a wooden handle, bc of the cold, and a blue wrap around it reminiscent of the captains striking blue teeth; a reminder of what had happened, a means to defend herself when their strength and teeth are not enough, and also a promise to always return again)

the oldest members of the crew know Ki'ita well and treat her like an old friend, among the newer members she has more of a .. cryptic status, the mysteriously absent vice-captain who only appears every few months or so out of thin air, throws a big party, sleeps for a few days and then vanishes again, the only hint to when they will return soon again being the captain getting noticably grumpier

(OC art, Ki'ita, she/they)

[sepptember]

𝐃𝐄𝐖𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 :: miles morales

pairing :: miles morales x gn!reader.

content warning(s) :: none!

sypnosis :: miles is spending the evening with you, the tv playing in the background. he decides you look pretty on paper. requested here.

word count :: 0.587k

Miles loves rainy days, but he loves them more with you—the soft hum of your tv playing as your fairy lights add a soft warmth to your bedroom, the rain drumming against the window.

You look beautiful, undone for the night, wearing the matching pajamas you insisted on buying the both of you. He loves seeing you relaxed. He loves the calm you bring after a long day that he melts into. He loves you.

And maybe that's what compels him to grab his sketchbook from his backpack, taking out his pencils and markers. He takes in the details of your face, following the edges of your nose, your eyes glowing in the reflection of your lights and the tv. He copies every one of them on the paper. You occupy numerous pages in his sketchbook already—what’s wrong with another?

It's rough at first, a loose sketch of the more vague pieces of you and the window in the background. Miles takes in the different colors, the warmth of the room bouncing off your skin, and the changing colors of the scenes, and he mimics them with his pencils and markers.

Miles steals you from the world. He swiftly curls your image into his fingers and lays you flat on the paper, carefully tucking you away before the world can steal you back. He will have that peaceful picture of you forever, and Miles wants the world to be jealous of that. He wants it to envy him for being able to keep that exact moment of you forever because the world only got it for a second.

The show is a few more episodes in when he finishes—you've changed positions, your head resting on your mountain of stuffed animals and blankets, but he still managed to copy you perfectly.

“Miles,” You say, his eyes moving from his sketchbook and up to you. Your eyes are slightly droopy, your voice just slightly a grumble. “What're you drawing?”

The way you say drawing makes him feel like a kindergartener with crayons. Suddenly, his art has become a scribbled stick figure. “Just a doodle.”

“Can I see?” You ask, and it feels like it'd be illegal to say no—even though he knows you'd completely understand if you did. He hands you the open book with a hint of embarrassment. He's sketched you so many times before but rarely shows them to you. He worries you'll think they're terrible.

You grab it as if it will tear at the seams if you're not delicate, but you beam when you finally see the page. You pull it onto your lap, taking in every little detail, completely mesmerized in a way Miles wasn't expecting.

“Oh my god,” You say, the smile growing, and Miles wants to copy that onto paper, too. “This is amazing, Miles. Really.”

He can't help the way he smiles at your compliment. It's an ego booster, almost. His parents have showered him with comments about his creativity, but they've never affected him much because they're his parents. Yet when you say it, it's something completely different. He values your opinion and cradles every comment you have close to his heart. “Do you have more? Not one of me! Just more art you'd be okay with letting me see.”

“You can flip through all of it. I don't mind.” He says, scooting closer to you. You grin again, and he swears it's the prettiest thing in the world, and he knows it will look just as pretty on paper.

reblogs > likes!! thank you for reading. <3 requests are open!

[critterbitter]

I finally got all my brain ducks into enough of a row to send this! I just wanted to say that Tumblr recommended your art to me on a whim, and I am actually OBSESSED now lol. I had no prior investment in Submas or anything tangentially related to it prior to this (aside from liking Pokémon generally lol), but I couldn’t help but tear through everything you’ve drawn for these silly little rat children and I love them so much now!!! I wanna pick them up and shake him around like little action figures! The shenanigans and the heartfelt moments are just,, UGH so good! I have no words! Thank you for the food I am going FERAL over them <3

Your art is also high key goals for me now tbh. I absolutely ADORE your coloring and rendering style, and also they way you draw Pokémon in general?? Very animalistic but still recognizably Pokémon?? Literally galaxy brained. I’m going to SCREAM. I know you already posted a bit of your art process, but I’d love to know if you’ve got any rendering tips and/or how you get that clean but sketchy look. It looks so good I want to eat it lol.

(Also I really love the way you’ve been formatting Elesa’s dialog, with the extra lines around the letters. It really gives the vibe that her grasp on Galarian is currently shaky at best and idk, I like that you’ve managed to find a way to convey that over text. I think that’s pretty cool :D)

I SAW YOU REBLOG A WHOLE BUNCH AND IM,,, (throwing hearts at you)

Thank you so so much! I’m glad you love these terrible little guys wandering Unova just as much as I do, haha!

As a treat, lemme pull out some drafting for the mini illustrations. I usually start every snapshot with a run down of what I remember from the area, possible shenanigans encountered, and then a doodle of ideas to come.

From there, it’s a SUPER rough sketch, followed by lineart and rough color, and then cleanup!

(More thumbs and their finals below!)

At the end of the day, all my lines are VERY sketchy. I’m a lot stronger when it comes to mashing colors. That, and if you set your line layer from normal to multiply, the lines will always be automatically darker then whatever layer is placed underneath. It’s a trick used quite a bit for placing cel shadows in animation, but it’s useful for lineart in a pinch.

For colors, I like to stick to a limited pallet and branch out only after setting my primary colors. This entire series has been very experimental for me though, as you can probably tell.

As for the last bit— YES… YOU GET IT! As Elesa grows, the lines in her dialogue will start appearing less and less. It’s the little things that map the span of time for these guys.

Yippee!

[bitterbutblue]

Is it possible to request.. maybe Robin x reader things…?

Because i have ALOT of ideas 😞

the heartbreak time could never mend ☆ robin x fem!reader

~ so i decided to do a more angst route.. sorry anon T-T

robin falls in love with a civilian, but it's not what they want .. um i hope this doesnt hurt too bad

song: cornelia street - taylor swift ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

The letter that laid in front of her had been taunting her the moment she got home. She felt her throat close up, eyes stinging with unshed tears when she spots your familiar handwriting on top. Her heart has been aching to push itself out of her body, threatening to spill its own blood on the ground from the day she told you she didn't love you anymore. You remember that day too vividly, you remember that day every night you try to sleep and every morning when you wake up to the empty bed. You remember it too well because you remembered nothing ever being lead up to the point where she decided she no longer loved you.

"What the fuck do you mean, Robin?"

She had her back facing you, her halovian wings tucked in- a sign of agitation.

"I said I don't love you anymore."

Her voice was quiet, too calm for your own liking. She spoke as if it was just factual, as if you hadn't spent the past three years of your lives being each other's most important person.

"I don't want to do this anymore."

The world began spinning ever so slightly as you gripped at the edge of the table, trying to steady yourself. Your breathing grew more and more unsteady. You took in deep breaths, trying to calm that ache in your heart.

"Why?" Was all you could manage out "Why not?"

"Because I've fallen out of love."

Fallen out of love. It happens to people, more often or not. But you swear on your life that Robin had not fallen out of love because you still see the way she looks at you when you run into her on your way back home. You see through her civilian disguise, because you'd spot those eyes from anywhere. In a sea of people you'd recognise those eyes of hers and every time she looks at you and you only, she has the look reminiscent of a view of a harbour late at night. She has the look reminiscent of a heartbeat as one lays on their lover's chest- deep and sincere.

You still see that look in her eyes. You saw it the day you stormed out of her house, you see it the day you came back to get your stuff. You see it when you spot her walking down the streets and you know she hasn't fallen out of love. You know she hasn't fallen out of love because she looks at you with nothing but regret and pain, unspoken words and promises that beg to be let out. Eyes are just a simple human organ, made for us to see- yet eyes can hold more emotions than you could've ever processed and you learned this when she looked at you right before you left. Her facade dropped for just a bit and you see the gut-wrenching pain and regret that hits her almost immediately as soon as you opened the door. She opened her mouth, as if wanting to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead you watch her in silence for a moment, tears finally falling, before turning around and slamming the door shut.

You first fell for her because you worked at a cafe she really liked going to, and she noticed you because 1. you were absolutely stunning, and 2. you always drew the cutest little doodles and notes on her cup that had her swooning. She always talked to Sunday about 'that pretty barista who makes her drink the best' and Sunday had always urged her to talk to you. When she did finally approach you, you didn't recognise her as the idol Robin. You just gratefully accepted her request and she had never felt more light. She never understood what it meant to walk on Cloud 9 until you.

You finally connected the dots- why Robin never wanted to see you outside of her or your home, and why she always wore such dark clothing and sunglasses when she was out. You didn't care, you were just worried about her safety and you told her that if it was safer for you two to break up than to jeopardise her career, then you would be okay with ending things.

That was the day she fell more in love with you- more than ever. That was the day she wanted to be by your side forever.

That was the day she lied, the day she told you she would always put you over her career.

You loved her, you still do. You love her like she's the air you breathe, and you love her like a flame loves the cold air of the night. You loved her too much and too dearly and whenever you love someone too much it always come back to get you.

You remember the day she said those three words. It was on your bed, her laying in your arms after a long day of dealing with performances and fans, paparazzi and newspapers. You hold her close and you hold her tight. She nudged her head into the crook of your neck so that she laid on your chest. She let out a content sigh at the sound of your heartbeat.

"I love you."

You felt your own heart beating faster at her words and she giggled.

"Your heartbeat just sped up."

"I know."

You couldn't stop the embarrassment in your voice as she lets out a laugh that sounds akin to the sun rising over the city for a new day. Robin wraps her arms around you tightly, pressing a kiss to your neck, right at your pulse point.

"I love you, and I'll love you forever."

She sobbed in her bed for god knows how long after the door slams shut. She couldn't even call Sunday because she couldn't move without every fibre in her body burning from the pain that had spread from her heart. She sobbed until she couldn't speak and her eyes were hurting from how dry they had gone. She held her pillow tight against her chest to try to calm that ache that spread with each thump but it doesn't dull. It doesn't and it never will.

"Robin?"

"Hm?"

"Check the articles I sent you."

Her heart dropped. Whenever Sunday called her to say that it's almost never good news. She hung up immediately, clicking onto the article in the link he sent and she felt everything just come to a halt.

Robin spotted on the streets with a woman?

Robin coming out as a LESBIAN?

Idol Robin seen holding hands with a WOMAN!

Her phone hit the ground, clattering as she ran to the bathroom. She felt the sickening churn of her stomach as she knelt over the toilet bowl. Her own vision began to blur, the corners going white. Her worst nightmare was happening and it's happening in real time.

"Baby?"

You rush up to her side, panic filling you as you kneel down next to her. You take in the tears in her eyes, the paleness of her face and how she could barely breathe.

"I can't-"

"What's wrong?"

"Stay with me."

You write her a long letter, and you never had the courage to give it to her until weeks after she ended things with you. You blanked out as you were writing, and you weren't even sure if you were making sense as you wrote out what you were feeling. It was a series of emotions, incoherent words stuck together, held together by your anger, your despair. You want her to read it but you also want her to never contact you about it, ever.

You had finally pieced together why she ended things one day after you opened social media to find a post about Robin. You felt your own throat close up as you read the post. Beloved Robin is a lesbian? Fans enraged, netizens demand-

You threw your phone across the room, not caring about the damage you had done (though you did deeply regret it after). You felt your breathing get more and more ragged. She couldn't even talk to you about it. She didn't even come out with the truth about what happened because if she had just talked to you, you would've understood, goddammit. Instead she lied, she lied and she pretends and she smiles for the camera.

It's unclear what hurts more- her lie or the promise she broke. She swore to love you even if everyone was against her yet in her core, she is an idol. In her core, she is not willing to jeopardise her relationship for anything. You never should've believed her in the first place and fuck, you were foolish for believing her.

She smiles for the camera every day, she sings her songs and she greets the crowds with her award winning, bright and cheerful smile. She addresses the rumours and that's what kills you.

Regarding the rumours about your sexuality, what do you have to say to that?

I would like to clarify that those rumours are false- I am not queer or part of the LGBTQ+ community. The person in the images that have been circulating around is just a good friend of mine- a friend since childhood. I never liked to openly talk about my sexuality but I do not think my sexuality should be a topic discussed so openly. What I do in my private life should be kept to me and my loved ones.

Bullshit.

Robin had told you in secrecy, she doesn't like men. She doesn't and she never has been interested in men. You wouldn't betray her trust and out her of course but fuck it hurt to see her do the exact thing she promised you she would never do.

It hurt so much.

-

Dear Robin,

I don't know how to start this letter, I don't know how to write exactly what it is I feel and what it is I want to even say but there is so much I never conveyed to you that night that I feel like I want you to know before we part ways forever.

You were the first girl I truly loved, and I hope you know that. I know you will move on one day, and I hope when you move on you are more confident in yourself. I hope you have the guts to fucking keep your promise you told me with your future girlfriend and that you don't hurt them like you hurt me. Did you have to be such a coward? Did you have to lie to me about not loving me anymore? If you had just told me the truth it would've hurt less- yet you break two promises with this act of yours. Is it that important for you to maintain this image? Is it worth losing what we had and the future we were planning to build together?

All I have left is the remains of what you promised me and the remains of myself I have to pick up because of how you've left me. I can't walk down the stairs without thinking about that time you were waiting for me there with my favourite flowers. I can't walk into the kitchen without thinking about the day you surprised me by cooking breakfast for me on my birthday despite your busy schedule. I will hurt forever, and I will stay hurt for god knows how long.

A part of me will always be changed, and you will always be a part of me because I myself am an amalgamation of our love and of you now. My sense of self is also tied to you, my sense of identity is engrained to you and I despise that. I despise how a part of me is forever shaped by you. I want to lose every part of you forever because I love you so much. I love you so much and it hurts to know that you will still be a part of me but you will never be with me again. I've never asked much of you, and I don't think I am a selfish person but please just let me be selfish for once- I just want to keep your love, I want to keep you.

i just want you to be proud of who you are. I want you to not have to hide in shame and I hope you stop hiding one day because I know it hurts you too.

Signed,

Yours truly

-

Dearest,

You will probably never see this letter, and I may just burn this after I write it.

You were my first love too. I never opened myself up to anyone but you caught me with open arms. I never thought I would be so heads over heels for you but the more I got to know you the deeper in love I fell. I knew it was a risk to ask you out and I took that risk because I love you. I want you to be in my life forever but I also want you to know that I'm scared.

I know it's not fair of me to ask you to understand, but I just want to protect you from the media. Selfishly, I put myself first. Selfishly, I couldn't let myself love you because I was scared of what would happen if the media truly found out about you.

I love you, I still do. I wake up every day wishing you were by my side but I need to learn the fact that I had let you go. I had let you go for my own sake and I regret it, I really do. But I don't think it's right for me to come back, to come begging.

I don't think I can love someone as well as I loved you. I think the way I love in the future will forever be influenced by you too.

I will try to be braver for you, I hope you see me on the screens one day and remember us, and how you are the reason why I shine brighter than the stars of the Penacony nights.

I love you, forever and always.

Signed,

Robin.

-

"What can I get for you today-"

You feel your heart come to a stop when you see the customer that stands in front of you. You recognised those eyes from anywhere, even if it had been years. You had moved to a new city, gotten a new job at a new cafe. And here she stands, no disguise, nothing. Her eyes widen too, jaw dropping slightly. You feel your heart sink when you notice the shorter girl that stands next to her.

The girl that holds her hand tight.

"I'll have a hot chocolate!"

The girl with silvery-blonde hair smiles brightly, her eyes were this beautiful mix of ocean blue and pink that you found yourself getting lost in. Her eyes reflect nothing but kindness, Robin's eyes reflect nothing but pain.

"I'll have a flat white."

Robin's voice is quiet, slightly strained. You just nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat as you click a few buttons on the screen.

"Cash or card?"

"Card, please."

You take a deep breath in, trying to steady your voice.

"Can I have a name?"

Robin swallows.

"Robin."

"Great-" You try to stop your voice from cracking "I'll have your drinks up soon, Ms. Robin."

You turn around quickly. You had to do something else- going to work on the drinks because you could feel the tears threatening to spill. You distract yourself with the loud sounds of the milk frother, the sounds of coffee being dispensed. You take another deep breath in, hands clutching at the countertops as you try to steady yourself and to stop the tears from falling. You reach up, dabbing away at the tears quickly before heading back to work. You pour the drinks into the cup, putting the lids on before ringing up the pair. To your dismay, Robin comes up instead. You notice how her eyes drift down to the sides of the cup, face falling slightly when she notices that the sides of the cups are empty. No names, no doodles, nothing.

"Thank you."

Her voice cracks slightly as she takes the cup. You finally bring your gaze up, making eye contact for the first time in years and you feel your heart clench as you let out an choked gasp. You see the tears that form in her eyes, the tears that mirrors yours.

Please, say something.

"Have a good day."

Pause.

Anything.

"You too."

And she turns around, like a stranger resuming their day- your moments in history, pushed back into the past.

[drapopia]

like a doll's eyes (papa emeritus iv x reader)

pairing: papa emeritus iv x gender neutral reader

warnings: suggestive jokes

summary: After the most exhausting week in a while, you and Copia decide to cuddle up. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Copia is ravenous.

word count: 1.2k

authors note: first time writing for copia like this! i am a little anxious to post this, but when am i not? anywho, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! requests and inbox are also open, so send a message if you feel so inclined! love ya'll <3

--------------

“Can you please pass me the cheese doodles?” 

“Cheese doodles? You mean cheese puffs?” 

“Do not scold me on words, cara/o.” 

You scoff incredulously, smiling to yourself. “Y’know, I get mad when you call yourself old, but you’re really showing your age with the usage of cheese doodle.” You lean over, grabbing the large tub of cheese puffs you had managed to snatch earlier from the dining hall. Usually you had to bring it back to the kitchens by morning, but Copia had some privileges. Such privileges included regular use of Clergy cars, first pick of seating at Black Mass, and apparently all the cheese puffs you wanted. You used to wonder just how he managed to get all of his Juicy Juices. The answer was that nobody had the guts to stop Papa from raiding the snack cabinets.

You hold the tub to your side, popping off the lid and setting in on the coffee table. Copia was currently leaning against you, his head against your tucked in knees. His hand was around your leg, petting it absentmindedly. His hands were degloved, though you couldn’t tell much of a difference through the lounge pants you had on, as well as the throw blanket tossed over your legs. Copia’s room tended to run cold, even during the winter. 

You lean over, turning over to see him lift his head up and look up at you. He had taken off his paints, the only hint of them ever being there was the small amount of black that had collected in the inner points of his eyes. His lips have a faint glossy sheen, the lip balm you had given him as a gift surely working its magic. Your hands dip into the tub and pull one brilliantly crunchy puff, retreating out of the tub and remaining pinned between your pointer finger and thumb. 

Copia looks at you, his head laid against your knee. His mouth opens, his hand leaving your leg and pointing towards his mouth. “Here, please. Thank you.” He says quietly, his tone teasing. 

You pull your hand back away from him slightly, cheese ball still between your fingers. “Didn’t you just brush your teeth before we started the movie?” Right now the two of you are watching Jaws, the heat of summer making you both yearn for a good summer spook. While you have been paying some attention, the both of you had been inclined to spend this time luxuriating in the quiet of Copia’s room. While it hadn’t been the most busy week, the days seemed to move slower than molasses in the blistering heat. Every minute of this week had drug on, leaving you with a deep exhaustion that only a night with your lovely Papa can cure. 

“Yes, I did, but now I am wanting a cheese doodle. I can just brush them again.” He shrugged, a small grin lighting up his face. You can’t help but notice just how deep the circles are under his eyes in the glow of the tv screen. 

You hum, trying to hide the smile desperately attempting to make itself known. “Is it safe to brush your teeth twice in one night? Won’t you get, like, fluoride poisoning?”

He frowns, a contemplative look passing over his eyes. “Hmm, I am not so sure. Maybe if I swallow my toothpaste?” 

You purse your lips questioningly, dangling the cheese ball over him. “And do you do that?” 

He scoffs, his lips turning up into a small smile, clearly satisfied with where this is going. “Nope, I have not done this. Maybe as a kid, I remember the bubblegum one was enjoyable.” 

You chuckle and mercifully decide to take pity on him, and the cheese ball descends, quickly popping into Copia’s mouth with a resounding crunch. He swallows quickly, his body rising from your knee to look at you at face level. “Hm, thank you cara. I am thinking that Papa needs more, will you give me another one please?” 

You giggle, meeting his gaze with an exaggerated look of surprise. “You’re going to turn into a cheese puff yourself at this rate.” 

Copia chuckles, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek, his lips soft and slightly sticky against your skin. While distracted by his sweet gesture, his hands come to grasp around your hips, pulling you towards him on the couch. His kisses continue, pressed slowly against your face. 

“I can be a cheese puff, I do not care about this. Would you eat me?” He whispers softly, his arms finally holding you around your middle. You giggle, no longer being able to ignore the feathery kisses that are quite honestly, starting to tickle you in the most pleasant way. 

“Is this some weird roleplay?” You whisper back, feeling his lips curl into a grin against the skin of your neck. You start to relax into his arms, his skin warm against where your sweatshirt has ridden up. He sighs, hot puffs of warmth into your deliciously soft skin. 

“Eh, maybe. I would not want to be a cheese doodle, maybe an Oreo. The makeup, si?” He says plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

You can’t hold in the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, and neither can he. You relax against the shoulder of the couch, Copia falling onto your stomach with a small puff of air. You raise your hands, running them through the brown and silver that captivates you every day. It’s getting a bit long, you notice, and make a note to yourself to ask if he wants to schedule an appointment with his hairstylist. But for now you’ll enjoy the way the softness of it feels against your palms.

Copia sighs, and his shoulders relax at your kind touch. He would not give this up, not for anything. The feeling of your body against his is a balm to his heart, the thing he looks forward to curling up against at the end of the day. He doesn’t want to remember a time before he had heard your jokes, the way you giggle against his neck, the way you say his name so sweetly. 

“You are so soft.” He mumbles, his cheek nestled against your stomach. 

You smile, the feeling of absolute adoration you can never avoid when you’re with him making itself known. “And you’re sweet.” You whisper. You watch his eyes go from half lidded to closed, his eyelids flickering at the lights of the TV screen. Jaws has been long forgotten, Quint is hanging halfway out of the shark's jaws in a lifeless heap as it slides back into the deep. 

Your hands gingerly leave his hair, where they let the tub sit on the ground, not caring about the lid. You can feel yourself slip into the sleep you’ve desperately needed, the warm weight of Copia pulling you away from reality. Your hands return, relocating to his shoulders and resting there. His breath has evened out to nasally snores, soft wheezy rasps that surprisingly have never bothered you, only endeared him further to you. 

“Love you.” You whisper, your eyes slipping closed as the movie continues, Copia does not respond, but the way his arms wrap around your middle so softly and the way his cheek presses further into your tummy only makes your heart clench in a way you’ve only ever felt for him, and will remain so.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Ghostface! Ellie Williams and Ghostface! Abby Anderson with a chubby fem s/o

+ featuring some slight yandere and explicit themes (these are dating headcanons to specify)

A/n: Hi again lovelies! I didn't expect the last one to blow up so quickly so I'm back to writing, honestly every note, like and reblog encourages me to do more and do better so thank you for that. I honestly didn't expect to write something a bit gory after writing mostly fluff so this'll be interesting. Reminder English is not my first language and I'm trying my best, I hope you enjoy:)

I'll possibly add more in the future if I have ideas :3

Meet my cousin y'all: @rabblebite

Disclaimers/Warnings: Slight yandere like behavior???, violence, gore, knife kink, gun kink, stalking, suggestive themes and language. Characters may be a bit OOC (but you already know this, it's ghostface)(the chubby part is just a little add on so there's actually not that many headcanons regarding that)

If you wish to be tagged, please comment that you want to be or follow so that you'll be updated also: Rules for requests

Ellie Williams dating inspired playlist made by me

Ellie Williams

The first time you met Ellie was a bit of a blur. Let me elaborate...

You were new at the school, first day and all that cliche shit. Bell rings, you run to class. You found yourself in a seat next to a girl, auburn hair and freckles. A few times throughout the class you made eye contact and smiled a few times.

What you didn't know was that Ellie was already freaking out, can you really blame her? A pretty girl sits next to her and smiles at her, not only that but you even offered her a mechanical pencil because hers was flimsy and the led kept breaking on her. She thought you completely forgot about the pencil but did you really?

This was the start of her obsession over you.

After that day she stalked you non-stop, she knew everything. She even kept a small journal, writing down what you did and how she felt about it after.

Her sketchbooks were filled with you, aside from a few other things it was mostly you. There's at least 2-3 doodles on each page of either you or your name on her sketchbook.

May or may not have carved your initials on her guitar before you even started dating.

That mechanical pencil you gave her, she kept it, barely even used it after that so she can keep something of yours.

When she managed to get enough courage to talk to you again, she tried giving you the pencil back in guilt but you refused. You told her to keep it and did that woman worship that pencil.

You got invited to her friend group, which are Dina and Jesse and out of all of them, she hang out with you the most.

After a while, Ellie felt confident enough to ask you out and a sigh of relief for her when you said yes.

She has polaroid of you lying around everywhere in her room, you even stuck some on the edge of your mirror and locker so she'd see it.

Your pet names including: princess, bunny, sweet thing and pretty girl.

The night you found out Ellie was Ghostface was the time you were walking at the street just minding your business when you were pulled in an alleyway but some creepy 50 something year old hobo.

You kicked him off of you and tried to run and the man tried to chase after you. Only to have his mouth covered by a white cloth and stabbed in the back. Hastily running, you got pulled back by the black cloaked stranger and before you could scream, she took off her mask.

"Ellie?" You whisper in fear, you saw her drop her knife and hug you.

You were still in shock, after all you just found out your girlfriend killed someone, rather a lot of people.

"[Name]? Are you alright? He didn't touch you anywhere did he?" She asked, seemingly forgetting she was still wearing her ghostface get up. Lucky for you that you kicked him off before anything else happened.

You two talked it out and you understand her motive behind all of the killings however that doesn't take away from the fact that you're terrified of what consequences await her if she was ever to get caught.

Ellie is aware of what might happen when she gets caught so she does everything she can to make sure you are not in any way, shape or form involved if she was caught.

Even if it means for her to forever rot in prison, she'd rather keep you away than endanger you for being a witness or even a suspect.

She heard about you being flirted with and inappropriately touched by some Chad. After a few days he was spotted, gutted open at the school tree hanging by his clothes.

She'd definitely think it's adorable to see you with the ghostface get up, it's specifically tailored to her size so seeing it on you with the trim dragging on the ground makes her thing of like the ghost costumes with just a white blanket and she just thinks you're such an angel, too pure even.

I just can't stop imagining her with a knife kink, though she doesn't actually cut you with it. She loves the way you whimper and squirm when she presses the cold blade on your plush skin.

She gets off on blood, that being said once she's with you and you already know about the killings, she can't just let it slide.

Someone else's blood on your skin makes her feel all sorts of things. (You may or may have engaged in sexual things after her gutting people up)

Clean up after that is a bit of work so there's that.

Seeing you in lingerie and blood would make her lose all self control.

If you were to accidentally kill someone, she would not only help you clean up but she'll also take responsibility for the kill. She made it look like ghostface did it.

If you were to decide to join in the killings, she'd let you but with moderation.

For example she'll let you make the decision on who to kill or strategize the killings. Before you could even suggest someone who wronged you, they're already 6ft under believe me. Ellie easily picks up on how you feel about someone and it's not like you don't tell her.

She'd also let you watch the killings, either hidden or disguised but that's just how far she'll go. She doesn't want you to actually be the one to do the killing cause she's too paranoid you'll do something that'll cause you to get caught.

Abby Anderson

You met at the basketball court while you were sitting at the bleachers because let's be real here, Abby is a total jock and athlete, she seems like she'd be a gym rat too. (Without the red flags of one though)

You were sitting with your friends Dina and Jesse while you guys just catched up since the past week has been hectic, you even went so far as to gossip and think of conspiracies on who has been responsible for the reported killings by the killer they named ghostface. You looked at your phone, looking at the messages when you flinched, almost getting hit by a ball.

You open your eyes shortly to see Abby Anderson, the school's lesbian jock, who by the way is holding the ball that almost hit you. Anderson muttered an apology on behalf of her teammate who mistakenly threw the ball at your direction.

You told her it was fine and that it was and honest mistake when you know damn well you would've been far more upset if that ball actually hit you.

Abby just couldn't stop staring at you, I mean could you blame her? She felt like a knight and shinning armour when she just saved a pretty girl from a potential head injury.

She snapped back to reality when she heard her teammate say "Hey Anderson! Stop flirting with pretty girls and pass that ball back will you" Abby was a bit flustered by that comment because all and all she agreed to it.

On Abby's desk is carved your name and initials, she has gotten detention over it though I don't think the school is aware of how many desks have your name carved on them.

It took a while but Abby finally did ask you out, she approached you while you were taking a few things out of your locker. "So uhh, do you want to go out with me? On a date I mean..." She asked with her hand rubbing her neck, Abby was bracing herself for rejection.

You had to do a bit of a double take because the Abby Anderson is asking you out? You said yes obviously.

May or may not have stalked you before asking you out to find out everything you like to set up the perfect date.

Abby definitely has a polaroid of you both is her locker and gym locker. (There's one in her wallet too 🥺)

Your nicknames are: my cheerleader (because she knows damn well you've been to all her games and was there to cheer her on), baby, babe and pretty girl

You only found out that she's ghostface because she couldn't take it anymore and told you after seeing that you're scared of ghostface potentially threatening your life.

Poor baby was so worried you'd think insane if her after, let's just say she ended up loving you more for accepting the fact and understanding the reason behind the killings. (let's be real here any normal person would but not you)

When you first asked to play a part in the killings, Abby disagreed, no way in hell was she letting her girl be in danger both of the police and whatever else is out there.

She hates the idea of you going to jail more than she hates the idea of getting caught and facing the consequences.

But if you really want to then like Ellie she'd let you but with limitations. You're only ever allowed to watch when you are disguised and she'll let you stab a few every now and then.

Abby with a gun kink, Abby with a gun kink, Abby with a gun kink. Watch her get turn on when you flinch from the clicks whenever she pulls the trigger.

Despite Abby hating horror movies, she sure made a hell of a good killer.

[anonymouspuzzler]

Haha Whoops Uh Oh! (UPDATED 6/11/23)

so this isn't the type of post I normally like to make, but! uh! hey! I just got ambushed by a HUGE tuition bill I wasn't expecting, and I'm out of options to pay it - they've already applied my scholarship and loans, I'm already working multiple jobs that are basically just barely paying for rent + groceries, and I only have enough on my credit card to pay for One of the three payments they're requiring, which only gets me through till July (with, again, no options that get me that amount of money by that time).

further full disclosure, this bill came at like, the worst possible time - they've given me four days to make at minimum the first payment (which, again, I can only do by maxing out my credit card), and on top of juggling multiple jobs I'm also in the middle of two classes, including one which involves upcoming travel (that is already paid for, thank god). Hence, me Scrambling a li'l bit!!

as such, I've set a new goal on my ko-fi!! it is, of course, HUGE, but genuinely any small amount people are able to contribute goes a huge way to giving me SOME way to pay it off. note that 3-coffee doodle requests are still A Thing, commissions are still a thing (if you have one active I'll be getting to them this & next week), and I'll be streaming wherever I can to pull together money that way - wherever it comes, any support is HUGE and I mean that.

UPDATE 6/11/23: I am updating the original post to remove the ko-fi link and yet you fine folks know: HOLY HECK, y'all managed to get my tuition dealt with. words truly cannot express my gratitude for that - I'm so, so, SO humbled and thankful for everyone who came out to get me out of a really rough situation.

in the slightest, smallest attempt to pay forward the kindness i've been shown, I'm gonna try and use this moment to direct y'alls attention to some other folks I know who could use some kindness! hardly comprehensive, in no particular order, just top-of-my-mind type type beat. (note that these are all folks' twitter handles - some of 'em are on tumblr too, but I figure best to direct you to where I know they are 100%!)

@/Pochiyaki is a friend & artist who's been trying to get out of a bad money situation a while, and could definitely use some love!

@/rudeboimonster is similarly a dear friend who's been struggling to find long-term work and housing, anything you got would help.

Or, considering supporting the work of a creative you love! A few I've been loving lately that I'd recommend:

@/cosmignon (Runaway Draikana webcoming, and other comics and illustration work)

@/SynthCharmVA (voicework & writing/show development)

@/Tonya_Song (music - including vocals, piano and composition - plus education and activism work)

@/jaypg_art (character design, visdev, and illustration)

@/littlegoodfrog (Matchmaker and other comics)

@/winonaparadise (Girls With Horns and other comics/illustration work)

@/derekmballard (comics, including the upcoming Cartoonshow graphic novel)

@/_PartyCoffin_ (Welcome Home, and just about every art form you can conceive of)

and of course, if you're not following & supporting my amazing partner @/hollowtones, who helped me through this tough situation in every possible way - well you ought to be!! a delight and talent in every imaginable way, and I'm only a little biased on that.

and above all else... THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!!!!

[alatushours]

☆ TENDER MOMENTS, genshin men — little things they do that never fail to make your heart flutter.

contents. features xiao, albedo, scaramouche & kazuha. established relationships. gender neutral reader. modern au. lots of fluff ! ! kinda crack in scara’s part lol tw. implied insomnia in xiao’s part ♡ word count. 594

notes. hi there, welcome back! thank you for all of the likes on my previous ‘enchanted’ piece, i appreciate it <3 here’s a little drabble with some of my favorite genshin short kings ! ! all of them are 5’3” except xiao WHO IS AN INCH SHORTER :sobs: how could hoyoverse do that to my baby >_< it’s okay xiao will always be taller in my heart 😍

xiao always answers your calls. no matter what time of day it is or what he’s in the middle of doing, he will always pick up the phone.

whenever you facetime him at two in the morning because you can’t sleep, the first thing he says when he accepts the call is, “do you want me to come over?”

before long you’re huddled up in bed with your head against your boyfriend's chest, his tattooed arms snug around your waist. “is this better?” xiao jokes, pulling the blankets tighter around your bare shoulders.

“much better,” you say, burying yourself deeper in the crook of his neck. “i love you.” the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the feeling of his fingers stroking your hair is enough to make your fall fast asleep soon after.

xiao smiles and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. “sweet dreams, my love.”

albedo always takes the time to make you lunch to bring to work in the mornings. your health is his number one priority, and he wants to make sure you always having something healthy and filling to eat.

he’s always been an early riser, so it fits perfectly within his morning routine to pack you lunch. it’ll be something different every day; some days it’s a signature mondstadt salad, and other days it might be an inazuma-style bento box, like the one you said you wanted to try when you saw it at the grocery store with him.

sometimes you’ll wake up and go down to the kitchen to find him in the middle of preparing your lunch; he’ll kiss you good morning as he cuts up apple slices.

when you wake up on your afternoon shift days, you’ll notice the neatly packed container of food sitting on the kitchen counter, along with a bottle of water and a handwritten sticky note on the box’s lid with be sure to eat. i love you. -albedo

scaramouche supports you on all of your social media platforms. as a former internet influencer, he shows his love by helping you grow more popular.

one day, all of scara’s instagram followers were shocked when they saw the “0 following” turn into “1 following.” that one person, was you. not long after that, he posted a new story full of silly pictures of you and him, captioned “i wanna punch them (with my lips).”

scaramouche’s contact name for you is “my idiot 🖤” and though he’ll never admit it, he’s always stealing a glance at his phone to check if you texted him or not.

the moment you type “hi” he’ll respond with “what do you want” 0.000012875 seconds after you sent it. you’re always shocked, “how do you reply so fast ??” and then he leaves you on read 💀

kazuha leaves little notes for you everywhere. in between the pages of your notebook, stuck to the bathroom mirror, on top of your laptop.

the notes are short, but always so sweet; things like “i left a little surprise for you :)” with a handmade gift or a cheesy joke such as “are you the sun? because my whole world revolves around you. ;D”

he’ll always draw adorable little doodles of cats and leaves on the notes, and maybe even write a love poem for you if there’s enough space.

every note always manages to bring a smile to your face; you keep all of his notes in a mini album to carry around with you, so whenever you’re away or feeling sad you can take it out and read his sweet, loving words.

ending notes. and there you have it! this was so much less stressful than enchanted but it still took me a few days to finish it :/ sorry for the late night post but this was very cute and much easier to write, so i hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing ! ! ♡

© alatushours 2023. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[snail-noodle]

I would love a butter roll x reader hcs! Your writing is so good!

you got it ;] man deserves all the love!

Butter Roll Cookie x Reader

♡ You had been one of the many scientists that the Cookies of Darkness had kidnapped for their insane project: To bake the perfect cookie!

Obviously, all of you were scared out of your minds, unsure if you should all obey or make a run for it. Before anyone could make a move, a cookie stepped forward with clear eagerness, a big smile on his face. His eyes shined with excitement and curiosity at such an ambitious idea. "When do we start?"

♡ Thus began the experiment. Each scientist was given a role to help run the operation as smoothly as possible. You yourself were assigned as Butter Roll Cookie's assistant. As worried as you were about working for the Cookies of Darkness, Butter Roll Cookie's optimism and reassuring words lifted your spirits greatly.

Baking the perfect cookie? Heck, even you couldn't hide your excitement at achieving something that no cookie has ever managed to do!

♡ You were still new in the scientific field, but fret not! Butter Roll Cookie is there to help you if you're confused or make a mistake. Sometimes, you call for his help, but other times, it seems as if he can already sense when you're having trouble.

"How did you know?!" You stared at him in shock as he easily resolved the mixture you had been struggling with.

He couldn't help but laugh at your question. "My dear assistant, your face is all I need to know!" It was an innocent answer, but you couldn't help but blush at his words. You thanked him and watched him go his merry way to help the others. Your face was beet red the entire day.

♡ There are moments when you forget just how strong Butter Roll Cookie is. One example was when the team needed 2 more beakers to make more room for the dough. Licorice Cookie and Pomegranate Cookie had gone off to a meeting with Dark Enchantress Cookie. This left you all without magic to help carry the large beakers.

"Don't worry, team! I'll get those beakers in just a second." He whistled a merry tune as he headed out to retrieve the beakers. Relieved at this, you all went back to work in the lab. Not a few moments later, he returned with both of the beaks on each shoulder! You all watched in shock as he gracefully set them down in their respective spots. Noticing your stares, he looked around with a confused smile, "What? Something on my face?"

♡ There would be moments where his hands would brush against yours when reaching for something near you. In other some cases, he would "accidentally" bump into your shoulder whenever you two would pass each other in the hallway, despite him having plenty of time to move over. He would give you an apology with that oh-so charming smile of his!

♡ Just as he would leave you with butterflies in your stomach, you would give him the same effect. The way your eyes held so much concern for him, even when he reassures you that he's fine, fills him with warmth in his heart. His heart skips a beat whenever you praise him for his accomplishments or his strength.

♡ If one were to look at his notes that were hidden in his room, each piece of paper would have a small doodle of you every single time. Some of them have little hearts around you (how sweet!).