#please enable me orz

[fakemagicjaye]

/lying on the floor THERE ARE STILL ELEVEN PAGES LEFT TO INK :'^) I AM SORRY

[ryuichirou]

I know you said you won't rant about Vil anymore BUT YOU ALSO SAID YOU DIDN'T WRITE _EVERYTHING_ THAT YOU WANTED TO

sooooo... can you please still do this? I'm begging you on my knees orz You are literally one of the very few people here who engage with Vil as a character thoroughly whithout dumb him down or seeing him as one dimensional egoist (wich is an extremely weird take)

Dear Anon, I am super super super SUPER late, I’ve received your ask a couple of weeks ago already… I really hope that both Vil and you will forgive me lol Thank you for enabling me to talk about him more though!

Also, I am very happy to hear that you think my perception of Vil is thorough; he is a great character, and the fact that he is so misinterpreted only makes him more interesting to dissect and explore.

I’ll start with a hot take: I think that Vil is the nicest housewarden after Kalim, despite also being one of the super strict ones. I briefly mentioned it in my previous reply, the rules he sets for his students make much more sense than the ones in Heartslabyul, and as a housewarden he isn’t driven by his own gain (like Azul, for example). He also isn’t manipulative or backstabbing, not because he wouldn’t be able to pull that off (like Kalim, for example), but because he just has no interest in it. Vil genuinely wants people around him to better themselves, and not only in a physical appearance sense.

Which, of course, could lead to conflicts, like the one he has with Epel: Vil believes in his own principles, he is certain that he knows better because it’s his lifestyle and his perfect work ethics that gave him everything he has in life. And since all of this is pretty normal to him, he might have it difficult to adjust to other people’s pace, or might not even want to do so.  

Vil is amazing, but he isn’t absolutely flawless (shocking), but this is exactly why his character works so well. His better traits lead to his negative traits; they’re tied together, like it always is in any human being. He is super hardworking, but he also expects others to be ready to work as hard as he does. He is very focused on achieving his goals, but by doing so he might ignore the fact that others are overwhelmed with his pace and intensity. He knows his own worth and is very self-confident, but he also has very high standards for himself and is his own worst critic. He is creative and inspiring, but he also can overthink things in search of this perfect artistic expression that he wants to achieve.

I also find it fun that the idea of Vil being misunderstood comes up several times: he really seems to be perceived as some sort of cold-hearted elitist, at least by Epel. Like in the book 6 (..spoiler warning?), when Vil kisses Rook and Epel (and Yuu), there is this vibe of “what, you thought I wouldn’t be happy to see you and want to kiss my boys who came to save me?”, and yeah, why wouldn’t he? To Vil, showing affection isn’t an unnatural thing, he just doesn’t do it when it’s inappropriate: i.e., when he’s acting as a housewarden. In fact, just before he kissed the boys, he scolded Rook for being a horrible vice-housewarden and leaving Pomefiore unattended, but still, showed his gratitude in a gentle and loving way right after that.

Since we watched Harveston's Kelkkarotu event, I also wanted to mention something about it. Long story short, Epel didn’t want to ask Vil (or Rook) to come with him, because he really didn’t want Vil to boss him around and force him to act politely and cutely in front of his grandmother. Now, I am more than happy with the team Epel ended up with, god it was a fun event, but I can’t help but feel a little bit bummed out because we didn’t get to see Vil’s and Marja/Maruya’s interactions. The thing is, I actually disagree with Epel. I think it makes perfect sense for his character to think that Vil would’ve acted this way, but I feel like Vil is the “When in Rome, do as the Romans do" type of person. Why would he force Pomefiore standards on Epel while he is in his hometown? They aren’t in Pomefiore anymore, and Vil wouldn’t be a housewarden at that moment: he would’ve been Epel’s upperclassmen and (hopefully) a friend who is visiting him in his hometown. Vil’s told a bunch of times that one needs to behave according to their position, circumstances and occasion, so there wouldn’t be a point for a strict housewarden Vil to boss Epel around: he has no authority there, Epel and his grandmother do.

This is purely a speculation based on my perception of Vil, of course. But still, I would’ve loved to see Vil (and Rook!) there with Epel lol

Also, I can’t write a post about Vil without mentioning Rook, so I’m sorry, I’m going to talk about the end of the book 5 again.

I really love the fact that despite feeling hurt enough to cry when he found out that Rook had voted for Neige, Vil wasn’t petty or even angry about it. And for someone who’d literally tried to poison Neige like an hour ago, he accepted Rook fanboying over him quite easily, because he knows Rook and trusts him enough to know that he wouldn’t backstab him just because he is a Neige fanboy, and that he (Rook) probably has other reasons. Which is surprisingly mature for someone who just went through an emotional roller-coaster, if you ask me. I don’t think anyone would’ve blamed Vil if he got angry and even more upset with Rook, but the only thing Rook got was “what a cruel man you are” or something among those lines.

I actually think about this line a lot. Imagine being so un-petty that even when your closest person and biggest supporter (seemingly) backstabs you and exposes himself as a fan of a boy who’s pretty much ruined your entire life, instead of saying “yeah fuck you too, asshole” simply out of emotions, you just say this. “I know this isn’t why you voted this way, I am not an idiot”. The trust he has in this man, god their relationship is good lol

(OtomeAyui translation and official translation)

So, yeah. All I’m trying to say is that Vil isn’t stupid or egotistical: he is in fact quite wise and mature, also respectful when he needs to be.

Sigh…

In case you haven’t noticed yet, I love Vil a lot lol

[merakiui]

Half-Off Love

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader art credit - kentasha1236 on twt cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, gold-digging, implied yandere!childe note - thank you so much for 600 followers! o(≧∇≦o) I’ll work hard!

It’s strange. There’s no other adjective to describe the situation you’ve found yourself in. 

The ring slides itself onto your steady finger and it’s a miracle your discomfort doesn’t show. Your eyes struggle to meet his, but when they do you’re searching for a reason—for a meaning behind such a generous gift. You’ve witnessed this scene plenty of times before, having scoffed at the couples who decide to take their relationship to the next level. Whether it be in Mondstadt or Liyue, you’ve watched your fair share of angelic proposals. Although this is far from a proposal—at least, you hope it’s not a proposal. You’d feel powerless to decline if Scaramouche put you in such a position, and you’re almost certain he’s aware of this. 

But the main thing—you now realize—that’s holding him back is your status and his relationship with you. It’s nothing special, just mere physical attraction rather than the emotional hindrances that come with real, heart-racing love. There’s nothing wholesome in the way you regard one another; it’s just sex. 

“Do you like it? I made sure to find only the highest quality gemstone for you.”

And yet when he performs this caring charade, it doesn’t feel like loveless copulation. 

Ew, you think, plastering a smile to your face. Since when was Scaramouche so concerned with materialistic signs of affection? He’s far from loving; he’s just pent-up, frustrated from his rigorous job as a Harbinger and so he decides to use you as a means of coping. He almost sounds like Childe with his ineffective flirting methods. You’ve received your fair share of spoils from him as well, and you’ve done everything you could to cull that relationship before it grew out of hand. But now you’re stuck with the lesser side of the coin: another troublesome Fatui Harbinger. 

If you didn’t know any better, you might think to chase after Signora or Dottore next. Maybe you’ll aim for the Tsaritsa Herself if you’re especially daring. After all, your life has been nothing but deceit and faux pleasures; there’s little value to a liar’s life. If the Archons wish for your swift end, you’re positive it’ll be a result of your insatiable greed.

“It’s lovely. The color matches my eyes.”

It doesn’t, but you lie about it anyways. And he looks pleased to hear your approval. 

“Then perhaps I should get you a bracelet as well? Or would you prefer something with a little more use, such as a pocket watch?”

Why don’t you just lock me up with a collar instead? you think bitterly, already keen on pawning the ring off once the initial luster fades. Since you’re so eager to buy these things for me in hopes that I’ll return. It’s annoying.

“This is more than enough. I don’t want you to spend a fortune on me.” There’s a sweet lilt in your voice as your hand cups his cheek, and he leans into your warm touch, starved of the affection like a stray mutt. ”I only need you per our agreement. You do remember what that is, right?”

He’d be caught dead bending to the desires of someone so insignificant, but he just can’t stay away. Not when your every word is intoxicating poison he’ll readily ingest. 

“I’m aware." There’s a sigh in his tone as he pulls away, almost as if he wants to simply sit there and indulge in playful conversation. As if he actually wants to familiarize himself with the real you. But that emotion doesn’t last for long and an irritated expression crawls onto his handsome face as he silently recalls something. 

You’re slipping your silks off with grace, curiously tracking his movements. “You look upset. Was it because of what I said?”

“Of course not. You could never upset me.”

Until you get bored of me.

When you cast your robes aside, reaching for Scaramouche’s elaborate outfit, you murmur, “Let me guess. It was that traveler again, wasn’t it? I’m not sure why you’re so hung up on them.” A whimper leaks into your voice and you fix him with a pout. “I’m sad you’d think of others when I’m right here. Aren’t I the only one you need?”

It’s ironic how quickly that line hooks him, dragging him up from the murkiest depths of love that has skewed into obsession. When you tried it out on Childe, he wasn’t so easily swayed. You find their differences to be invigorating. If the arrangement with Childe was still ongoing, you might’ve considered a threesome, if only to wring more glittering treasures out of the both of them. Mora and jewelry galore, it all goes towards your stockpiled savings. And it’s times like these when you’re lucky to have avoided economic business with the Fatui. Being free of Fatui debt has its perks, a bright miracle in your dark relationships. That’s one less tether to Scaramouche and one less reason to cling to him after you’ve had enough. 

He smirks at your forced envy, easily pushing you backwards onto the plush mattress once he’s fully undressed. For a brief moment, he pictures your pliant body sprawled across an office desk while he pounds into you from behind, putting on a lewd show for his leering underlings. There’s something arousing about your secret relationship that has strange ideas formulating within his head. He entertains a simple scheme, one in which he’d shed light on your connection; however, the other side of him wants to keep your existence for himself, where no one will disturb the two of you in your pleasurable endeavors.

Perhaps you would truly belong to him if he were to expose you for the fraud you really are. Oh, the joy of trapping an unsuspecting rat in a corner, with no way out but into his open arms. You’ll hardly have any semblance of a choice, but he knows you’ll choose the option that guarantees another chance at life.

Scaramouche thinks about that as he revels in soft, tantalizing foreplay. He knows you aren’t as dedicated to this relationship as he is and he’s almost certain you’ve got others waiting for you in different parts of Teyvat. He’s just another plaything you’ve picked up for the fun of it. And in these moments where you surrender to his touch, your back arching with avaricious thoughts, you seem to forget about the power he truly wields. The thought that he could suffocate you in this very bed with his love alone should have you taking precautions to cover your vulnerability, but you only have your eyes set on one thing—not exactly minding the outcome so long as it’s monetarily favorable.

And if playing into your covetous hands ensures your weekly arrival, he’ll gladly empty his pockets of spare change.

You don’t like this new side of him. Lately he’s been treating this as if the two of you are lovers: slow, sensual thrusts accompanied with the sweetest of promises. You’ve never really minded the filth he’d moan in your ear and now you wish he’d resort to that instead. Loveless words spoken through the veil of lust—that’s what you want to hear.  

He envelops you like a smothering fog, fitting himself snugly inside of your tight hole in an embrace that’s oh so familiar. You aren’t used to such gentle treatment and as he kisses along your collarbone you feel yourself going under, having fallen victim to a Harbinger who is normally so cold-hearted. Perhaps he’s more sensitive than you originally thought. Months ago, you wouldn’t have imagined your relationship would grow into something so uncertain, where emotionless love becomes packaged and bogged down with so much feeling.

His lips ghost over yours and there’s a slight pause in his actions. You turn your head to the side, denying his choking affection before it can drag you further into a spiraling abyss of regret. Annoyance swells in his hazy gaze, but he uses your new position to his advantage.

“It’s cute,” he says in a hushed voice, breath tickling your ear, “how you seem to rid yourself of my gifts as soon as they fall into your hands. I wonder where they’ve gone. Into the harbor? Traded off for food and shelter? Do tell me.”

When his grip on your hip tightens to a threatening degree, you resign yourself, opting to hold your tongue as his pace remains brutally slow. Rather than speaking out of line, you raise your hand to his face, and he clasps your wrist in a forceful hold. 

The look in his eyes is far from loving—it’s that same obsessed expression Childe wore. And even if he still searches for you for reasons other than sex, you’re aware there’s no luck where Scaramouche is concerned. You can run from Childe because he’ll allow it—because he adores the chase—but Scaramouche hardly finds delight in a game of cat and mouse. You should’ve expected this. After all, he is just as conniving as the rest, always inventing new ways to track down and eradicate that peculiar traveler. Of course he would know about how you handle his presents when he isn’t looking because there’s no denying the stern gazes that would pierce through your backside whenever you went to the market.

"I’d never throw them out like that...” you mumble through another soft moan, hoping he’ll just pick up the pace and be done with you. “Your gifts are priceless.”

And yet the price for your own love is so hefty. If he weren’t Fatui, it might be enough to throw him into lifelong debt.

“Is that so? You seem to put a price on them whenever you visit the marketplace.” His fingers grip your chin, forcing you into an inescapable eye contact. “If you enjoy putting prices on items that you claim are priceless, you won’t mind if I collect a refund for your dishonesty.”

“A...refund?” 

Your lustful thoughts evaporate once you realize his pace has become horribly slow, his dick stilling and creating an itch of barely noticeable ecstasy. You wiggle your hips to increase the friction, wanting to get yourself off before his words can sour the mood. Though it’s already spoiled when you recognize the carnal victory shining in his twisted smirk. Your unfortunate fate was sealed the moment you welcomed his company with foolish openness, and you’ve been indebted ever since he decided to spoil you with lavish foods and accessories. 

For love that is far from cheap, interest must be paid and your very being makes for the perfect bargain.

It’s weird when he kisses you on your lips rather than on the parts of your body that are normally obscured with delicate cloth. And it’s even weirder when that metaphorical collar binds your throat in a vice. It’s more harrowing than any sort of debt you might’ve garnered and it’s just as inconvenient as his boyish adoration.

Scaramouche doesn’t have to purchase your flimsy, half-off love when it’s already prepackaged and ready for the taking. 

“You heard me. A refund is hardly enough punishment for a lying brat, but it will have to suffice for now.”

For now.

Spurred on by his own insinuating threats, he seeks to bruise your very insides with thrusts that are filled with physical vexation rather than the emotional ministrations from before. And since you’re so accustomed to him, your greedy hole eagerly welcomes him. 

[thedandelion-writer]

Can I request slow dancing or ballroom dancing with Diluc? Thank you🥺

❝you're in my arms (and all the world is calm)❞

Word count: 694

A/N: Oh god I'm weak for slow dancing (screams internally) !! Honestly I could never, in a 100 years, dance with Diluc 'cause I'd be blushing too much to concentrate and step all over his feet orz. Also I was listening to 'So Close' by John McLaughlin whilst writing this!

Unimportant side note: the 'manor' and 'ballroom' mentioned here are referring to the Diluc manor (it's mentioned in the webtoon).

First light spilled onto the floor through the tall windows that start halfway up the walls. Other than that, the spacious room was dim and smelled a little musty.

Being alone, it was so quiet you could hear every footstep despite being barefoot. The vast ballroom had not been used properly for a long time, and you thought, what a shame. 

You were well aware that Diluc never cared for balls and the like, but it was only because he had to deal with the political side of things. If he was the uncrowned king of Mondstatdt, you were his clueless companion, opting to dance shamelessly to the music that threaded its way through the crowds. 

As your husband, he knew of your hobby, and used to indulge you from time to time in being your partner during the free time that he had, away from prying eyes of course.

Though now, you weren't so sure if he would find it frivolous since he seemed to grow busier by the day. You sighed, twirling with your arms outstretched as if he was filling the empty space in front of you. 

This is silly, you thought, almost laughing to yourself. But it's been ages and you were itching to get lighter on your toes. Your duties as mistress of the manor and co-owner of the winery sometimes left you suffocated. Not that you'd ever tell Diluc this of course, he's working hard as it is. Not wanting to fill his mind with petty concerns, you went on, waltzing across the room with the air as your dance partner.

You were just about to relax, to give into the motion and the comfort of having your feet take you all over the empty space, when a voice bounced off the walls, scaring you out of your wits.

"What are you doing in the dark?"

"Uhh- good morning?" you stopped completely, hiding your arms behind your back like a kid who stole a piece of candy. "I didn't expect you to be up-"

Diluc looked unamused, his mouth in a thin line. He gave the slightest shake of his head and descended down the stairs to meet you.

"You could have at least told someone to light the candles."

You noticed how he was already dressed for work, and yet here you were, dancing in a nightdress. 

"I like the natural light," was your excuse, even though you were aware how the light of dawn did not exactly illuminate the space enough to even see the details on the ceiling.

The red haired man sighed, and to your surprise, took your hand in his, placing the other on his shoulder before gently cupping your waist. His lead was gentle, as if he were holding a glass sculpture, and you couldn't say you disliked it, not one bit. 

"The next time you wish to do this, or anything at all, please do tell me Y/N," Diluc said, eyes blazing red every time you two passed by a window pane. How mesmerising.

"I'll keep that in mind," you looked up at him with a shy smile. Even after being married for years now, you were still as smitten as a day old lover. "I just love being so close to you like this."

"As do I," he replied, spinning you around before guiding you back into a near embrace. 

You rested your head on his chest, enabling yourself to hear his heartbeat this way. It was so gratifying to be able to do the thing you loved most with the person you loved most. Over time, the dancing slowed and at this point, his chin was atop your head. You could've almost fallen asleep at how comforting it felt.

Time passed by all too quickly, and now the sun was now fully up into the sky. All good things must end, but at least this good thing ended on a sweet note. Diluc closed the routine with a charming kiss on your hand, and you pressed your lips to his in return. 

Stretching happily, satisfied, you watched his retreating back, promising to meet later on in the winery. 

[neonponders]

Oh lord, here we go. Don’t be surprised if my sugardaddy!Billy and couture Steve turns into five parts orz for now, here’s part 3!

This is originally a birthday gift for @lazybakerart 💋and @edith-moonshadow enabled me to keep going with this with their Harringrove for Palestine donation🙏🏻.

Part 1 here ~ Part 2 here ~ read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

A week passed.

Billy didn’t leave a number for Steve to call, and when he tried to phone Billy’s secretary, she gave him a bullshit lie about international calls needing to occur within a certain timeframe, etc. Steve understood he was butting into Billy’s goings-on, during an hour he couldn’t play civilian.

That was another aspect of their relationship they kept dodging.

Steve did not consider white-collar crime unfamiliar. In fact, it’s wildly rampant in society; it just takes the right lawyers and judges to keep things swept under the rug.

Maybe Billy didn’t talk about it for the same reason Steve didn’t open up about his fears of being disposable. When they managed a safe little time capsule where underlying circumstances didn’t exist, things went great. Splendid, even.

But time capsules have to open at some point.

Billy called Steve.

“Hello?” he said to the unfamiliar number. If he sounded a little miffed, it’s because he’d taken more spam calls than genuine correspondences this past week, having not known what Billy’s international number was—

“Steve.”

That sounded…wrong.

“Billy?”

He could hear the man’s breath on the receiver. Heavier than it should have been. “I know you don’t like this. But I need you to come here.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Stupid question. Billy sounded half the man he was. Steve wanted to know what happened to the other half.

“I’m injured. I’ll be fine—”

“Define ‘injured.’”

“Steve,” Billy huffed like a laugh, but Steve could hear it stick in his throat. He hovered in the middle of his apartment, helpless to do anything but hold the phone to his ear. “I’m not arguing right now. Could you just…get in the car that comes to pick you up?”

“A car? What kind of car?”

“The driver will use the buzzer of your building. They won’t come up. Just get in the car and then the plane—”

“Plane? Billy, where did you go?”

He laughed again, a little of his voice leaking into it. “Steve, please. Can I see you or not?”

Steve croaked into the receiver, revolving listlessly in his apartment while his brain failed to keep up. “I-I—wha—um.”

Except, despite everything, like how very likely he would come back to only one or no jobs, it really wasn’t a choice for Steve. His chest ached for Billy. He missed the bastard’s smug smiles and longed for the animation he let fill his face when he relaxed with Steve.

And he felt the itch of being wanted. His ingrained eagerness to be with the person who needed him.

All of it scrambled in his brain so Steve wound up raising his voice while fisting his hair, “A plane? I have to pack! What do I pack?”

Billy’s voice came out breathily on the phone, like he filled it with relief. “You don’t need to pack anything—”

“I NEED PANTS, BILLY!”

Steve got in the car.

Steve got on the plane.

The stupid private jet in which Steve could have his own disco if he wanted because it seemed like only he and the pilot were on the damn thing. He brought the book Billy had gifted him about The New Yorker for something to distract himself, even though he mostly stared blankly at the pages while he waited for the plane to land.

A part of him expected to arrive in the middle of nowhere. Which, to be fair, they had to land in a private hanger outside of the city. But then the next car took him amongst grand buildings and turned into a narrow side street only residents would use. Steve burst upon the sidewalk, only hindered briefly by the receiving of a hotel key and the remark, “Room 532.”

Steve skipped the elevator. He wore heels in his spare time; he would’ve beaten the lift anyway.

As with any hotel, the key took some figuring out, but when he managed, he stepped into the suite. “Billy?”

It smelled like any other nice hotel. Cream carpets and matching walls. A splash of color on the rumpled bedspread amongst Billy’s clutter. Steve followed the floor plan of the sitting room to the bedroom and then the bathroom, where he heard the shower running. He knocked on the door, “Billy?”

And then louder, “Billy?”

“Come in.”

Steve carefully pushed into the room, unsure what he’d find…

What looked like two open first aid kits sat on the counter. Steve couldn’t read anything from those alone, but he didn’t have to because the shower was a large, glass cubicle. It stood big enough for four people. Billy sat on the floor, his chest wrapped in sodden cotton and gauze; barefoot underneath his black slacks. Steve opened the glass door as Billy lifted his head—

He knelt on the hard tiles, putting his arms around Billy’s neck to greet him, to hold him. Cool tendrils seeped through Steve’s hair, soft claws over his scalp until the water properly soaked his strands.

“Steve, your clothes.”

Instead of answering, he looked at the shower knobs and turned the hot water up. As soon as heat seeped over them, Billy melted against him. His head fell easily where Steve pulled him into the bend of his neck. Billy’s hands fumbled a little to find him, but all he could do was grasp onto him to avoid bending or twisting his injured torso.

Steve remained kneeling over him long past being soaked through.

He did not cry until Steve undressed, leaving his sodden raiment on the shower floor to retrieve the scissors from the first aid kits. He carefully snipped through the ruined gauze and medical tape. Soon a pile of white, and diluted pinkish-orange blood also sat on the floor. Whoever had stitched up Billy’s sides had done a good job, but Steve had to dry him off and rebind him.

After the first wince, Billy came undone. Steve wished he could say something to make it easier, but all he had were small reassurances and quietly given orders.

“Can you hold this here?”

“Lift your arm up.”

“Hang on. Almost done.”

An odd talent of Steve’s: tolerating pain with silent grace. A skill which Billy ironically lacked. But where Steve withheld, Billy knew how to release. Perhaps here was one of their bridges.

“Put your arm around me. Lift with your legs.”

The towels Steve put over their shoulders helped them grip one another. Once standing, Billy halted, “Wait. Take these off.”

To each of their credit, neither made a joke as Billy’s trousers and underwear landed with a wet slosh next to Steve’s pile. Steve wrapped his towel around his waist once Billy sat on the bed. With his hands freed, he went about drying Billy’s hair with his towel and opening the bed for Billy to fall into.

“Have you taken any meds?”

“Nothing spectacular.”

His head sagged on the pillow, following Steve to the bathroom, where he found an ibuprofen bottle and shook out two tablets. His eyes followed Steve’s hand raking his hair off his face, and the movement of his throat around a swallow. The filling of a glass at one of the sinks.

Billy let him wrangle a pillow underneath his body so he could swallow the pills with ease. Before he did so, Billy informed, “The blue pill bottle is sleeping meds.”

Steve went and read the label, even peeling the thing off to read the lengthy underside. “When did you last eat?”

“I’ll eat tomorrow. I need to rest now.”

But Steve went into the living room and pilfered through the mini fridge. He returned with apple juice and a granola bar. “If you take this on an empty stomach, you might vomit. I’m not letting you suffocate in your sleep.”

“They put that on there to avoid lawsuits,” Billy complained even while he accepted the juice bottle. He munched slowly, almost carefully on the sugar-glazed nuts of the granola bar while…

Steve got dressed. In Billy’s clothes.

He crouched right in between Billy’s suitcase and the open wardrobe to select one of his long-sleeves and boxer briefs. Billy blinked softly, feeling warmth blossom through his chest and sink through his belly.

Regardless, he sassed, “You’re not gonna sleep naked with me?”

Steve climbed next to him, facing him as if he intended to get up again soon. He tore into his own granola bar. “I don’t know what to expect with you. I’d rather not be forced out of the building naked.”

Billy’s hand touched his leg as he bit into the bar. “Nothing’s going to happen. There’s a menu on the table out there. Order room service.”

“Tomorrow,” Steve refused with a cheek full of almonds. “We’ll eat tomorrow. Or…when the sun’s up in two hours.”

Billy didn’t ask him to, but Steve stroked fingers through his hair after Billy took his sleeping medicine. “Don’t leave,” he moaned tiredly, the force of the little pill dragging him under.

“I’m not leaving. But you can’t octopus me in your sleep.”

Billy sighed, intending for more words to come out than the ones that did. “…test me…”

When his breaths came and went like the heavy sway of the ocean, Steve kept petting through his hair. Even though Billy couldn’t hear him anymore, Steve sighed, “Scared the shit out of me, idiot. I missed you. Don’t do that.”

Billy hummed in his sleep as if he heard him. Even drugged unconscious, the man tried to retort.

Steve leaned down to kiss his temple and tucked him in to keep him warm. When a knock on the door sounded, Steve donned one of the bathrobes and held a shoehorn behind the door as he answered. The shoehorn was a ridiculous ornate thing from the wardrobe; more like a walking stick than a device to help a heel slip into a boot.

The woman on the other side of the door dressed as expensively as Billy and appeared just as austere. Steve had never seen her before even though she acted like she knew him. “Is he well?”

“He’s asleep. What do you need?”

“To go over his intended schedule for today.”

“Reschedule it. He isn’t doing anything for at least two days.”

She did not look anxious. Merely…disappointed? “That will be…difficult.”

“He’s a difficult man,” Steve sighed, his posture tilting back into the room and warranting an end to this discussion. “Whoever expects to see him likely knows that.”

“Good morning, Mr. Harrington,” she dismissed.

“What is your name?” he halted.

“Elena Varma. Hargrove knows me as Elicit Vagina.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, and if she were anyone other than Billy’s secretary and personal guard, now would be the time to take his head off. Instead, she elaborated, “I’m a lesbian.”

“Right,” he nodded dazedly. “Are you single? I know somebody.”

Her dark eyes narrowed at him, but her mouth and brows moved with amusement. Like a test, she inquired, “Are they butch?”

“No,” he said a bit perplexedly, thinking of Robin’s amber blond bob and all of her many-colored Converse on which she doodled.

A pause. Then, “Does she have bad taste?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’ll be in touch.”

Steve exhaled, “Great,” under his breath as he shut the door. Crossing over to the living room, he set the shoehorn down and picked up the room service menu.

When Billy’s eyes next opened, it was to the beckoning of dishware clatter and summons of browned butter and tangy, aromatic cheese.

Steve sat much as he last remembered, sitting facing Billy while a tray sat where his pillows ought to be. A cart of more food stood by the food of the bed. Billy’s blurry gaze traveled back to Steve, who chewed on a croissant with a newspaper, of all things, in his hand.

It was perfect.

Minus the abhorrent headache and parchedness of his throat.

“Coffee.”

Billy couldn’t not smile at the wide eyes that lifted up to him. Steve rushed to swallow the lump in his cheek and handed him his glass of water from the tray. Billy shook his head. “No. Coffee.”

“Water first.”

Billy sighed and leaned over as much as his injured side allowed him to. He drained the glass. And he never got his coffee. Steve made him drink a strong cup of tea, as if that would replace Billy’s usual espresso in the morning.

“Your, um, personal assistant came by. She knows to reschedule all of your—whatever you do. I said you need two days.”

“Two days?” Billy chirped in the middle of grumbling over his tea. “That’s a vacation.”

Steve huffed a sound, but looked toward the window and it’s sheer, white curtains. “What street are we on?”

“What was that sound?” Billy diverted.

Steve looked at him. “What sound?”

“The sound you just made.”

“You mean the sound of you complaining that I work too much but consider two days a vacation. That sound?”

“Yeah, that sound,” he remarked. “I stand by what I said. You don’t need two jobs.”

“Billy, you got stabbed yesterday. Twice. Or whatever the hell happened to you.”

“I’ll have you know I was only stabbed once. The side mirror of a moving car clipped my other side.”

Whatever mirth he intended to be in that statement wilted in the face of Steve’s glare. Billy took the silent admonishment with grace and, after a moment, said, “I’m not the criminal you think I am.”

“I never said you were one.”

“Walking around with a stab wound and clear assault damage isn’t helping my case,” he responded with another unhappy sip of his tea. At least Steve put milk and sugar in it. Dessert for breakfast.

“Long story short: I got a job and the old man CEO noticed me. He liked me a lot. I was the one male secretary in the place; it was easy to notice me. The women liked me—”

“Women have always liked you,” Steve retorted quietly. But he set his things on the tray and laid across the bed to pillow his head on Billy’s thigh.

He gazed up at him while Billy continued, “It was easy. If the head of a building likes you, job promotions come fast. Training happens in the boss’s own office. Then the asshole died and both his heir, and the board, did not take it well to my name being in the will. I’ve been cleaning up a lot of their mess.”

Steve listened and processed, “This heir was driving the car?”

Billy snorted and instantly grimaced for the pain it caused him. Steve began to get up for the painkillers, but Billy’s fingers plunged into his hair; not gripping him, but softly holding his head. “Stay. I’m fine. No, I doubt the idiot even has a license. He can’t aim a blade, either. He’s running out of money, that’s why he’s so desperate.”

“Where is he now?”

Billy’s head tilted almost piteously at him. “Do you really want to know that?”

“Well I can’t decide which is more romantic: inviting me into a shit storm, or making sure I’m safe first.”

He could see some of the tension leave Billy’s face and shoulders as he reached for Steve’s tray and took his other croissant. “He’s in the hospital. But I don’t know if he’ll make it.”

Steve could read between the lines. “Us trust fund kids. We’re not built for street fighting.”

That earned an animated frown from Billy, who spoke regardless of his full mouth. “You gave me a hell of a wallop once.”

“I lost that fight.”

“You didn’t have a homophobic, retired veteran waiting for you to bring your sister home. And this guy clearly doesn’t have a pretty boy waiting for him or he might’ve won.”

Steve laughed but it faded as he just…marveled at Billy. They had never talked this openly before. However proud of Billy he felt, though, the nagging dark corner of his brain turned his thoughts onto himself. He let slip:

“You work so much harder than me.”

Billy immediately wasn’t having it. His head tilted again but instead of pity, it was chastisement. “Steve.”

“No, no—I just mean I’m proud of you.”

“You can be proud of me without sounding like I’m about to toss you out onto the curb. I just told you the very idea of you helped keep me alive.”

“And I abandoned two jobs and an overpriced apartment to be here, so I hope you mean it. You might be keeping both of us alive for a while—Hey.”

In between thrown bits of croissant and grapes, Billy chided, “I’ve been. Trying. To convince you. That I mean it. And it takes a drive-by to. Get. Your. Attention.”

“Okay! Okay—this is disgusting. Stop it!”

Steve reared up only to be ensnared by Billy’s overstretched arms. Steve caught himself on Billy’s collarbones so he did not press on his chest, tugging the skin on his sides. “B! Be careful.”

A hand cradled the side of Steve’s head as a soft smirk lifted Billy’s mouth. “Let me kiss you.”

Steve, defiant till the last, pushed him down so he didn’t exert himself. Then he kissed Billy slowly, reverently. He liked kissing Billy a whole lot. Loved it. He liked Billy’s taste and the sound of their lips parting before meeting for more. He liked the puffs of Billy’s breath across his cheek and his hands reaching for Steve. Finding him. Holding him.

Eventually, though, Billy whispered against his lips, “Why did you ask what street we’re on?”

Steve rolled his lips together, perhaps seeking a balm for being chapped from kissing, or nerves. “It’s fashion week. We might be able to see stuff from the window.”

Billy claimed one more kiss and then released him to clean up the bed and scout the street below. Billy managed to reach the bathroom on his own, where he took another pair of meds and readied for a day in. With Steve.

Steve, who insisted he stay in bed.

Steve, who found a full-length mirror in the wardrobe and held it half out the window so Billy could see the horizon of the street reflected from his place on the bed. He watched Steve more than anything. His giggles at how ridiculous it was to hold a mirror out the window. When his features relaxed as he watched the traffic and people arriving to a place a few blocks down. When he asked Billy if

“Can you see the red coat? That thing’s massive.”

And, “Somebody famous just got there. The paparazzi are going nuts.”

Steve really should have expected the events of the next day, but Billy still faced the stern glare and long blinks when he sighed. “B, you’ve only rested a day. Your stitches could still tear.”

“One runway isn’t going to kill me. We’ll pop in and not attend the after party. Elicit’s already managed to get tickets—”

“Her name’s Elena,” Steve frowned with his hands on his hips.

“No, it isn’t,” Billy scoffed, and went to dissect Steve’s luggage himself...

He grasped the linen shoe bag, recognizing the shape inside. He lifted one of the Hot Chick 100s. “You took packing seriously, huh?”

Steve seemed to be really grappling with patience. “I didn’t know what you needed. A nurse or a kinky leg to hold onto.”

“So I got both,” he grinned.

A reluctant, little smile pulled at Steve’s face. “I’m not wearing those out.”

Billy had already set the pair on the living room table when he grimaced, “What? Why not?”

Steve glanced at the windows like they might hold an answer. “Because I’ll be giant and make more noise than anyone else in heels.”

Billy wasn’t buying it. He held onto the back of the couch to help himself stand and then made his way to his own clothes. “If there’s any time to wear what you want and get away with it, it’s fashion week. Come here, no one’s going to let you wear jeans beside a runway.”

Billy had way too much fun dressing him. A quiet little warning bell went off in Steve’s head over this, but he couldn’t listen to it without also admitting that he enjoyed himself. One of Billy’s silk button-ups around his body felt nice.

Intimate.

A black suit jacket over it made Steve feel chic and professional. And when Billy asked him to lift his foot onto the bed, Billy double wrapped the chain of his pendant around Steve’s ankle. Amber and opals on one side, and a golden saint on the other.

“If you’re tired or hurt at any point, tell me,” Steve lectured in the car.

“Yes, dear.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, but Billy’s hand on his thigh tightened.

“I know, baby. I’m okay. The show’s not even two hours long. Try to relax. You look real hot.”

Steve snorted and rubbed the silk of his shirt between his fingers. “Is this shirt new?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’ve never seen you wear it. And it would’ve matched my green shoes,” he added with slanted eyes at him.

“So what if I wanted to match my partner? Try and sue me.”

Partner. Steve caught his face in his hand, eyes aching with the moisture overflowing from his heart.

The car pulled up alongside a bustling street. Elena Varma accompanied them through the open double doors, but she kept to herself. She sheltered Billy’s other side while Steve slid an arm over Billy’s shoulders and held onto him. If a pair of eyes scrutinized them, Billy was hardly the only rich man with a pretty thing in heels on his arm. And people only had compliments for Steve’s classic choice in shoe.

The off-duty models sitting around them in the chairs along the runway were very sweet. Steve and Billy kindly refused their inquiries over attending the later afternoon events, but gratefully accepted their information about the show.

Models talk. And in this world where everyone knows someone who knows everyone, the models explained the architecture of the runway, the designer’s vision, the gossip about the model opening the show, and the model closing the show, etc.

“I like the butterflies,” Steve said, pointing to the ceiling, where a myriad of paper butterflies on wires fluttered with the air conditioning ventilation.

“I like you.”

Steve pointed flustered but narrowed eyes on him. “Are you even paying attention?”

“To the important things,” Billy replied, leaning back with an arm over the back of Steve’s chair. He did contribute, “I like the columns. The effect of the eroded marble and gold filigree is interesting. I enjoy looking at it.”

Steve leaned into him, resting a hand on Billy’s thigh as the lighting changed and the show began. The fashion proved largely sculptural instead of practical, but Steve pointed as models went by.

“My mom would know what that means.”

“If the designer was inspired by Greece, then it’s something mythological. Greece seems to be very in right now.”

“You read my magazines,” Steve accused with a smile.

“I smell the colognes.”

That earned Billy a soft nudge before Steve’s jaw relaxed in sight of a male model striding past them. “You’d look really good in that.”

“The gold speedo?”

“No,” he lightly slapped Billy’s knee. “The shirt.”

“I don’t really go for pastels.”

Steve turned soft eyes on him. He touched the underside of Billy’s chin with a fond knuckle. “You and your jewel tones.”

Then a model turned onto the stage wearing a sweatshirt totally encrusted with jewels. Steve and Billy exchanged looks, which ended with Steve covering his laughter and Billy pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder.

Steve and Billy left the show with at least one pocket full of models’ agents’ business cards. Steve had taken the time to write the models’ names on each card along with a descriptor, as if they actually intended to remember and reach out to them later that night, should their plans change.

Their plan did not change.

If anything, Steve and Billy only more firmly wanted to retire to their hotel room after they ordered coffees—and Steve nearly broke his ankle stepping off the pavement.

“The puddle lied! The water lied to me,” he lamented through laughter, having thought that the water was far shallower than it actually proved to be. He powered through their venture in the coffee shop, but as soon as they were in the car, Billy pulled his leg up to inspect his ankle and Steve held up one of the shoes.

“Holy shit. Look at that.” The flat of the heel now had a harsh angle to it, as if he’d worn these shoes for a decade instead of thrown off his stride by a waterlogged pothole. Both shoes had water and grit on the insides too.

“I’m sorry, B. These might need some work—Oo!”

Billy had touched his ice coffee to Steve’s ankle. “Don’t worry about it. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah,” he said on a lighter note. “The ladies we sat with were really nice.”

“What about the show?”

That gave Steve pause. “Um. Honestly? They all walked too fast for me to really see much.”

Billy laughed so hard his stitches made him stop.

[sayonaramidnight]

Talk about Helvi, please!

You enabler, you.

When she came to be, all I knew was that she would be 1) a goldsmith, 2) follower of Menphina. And ever since, I've been wondering what it's like to be a worshipper of love. Is it about a big family? Charity and compassion? Having multiple partners? A lot of friends everywhere?

Eventually, she became someone who's passionate about things and looks for beauty everywhere. Someone who gets attached easily and is fiercely loyal to her loved ones. Someone who will shower you with compliments and give you a piece of hand-crafted jewellery. Someone who can listen and give great hugs. Who feels at ease when she loves and is loved back.

And has the sweetest smile ever.

You already know she lost her memories when the moon fell and she experienced her first meteor shower, but what happened to her later? Well, she was wandering around, confused and clueless, until she found herself among some Near-Easterners who’d come to Eorzea to trade and were desperate to go back home - and they kind of... took her in? Brought her along on their ship and tried to cure her with alchemy, and maaaybe treated her a little like a pet? Or a curiosity? In the end, she went to Radz-at-Han with them and spent a lot of time wandering Thavnair in search for anything familiar both outside and inside herself. And meeting some interesting people on the road - like a dancing troupe who taught her of their traditional dances. Or a Keeper poetess who could interpret dreams. Or the samurai running away from unwanted marriage and the Qestir warrior intent on duelling him. Or the Viera entertainer who felt lonely, because people found her too beautiful to approach her. Some friendly elephant people. And I’m very excited to have her go back and maybe meet them again, and also show me around a little ;)

Wanderlust is both her blessing and curse, because deep inside she dreams of a place for herself, even if it’s just one room, as long as it’s only hers, but on the other hand, there are places to be and people to help, no time for buying a room, not to mention living in it. orz

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

About the frozen fandom ask :

🎨, ✍️, and 👗

P.s remember to get enough sleep~

@like-redhead-probably I got enough sleep I swear ;-; actually I overslept TBH

🎨- Favorite fanart(s)/ artist(s)?

I’m gonna limit my answers to those who are currently active in the fandom otherwise we will be here all day xD. Anyone who has seen my tags knows this  to be true. My favorite fan artists are:

@giuliaciulia89 - because asdfghjklssh have you SEEN her line art?? And her expressions?? And how she does shading and color (with markers!! Traditional Art YO!!) literally is just... takes my breath away. Her recent Hogwarts Elsanna commission was absolutely delightful, but I am always delighted to see her original content as well such as her 101 Dalmatians au and her All For One And All For Love Three Musketeers au. It has so many mysteries, I’m very intrigued. Watching her process is very relaxing as well, like *sketch, sketch, sketch* and suddenly WHOA, there’s like, a whole concept outlines in no time at all. Incredible

@zero-kiba - because while much more active on Deviantart, I am ALWAYS extremely gay for Copper! That’s been going on 5 WHOLE YEARS Y’ALL! I stayed up until the sun started creeping through my windows catching up on every single page that I’d missed out after about 2017 when I started working full time. Zero-kiba’s work is BOMBASTICALLY expressive and really hits that mark between UTTERLY badass and heart-meltingly soft. Also do yourselves a favor and read their other works too! Tip of the Iceberg is Copper characters in a comedy setting, The Realm is 65 pounds of concentrated whoop-ass, and The Whole Shebang?? Gay has hell. Really gay. I cannot stress that enough (also it’s a little self plug - I help make that one alongside Zero-Kiba, daughterofhel and giuliaciulia89)

@ice-bjorn - because like.... do I even need to....expand?? Y’all have seen my tags. Ice-bjorn’s got the kind of content that just pulls you up short. Doing something? Concentrating? Not anymore you’re not! Ice-bjorn posted new art and you’re gonna FEEL ABOUT IT for the current conceivable future! Unbelievably emotive, you can see all the hard work that goes into each piece (including writing!!). I’ve gone OFF in my tags so many times about their stuff and I aLWAYS anticipate doing it again XD I can’t possibly pick a favorite piece, but this one gives me the warm fuzzies (Edit: although I did link another further down)

@jabs-wocks - because they constantly surprise me. One day ADORABLE! Next day ANGSTY. Next time? New style?? New type of coloring?? Always has a great sense of humor and unique ideas. Also, such an enabler xD Always makes me want to make something in turn <3 Like, remember when I went OFF with that angsty piece of Anna drowning after the dam collapses? Or when I nearly ditched my (already very long) project to idea bomb on about their Skadi!Elsa piece? Yeah, I love their work very much

 @gracepago0314 - because I’m a long time fan from when they had a different username! Great style, strong short comics, and WOW have they come a long way! They already had such a strong aesthetic, but seeing their work at the top of 2020 was such a treat because it was SUCH a change! I loved seeing what I recognized about their unique style and getting to see all the ways they’ve improved and expanded! Also that reincarnation au goes straight for the heart ;-;

✍️- Favorite fanfic(s)/ author(s)?

Limiting my answer to the same for the same reasons. Many of my favorite authors are no longer active, but my heart is very big, and I am always making room for new stories and writers to love!

@fruipit - because every time I get an email from ao3 that they’ve updated I go ballistic. Every story I have ever read (or reread... many times) by them is just SO INCREDIBLE. Their writing makes me make bad decisions: like fighting sleep to make it through one last chapter xD Their work makes me ask questions, their stories flows like a needle and thread, their diction makes me believe. I have nothing but the highest praise for Fruipit’s work, they’ve been writing for years and continue to pick at that gentle thing called wonder. Choosing a favorite work of theirs is GENUINELY DIFFICULT, but I love Risky Business, Koselig, and When Spring Comes very much. Tiny Hearts is a riot tho xD Oh wait and Who Dares Wins! .....Look just... go read Fruipit, you won’t regret it xD

@arendellesfirstwinter - because after years and years they just bang out one badass story after another. Their most recent (and with the dawn, what comes then?) has reduced me to tears twice. No. Three times, I reread a chapter. Their writing is exceptionally raw and pointed, but they are never angsty for angst sake. Their prose has the kind of weight one gets from having a huge amount of intent and care for what they create, and the characters they foster along the way <3

@daughterofhel - because I enjoy the simple pleasures of comedy. Literally just makes me laugh. Her dialogue SLAPS. Her world building is effortless (well, it’s not, she works very hard but it FEELS effortless, which is quite the trick xD). Her stories just WORK, her scenes are so alive and colorful and I adore how she makes characters interact even under the most RIDICULOUS prompts xD Exceptionally creative and silly, I guarantee she will surprise you for the better

@themountainsays - because every story idea is completely fascinating. Even if it’s not like, written yet? Just idea bombing or musing? Totally cool, I love reading them because you can feel the excitement behind them. Or the spite xD. Ara’s writing is also almost lyrical, it’s lovely to read, and honestly? Read out loud too! I’m a huge fan of spoken poetry/spoken stories and Ara’s always gives me that vibe. I’m behind (orz) on Creatures of the Arctic, but it’s SO FUN, I’m always keen on updates :D

@theseerasures - because I adore their frohana stuff. So freaking much. Kristanna + Icebros with so much tenderness that I just stare at my screen and go “holy hell someone MADE that.” Reading their work is like... being given a soft blanket to wrap yourself in, receiving a mug of hot chocolate, and then being told “Okay, now here’s a story that’s going to make you feel feelings really hard,” and you kind of nod back like, “Okay, seems fair.” Idk man they just get me real good, every time. For years.

👗- Favorite outfit? One you’d like to see?

Picking a favorite is hard! But please for the love of god: bring Anna’s military-esque jacket/dress to the silver screen. Holy hell. I’m such a sucker for how absolutely DASHING Elsa and Anna look in masculine/military dress. @giuliaciulia89 and @ice-bjorn both here and here get me xD But I also love their highly feminine outfits? Anna’s coronation dress in F1 is a fav and of course Elsa’s ice-dress is iconic, but my absolute favorites? I don’t know, they’re all so beautiful...

Oh! You know what else I’d want? Casual wear. They’re always dressed up for adventure! Or a fancy party! Let the crew relax more! More day-to-day, more cozy pjs! Kristoff in a big oversized shirt, Elsa in Fifth-Spirit inspired sleepwear, Anna in clothes made by their new Northudran family - complete with little hexagons but like, lined with soft reindeer fur <3. I’d love to see them when the world isn’t falling down around their ears, for more than 5 minutes, please ;-;

Thanks again for asking!! I know this is a few days late but I hope my jabbering made up for it ^_^

[yukipri]

Just an FYI

I’ve been getting quite a few IMs recently, and while I super, SUPER appreciate you wanting to talk to me, please note that I don’t usually respond to IMs.

The following is copied from my Rules + FAQ post:

Why haven’t you replied to my message yet?

I sincerely apologize if I have not replied to you yet. I tend to reply to messages in my inbox (asks) in bursts before art posts so I always have art as the top post on my blog. I am always careful to space these ask replies in my queue so they hopefully won’t clog anyone’s dash too much. ^ ^; Sometimes it may take a while (sometimes over a month orz) for me to finally get to your ask, but if it is in my inbox and still relevant, I will get to it eventually! Unless you specify in your ask, I prefer to publish asks so people don’t need to repeat questions.

I will reply to replies to posts when there is no backlog of asks I need to answer in my inbox, but otherwise I may not necessarily reply to all of these. But rest assured, I’ve read your comment and appreciate it very much! ;A;

I rarely reply to IMs unless it’s urgent/we know each other, as I usually do not have the social energy to carry on many private conversations on top of answering asks. To get through to me, please send me an ask in my inbox, and if you’d like me to respond privately, please make a note!

I do have anonymous enabled too if you’d prefer that! Thank you for understanding!

[yuseirra]

Um... yuu-senpai, do you have a special sketchbook that you draw on or do you just use random pieces of paper? Sorry for the really random question... but I was thinking about this while looking at your new doodles! I really like your art and look up to you! Thanks in advance!! ^-^

Hello anon! ;v;/// ahh thanks for liking my art, I’m really happy from your compliments and it’s nice to talk with a fellow aspiring artist..!// I highly doubt I am befit to be called senpai..! but nevertheless, I am thankful and I’d love to draw things that would inspire you/you would find pleasing to the eye!! Let’s work hard to improve together. ‘v’)9

That’s pretty cool of you to ask! I haven’t been using any specific type of sketchbook lately, they’re just ones from the local stationery store and they cost me around 1~3 dollars each! I’m not so picky with the types of paper I use in terms of drawing and if the pages aren’t ruled and clean- I just go with them! :)

(here’s a photo of the most recent ones I’ve been using: but they’re just ones I picked up randomly from the store like what I’ve said earlier)

My tip is to choose a notebook w paper that feels smooth, but not slippery; the one I’m currently using is the one on the very top and honestly I would prefer paper that feels less..stiff (however, I feel this type of paper would do very nice with ink) plain A4 is also actually pretty nice to draw on in my opinion because I don’t do watercolor or stuff that requires the paper to be more durable.

another tip of of mine but you may like to choose sketchbook with.. hinges(?) I don’t know what they call these ↓

it doesn’t really matter that much but it makes drawing a bit easier because the paper remains flat as you draw and it also enables taking photos of your traditional works a whole lot easier provided you want to share them and you don’t have a scanner. It will save you a lot of struggles because notebooks without these are much harder to take photos without things looking weird;v;!!//

I don’t use a specific type of sketchbook nowadays but when I first started drawing I REALLY loved using one of these CIAK notebooks!! It’s expensive but I would recommend these to both writers and artists because the papers feel really nice and it holds a lot of pages- I don’t recommend the ruled versions, buy the plain and buy one that’s at least medium size, the small ones..; are really tiny and I really regret having bought those. Do not buy the pocket size, buy medium or large. I think I used large

I first got these as my birthday present and used these to make my own stories! I think I used at least 12 of these when I first started practicing and I loved it! It also got me the habit of trying to use every part of the paper when I draw traditionally because it felt sad seeing the papers run out so fast plus these were hard to get n expensive…orz 

But really, your average notebooks that you can get in your local stationery works just fine!! My thoughts are that using good sketchbooks doesn’t make your drawings dramatically improve.. but it does feel good when you use one. It also feels satisfying when you finish using one up entirely OH OH right forgot to mention this but I tend to use one of those smaller sketchbooks when I draw because big ones are heavier and harder to carry around and stuff!! I find small to medium size ones (like A5 size..? I think) more comfy because I’m used to drawing & writing things in small sizes, and smaller sketchbooks are easier to bring wherever you go. I don’t know how it would be for you though?

Hope this helps you anon!// Good luck with drawing, and if you feel comfortable, I would love to see how your drawings are going sometime!! ‘v’///

[nines-s]

Could you write an imagine where 9S is paired with an upbeat combat/scanner unit (B1), Reader? In the Reader's point of view, please?

((Sorry it took me so long to get to this, orz. I wasn’t exactly sure what you wanted by an “imagine”, and I wasn’t sure if you wanted B1 to be the reader’s name or what, but I wrote up some kind of random scenes nonetheless. I might do more head-canon style stuff later, but for now, enjoy~))

…

When 9S is first assigned as your support unit, you canbarely contain your excitement. “I’ve heard a lot about your exploits,” youexplain, extending a hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you, yeah?”

It takes him a second to catch on to the outdated humangesture, but then he takes your hand with one of his own. Perhaps you shake itwith a bit more force than necessary, but you can’t help it—you’re excited atthe prospect of a new partner, and you want him to be comfortable, at the veryleast. There’s no point in being formal in the first place, right? “Leave theheavy lifting to me down there,” you tell him, with a wink. “I’ll be relying onyou for support, so be sure not to get yourself injured, OK?”

He seems a bit taken aback at first, and you wonder why.Sure, YoRHa androids weren’t known for their friendliness, but surely 9Srealizes that not all combat models are as frigid as 2B. Nonetheless, hecollects himself after a moment and returns your smile with one of his own;it’s just as genuine, if a little bit crooked. “Yeah!” he agrees. “We 9S modelsare the best around, so don’t worry about that. Just leave the hacking to me.”

 …

And you find before long that you definitely can leave the hacking to him. 9S is morethan capable on the battlefield, even if his model can’t take as much of abeating as yours. For the most part, he stays out of the way and disables enemyafter enemy with a practiced efficiency. You’re impressed.

So his reputation wasearned then, eh?

You clap him heartily on the back after a long battle, rightbetween the shoulder blades. He yelps a little and spins around to face you,and you give him a toothy smile. “Keep it up, 9S.”

You could swear you see him flush a little, but his pridewins out over his embarrassment. He bumps his fist against your shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

 …

He asks you to call him Ninesafter a while, when the two of you are down on Earth.

You agree to without a second thought.

 …

You laugh a lot together. You’re not sure if it’s yourpeppiness infecting him or just 9S coming out of his shell, but by the time you’rewrapping up your first mission together, you’re joking around like old friends.He has a quick wit, you realize quickly. And as soon as he realizes you won’treport him, he doesn’t hesitate to complain about Command.

His operator, 21O, pinches the bridge of her nose when shecalls and sees the two of you horsing around. “You’re not down there to playgames,” you overhear her scolding him. “If the two of you can’t workefficiently together, you’ll be reassigned for your next mission.”

You hold your breath at that. 9S seems to bristle a little bit.“Hey now, don’t say that,” he mutters. “We’re heading to the last access pointnow. I’ll notify you when we get it back online.”

“Good.” 21O doesn’t say anything else, but you see herglance at you over 9S’s shoulder. You press your lips together. “Closing thischannel, then. See to it that you get it done today, please.” And with that, her little window disappears.

9S pouts, brow knitting together. After that, he’s a lotquieter than before.

 …

You get a mail mere minutes after their overheard conversation.It’s only one line, and it’s from 21O;

“Please don’t enablehim,” it says.

[destination-of-fate]

SoraLon Minecraft now has English subtitles!

Part 1 ^ Part 2 Since Soraru has enabled subtitle submissions on his official uploads on Youtube, I took on the project of translating both of his Minecraft videos that co-star Lon! :) This is his official channel that you can watch them on, which means no video reprinting was done in the process \o/ A few notes: -Lon’s line at 16:27 is supposed to say “I feel like Soraru-san’s walking speeds and Lon-san’s walking speeds are different.” Sorry about that! I meant to correct it but I didn’t realize the subs had already been published, so I was too late to get that in there orz  -Due to Lon being on Skype as well as gradually getting sleepier and therefore more mumble-y, her voice was hard for me to interpret on a few lines so I kinda had to use my best judgement on what I could hear. Apologies if I messed anything up too bad, but it really was only a small amount of lines that I felt questionable on. -Please don’t leave any rude comments on the video such as “I wish he had played with (other utaite) instead” or “I like (other utaite) better” Enjoy! Translation: Me :) (Emma) Subtitles: NicoleShieru, Chokyupies, Yumiko