#project idea reminders for myself

[md3artjournal]

9:15 PM 12/2/2023

I've been thinking of giving up on drawing fanart or even human figures. I just don't have the confidence to compete in the fanart space, doing character art. I barely have confidence to promote myself as an artist of my original art that I've already done. And frankly, I've had so many negative experiences in fandom by now, I feel like I've probably burned bridges I don't know about, and people would not only not want my fanart, but actively disdain the idea of any art coming from me because of my fandom opinions. I mean, one of the top artists in that ship blocked me on Tumblr, after all. (Maybe they didn't like that I like Bottomitri? Maybe they found my hidden posts about enjoying a quick laugh out of jokes about DMCL being teasing, tsundere, and/or flirty, but actually preferring headcanoning them differently. I really don't know.) Like, I already have stickers made of one of my favorite claumitri fanarts, but I'm so reluctant to post in the tags to ask if the fandom wants to buy any, because I feel like that fandom hates me (with a few exceptions).

I've been thinking for some time, about rebranding. I'm thinking of focusing on my sketches of my photography. It's mostly photos of my backyard's flowers and the sky. (Maybe I should go out to Angeles National Forest to take some photos of landscapes. I live across the street from there, after all.) After I found out I couldn't make any merch of my tiger sketches, my best illustrations, because they were based on other people's photos, I started taking my own source photos for reference. But the only subjects I have are my backyard. I'm kind of too socially anxious to leave my house for the past several years. But my flower sketches have turned out pretty well. I just wish I had done more. And I also take photos of the sky: clouds, dusk, etc. So I want to start trying to draw sketches of the sky too.

I subscribe to all these YouTube artists who talk about the small business side of being an artist, and I just don't have the guts to do any of the advice they're giving, because I don't have any confidence in my art. Because I don't have any confidence in myself.

I once told someone that I'll probably WANT to return to an office job, by the time I NEED to return to an office job. (Something like that; I can't remember anymore.) I think I need to return to an office job. I mean, I still have money. But not enough to comfortably outsource and invest in stocking items for sales. I try to hit sticker producers' sales, but I couldn't make the last one in time, and what if it takes a while before the next sale like that in my price range? But if I can't stock enough for a store, then do I just give up? But then I'm still stuck with the same problem I had, when I first decided to try to make my living as an artist:

I just can't be happy not doing art. Even if I'm bad at it. I spent so much time at offices, having excess money, secure with employer sponsored medical insurance, and I had everything everyone said I needed to be happy. Yet, I was still self-destructive and my suicidal ideation crept back. Not as bad as during school---I had improved from cutting myself, to simply digging my nails into my skin or clenching my hands in ways that hurt my joints---but I could feel it coming back again. That's when I decided that if I was too tired after work to do art, and art was what I needed to do to feel life was worthwhile, then art needed to be my job.

But I'm just not good at it. Maybe I don't want it enough. Otherwise, wouldn't I be studying and training more? But I just can't get myself to work hard at it. My dad said once that when you're really into something, you'll automatically find yourself working hard at it without trying. Well, I found myself doing that with art in college. But now, I'm not doing that with art anymore. At least, not at the level I should be. There are people studying so hard in their spare time, that they post astronomical leaps in their 1-year-progression posts on social media. I'm not doing that. Why aren't I working as hard as that?

But I can't go back to an office job. I don't want to go back to feeling suicidal. I don't want to go back to school, because that DEFINITELY made me suicidal and self-destructive (at least at those levels). I don't want to go back to feeling that way again.

But I guess I still have suicidal ideation now. One little mistake today with some grownup responsibilities, and my thoughts are already spiraling about how I'm not cut out for being alive. But if I'm not happy while doing art, nor while not doing art, then maybe I really am not cut out for being alive. I've lost the guts to be actively trying to suicide, as I did when I was in school. But maybe I was onto something. But like I said, I still just don't have the guts for anything. But I'm also not cut-out for being alive.

9:34 PM 12/2/2023

Anyway, I just wanted to remind myself to try sketching my sky/cloud photographs.

11:32 PM 12/4/2023

I've started actually browsing how to get a library job. I've talked several times, on an off, throughout my life, about working at a library. Though, technically, I've already worked at a library during college. It was nice. A lot of times throughout my life, but especially during college, the library was the only place I could be. I had too much social anxiety to go to my dorm and all the communal spaces to hang out were social. (One time, I was racing to study for a test, in one of those communal spaces and religious solicitors took up my precious little study time, trying to recruit me. Ugh.) The library was the only place I could go to be undisturbed, sit down, be warm, and rest---Not that they had enough seating for that, most of the time. But it was still a reprieve my my endless walking around campus, because most spaces aren't built for non-social people. When I was little, I used to be a big bookworm, and constantly beg my mom to drive me to the library again and again. But I learned to hate reading in high school, so I thought I couldn't work at the library. All the library job listings required degrees that looked like they entailed a LOT of reading. And I just can't do that anymore. But my elderly mom got a job at the library for a few years a long time ago, despite her lack of a Library Science degree. So lately I've been reconsidering a quiet life with a library job or any unassuming job, with art as my hobby. Maybe art would be better as a hobby. Less pressure to be on parr with the "competition", and more freedom to feel proud of doing better than me from the past. But then the old fears creep in again about a job taking all my time and energy, until I can't do the things that make my life feel worthwhile, and then I'm self-destructive again.

Anyway, I should at least open an Etsy shop and make some more stickers. I'm really leaning towards rebranding. Maybe into multiple brands, to include my figure photography.

After all, since my figure photography keeps winning contests and features online, then doesn't that mean my best art, the art I should be focusing on, is my figure photography? I've been thinking for a while to start a YouTube side channel for my figure photography. I can be objectively aware that my figure photography isn't exactly the best, especially compared to all the other figure photographers out there. But since it keeps winning recognition, doesn't that mean that people like it enough? Maybe I should be doing something with it? Or at least taking it more seriously. I don't even have an Instagram solely focused on my figure photography! I don't even have a DLSR!

There used to be a figure videography channel I loved called fullOanime, who made figure showcase videos that reminded me of the cosplay music videos that I watched a lot of, at that time. Fulloanime deleted all their figure videos and rebranded, but I always wanted to watch videos like that again. I began to want to make figure videography music videos, like cosplay videographers. (For a long time, I WAS a cosplay videographer. Just not the ones with gyroscopes, making music videos. I just documented cosplay gatherings.) Something for myself to rewatch, the way I used to repeatedly rewatch fullOanime's figure showcases. So often, I see the Nendoroid YouTubers I Follow, talk about how no one is watching their unboxing videos. So even though people have told me that my collection is diverse enough to make a good unboxing channel, I've felt reluctant. (But mostly because i like taking my time, documenting my unboxings for myself, so i can be sure if any damage or missing pieces were like that straight out of the box. I dontwant to redirect focuson turning unboxing into a video, versus documentationfir my records. But also others make it sound hopeless. I don'tneed more of that feeling.) And even the ones doing figure showcases, just aren't using the rewatchable style that fullOanime or cosplay videographers do. It's usually just the figure spinning on a rotating pedestal. Granted, some Nendoroid showcase channels I'm subscribed to, do that well. But I am craving a showcase that is just as interesting as a cosplay music video. I want those videos back, to rewatch over and over, like cosplay music videos or fullOanime's figure showcases. But it's becoming increasingly clear that I guess I'll have to do it myself. But I'm not a film editor! I used to draw comics and people from the animation college would compliment it as "storyboards", but it's been a LONG time since I lost that skill.

So should I make a figure photography YouTube channel about DIY miniature crafts for photoshoot props? Because I do that too. Not to the extent of diorama makers and the figure photographers who assemble entire miniature model buildings from scratch. But just the simple stuff. …Maybe I should make a channel about lazy miniature crafts and the most simple diorama backdrops? lol

Basically, i wonder if I'd be better off with art as just a hobby. I love seeing other artists doing well with their business and making beautiful things. But i don't enjoy knowing that's the bar i have to reach to make a living. Because i can't do it.

[conspicuous-clown-car]

ougghhh next month is gonna be BUSY

finish playing all fnaf games (SL-HW2) on twitch, make (as in like literally sewing) an outfit for a concert, ARTFIGHT which will probably take up most my time, putting together/making several cosplays for a con (one im not excited to cosplay as but im doing it for my partner), plus some other stuff i definitely forgot, all on top of working. wwouughbh

[inga-don-studio]

Since I pretty much tore the headcrab zombie mask down to just the base yesterday, I'm trying to figure out the best angle & pose for the new rigid forelimbs. I want them to look like they're jabbing into the host's chest while at rest and in an aggressive threat display when raised. I think I finally got it looking about how I want it, at least from the side profile-

[diamondsandtoads]

chapter one, first draft??? DONE

[moe-broey]

Genuinely what the FUCK are you on about 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[uproariousscarecrow]

some more frames i liked!! i'm just shy of 75% done with this project, and i'm really excited!!!!

[milf-harrington]

did you guys know im writing a book? cause it is...not even close to finished <3

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[thechosenanubis]

soooo i have been rewatching the Uncharted series. ( if you haven't played/watched it what are you waiting for?! )

And it got me thinking that Nate and Elena are just an older version of Nina and Eddie.

All I can think about now is to write an AU about Neddie being treasure hunters. 😞

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Sorry to everyone who's ever spoken to me on RA because I was just looking at an email for work and a DM for RA and realized I'm using the same professional tone for both.

[orcelito]

It's presentation day and we r going last today!!! Which means I'm bored waiting for my presentation to start

Kind of funny tho how bad some of these are lmfao

[theskyexists]

ANNNYWAY I'm using Roblox not because it will be successful but because it is a platform that can facilitate my vision

[kirammanswifey]

arcane characters when they're jealous x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i really loveddd writing this, just imaginating each scenario was so satisfying, silco's and viktor's were my favorites. i loooove viktor so much i could write about that man each day of my life and never be get tired of it. btw request are open! ;)

Viktor

The lab was especially lively that afternoon, with new ideas flowing among the team. You were conversing with a new colleague, a young enthusiast who seemed to have a knack for understanding complex concepts. His questions and comments kept you engaged, and you couldn't help but smile at his contagious energy.

From his desk, Viktor occasionally glanced up, observing the interaction. At first, he seemed focused on his own calculations, but every time your laughter echoed through the space, his hands paused over the paper, and his gaze slightly hardened.

After a while, he stood up with his careful stride and approached you and your colleague, placing a hand on the edge of the table where you were working.

"Excuse me, could you come with me for a moment? There's something we need to review together," Viktor said, his tone polite but with a firmness that didn't go unnoticed.

"Of course, Viktor, give me a second," you replied, finishing explaining one last detail before turning to him.

Viktor waited for you to stand up and guided you back to his desk. When you both were seated, he leaned slightly toward you, his eyes searching yours.

"It seemed like you were quite involved in your conversation," he commented, trying to maintain a casual tone but failing to hide the hint of jealousy in his gaze.

"I was just explaining some of the previous projects," you said, gently touching his hand to calm him. "Nothing I can't share with you."

Viktor nodded, relaxing slightly at your touch, but he didn't let the subject drop so easily.

"I'm glad to hear that. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that there are things only we share, isn't it?"

His voice was soft, but the intensity of his words made your heart beat a little faster. You knew Viktor rarely showed his emotions so openly, and seeing that protective side of him was something you couldn't ignore.

"Viktor," you said, smiling and intertwining your fingers with his. "You know you're always the first person I think of when something excites me. No one can replace you."

The shadow of jealousy that had been haunting him slowly faded, replaced by a slight smile that barely curved his lips. Viktor leaned in a bit more, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, a caress that spoke of the trust he had in you.

"I know," he whispered. "I just needed to remind myself."

Jinx

The air in the Undercity was thick with smoke and raucous laughter as you made your way into an underground club with Jinx. The vibrant music filled the space, and the crowd moved like a wild tide. You had come with Jinx to get distracted, but soon found yourself caught up in a conversation with an old acquaintance. His words were lively, but your attention was divided between him and the flashes of blue in the background, where Jinx was watching.

Jinx stayed in the shadows, her bright blue eyes shining intensely as she watched you laugh and chat with someone else. Her jaw was tense, and her fingers nervously played with a grenade she had pulled from her belt. Jealousy boiled inside her, mixed with a latent fear that she might lose you.

When the man placed a hand on your arm to emphasize his point, Jinx could no longer hold herself back. She cut through the crowd with the agility of a predator, her presence drawing attention as she advanced toward you.

"Hey! How about you get lost before things get ugly?" Jinx interrupted the conversation with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, her voice laden with a barely concealed threat.

The man quickly stepped away, recognizing the danger in Jinx's tone. He had barely disappeared into the crowd when Jinx grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward a less crowded corner of the club.

"What the hell was that?" you asked, surprised by her abruptness.

Jinx stared at you, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. "I didn’t like how he looked at you. I didn’t like how he touched you. You’re mine, understand? Only mine."

The intensity in her voice took your breath away. It was as if her whole world revolved around you, and the idea of sharing you with someone else drove her mad.

"Jinx..." you began, trying to calm her, but she was already moving closer, her hands on your hips, pressing you against the wall.

"I don’t care if I’m too much. I don’t care if you think I’m crazy. I can’t stand the idea of someone else trying to have what’s mine," she whispered, her lips inches from yours.

"Jinx," you said softly, cupping her face in your hands. "I understand how you feel, but you can't act like this or treat people that way. You have to trust me. I’ll never leave you, but you have to believe in us. You have to believe in me."

Her eyes softened for a moment, and she nodded slightly, her breathing still heavy but beginning to calm.

Her words were a whirlwind of passion and possessiveness, and before you could respond, her lips found yours in a fierce kiss, filled with need and latent desperation. Her body trembled against yours, and you felt the chaos of her emotions spilling into every movement.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes searched yours, pleading and vulnerable. "Promise me you'll always stay with me. That you’ll never let anyone come between us."

"Jinx, I could never want anyone else," you said, stroking her cheek gently. "I’m here, and I always will be."

Jinx closed her eyes, resting her forehead against yours as her breathing steadied. "I love you... too much."

Vi

The atmosphere in the alley was charged with electricity. The crowd gathered around the makeshift fight ring, silently placing bets as they watched the imminent confrontation. You knew what Vi did, what she had done her entire life. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and anticipation wrapped around her like a shadow. But this time, something was different.

Beside you, Vi was ready, her gloves tightened, muscles tense beneath her shirt. The fierce look she shot at the man in front of her was nothing new; they had seen it dozens of times. But this time, something shifted in the air. Maybe it was the way she glanced at you, as if trying to make sure you were okay before the fight began. But you knew the man facing her wasn’t just another opponent. He was a guy with bad intentions and an overly confident smirk.

"Hey there, pretty," the man approached you with a smooth tone, his gaze far too bold as he caught you off guard. "Surely, you’ve got more to offer than just standing here watching your girl fight, right? Why don’t you come with me after this? I can make you forget all this chaos."

You didn’t expect that attitude, and your discomfort was evident, though you didn’t want to make a scene. You tried to keep calm, but the weight of the situation crept over you. However, before you could respond, the man gave your arm a touch, seeking your attention, breaking your personal space.

Vi didn’t think for another second.

With a low growl, like a caged beast, she approached him. Her eyes gleamed with fury, her body tense, ready to strike, but before she could, the man sneered.

"What’s the matter, sweetheart? Bothered by a little distraction?" the man taunted, his tone more provoking than sympathetic, as if testing how far Vi’s patience could stretch.

"I suggest you walk away," Vi snarled, the rage bubbling in her voice, as she stepped closer, her muscles marking a clear threat that she wouldn’t let anyone touch what was hers. But the man didn’t give her the chance to do anything. With a provoking smile, he tried to step closer to you, completely ignoring Vi.

Before he could get any nearer, Vi shoved him back with a sharp punch that echoed through the place. "I’m the only one who touches her!" Vi’s voice boomed with such intensity that the air seemed to freeze.

The crowd shuddered, expectant. The guy, who thought his attitude could intimidate, now found himself cornered by Vi’s fierce rivalry, his previously confident eyes now filled with a mix of surprise and fear.

"I told you to walk away," Vi repeated, her tone so grave that the man had no choice but to retreat.

The fight began.

The crowd dispersed as the bets continued, but Vi saw nothing beyond her target. Every punch she threw at her opponent was filled with fury. She wasn’t just fighting for money or respect; she was fighting for you. The idea of someone daring to look at you, touch you, think they could make you theirs, drove her to lose control in a dangerous way.

The man tried to fight back, but Vi, with her agility and strength, knocked him down once again, this time with a punch so powerful that the sound of the impact echoed in everyone’s ears. In seconds, he was already on the ground, defeated, and Vi stared down at him before turning toward you.

Your heart pounded as you watched the scene. Vi was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, but her gaze was solely on you.

Vi walked toward you with the swagger of someone who had just won, her smile full of pride.

"Did you enjoy the show?" she asked, her tone softer but still carrying a hint of challenge.

"You really love putting on a show, don’t you?" you responded sarcastically, a playful smirk forming as you wrapped your arms around her.

Vi leaned in, her eyes darkening with intensity. "It’s not about the show," she murmured, her voice low and fierce. "I can’t stand anyone touching you or even thinking they can get close to you."

A grin tugged at your lips. "I love it when you get possessive," you whispered, your gaze locked with hers.

Vi’s expression shifted to one of amused delight before she pulled you into a wild, passionate kiss. "You’re mine," she growled against your lips, the ferocity of her claim sending a shiver down your spine.

You kissed her back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in her hair. "And you’re mine," you declared, your voice firm with equal possessiveness. The world around you faded into irrelevance, leaving only the two of you, caught in a storm of desire and fierce loyalty.

Caitlyn

The elegant gala in Piltover had unfolded without incident, as expected from an event of such magnitude. The city's high society was enjoying the evening, and you, as a special guest, were no exception. Caitlyn, always poised and reserved, had invited you to accompany her, and in her role as hostess, she was the center of many conversations. However, your presence hadn’t gone unnoticed by a few.

The soft murmur of conversation turned into something more charged when a man you hadn’t seen before approached with a calculated smile. Clearly part of the elite, he had an impeccable demeanor and the gaze of someone who knew how to get what he wanted.

"Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice how stunning you look tonight," the man said, smiling with a tone as smooth as it was dangerous. "I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, but I believe I’d like to. Would you care to join me for a quieter drink? Perhaps we could find a more secluded spot to chat."

You quickly noticed his tone was more than a simple invitation, bordering on an insinuation that made you uncomfortable. You tried to smile politely, but before you could respond, you felt Caitlyn’s presence next to you.

Caitlyn’s response was cold as ice, but instead of speaking, she closed the distance between you and her with a grace that turned every head in the room. She placed a gentle yet firm hand on your waist, pulling you close, and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The simple act silenced the murmurs around you, establishing her claim without a single word.

Turning to the man, Caitlyn’s voice was soft but carried a steely edge. "My partner isn’t interested in your offer," she said with a calm, unwavering gaze that could cut glass.

The man’s smile faltered but quickly returned, broader and more calculated. "Surely, she can speak for herself. Maybe she’s just being polite."

Caitlyn’s expression didn’t waver, but there was a glint of sharp amusement in her eyes. "I won’t repeat myself. The invitation is declined," she said, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she continued, "And I’ve heard whispers about certain irregularities in your financial dealings. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to take a closer look, would you?"

The man's face paled as the words settled in, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Caitlyn’s veiled threat. Without another word, he mumbled an apology and quickly melted back into the crowd.

Once he was out of sight, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly. "You can be a bit extreme sometimes, you know that?"

Caitlyn turned to you, her eyes softening as a small smile curved her lips. "When it comes to you, I’ll do anything. I would go to any lengths for you."

Caitlyn’s words hung in the air, and without another thought, she gently pressed her forehead against yours, closing her eyes in a quiet, tender moment. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you in the stillness. It was a gesture of love, of connection, so intimate that nothing else mattered. Slowly, she whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you held her close, both of you savoring the shared warmth and affection.

After a beat, you pulled back slightly, your eyes glinting with mischief. "But the event must go on, right? You can’t let one old, pretentious, corrupt man ruin your mood."

Caitlyn chuckled softly, the faintest blush rising on her cheeks as she glanced away, clearly embarrassed by the playful suggestion. "You really know how to make me laugh," she said, a genuine smile pulling at her lips as her usual composure returned.

"You have to show them how well Caitlyn Kiramman performs as a host," you teased, your voice playful. "A night like this is your stage, and that man doesn’t deserve to ruin the performance. Besides, you can’t let anyone think they can just mess with you."

Her laughter filled the air, and Caitlyn couldn’t help but shake her head at your teasing, the blush still present on her cheeks. Taking your arm with an elegant, almost theatrical gesture, she smiled at you. "Alright, let’s show them how it’s done," she said, the regal composure she always exuded returning in full force.

As you both walked away, side by side, the night unfolded once more, but it was clear—nothing, not even the interruption of a rude guest, could take away from the quiet, unspoken bond between the two of you.

Jayce

The night stretched on, filled with bright lights, laughter, and glasses of wine being raised in what seemed to be an exclusive gala of Piltover's high society. The crowd, elegant and wealthy, flowed through the hallways, engaging in lively conversations about scientific and political advancements, but you couldn’t help feeling out of place amidst so much luxury.

Jayce, always by your side, looked every bit the perfect gentleman in his perfectly tailored suit, smiling, but with a slight shadow of concentration that betrayed the way he observed the surroundings. As if he were seeing beyond the faces, detecting every detail. His fingers rested gently on your lower back as he guided you through the crowd, protecting you from any uncomfortable glance or word.

“Come on, it’s fine,” he said, smiling at you tenderly. “Just a little more patience, then we’ll leave.”

Before you could respond, a man, someone who clearly wasn’t unfamiliar to you due to his overly flashy style and even more obvious intentions, arrogantly approached, interrupting your conversation with Jayce.

“What a pleasure to see you here. The beauty of Piltover doesn’t stop at inventions, does it?” the man said in an excessively flattering tone, his eyes clearly evaluating you in an uncomfortable way. The way he approached wasn’t that of a friend or acquaintance, but rather of someone who was clearly interested in something more. He came too close, not to greet you in a friendly manner, but as if he were recruiting you for something you didn’t want.

You felt the growing discomfort in your chest. But before you could say anything, you felt Jayce’s presence beside you. Somehow, without the man saying another word, the space between him and you seemed to shrink. Jayce didn’t show aggression, but the aura of power that emanated from him was enough to make anyone think twice before continuing.

“Well, who would have thought tonight’s gala would be so… interesting?” Jayce said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, observing the man as if evaluating him from head to toe. “I wonder if your compliments are as easy to come by as they seem, or if it’s simply an innate talent of yours.”

The man stood silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Jayce wasn’t looking at him with disdain, but with a smile that was almost kind, though it left no room for doubt: he wasn’t welcome.

“You know,” Jayce continued in a soft voice, but with a hint of mischief that only he knew how to wield, “I think my lady here, doesn’t need any more empty compliments from someone who’s only interested in the surface. She’s here for her intelligence, for what she brings to the city. And I think that… is far more attractive than any cheap remark you could make.”

The man, caught by Jayce’s passive-aggressive tone, hurried to apologize and walked away, unsure of how to defend himself against the elegant subtlety with which Jayce had disarmed him.

Once the politician had gone, Jayce turned to you with a warmer smile, his eyes softening when he saw that you had remained silent, a little tense from the exchange.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, caressing your arm delicately. “I don’t like it when you’re bothered, but you know I won’t let someone so… bland… get close to you like that.”

You smiled, relieved by his intervention but also a little overwhelmed by how perceptive he had been. “Thank you, Jayce. I didn’t know how… to handle the situation.”

He smiled tenderly, his eyes shining with confidence, as always. “You don’t have to,” he said as he got closer, gently cupping your face. He looked at you intently, and without warning, placed a soft kiss on your cheek, the gesture so full of affection that it made your heart skip a beat.

“But if you ever need help getting someone to leave you alone, you know I’ll always be here,” he said, his voice filled with sweetness and protection.

And as you continued walking through the gala, with the gentleness of his touch and his firm presence, you felt that, despite the challenges you sometimes faced, you had someone who knew how to handle any situation without losing his class or his affection.

Ekko

You're walking through the streets of the Undercity, a place known both for its decadent beauty and constant danger. Today seems to be one of those days when the city has a somewhat more chaotic air, but somehow, you feel more at peace than ever with him by your side. Ekko, as always, accompanies you with his relaxed attitude and that confident smile that rarely disappears from his face.

Suddenly, an unknown man appears out of nowhere, interrupting your conversation with Ekko. He gives you a blatant, shameless look, approaching you with the obvious intention of grabbing your attention. He’s the type who clearly believes he can have you with just a few words.

“Well, what do we have here?” he says, with a smug smile. “A beauty like you around here? I can’t imagine why someone so special is wasting their time with a guy like him.” He looks at Ekko, then shifts his gaze back to you. “I’m sure you and I could do great things together. What do you say? I could show you what it really means to live.”

Before you can respond, you notice Ekko, apparently unfazed by the situation. He stops, lets out a light laugh, and approaches, observing the guy with an expression that clearly shows he’s taking the situation as a joke.

“Seriously?” Ekko says in a playful tone, as if he were watching some kind of comedy show. “So, you’re offering my girl ‘what it really means to live’? Let me tell you something, buddy: if she really looked at you, you’d know you’re not even close to being ‘a big deal.’”

The stranger stands there a bit stunned, clearly not expecting such a direct response. Ekko continues, not wasting a second. “You know what? Don’t worry, I won’t waste your time. I’m sure you and your ‘great proposals’ have an audience somewhere else, but… seriously, I recommend you stop wasting your breath here.”

The guy seems confused, and seeing that Ekko isn’t remotely jealous or concerned, he tries to change his tactic. “Come on, don’t be like that, I was just being nice. I’m sure you don’t mind a little competition, right?”

Ekko looks at him with a wide grin, but it’s clear he’s taking nothing seriously. “Competition? Was that a threat or a joke? Because, seriously, if you thought I’d be worried, I think you’ve misunderstood everything. I don’t know if you’re used to dealing with people who don’t know what they want, but let me clarify something: don’t waste my time, buddy.”

The guy seems to finally understand that he’s not going to get anywhere and, somewhat embarrassed, walks away quickly, mumbling something incomprehensible as he retreats.

Ekko, seeing him leave, turns to you with a mocking smile. “See? He didn’t even bother to keep going. Like someone like him had a chance.”

You laugh at his carefree attitude and move a little closer to him, gently touching his arm. “Doesn’t it really bother you when someone approaches me like that?”

Ekko places a hand on his chest, acting as if he’s deeply hurt. “Bother me? No, not at all. I’m so sure of myself and what we have that those things don’t affect me.” Then, he smiles knowingly. “Besides, you know there’s nothing that guy could do to win me over. If you cared about anything else, you’d already know.”

You look into his eyes and, with a playful gesture, touch his cheek. “I don’t know if it’s confidence or arrogance, but I like it.”

Ekko laughs softly before leaning in a little closer to you. “What you like, girl, is that I’m the only one who can make you laugh even in the most ridiculous situations. And if that’s not what matters, I don’t know what does.”

Suddenly, he leans in and gives you a soft kiss on the cheek, as if it’s as natural as breathing. “Come on, let’s not waste any more time with guys like him. Let’s do something better. But before…” He stops for a moment, his playful gaze fixed on you. “Tell me, when did I learn to become this irresistible?”

The situation lightens with his relaxed attitude, and the confidence he has in what you two share makes you smile. With Ekko, there’s no room for doubt or worry. He knows what he has and how to handle anything that comes his way.

Silco

The meeting room is thick with the heavy atmosphere of a business that has no place in the light of day. The men around you are shadowed figures, accustomed to the illegality that runs like poison through the veins of the Undercity. Silco sits at the head of the table, his presence a shadow that dominates the space, and you’re beside him, as always. No one dares to look beyond his presence, and everyone knows that it’s not just his partner who must be respected, but you as well.

You’re his, that’s what everyone thinks. No one dares to say it out loud, but it’s clear in the air. The way he treats you, how he keeps you close to him at all times, how his gaze never leaves you. Silco doesn’t speak of what is obvious, but everyone knows. You are his in a way that no one dares question.

The meeting is tense, filled with discussions about contracts and dirty deals, but the tone shifts quickly when Finn, one of Silco’s oldest and most dangerous partners, leans back in his chair with a cocky grin. This guy’s been in the business for years and isn’t intimidated by the threat Silco represents. But this time, he’s gone too far.

“You know, Silco,” Finn begins, twirling a cigarette between his fingers, a mocking smirk on his face. “I think it’s a waste to have this beauty always by your side and not put her to work properly.” His laugh is bitter, full of malice, and his eyes fix on you with an unsettling intensity. “How about you let me borrow her for a day? Or better yet... how much would I have to pay to spend a night with her? You must be making a good amount from such a treasure, right?”

The air freezes instantly. The room falls silent, and even the toughest men know that a very fine line has just been crossed. Silco doesn’t speak for a moment; there’s something about his calmness that’s terrifying, a calm that always precedes a storm.

Silco slowly raises his head, his dark eyes fixed on Finn, his gaze as cold as steel. His face remains unchanged, but the atmosphere around him grows thick, dangerous.

The silence is absolute, and all eyes are on Finn, who is now visibly uncomfortable. However, Silco doesn’t budge. At that precise moment, his gaze shifts toward Sevika, his right-hand woman, who stands by the wall. Sevika’s imposing figure doesn’t need words to understand her boss’s intention. Silco gives her an imperceptible nod, and in an instant, Sevika moves with lethal speed.

In the blink of an eye, Finn is at the table, a loud thud fills the room as Sevika slams him against the surface, his face now smashed against it. Everyone watches in silence, as if the very air has stopped, knowing that Silco’s simple gesture has activated the kind of violence that should always be avoided in his presence.

“I’d suggest you think very carefully before you speak, Finn,” Silco says calmly, his gaze fixed on the humiliated man. “Because I don’t like anyone questioning what belongs to me, and certainly not disrespecting it like that.”

Finn staggers, slowly getting up, embarrassed and frightened. However, it’s not enough. Silco looks at him as though he’s observing a pest, and his tone is all Finn needs to understand this is his final warning.

“Now, apologize to her,” Silco orders, his voice almost a whisper of pure threat. “And do it in a way that reminds you how low you’ve fallen, because I’m not willing to tolerate such disrespect in my territory.”

The room is in absolute silence. The tension could be cut with a knife, and all present, even the toughest men, don’t dare make a single move. Finn, trembling, has no choice but to give in. He turns toward you, his face conflicted but clearly defeated, and his voice, full of humiliation, rises in the air. You almost felt sorry for him.

“I… I’m sorry,” he murmurs, shame and fear evident on his face. “I shouldn’t have spoken like that. I apologize.”

Silco doesn’t say anything, but his expression says it all. It’s a clear message: never again.

After a few seconds, the situation lightens slightly. Silco returns to his seat, and the room resumes its usual rhythm, though the fear still lingers in the air. No one will dare challenge him again.

When the tension finally dissipates, Silco turns toward you, and his gaze softens when he sees that you’re unharmed, calm. There’s an intensity in his look, a protective possessiveness that never fades. He takes your hand firmly, guiding you toward the exit of the room without saying another word.

Silco is not a man who needs to explain his gestures. His presence, his actions, speak for him. In his world, no one touches what belongs to him, and anyone who does will learn, like Finn, what it truly means to cross the line.

Mel

The council meeting is at its most tense, with politicians and businesspeople discussing agreements, but something in the air changes when a man, one of the most influential businessmen, dares to flirt with you. He leans toward you with an arrogant smile, throwing out bold comments.

"I’ve always wondered how someone as... attractive as you ends up next to a woman as cold as Mel," he says with a smile. "How about we grab a coffee later? I’m sure we could talk about things much more interesting than this boring meeting."

Silence spreads across the room. Everyone watches the situation, but Mel doesn’t change her posture. She stays silent, but the tension in her body is palpable. Something in the air tells you this is not a game she’s willing to tolerate.

"Do you dare talk about her like that?" Mel finally speaks, her tone soft but laced with threat. "Last time I checked, this meeting wasn’t a place for cheap advances."

The man, who had been confident, now looks visibly uncomfortable. "If you speak like that again, I assure you, it won’t be coffee you’ll be having, but a much... bitterer deal."

The threat is clear. All eyes focus on the man, who now seems small and uncomfortable. Mel doesn’t need to raise her voice for everyone to feel the weight of her authority.

"My apologies," he murmurs, embarrassed, not daring to look at them.

Mel responds with a cold smile. "I suggest you remember who’s really in control here."

The man nods quickly, speechless. Mel turns toward you, her calculating gaze fixed on you.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and though the question is soft, you know it’s a reminder that no one, not even him, will dare approach you in that way again.

You nod, feeling the security that only Mel can provide. No one will touch what’s hers.

"Let’s go," Mel says, rising gracefully. "We’ve got work to do."

The dynamic has shifted, and the room remains silent, but everyone knows Mel has made it clear who holds the power. You, being hers, are not only protected by her power but by her cunning and absolute control.

As you both leave the room, Mel stops at the threshold, looking at you with an almost evaluative expression.

"And don’t forget," she says quietly, "this is not just for you. It’s for everything you represent." She gives you a look that seems to assess your reaction, as if making sure you understand what’s at stake. "This is just the beginning."

The hallway is silent, but when you both take another step, Mel turns to you with a smile that, although subtle, carries a hint of satisfaction. "Never let anyone underestimate you, especially when they have no idea what they could lose."

She looks at you for a moment, and you realize that, beneath her power and control, there’s something else... something tender.

"I care for you because you’re mine," she whispers, but not possessively—more like a promise, as if she’s telling you that in this world of chaos, she will always be your refuge.

Before you can respond, Mel leans slightly toward you, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, but one full of intensity that leaves you breathless. It’s a short kiss, but enough to convey everything that can’t be said in words. The contact is warm, protective, and for the first time in a long time, you feel completely safe in her arms.

When she pulls away, her eyes seek yours with the unwavering confidence she’s always had, but now with something more. "Don’t forget this," she says, lightly touching your face. "No matter what happens, you’ll always be mine."

With a smile, she takes your hand, and without saying another word, you both continue walking.

Sevika

The hustle and bustle of the streets of Zaun echoes in the distance, but inside the tavern, the atmosphere is dense, heavy. The man approaches the table with that confident look, not as subtle as he thinks, and his words slide out like sweet poison.

"Well, who are you?" he says, smiling as his eyes boldly scan your figure. "A woman so brilliant, so... stunning, in a place like this."

Sevika doesn’t flinch, but you can see the tension ripple through her body, as if something dangerous is about to explode. Her eyes, cold as steel, follow the man while he continues talking, completely unaware of the danger he’s creating.

"I’m sure there’s more behind that facade," he says, getting closer, his voice too near your ear. "A beauty so rare, so unique, can’t just be a pretty face."

The discomfort grows inside you, but it’s Sevika who feels it first. Her expression shifts from calm to contained fury. She looks at you for a moment, as if asking for permission to act, and when your eyes meet, you know the situation is about to turn dangerous.

The man persists, but Sevika won’t tolerate it anymore. She stands up, her boots echoing on the floor with a firmness that makes everyone fall silent. Her words come out as a whisper, but they are loaded with a threat that everyone feels.

"If you don’t leave right now, I’ll make you wish you were never born," she says, her voice low, but her deadly tone unmistakable.

The man steps back, and his eyes finally show fear. Sevika gives him no space to react, her presence crushes him, forcing him to step back, and without saying another word, the man turns and disappears into the crowd, his ego shattered by Sevika's imposing figure.

She returns to her seat, the calm returning to her face, though the intensity of her gaze doesn’t fade. She looks at you, and for the first time, her lips curve into a smile that’s anything but kind. It’s pure possessiveness, a warning without words.

"Does it bother you when someone gets that close to you?" she asks, her tone almost playful, as if testing your limits.

You look at her, feeling the heat in your chest. There’s no fear, only confidence, because you know you’ll always have your strong, powerful woman by your side to protect you, to defend you from anything that tries to break the bubble you’ve built with her. You move closer slowly, her eyes never leaving yours.

"I feel fine," you reply with a seductive smile, letting your words linger between the two of you. "I know I’ll always have you—my strong, fierce, and captivating woman, who will always protect me." You flirt as you settle comfortably in her lap.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, a playful yet dangerous smile curling on her lips. Her hot breath brushes against your neck. "Good that you know," she whispers, her voice low and raspy, laden with a desire only you can understand. "Because as long as I’m by your side, no one will touch you. And the best part... is that you don’t even have to ask. I’ll take care of them in an instant."

"You’re so extra," you smile, biting her muscled arm playfully.

"Do you always have to do that?" she asks, not annoyed but intrigued, her hand gently petting your head.

"What can I say?" you reply with a teasing glint in your eyes. "It turns me on seeing you so jealous and possessive over me."

She growls softly, then grabs her beer, finishing it in one swift motion. Her gaze sharpens as she takes your hand.

"I think it’s time to head home," she says, her voice dripping with intent. "I plan to make the most of this behavior of yours while I can."

Sevika intertwines her fingers with yours, a silent promise that no one and nothing will dare cross that line. As the noise of the tavern continues, you and Sevika are momentarily isolated in your own world of protection, passion, and control—where only she holds the power to keep you safe.

[sastielsfandom]

Trying to remember your skills you've accidentally picked up through fandoms and hobbies is difficult when you don't think they're actual skills because you're self taught in them all is so fun.

[ahqkas]

♯ARTSY HANDS AND MINDS ( how would the batboys react to you making your own merch of their alter ego ! )

— gn!reader, bruce & dick & jason — separated, fluff, established relationship, not edited, cursing, bases on this req.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

WHEN BRUCE UNLOCKED AND PUSHED the front door of your apartment open, the familiar scent of one of your candles immediately greeted him with warmth and the familiarity of home. he was finally home, with you. it had been a long night, after all, a long night of patrols and late emergency meetings at wayne enterprises. all he wanted was a quiet evening with you, a thing that finally came to him.

the sound of soft humming came from somewhere in the apartment, probably from your living room, much to bruce’s detective skills. he couldn’t help but let a gentle smile grace his face upon the sound as he hung his coat. you always seemed to brighten even the darkest of his days.

but as he rounded the corner to the living space, his smile froze.

there you were, the love of his life, sitting cross-legged on the old, beaten couch ( which bruce insisted on replacing but you didn’t let that happen, something about an emotional bond ) with a black hoodie spread across your lap. a large symbol graced its chest area. the bat-symbol, he realized. smalls jars of fabric paint surrounded your sitting form, and you were holding a delicate brush, adding details to your own craftwork.

bruce was caught of guard.

“bruce!” you gasped his name out when he came into the clear sight, startled. you even nearly dipped the brush in the wrong direction which would mess up with the project you were currently working on. a flush of warmth creeped up your neck. “you’re home early. i thought you’d be at the office for a while.” not that you minded.

“i finished up early,” he hummed and gestured towards the hoodie in your lap. the sight of the symbol, his symbol, stirred something deep within him. “what’s that?”

“oh, this?” your hands awkwardly hovered over the clothing. “it’s nothing, really. just a little project i’m working on.”

your man raised one eyebrow at your dismissal. “that’s quite detailed for ‘nothing’, sweetheart.”

you gave in after a second of thinking, saying to yourself it definitely wasn’t for the petname or the gentle command in his tone. “fine. you caught me. i’m making my own batman hoodie. but before you say anything, let me explain.”

“i’m listening.”

“well, i’ve been a fan of batman for a while now,” you began, eyes watching his face for every kind of a reaction. “not like one of those die-hard fans who camp outside at night trying to take pics of him or anything. just . . . i admire what he does for gotham. he’s a symbol of hope, you know. it’s nice to have someone who actually fights for the city.”

bruce felt a lump form in the back of his throat. you admired both bruce wayne, the gotham’s billionaire darling, and batman, a side of him that came out when the sun went down.

“and,” you continued, “i wanted a hoodie with the bat-symbol because it looks cool, but the official ones are ugly. they’re all this stiff fabric that itches with weirdly placed logos. i wanted something more casual. so, i thought, why not just make one myself?”

his heart skipped a beat once you finished your mini rant, the muscle tightening against the bones of his ribs. you had no idea you were speaking to batman himself, yet your admiration was pure and genuine. it reminded him why he wore the cowl in the first place — to protect people like you, who believed in a better gotham.

“well,” he said after a moment of just looking at you with that special look in the depths of his gaze. “if batman knew how much effort you put into this, he’d flattered.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

THE LINGERING ACHE IN HIS MUSCLES FROM THE ROOFTOP CHASE he had barely managed to win stained his sore body as he returned from a long night of patrol back home to you. his footsteps were silent, practiced from the countless times he’s done this, when he unlocked the front door to the apartment he shared with you. the lights were still on, spilling the warm light from the living room into the hall.

dick smiled to himself. you always waited up for him, no matter how late he came home from “work”, and it never failed to warm his heart.

to find someone who would do such thing as cut their sleep schedule for him was basically rare, but he managed to.

you were sitting cross-legged on the beloved couch dick himself chose, completely absorbed in your task. the couch has lived its fair share already, but it was well loved and had so many good memories, so you kept it. your boyfriend watched from the doorway as your brows created that adorable little v between them, furrowing in concentration. meanwhile, your hands worked carefully with blue and black yarn. your fingers clutched the unmistakable nightwing plush; complete with the signature blue symbol across its little chest.

you don’t actually know about nightwing. well, you know about his existence, about how the vigilante keeps blüdhaven’s streets safe from criminal activities, and you knew about the package beneath the tight spandex of his suit. what you didn’t know was nightwing’s true identity. you didn’t know how he always made sure to come back home to you, and you totally didn’t know that ass belonged to you.

“uhh . . .” he was caught of guard for a second here. “what are you doing?”

jumping slightly at the sound of his voice, you clutched the half-finished plush close to your chest as if protecting it from his praying eyes. “dick!” your face flushed with embarrassment. “you’re home early.”

he arched an eyebrow at your behavior, his gaze averting towards the digital clock of the tv before it shifted back to you. “it’s almost two in the morning. sooo . . . are you going to explain why you’re making a mini nightwing doll this late at night?”

“first of all, it’s not a doll. it’s a plushie.”

“of course, my bad. plushie.”

“and second,” you started to defend your actions more confidently when you noticed the slightest of smirk gracing his face. he looked tired, the strands of his bangs slightly damp with sweat and his eyes nearly dropping down with how the exhaustion pressed on him. yet he still managed to be all cheeky. “it’s not like i’m obsessed or something. i just — the fan-made ones were too expensive, and honestly none of them were cute enough, so i decided to make my own.”

dick stepped closer to your sitting form, fidgeting with his hands to hide his racing heart. “you’re a nightwing fan?”

you shrugged and started picking at a stray thread on the plushie. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s cool, and he’s probably the least terrifying out of all the vigilantes in both gotham and blüdhaven. plus,” you paused in the little rant he’d coaxed out of you. “i think he’s kinda hot.”

a loud cough interrupted you the moment those last words slipped past your lips. dick’s ears took on a pink hint, along with a more pronounced smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. the tired look in his eyes was suddenly long gone, too. “you’re a think he’s hot, baby?”

“yeah. it’s not like he’ll know i said that, though.”

oh, you had no idea.

“it’s not perfect,” you shaked the plush in your hands to make a point, “but i wanted it to look right. and i know it’s probably silly, but it makes me feel safe, in a weird way. like, if i ever needed help, he’d show up, you know?”

dick wanted to tell you the truth then and there — that nightwing would show up for you, every single time, because you were his main priority. nothing else mattered but your safety. but he couldn’t. not yet.

his fingers brushed yours instead, tracing the fabric of the yarn with a gentle touch. “i think it’s perfect. and if nightwing ever saw it, i’m sure he would be flattered.”

“yeah, right,” you laughed, actually laughed, and rolled your eyes in that way he adored. “like he’d care about some random plushie.”

he didn’t argue, though a part of him was already planning on leaving a little thank you! note the next time he patrolled near your apartment. for now, he could settle for leaning against your side and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON HAD BEEN IN A RUSH TO GET HOME. the heels of his boots crunched on the gravel beneath him before he shrugged his leather jacket and unlocked the front door to your apartment. tonight’s patrol had been rough — more bullets than he’d planned for and a few bruises he would have to hide later. all he wanted now was to crash on the couch with you, maybe with a shitty movie and some pizza if you hadn’t eaten yet.

he took a step inside, already feeling the tension and ache erasing from his muscles as the familiar warmth of the living space wrapped around him like a blanket. he was finally home.

but when he crossed the threshold into the living room, jason froze right on the spot.

there you were, curled up on the couch, wearing a black hoodie that looked far too big on your frame with a hand-painted crimson symbol on the chest. not just any symbol though — it was his symbol. the red hood insignia stood out vividly against the dark fabric of the hoodie. he couldn’t miss it even if he was blind.

and that wasn’t all. on the coffee table in front of you was a small knitted plushie. its tiny body was simple, but the details were on spot: a small red helmet and a matching chest symbol that mirrored the one on your own chest.

you weren’t supposed to know about red hood. to certain amount of course. jason couldn’t shield you from the outside no matter how much he would like to, but he could shield you from one of his many personalities — the red hood. you weren’t supposed to know about him being red hood. so, he hoped it was still the truth.

“hey, you’re home!” you must’ve heard him come in because you looked up at him with that sheepish smile he grew to cherish, all while holding up the plush up for inspection.

“yeah . . .” he trained off, scratching the nape of his neck. jason didn’t like lying to you any more than he had to, so making up some shitty excuse about where he was and what was he doing was pretty much pointless. instead, he turned the attention to the creations of your work. the hoodie and plushie. “what’s–uh–what’s this?”

you glanced down at yourself like you’d forgotten what you were wearing. “oh, it’s a red hood merch. well, kind of,” brushing a stray hair off the hoodie, you smiled up at him more confidently. “i made these.”

jason’s brows shot up. “you made them?”

“yeah! the official looked ugly—like who designed that stuff? and the fan-made ones were either way too expensive or just not what i was looking for. so, i figured, why not do it myself? and he’s kind of my favorite vigilante.”

he felt his heart skip a beat. your favorite?

what the fuck. “red hood is your favorite.”

it definitely didn’t sound like a question, it was spoken in way it sounded like a statement, but you answered him with a reason anyway. “mhm. he’s a badass. a little scary, sure, but in a good way. like, you know he’s got a soft spot somewhere under all the armor. i caught him feeding the stray cat on our fire escape the other day. it was cute.”

well, he wasn’t exactly careful with the cat, but he didn’t expect the meowing and hissing would catch your attention. stubborn stray.

jason blinked, more caught of guard than feeling the edge of panic. he should panic, you were practically close to discovering your careless boyfriend was red hood. he was at a loss of words. “cute” wasn’t exactly how he’d describe himself — or his alter ego — but he wasn’t about to argue with you. instead, his fingers moved to trace the oversized sleeves of your hoodie, calloused fingertips brushing under the fabric to intertwine your fingers in one.

you didn’t know the truth, and maybe you never would, but as long as you felt safe and protected in his arms, he was okay with it. you were holding a piece of him he’d never given to you, and yet you loved him the same.

[bingobongobonko]

mfw i finish a commission and plan to go to bed at 2 am cuz i gotta be up by 4 but i forgot it's daylight savings so i literally can't even sleep now. but comm done :) person rlly liked it so imwahoo!!!!!!!!!!!! yahoo!!!!!!!!!!