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paintedkinzy-88 · 9 months

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Blood/gore TW again, but not as bad as last time—

Here’s a lil aftermath (and bonus silly doods) for that first Ghost!Leo comic (〜￣▽￣)〜

Leo may not want them using the goggles… but the headphones are very useful! It’s a lot easier to talk to them than it is to constantly text or flicker lights. Plus, if seeing him isn’t an option, hearing his voice for the first time in a month is definitely enough for now.

And y’know, it takes a lot out of him to be somewhat tangible, but for moments like these, he’s willing to put in that extra effort. Boi needs his turtle hugs again ;w;

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seakicker · 1 year

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☆ My Next-Door Neighbor is an Annoying Older Woman Who Constantly Bothers Me

☆ between: college au!scaramouche x milf!reader

☆ synopsis: scaramouche insists he doesn’t want to fuck the milf living next door, but all his friends think he doth protest too much.

☆ word count: 10.5K words

☆ a/n: like with my venti x milf!reader fic over on ao3, this is supposed to give a sort of doujinshi vibe, hence the embarrassing title and the lunacy of some ideas like milf!reader going outside in a super sheer shirt. hopefully you feel the doujinshi vibe i was going for as i have a lot of fun trying to replicate the style, themes, and flow of doujinshis using only text!

☆ contents: fem + plus-sized reader (reader is explicitly described as chubby, busty, and taller than scaramouche), age gap obviously; scaramouche is a senior in college and reader is in her early 40s, degradation, a couple insults (such as scaramouche calling you a hag/loose/etc.), degradation, exhibitionism (scaramouche fucks you in front of a glass sliding door), sexual frustration, and unprotected sex + scaramouche pulls out

also posted to ao3 with the same title and under the same username!

Scaramouche has a problem.

Well, a problem slightly more irritating than the approximately nine hundred other problems he deals with on a daily basis. These issues include, but are not limited to, the consistent problems he has with the hot water heater in his apartment, his obnoxious group project teammate Ajax who insisted upon being the group’s leader despite his complete and utter lack of intellect, his annoying circle of friends that always seem to find ways to poke their noses into Scaramouche’s business, his frustratingly-dull history professor that always goes off on tangents completely unrelated to the class’ subject matter… and so on and so forth. It’s one issue after another; there’s always something when it comes to Scaramouche.

A matter more pressing than all of those other nine hundred issues put together, however, comes in the form of his next-door neighbor— you.

You’re a divorced woman in your early forties who lives by herself, works during the daytime while Scaramouche is on campus, and always seems to leave and return home at the same times he does. He moved in next door to you a few months ago at the start of his junior year, but you’ve never really gotten the chance to get to know him beyond the curt responses he gives you when you ask how he’s doing or what he did over the weekend. His coldness towards you doesn’t make too much sense— have you somehow offended him without knowing? You like to consider yourself a good neighbor: you don’t party (like a woman your age would ever do such a thing), you don’t blast loud music long into the night (or at all), you take good care of your things and avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche or your other neighbors, and you’re very, very tidy. When you’re in the mood to brag a little, you’ll say that you have the nicest balcony in the entire apartment complex.

…Avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche, huh? He’d beg to differ.

If Scaramouche has nine hundred problems in his life, then maybe it’d be more accurate to claim that you’re the cause of at least seven hundred of those problems rather than claiming that you’re one single, self-contained issue separate from all of those other problems. Maybe it’s the way you insist upon butting your way into his life and, in what must be your way of expressing it, “taking care” of him that irritates him more than anything else. Really, if he had to sum up your advances in one word, he’d have to go with aggravating.

At first, he bitterly wondered if you’re just some senile old hag using him as a replacement for your son, who’s surely moved out by now given your age. All you are is a woman looking to cure her empty nest syndrome by doting on someone her son’s age according to Scaramouche— he viewed your kindness as underhanded and delusional because he can take care of himself, you know. He’s an adult man living on his own; he knows how to navigate the trials and tribulations of young adulthood without some old lady insisting upon knocking on his door and gifting him home-cooked meals, bringing up his mail from the first-floor mailroom, or helping him with chores where you can. It’s not like Scaramouche would ever let you into his apartment, but that hasn’t stopped you from finding ways to help outside by sweeping outside his front door or washing the outside of his front window while he’s not home.

Okay, maybe it’s a little creepy to wash your neighbor’s windows without him asking you to help out, but it’s not like he’s going to do it. You would know— you had once waited a week to see if he’d clean up a spilled drink stain on the walkway in front of his door. As you expected, he never got around to it, so you happily cleaned it up on his behalf. Cleaning up for him doesn’t really put you out of your way either— whenever you sweep his doorway, it’s because you were already outside tidying up in front of your place; why not help out your neighbor in the process?

When you bring him meals you prepared yourself, it’s out of the goodness of your heart and because you can’t help but worry about a college boy’s diet— fast food, pizza, frozen microwave meals, and instant ramen don’t have all the nutrients a hardworking man needs. When you bring him his mail, it’s because he has a tendency to forget about it until his mailbox is, quite literally, overflowing. Whereas you check your mailbox every single day, Scaramouche seems to forget about his until the end of the week, which is certainly no way to live— what if he misses an important bill or notice? As a result, you took it upon yourself to check his mailbox for him whenever you go to retrieve your own mail.

Again, maybe it’s a little creepy to gather your neighbor’s mail, but it’s not like you’re hurting anyone, right? You certainly don’t root through his mail or open any of it. Even though Scaramouche rolls his eyes and mumbles a halfhearted little “thanks” every time you hand him his mail, he doesn’t really seem to mind. Despite his initial reluctance to accept any of it, he still eats the food you prepare for him if the empty containers he returns to you a few days later are any indication of that fact. You figure maybe he’s just a little shy or tired from his long day on campus— it does your heart well to know that he’s working so very hard.

On the flip side of things, Scaramouche considers your… activities a total inconvenience. He’ll admit that your meals taste very good— though he’d never say it to your face— but he doesn’t like feeling indebted to you or thinking that he owes you something even though you’ve told him multiple times that your favors don’t need any payback. You’re just happy to cook for someone other than yourself, you had told him once, confirming Scaramouche’s suspicion that you live alone. It’s not his fault you’re bored enough to make food for someone you barely know, so do you have to rope him into your wiles? He already has groceries and though he doesn’t really know how to cook, what’s wrong with having a bowl of cereal for dinner? It’s none of your business, is it?

Between your constant insistence on involving yourself in his life and the fact that he’s never seen anyone else leaving or entering your apartment, Scaramouche was able to correctly guess that you live alone… a realization that can’t help but annoy him. He figures that if you had someone, anyone else in your life like a spouse or another child living with you, you’d stop pestering him and stick to involving yourself in the lives of your family instead of your neighbor.

Would a pet do? Should he find some stray kitten and leave it on your doorstep? Is that what it’d take to make you mind your own business?

“Hey, Kuni, tell me about your little neighbor lady again,” Venti coos, accidentally knocking over his—thankfully— empty beer bottle when he leans forward to grab his phone. He’s drunk, but that barely makes a difference; he’d still make this request sober.

Glowering around the mouth of his own bottle, Scaramouche rolls his eyes in Venti’s general direction. “Why? If you want to know that hag so badly, go talk to her yourself.”

Venti busts out laughing, an action that his drunken body clearly can’t handle seeing as he falls sideways into Aether’s shoulder, making the latter grimace in response. Venti’s already a handful sober, but when he drinks… it takes the entire friend group to get him home and/or in bed safely. “Don’t threaten me with that, ‘cuz I really will do it— I’ll go steal your hot older girlfriend.”

Glaring up at him from his spot on the rug, Scaramouche has half a mind to shove that empty beer bottle into Venti’s eye for suggesting such a thing. Hey, wait a minute— why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor when this is his damn apartment?

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” he barks, turning to direct his glare at Kazuha too when he hears him chuckle.

“The more you deny it, the less convincing you are— you talk about her all the time, so I’m inclined to believe you really are dating,” Venti chirps, reaching for a bottle of beer that is most certainly not his.

“That’s mine,” Aether protests, watching as Venti takes a sip from his bottle anyways.

“Oops, my bad.” He doesn’t sound sincere.

“Well… get me another whenever you stand up.”

Venti waves his hand dismissively before redirecting his attention back to the more important matter at hand— Scaramouche’s complete and utter inability to just admit that he has the hots for his hot MILF of a neighbor and that any protest otherwise is a feeble attempt at hiding the truth.

“They say you’re attracted to things that make you mad,” Venti says. “…Cuteness aggression. Yeah. I saw a video about it once.”

“That’s not what cuteness aggression is, and ‘they’ say that you attract the things you fear,” Kazuha corrects him from his spot in the nearby armchair— again, why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor?— before he goes to take another hit off his blunt.

Venti repeats what Kazuha said in a nasally voice in an attempt to mock him, but the gesture only makes Kazuha chuckle again. It’ll be hard to draw any response more eloquent than a single laugh or a sigh out of him for the rest of the night— it’s a very, very stark difference from how he usually is.

“Why the fuck do I ever invite any of you over here?” Scaramouche sighs, taking a long swig from his own bottle. He doesn’t even really like the taste; it’s something Venti found on sale and decided to bring over, but Scaramouche has decided it’s better than spending his Friday night sober. Besides, it’ll take at least four more of these to deal with the impending conversation that he’s been trying so hard to pivot away from since Venti first brought it up.

“Because we’re best friends forever, next question. Why do you deny how much you wanna fuck your sexy neighbor, Kuni?” Venti asks again, pouting when Aether snatches the bottle Venti stole from him. “It’s super obvious. Xiao and Heizou agree with me, and I’m not just saying that because they’re not here tonight and can’t contest me on it. It’s true.”

Kazuha nods, and Aether simply shrugs. Christ alive, do they all think the same thing?

“And why on Earth do I— in theory— want to fuck her? She’s probably loose or something,” Scaramouche argues.

Venti busts out laughing again.

“It’s the opposite, really,” he starts, glancing between Aether and Kazuha when neither of them laugh along with him. “What, have you guys seriously never been with an older lady? They’re the best; the reason I know Kuni wants to get with that lady next door is because I got with the lady next door to me a couple months ago. It takes one to know one, or something. Trust me, Kuni, I know what you’re going through and we are seriously gonna get through this together.” Why is he making it sound like a relative died or something?

“They’re experienced,” Venti sighs longingly, blindly reaching out again for the bottle Aether’s holding, who moves it further away and out of Venti’s reach. “They feel really, really good. They actually know what they’re doing… sometimes the girls—and guys, mind you, I’ve gotten with plenty of both— our age clearly don’t know they’re supposed to be doing, but getting with somebody’s mom…”

“You’re gross!” Aether gasps, though his pink cheeks tell a different story.

“Not as gross as the guy who’s told us the same story about seeing his neighbor lady braless like four times now,” Venti replies, glancing over at Scaramouche with a grin. “Really left an impression on you, huh, Kuni?”

Just like that, Scaramouche finds himself instantly reminded of, well, the time he saw you braless first thing in the morning. A few months ago on some random Saturday morning, Scaramouche was out smoking a cigarette on his porch when you stepped outside to water the plants you keep on your balcony. There were so many of them: a small tomato plant, a pot overflowing with basil that you took to trimming after you finished watering everything, a couple of hanging baskets field with flowers, and a few other vegetable plants and potted succulents. More glaringly obvious than the abundance of plants occupying your balcony was your complete and utter shamelessness— even a quick glance in your direction was enough to draw Scaramouche’s attention to the distractingly sheer fabric of your white camisole.

It’s not like Scaramouche was actively staring at your tits— really, he wasn’t, he swears— because anyone would notice something that egregious. The low, low sweep of your camisole around your ample bust, your nipples beading up against the thin fabric, the constant fucking movement of the top as you shifted and bent over to water the plants sitting on the ground, moved, and walked, all of it. He complained to his friends about your complete and utter shamelessness— What kind of woman steps outside practically naked? he spat, much to the amusement of Venti, who had said that wearing a thin shirt does not, in fact, make one naked.

Worst of all, you had actually fucking caught Scaramouche staring, an action that made you grin wickedly and run your hands down the sides of your soft, plump body as if to try and draw his eyes down along with your hands. Instead, Scaramouche had only whipped his head to the other side, busying himself with tapping the ash off his cigarette as if it were the most important task he’d ever complete in his life. Jesus Christ, he was only staring because he couldn’t believe you’d be so shameless as to wear something like that outside, not because he was genuinely aroused by how low your camisole sat on your chest, how big your tits are, how soft they look…

He thinks he shuddered then, and he insisted to his friends that it was because of a sudden chilly breeze and absolutely nothing more. It was either that or because he was just so shocked by your display that a shiver went down his spine— he can’t even remember the exact reason he gave anymore.

Either way, none of them really believed him.

“Ah, he seems distracted,” Kazuha notes simply, raising a hand to point at Scaramouche before grinning. His words pull Scaramouche from his little daydream, and he groans at the realization that, yes, he spaced out remembering yet another instance of your abhorrent shamelessness and perversion.

“Spaced out thinking about cute MILF boobs, I get it,” Venti affirms, nodding. “Nobody gets that more than me. Not only that, but you’ve also, uh, ‘complained’ to us about seeing her in her swimsuit. Really, Kuni, it’s like you’re biding your time and waiting for her to take her clothes off so you can tell us about it.”

…That’s a story for another time. Scaramouche has had enough of thinking about you for one day; it’s bad enough that you brought him his mail today just mere moments before Venti, Kazuha, and Aether arrived to hang out— what if they saw you?— but to be reminded of the image of your tits underneath that pathetic excuse for a top…

He shakes his head and takes a long, long sip from his bottle.

“And they’re so soft, Kuni,” Venti says, slumping over further into Aether for support. “They feel like absolutely nothing else. I feel like firmness or perkiness or whatever is really, really overrated— the softness of a cute MILF’s boobs is unrivaled!”

“Can you not say things like that right into my ear?” Aether mumbles bashfully, making Venti laugh.

“Why? Am I gonna put the mental image of MILF boobs in your brain, too? Are we gonna become an entire friend group full of MILF chasers? That’d be hilarous. I already know about Xiao’s little crush on his English professor.”

Jesus, Scaramouche has got to steer this conversation somewhere else or he’ll go mad. “Anyways,” he beings, “Where is that pizza you ordered ages ago?”

“I thought Kazuha was taking care of it,” Aether remarks, glancing over at him. Kazuha goes to reply, but nothing comes out— yep, he’s gone for the night. He won’t be able to get out any more than four words max until morning.

As if the universe heard their request, the doorbell rings to signify the arrival of dinner. Before Scaramouche can go to pull himself up off the floor—he really should make Venti move; it’s his couch in his apartment— Venti’s already in the process of skipping towards the door. Aether takes the opportunity to kick his feet up over the other couch cushion, making Scaramouche wonder if the three of them formed some secret pact to ensure that he stays on the floor the entire evening.

However, what stands on the other side of the door is not, in fact, the pizza delivery boy. It’s you, aluminum foil-covered glass casserole dish in hand, leading Scaramouche to believe that while the universe did hear their request for food, the devil answered by sending you to his doorstep while he has three of his friends over.

“Oh! You’re not the pizza guy,” Venti beams, putting on his best ‘polite’ voice possible. Scaramouche groans and looks over towards his other two friends just so he doesn’t accidentally make eye contact with you, but neither Aether nor Kazuha look back at him. They’re looking at you.

Christ, he’ll never live this down. Not only do they know who you are, they now know what you look like.

“I’m not,” you giggle. “I live next door; I bring food to Scaramouche sometimes whenever I get a little too excited in the kitchen and make too much. I can’t eat the leftovers fast enough before they go bad, and I would hate to waste food, you know?”

“You can call him Kuni,” Venti offers. “We all do. It’s less of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

Scaramouche decides that Venti will be leaving his apartment in a body bag tonight.

His cheeks burn with equal parts humiliation and anger, and the realization that his friends’ teasing is only about to get worse now that they know who you are and what you look like more than motivates Scaramouche to devise a plot to kill the three of them.

After introducing yourself to Venti, he smiles and replies that “the pleasure is all his” when you tell him it’s nice to meet some of Scaramouche’s friends. Venti has half a mind to invite you inside for a moment, but he decides that’d be unnecessary— he figures he’s already done more than enough to inspire Scaramouche into action. If Scaramouche won’t act on his feelings himself, then maybe a little shove from his friends will help him along.

“That’s sweet of you!” Venti praises, taking the dish from your hands. “I’m glad Kuni’s eating properly these days. One time, he told us that the only thing he survived off of during finals week was a sleeve of Saltines and some peanut butter. You’re so kind, miss.”

You giggle sheepishly, a sound that Scaramouche would like to claim grates his ears. Miss? Can’t Venti see that you’re, well, old? “Well, I’m glad that he has such kind friends to support him. You all take care, okay? You too, Scara— Kuni!” You call out past Venti’s shoulder, making both Aether and Kazuha chuckle.

After bidding farewell to the four in what has to be the most mortifying moment of Scaramouche’s entire life, you leave, allowing Venti to close the door behind you and make his way back to the others. “Those boobs are huge,” he sighs dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. “If I got suffocated between those, I would die a fully satisfied man.”

“Then go die,” Scaramouche mutters in agreement, cheeks still burning with humiliation. Why does the universe insist upon tormenting him so?

Eyeing the dish in Venti’s hands, Aether pipes up too “She cooks for you? Kuni, you have it so good.”

Scaramouche is amazed that, after all this time, his friends still find it in them to be jealous of him despite all of his attempts at framing you as annoying, invasive, and overbearing. Can’t they see that you’re doing this on purpose?! Scaramouche has half a mind to wonder if you’re psychic— what other explanation is there for your obnoxiously perfect timing? He asks about food and suddenly you appear on his doorstep, dish in hand as if you had heard him through the walls. There’s no way they’re that thin, are they?

Venti moves to set the dish down on the kitchen countertop before turning around to look Scaramouche square in the eye. “Kuni, I’m saying this because I respect you as my longtime friend,” he asserts, tone and gaze both deathly serious in a way that’s genuinely almost out of character for someone as flippant and carefree as Venti. “But you better fuck that lady the first chance you get because, if you don’t, I’m taking her for myself.” That should do it.

Scowling in response, Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest and sighs bitterly. “Why would I stop you? I don’t care what you do with her. For the last fucking time, I’m not into her.” Despite his words, Scaramouche can’t deny that there’s something… unsettling about the idea of Venti getting with you. Does he really want to watch his friend take four A.M. booty calls in order to fuck the woman living right next door to him? Can Scaramouche truly stomach the idea of his friend fucking the brains out of someone just a few walls away from where he lives? It’s hard to put his finger on why, but something about Venti getting with Scaramouche’s neighbor, despite his insistence that there truly is nothing between the two of them, really, really irks him.

Well, it’s probably just because a lot of Venti’s behavior tends to irritate Scaramouche in the first place, right? Yeah, it’s probably just that. He doesn’t need to hear every last gritty detail of his friend’s sexual trysts.

That characteristically smug grin of his finds its way back to Venti’s face as he reaches over Aether’s shoulder and snatches his beer bottle again. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. How about we forget the pizza and eat what she brought over?”

“Oh, I see now,” Kazuha interjects after having been silent for the past twenty minutes. He turns his phone around to show Scaramouche, Venti, and Aether the check-out screen on the pizza chain’s website. “It seems I failed actually submit the order; it was still waiting for me to pay.”

Scaramouche doesn’t have a hangover the next morning, a blessing he owes to the fact that he only ended up drinking two beers last night. He probably would’ve consumed more if he had the chance to, but Venti blew through the rest of the box quicker than the other three could try to stop him. It took both Kazuha and Aether supporting Venti’s hardly-conscious body to get him down the stairs to the parking lot so they can drive him home— there’s no way Venti would be able to safely get himself home amidst such an awful hangover.

As he pokes through his apartment scooping up empty beer bottles and stained paper plates to toss into a trash bag, the glass casserole dish sitting out on the kitchen counter catches Scaramouche’s eye. Save for a few scraps shoved into the rounded corners of the pan, it’s practically been picked clean— the four boys tore through it easily with Venti, Kazuha, and Aether all fawning over just how good a home-cooked meal tastes after months of campus cafeteria food, fast food, and instant ramen. Venti mentioned that there’s just something about a MILF’s cooking that makes it so much better, leading to a conversation about how, in Venti’s educated opinion, older women just do everything better: sex, cooking, cleaning, caretaking, all of it.

Scaramouche scoffs at the memory. “She’s nothing special,” he mutters to himself, still failing to understand Venti’s obsession with somebody he’s never even met until last night. Scaramouche is the one who’s actually been living next door to her for months now— as his friends know by now, he has plenty more to say about her than Venti does.

Shouldn’t he be the one to comment on things like the size of your bust, the softness of your legs, the plumpness of your ass and belly, and the flavor of your cooking? He’s the one who’s actually seen you lounging in tiny string bikinis by the apartment complex’s pool, watering the plants out on your balcony in a pair of shorts that certainly break publicly decency laws, and retrieving your mail in a shirt so thin he can make out the little bumps of your nipples up against the fabric.

“Christ, what am I thinking?” Scaramouche stops himself and second-guesses whether or not he’s actually hungover. There’s no way his sober mind would drift to thoughts of you, right? Clearly something must be wrong with him— he blames Venti for putting all these thoughts in his head with his never-ending discussion of what makes older women so utterly sexy.

He’s then reminded of what Venti told him right before they all sat down to eat your cooking: that if Scaramouche won’t hurry up and fuck his neighbor, Venti will do it for him. Even now, the idea still bothers him for reasons he just can’t quite put his finger on— Venti’s been with tons and tons of people; why does he want Scaramouche’s neighbor too? Can’t Venti see how awkward that would be?

Setting the trash bag down on the floor, Scaramouche takes to the sink to wash out the casserole dish you brought over for them last night. His mind concocts disgustingly vivid images of you as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn piece of dried cheese, and maybe he’d be shocked by how little effort he’s putting into warding those thoughts away if he weren’t so utterly immersed in them. His mind conjures up the image of you in that tiny black bikini he saw you wearing by the pool while he was out smoking on his balcony— he remembers the little number being so small that you had to readjust it every single time you simply sat up or lied down because every last motion was enough to threaten a nipslip. It makes him wonder if you dress like that on purpose or because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that clothes and swimsuits you used to wear still fit you despite clear evidence otherwise— are you actively vying for the attention of any man who’ll give it to you, or are you brainless enough to throw something on without caring about how poorly or not it fits?

It’s probably a mix of both; you’re just that shameless.

Scaramouche grits his teeth at the mental image of you straddling him while adorned in that tiny little bikini that seems to only get tinier and tinier the longer he allows his imagination to run wild. Of all the fucking things to imagine you doing…

He pictures what you’d look like with your thick, plump thighs enveloping either side of his hips as you run your hands up and down your ample chest and soft stomach. God, he can see it all now: the little bumps of your nipples beading up against the thin fabric of your swimsuit, the soft hang of your tummy spilling over the tiny, flimsy string keeping your bottoms secured around your wide hips, the way your tits would bounce as you ride him…

“Something’s wrong with me,” he grumbles, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. The clump of cheese he’d been scraping at finally separates from the pan, and he realizes that if he wants to rid you from his mind for good, he should take matters into his own hands before Venti does.

No, wait, this has nothing to do with Venti— this isn’t about staking claim over you before any of his friends can, this is solely about him finding ways to release the grip you have on him as if you’re some kind of wicked succubus. Scaramouche glances downwards after setting the dish aside to dry and, much to his chagrin, finds that the mere thought of you was enough to fucking get him hard. The eager press of his cock against the confines of his briefs moritifies him solely because of the very reason why he’s like this in the first place; how the fuck did the thought of you in a bikini so tiny your areolas peek around the sides reduce him to such a state? He’d like to believe that he’s only this hard because it’s been a while since he’s jerked off, but that would be an excuse less believable than any of the ones he’s ever given his friends.

He knows that he’s too dignified to jerk off to the thought of you— if he’s feeling horny, then surely he can find things more deserving of his attention than some hag next door. He refuses to give you that kind of satisfaction (despite the fact that you’d never even know unless he told you, so how could you be smug about it?), so he decides that an ice-cold shower is in order before venturing out to settle things with you.

After a shower so cold Scaramouche swears he saw his fingers begin to turn purple, he dries off, gets dressed in something other than the clothes he fell asleep in last night, grabs your clean casserole dish, and leaves to go to the one place he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself stepping foot in— your apartment. If this is what it takes to sever the connection between you and his mind…

God, this is going to be annoying, Scaramouche thinks as he knocks on your door using his foot, casserole dish supported safely by both of his hands. He feels the need to steel himself because he just knows you’ll answer the door in something sheer, skimpy, or some combination of the two and he needs to be ready for that.

Why? Are you hoping for that to happen, Kuni? Venti’s voice whispers from the back of Scaramouche’s mind.

He really is losing it.

“Good morning— oh, Kuni! This is a surprise,” you greet him upon opening the door, flashing him a smile so bright it nearly makes him cringe. Can you spare him the pleasantries so he can just get to the point?

Fucking Venti— why teach her that nickname? Turning his head to look at a faraway bird instead of you, Scaramouche scoffs. “I need to talk to you.” Straight to the point, emotionless, and rude, it’s all so in-character for your neighbor that you can’t help but giggle.

You grin wider. “Of course. Come in; I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

Scaramouche waits until you’re a good few steps ahead of him before following you inside, glancing around the living room of your apartment as he makes his way to the kitchen table. Your apartment’s clean, impeccably so at that— every book on your bookshelf faces the same direction, the blanket draped over the back of your couch doesn’t have a single crease, and he can’t see even an ounce of dust on any inch of your tables and countertops.

He snorts a little. Rather than viewing the cleanliness as impressive or inspiring, he bitterly interprets it as a testament to your overabundance of free time and lack of other hobbies or pastimes.

“I’m not sure how strong you like your coffee, so I’ll just make it how I normally do,” you pipe up from the kitchen, pulling Scaramouche away from scrutinizing the titles of the books on your shelf. Restless Summer Nights? The Devil’s Mistress? They all sound like bargain bin erotica novels.

It was a mistake to direct his attention away from your novels and to you instead, he figures, because only now does he get a look at what you’re wearing— if one could even call that clothing. You’re dressed in something he wants to call a workout outfit, but anyone leaving the house in an outfit like that surely has goals other than simply exercising— they want to attract attention. A sports bra that sits so low on your chest that a single bounce on an exercise ball would expose you combines with a pair of spandex leggings so tight they reveal the lines of your panties to comprise your “workout outfit,” and to say that Scaramouche is mortified would be an understatement. He can’t help but find the combination of your manner of dress and your collection of novels completely pathetic.

And despite his apparent disgust… he’s been staring at you long enough to pick up the most minute details about your outfit. The indifferent passerby likely wouldn’t notice your pantylines— a certain amount of staring is required to actually notice them; they’re really not obvious from a quick glance. Actually, why can’t he stop looking at you? He writes it off as a simple morbid curiosity at how someone can be so completely and utterly shameless— one could almost liken his sick, cynical fascination with your ample curves and soft body to rubbernecking.

Scaramouche instead stares down into the cup of coffee you’ve set in front of him like it’s the most fascinating object in the entire world. He’s half-inclined to just close his eyes entirely, seeing as the slightest glimpse of your bust still occupies the uppermost part of his peripheral eyesight when you sit down in the chair opposite of him.

“So,” you start, sliding a porcelain dish with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a saucer of creamer his way. “What can I help you with? It’s rare for you to talk to me first, Kuni.”

He adds “drop that nickname” to his mental list of topics to bring up with you. Scaramouche plucks a few sugar cubes from the bowl before him and drops them into his coffee before absentmindedly stirring the liquid with a serving spoon.

“Last night,” He clears his throat. “Why did you come over to talk to V— to my friends?” Why are you always in my business? he really wants to ask, but he feels like you’ll start crying if he presses you too firmly.

And that’d just be obnoxious.

You giggle. “That makes it sound like I came over on purpose because I knew you had people over, and that’s not true. Haven’t we been in the habit of food delivery and acceptance for months now?” Scaramouche’s eyes follow yours to the squeaky-clean casserole dish he placed on your counter.

“I’m glad your friends seemed to enjoy the food just as much as you do,” you add sweetly, pursing your lips and blowing on your coffee to help it cool down.

“It was humiliating,” Scaramouche counters, a statement that prompts you to look up from your coffee and make eye contact with him. “They wouldn’t— they wouldn’t stop fucking talking about you after you left.”

Wait, that’s not the point here, is it? Surely Scaramouche’s main complaint isn’t that Venti practically sweet-talked you right into his bed, it’s that Scaramouche is tired of you invading his business and his space, right? He doesn’t care about Venti’s comments about your soft tits or your wide hips, he doesn’t care about Aether’s bashful confession that he exclusively jerks off to older women, he doesn’t care that he has competition because there’s nothing to compete over and he’s really, actually, truly angry that you always find a way to worm your way into his days and his mind and his free time and his wet dreams and his—

“Oh, I’m flattered,” you reply simply, sipping your coffee and smiling around the rim of the cup. “They’re such nice boys. I’m glad you have such sweet friends, dear.”

What’s warmer: the tips of Scaramouche’s ears or his untouched cup of coffee?

“That’s not— what? That’s not the point I’m making and you know that,” he grimaces, clearing his throat again. “My friends shouldn’t have to put up with a shameless old hag the way I have to.”

You set your cup down. “That’s not very nice. I look good for my age— that charming boy down at the corner mart always asks for my ID whenever I pick up some wine!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “That’s his job. Anyways, I’m telling you to mind your own business.”

“Oh, is that all? Of course I can do that for you.” Your reply comes without a single skipped beat.

“I mean it, that means don’t touch my mail and— what?” Wait, there’s no way you’re making this this easy. A shameless, conniving, lustful, lewd seductress of a woman like you agreeing to just… fuck off at the first request? Scaramouche doesn’t buy it— this is just another phase of your plan to throw him off guard and pull the rug out from under him so you can sink your claws deeper and deeper into him.

“I like cooking for you and cleaning for you, and I was very happy to meet your friends yesterday, but if you want me to stop, of course I will,” you explain. “I wonder who’ll help me eat my leftovers now… your friend from last night gave me his phone number; does he like potato soup? I’m making that tonight.”

Scaramouche almost, almost feels a shiver tear down his spine. He’s starting to believe that Venti’s just as much an antagonist in this situation as you are.

“Why the fuck did you accept his number? Delete it,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring over at you. His coffee’s surely gone cold by now, but that’s alright— he was never much of a coffee drinker anyways.

You shrug, a sly smile forming on your lips. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so sweet I didn’t want to say no… it’d give me someone new to talk to, if nothing else.” Why do you need to talk to Venti when he barely knows you and I’m right fucking here?

“It’s not like you talk to me much despite all my best efforts, Kuni,” you offer him the subtlest of pouts, an action that would look out of place on the face of a woman your age if you weren’t so… if you weren’t so…

Forget it, he’s not saying anything about you that could be interpreted as a compliment. “…Especially now that you and I have agreed to leave each other alone.”

Oh, Scaramouche doesn’t like this feeling. He hates feeling like a situation has spun out of his control, and that’s, unfortunately, exactly what he feels is happening here. You’ve agreed to his terms and you’ve promised to stay out of his way, so why does he feel so… angry?

Yeah, you must have some underhanded motive here. Why else would you be making this so… easy? That’s not like you at all— he was expecting you to fan your eyelashes, pout your lips, push your tits forward, and whimper that you’re sorry and that you’d love to keep talking to him, so will he please give you a second chance?

I’ll do anything, he was sure you’d say.

You clear your throat. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to discuss now? If not, I’ll get back to my yoga. It’s good to be active, right?”

What the hell? You’re ending the conversation? No way, no how— this ends on Scaramouche’s terms, not yours. Who do you think you are?

“No, that’s not it, actually,” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Staying out of my business means staying away from Venti— from any of my friends. Don’t talk to them, don’t text them, don’t— I don’t know. Don’t be around them.”

You smile a little wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Kuni.”

He scoffs, staring you directly in the eye as if to challenge you. “Seriously? Shit joke.”

Of all the adjectives you could have picked to describe him… “It’s just that the thought of you getting with Venti is nauseating, alright?”

You hum. “And why him specifically, hm? You had other friends over last night— are they single?” Jesus Christ, what is this, an interrogation? And where the hell are these sorts of questions coming from— did you already send Venti an invitation to hook up?

Sneering so hard his nose scrunches up, Scaramouche can’t help but feel appalled. “Did you decide I’m not good enough or something? Who do you think you are?”

You go silent.

Scaramouche, somehow, goes even quieter than silent when the weight of his words finally sets in. There it is— the culmination of your grand plan to humiliate, embarrass, and utterly demean him in your own home. You had this outcome planned from the start, didn’t you?

“I didn’t say that,” you stammer, attempting to correct yourself. “Why do you think I’ve been vying for your attention all this time? Of course I like you, Kuni.”

God, how you piss him off. Who do you think you are— some bashful schoolgirl confessing to her first crush?

“I know that I’m just an old woman and that you could certainly find a cute, young, perky college girl whenever you’d like to, but if you’d ever like me…”

Of course Scaramouche could get someone his age from one of his classes— he doesn’t need to settle for some loose old hag— and yet�� the thought of you getting with anyone else, Venti or not, pisses him off in a way he can’t quite describe. Maybe he views himself as some kind of hero protecting everyone else from your shamelessness, maybe he views himself as the only one worthy of your attention as the one who has to put up with you the most, maybe he views you as someone actually, genuinely worth being with…

He sits up a little straighter. “You have no idea how obnoxious you are,” he mutters. “Taking up my time and attention even when you’re not around.”

“What a forked tongue,” you reply, leaning forward and, much to Scaramouche’s chagrin, pushing your breasts together with your hands. “You know that’s why I like you, right? Mean boys have always been my favorite— ever since high school.”

“You’re not worth the time,” he spits. So fucking annoying. So fucking shameless. What kind of woman your age behaves this way, anyway? So obnoxious, so pathetic, so intoxicating, so impossible-to-keep-out-of-his-mind—

“Venti sure seems to think I am,” you offer with a smug, self-satisfied smile as you rise from your seat. Hooking your thumbs up under the straps of your sports bra, you quickly snap the elastic fabric back against your shoulders to give your tits a little bounce, an action that, of course, does not go unnoticed. Slapping his hands down flat against the perfectly-ironed lacy tablecloth covering your dining room table and standing up so quickly he nearly knocks his knees against the table’s hardwood underside, Scaramouche laughs.

What a time to finally, finally accept that he has the hots for his neighbor— the same neighbor who’s supposedly the cause of so many of his bad days and sour moods. You’ve prompted many a disdainful mutter from Scaramouche after catching a glimpse of you through your drawn curtains, you’ve been the subject of many a snide comment made in the presence of his friends, and, most frustratingly of all, you’ve inspired countless, countless inappropriate thoughts that he cannot believe you’ve been the subject of.

And all it took was one of his friends hitting on you for him to realize that.

“Constantly flaunting a body like this,” he chides in a way that he wants to come off as insulting and condescending rather than sadistically flattering, but the little grin you offer in response gives him reason to believe you interpreted it as the latter. Seriously?

“Other boys your age seem to enjoy the flaunting,” you counter, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your spandex leggings. As if to tease the act of pulling them all the way down your legs, you flip the fabric of your waistband over its seam to expose the majority of your soft lower belly.

Anger burns hot behind his pale cheeks. “Is this some kind of pathetic hobby of yours? Fucking guys half your age?”

“I like to consider it a lifestyle,” you reply, shimmying your leggings further and further down your thick thighs until your thong’s completely exposed. A black lace thong— how becoming of a nymphomanic like yourself. “I’m fine with trading experience for virility and stamina; do you know how many men my age finish in thirty seconds and call it there because they’re ‘just so tired’? College boys either go until they can’t hold themselves upright or until they have nothing left to pump into me.”

There’s that vulgar nature that’s both irritated and (subconciously) aroused him for months. He wants to believe that your disgusting nature doesn’t make his cock twitch, but the time for pretending has clearly passed. You don’t believe he finds you ugly or unappealing and neither does he anymore.

“And do you find this… lifestyle fulfilling?” Scaramouche challenges, grimacing at the pressure building in the frontside of his tight jeans.

You laugh. “Is that your way of saying you don’t? Are you a virgin, sweetheart?”

“Of course not. Just because some of us don’t fuck everything with two legs and a pulse doesn’t mean we’re virgins.” His clumsy escapades are none of your business— his high school girlfriend and that guy from the concert Venti dragged him to over the summer don’t concern you.

Bending forward to push your leggings down to your knees, you gaze up at Scaramouche through your eyelashes and giggle. “Don’t make it sound like I don’t savor every last cock or strap I ride. You could put every last one of them in front of me and I’d be able to tell you who they belong to with my eyes shut.”

Venti mentioned something about experience, didn’t he? What a sanitized way of calling older women complete and total whores.

The inferiority complex in Scaramouche wants to prove that he’s the best thing a whore like you will ever experience, that he can make you feel better than any of the other bumbling college morons he probably knows can, and that you’ll give up your ways of fucking everyone that looks at you in order to devote yourself to him and him alone. That’d be some nice payback for all the pain and humiliation you’ve subjected him to these past couple of months, right?

No, he has a better idea.

“If you want to show yourself off that badly,” Scaramouche huffs, doing his damndest to ignore the nearly-painful throbbing in his jeans. “Then I’m sure you’d be fine with doing it in front of that glass door, right?”

With your hands still bunched in the fabric of your leggings, you look back at the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony and bite your lip. It’s not likely anyone would actually see you— you and Scaramouche live on the third floor— but it’s still a possibility and an exciting thought nonetheless. Maybe you could give that nice redheaded quarterback boy you fucked a few months ago a nice show; he lives just across the parking lot in the building parallel to yours.

“Now who’s the deviant one? I’ve never fucked anywhere more public than a nightclub’s bathroom stall,” you tease, finally pushing your leggings all the way down and off your legs. He doesn’t believe you, but Christ, those thighs of yours look soft…

You accept his offer nonetheless and make your way over to the balcony door, your thong riding high on your wide hips and your hardened nipples pressing into the flimsy fabric of your pathetic excuse of a sports bra. “You’re helping me wipe off all the fingerprints afterwards,” you scold, inviting him over with a wiggle of your hips and a glance back over your shoulder.

Now, rationally, Scaramouche would never propose the idea of fucking in a place as public as right in front of an apartment complex parking lot. He’s never considered himself an exhbitionist and he’s always been somewhat obsessed with his image, and people who care about their image generally don’t have sex in the potential presence of others. Additionally, there’s probably something to be said about him potentially getting caught fucking the same woman he’s spent the better half of this past year complaining about, but the current irrational, horny, angry Scaramouche wouldn’t listen to better judgement or rationality anyways.

The relief that comes with unbuttoning his jeans and giving his almost painfully-hard cock room to breathe is so euphoric he can’t help but sigh, the throbbing in his crotch more aggravating than any pounding headache he’s ever experienced after an evening drinking with his friends.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he laughs, incredulous. “To think the hag living next door to me is the reason I’m like this.” Jamming the weight of his bulge into the plumpness of your soft ass, Scaramouche seizes hold of your hips in both of his hands and gives the fat of your love handles a painful squeeze just to hear you suck the air in through your teeth.

“I thought you’d never come around, you know,” you breathe, beyond eager at the prospect of finally, finally getting to fuck the neighbor boy you’ve been actively working at breaking for months upon months now. A guy this mean, this arrogant, and this demeaning doesn’t come around that often, especially when so many of the guys you get with take the polite route by calling you “ma’am” and complimenting you over and over again— which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but cruel has always satisfied you in ways that kind cannot.

The height difference between the two of you means that Scaramouche has to stand up a little straighter than he normally does in order to press his hips against yours, a realization that’s only slightly humiliating. Granted, it could never compare to how humiliating it was for you to show up at his apartment in front of all his friends.

God, does it feel good to put you in your place.

“Spread,” Scaramouche mutters, knocking one of his feet against both of your ankles. He doesn’t tell you that he needs you to spread your legs so your hips will lower a bit, allowing him to reach them a little more easily since you’re a bit taller than he is.

You would tease him for skipping the foreplay and just jamming himself right into you, but you know that you’ve been plenty wet enough ever since your discussion with him first wandered to sex and masturbation. Well, that, and if you had to wait another minute to get the cock you’ve been so desperate for for so long now, you very well may go crazy. It’s taken months, but you can already tell that it was all so, so worth it.

Running his knuckles down the center of your thong, Scaramouche relishes in the smug satisfaction that comes with realizing that you’re wet. It’s equal parts arousing and equal parts pathetic— just how desperate are you for any cock you can get your hands on?

“You’ve already kept me waiting for months,” you say with a pout cast back at him from over your shoulder. “Why make me wait even longer when I’m right here?”

“Shameless and impatient,” he remarks with a frustrated huff. “Can’t you do something good with your life or yourself for once and just be quiet?”

As tempting as it is to make a teasing quip in return to only further rile up your angsty neighbor boy, a frenzied giggle is the only sound you can muster up when you feel the firm press of a cock against your clothed pussy. Even through your flimsy thong, you can tell that he’s hard, which is a reward in its own right. It’s what you’ve wanted to achieve since the very first time he caught you half-naked watering plants on your balcony— is it so wrong for you to want to rile up the cutie next door?

Scaramouche roughly yanks your thong down to hang around your lower thighs, leaving you entirely on display for him when you follow suit by tugging your sports bra up to your collarbone. The cool, smooth glass against your bare tits is an unfamiliar sensation, but it’s certainly not an unwelcome one— especially when you remember that anyone could look up from across the parking lot and get an eyeful of your bare tits squished up against the glass door.

“I wish I could watch you sink it in for the first time,” you hum, reaching down between your legs to part the outer lips of your cunt for him a little wider. “In front of a mirror or something maybe. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re the spitting image of the romantic type.” There’s no way you consider him the romantic type, is there? He’s not going to hold your hands and whisper in your ear about how cute you are, you know.

Damn it, you’ve got him actually wanting you more than he’s ever wanted you before— this makes all his filthy fantasies about taking you bent over your kitchen counter or being underneath you while you ride him into oblivion look like a cheap, budget porno from a video rental store. His desire has always been real—albeit subconscious, sure—but it feels so much more genuine now that it’s been realized.

“Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” he mumbles in a brief moment of humiliation, biting into his bottom lip as he finally, finally sinks the full length of his cock into you.

Jesus Christ, if there’s anything Venti’s ever been right about, it’s how good a mature pussy feels. You’re soaked all the way down to your inner thighs, you’re so warm Scaramouche nearly feels his knees give out from underneath him, and you squeeze him so well he can feel your pussy gripping the sensitive underside of his tip.

“Why not? I can invite your friend next time,” you propose, squealing with delight when Scaramouche slaps a hand down against the side of your ass. “Venti, right? It’d feel so good to have my ass used while you—“

“Just shut up,” he hisses bitterly, glaring at you hard enough to give himself a stress headache. “Don’t talk about other guys right now. Especially not ones I know.”

“You’re right, it’s rude to talk about other men when I have such a good one right here with me already,” you feign sympathy, pushing your hips back flat against the front of his thighs. “Oh, Kuni.”

There’s that damn nickname again. As much as he hates the idea of you using it to tease him or fluster him, he can’t deny the way his dick twitches whenever you coo it in that soft, sultry tone of yours. It’s like you were custom-made to gobble men up or something— just how many of his classmates have you fucked?

Oh, it doesn’t matter. Not when he knows he can establish himself as the best of the whole damn lot of them. Not when he knows that he gets the privilege of seeing you every single day and nobody, nobody else does. Not when he’s seen your cute nipples peeking at him through that tiny, flimsy pajama top he caught you in all those months ago. Not when he gets to peruse on over to your apartment whenever he wants because you’re right fucking there and nobody, nobody is physically closer to you than he is.

Jesus, this is all starting to sound like some kind of crush.

“How’s that?” Scaramouche taunts, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of skin smacking on skin almost drowns out his voice. He’d like to claim that this sort of pace is supposed to be punishing, and he’d be right if he were to say that, but he wants it hard and rough just as much as you surely do. He couldn’t stop his hips even if he wanted to because he knows there’s nothing he’s wanted to do more than fuck your brains out for months upon months now.

You don’t answer him, too preoccupied with relishing in the feeling of his cock pounding into you with everything he’s got. How befitting of Scaramouche to fuck you like he’s angry at you— if he could even claim to be mad anymore. The combined sensations of his hips hammering against yours, his fingernails digging into your soft, plump love handles, and his balls slapping against your ass on each thrust are all far too overwhelming to even attempt a reply.

“Seriously? You run your mouth for ages and now you shut up when I ask you a question?” You’re doing this on purpose— Jesus, you’re insatiable.

Your back arches when Scaramouche digs the tip of his cock into a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, a broken whine leaving your lips instead when you attempt to reply with a dirty quip. He laughs when he realizes what’s just happened— that’s certainly one way to get you to shut that filthy mouth of yours.

“I hope somebody’s watching you, actually,” he admits despite all the jealousy even a single mention of his friend stirred up in him. “That way they can see you’re not worth their time because you don’t value yourself whatsoever. Why would anyone want someone who’s happy to just give themselves away like this and get fucked in a place so public?”

Maybe that’s just a weird, roundabout way of saying I want someone to watch me fuck you so they know a whore like you has been whipped into shape and that you only want me now. Who’s to say?

“You don’t care about getting caught yourself?” You finally pipe up with a grin.

Scaramouche snorts. “Getting caught with the likes of you? I’d transfer universities.”

You pout. “Would I still get to see you?”

For whatever reason, the question catches him off guard. How many times does he need to remind you that you’re not his girlfriend, that you’re not some sweetheart with an innocent crush, that you’re just his fucking neighbor who just so happens to have a hot body and just so happens to feel so, so good around him like this and just so happens to be the subject of his wet dreams and fantasies and—

He’s only able to spit out one word. “Obnoxious.”

His hands reclaim a firm grasp on your ample hips before he takes to fucking into you at a whole new angle— one that’ll surely hit that spot that got you to shut the fuck up moments ago. Your hands clamor for anything you could possibly grab onto to steel yourself, but there’s nothing except for the cool, flat glass beneath your palms.

“Kuni,” you rasp in a broken voice, beyond impressed with his ability to have found your most sensitive spot and target it specially. Call it sheer dumb luck or a testament to how perfectly compatible your bodies are, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let up on it until you’ve collapsed— maybe it’ll be a nice change of pace from your partners being the ones to collapse after an evening with you.

With the task of finding something to hold onto having proven fruitless, you instead slip a hand back between your legs to rub at your clit. Scaramouche snickers at your apparent desperation to orgasm, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“What a pathetic display,” he remarks, pounding into you so quickly you can barely register the full length of his cock before he’s pulling it all the way out of you again. With your legs trembling and your knees buckling, the possibility of actually collapsing underneath him is becoming increasingly likely— these wild, frenzied thrusts of his prove exactly why you’re so into college guys.

Looking down from the fuzzy reflection of your face in the glass, Scaramouche watches each sink of his cock into your tight, dripping cunt with all the intensity and attention of a virgin. It may as well be his first time— you feel so fucking good he’s starting to lose his train of thought. You take him all the way to the hilt on each thrust so easily that he’d absolutely call you a common whore if he were able to form even a single word.

Despite his inability to form a coherent sentence, Scaramouche finds that he has just enough rationality left to pull out mere seconds before coming all over the swell of your ass, his cock twitching in his hand as he bites back moans. Here he is, coming all over the soft ass of his obnoxious older neighbor lady after spending so many months convincing his friends that he does not, in fact, want to fuck her.

You laugh breathlessly, the hand between your legs still rubbing frantic circles over your clit as you attempt to reach your own orgasm as well. “What’s wrong with coming inside? I’m hurt.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. That’d be irresponsible.

“Well, that’s alright,” you chirp, standing upright and turning around to face him. “I can always wring it out of you myself, right?”

“You’re insatiable,” he replies, inching backwards towards the couch as you step forward in time with his footsteps.

“Pot, kettle. You’re still hard, Kuni.”

With the realization that he’ll need some kind of excuse to offer his friends when he inevitably returns to a slew of unread messages a few hours from now, he falls backwards onto the couch just before you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

Well, not that any of them have ever believed any vague, half-baked excuse Scaramouche gives.

#hiiiii #juju bakery #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x y/n #kunikuzushi smut #fem reader

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yeah-yeah-beebiss-1 · 2 years

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I feel like if people had any sort of common sense at all, they would've realized that Nintendo firing a voice actor over an apparent pay dispute but then hiring someone that costs much more might have meant that there was more to the story than just money. Perhaps unrelated, Hellena Taylor is a TERF.

Thing is, “video game voice acting pays like dogshit” and “companies can and will use lowball offers to get contractors to leave of their own accord” are both commonly-known facts. With this in mind, I don’t blame people (myself included) for taking Taylor’s initial claims at face value because they were plausible. The multiple-session rate that it turned out Platinum actually offered was still low in a general sense, but it was at least consistent with union rates in the field. From what I can tell, if this new information is correct, it seems like it went something like this:

-Platinum approached Taylor with an industry-standard offer, five several-hour sessions at $3-4k each. VAs absolutely should be getting more than this, but it isn’t a lowball offer by current industry standards.

-Taylor declined and asked for six figures plus residuals, which is frankly unrealistic in the current industry (even if game VAs absolutely should be getting residuals).

-Platinum opted to bring on a new VA who would take the standard union rate (Jennifer Hale). Platinum initially announced to the public that the change was due to “scheduling conflicts.” They still offered Taylor a cameo role that would be a single $4k session.

-For whatever reason, Taylor took to the social-media warpath and spun the cameo offer as her being offered $4k for the entire game. People took her at face value because, again, plenty of VAs have been paid less for similar projects. Other VAs in turn speak up about some of the dogshit rates they’ve been offered for games that are frankly much bigger than Bayonetta.

-When Taylor’s story went viral, rather than hunkering down and letting PR do their thing, Hideki Kamiya went on his usual hyper-abrasive Twitter routine. When people started roasting him online over the allegations, he made very angry vaguetweets about the situation and blocked so many people that the Twitter suspicious-account-activity algorithm flagged his account. This is, as the kids say, not a good look for someone whose studio is facing scrutiny.

-Someone within Platinum or familiar with the project leaks documents showing the full situation to journalists, Jason Schreier is the first to break the story. He’s generally been pretty aggressively pro-worker when reporting on stories related to labor issues in the games industry, so the fact that he’s vouching for these documents suggests that he’s pretty confident in their legitimacy.

-Taylor doubles down on her side of the story. Jennifer Hale has mostly been silent on the matter (likely due to NDAs), but has liked tweets alluding to the idea that there are two sides to the story. Platinum has yet to issue a direct statement about the situation beyond the initial “scheduling conflicts” claim.

This is just my attempt to piece the situation together based on the public information available right now. For all I know, some new development may crop up that completely vindicates Platinum or proves Taylor correct. We’ll watch this space, I guess. My gaming time is still being consumed by Xenoblade 3 so I’m in no rush to get the new Bayonetta at launch, as much as I love the series.

(And yeah, Hellena Taylor’s dodgy politics don’t strike me as surprising in retrospect; I’m already on a “probably transphobic until proven otherwise” attitude with any Brit over the age of, like, 40. But if her claims of being offered $4k for the lead role of the whole game are true, then her being a shitty person doesn’t change the fact that Platinum made a ridiculously low offer.)

#anonymous #customer support

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wanderingaldecaldo · 12 days

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WIP Whenever on a Wednesday

I am terrible at keeping up with tags in general but I am aghast to see my oldest WIP Whenever tag was from nearly 8 weeks ago. I completed a couple of things since my last one, namely the sock garters and the boots, and added quite a few more projects to the list than I scratched off. 😩

Tagged by (and tagging back) @fly-amanitaa @streetkid-named-desire @ouroboros-hideout @aggravateddurian @luvwich

@ghostoffuturespast. Also tagging with the usual zero pressure @olath124 @dustymagpie @medtech-mara @corpo-cunt-couture

@merge-conflict @blackrevell @fereldanwench and YOU reading this! Share and tag me!

Modding

Shocking that it's still my main focus 🙄 but the first one is in support of a couple of VP project:

Presidential Props which include a variety of flags and the NUSA medal with box. The flags are part of the VP set below, though I didn't actually show them here.

Featuring: five different flag varieties with five appearances each; medal box in multiple states, plus the medal itself; and the presidential coin, scalable and with multiple appearances.

SlutWear, a new line of clothing that will tell NC just how slutty your V is. It will be gender and (smaller) size inclusive. 😊

Does Val really heart NC?

An update of my tee framework for dynamic AXL just in time for Pride, though there are no interesting pics to share. Sorry!

However, in support of the previous two items, a modder's tool: a CodePen to generate instances for the yaml. Both the SlutWear shirt(s) and the custom logo tees will require a lot of instances to get all of the color and logo combinations that are possible through dynamic AXL. There's still a little work to do, but it's already been of great use to me, as it wrote 220 lines of code for me. Let's not discuss how many lines of code I wrote to save those 220. 😂

Me using the tool to generate instances for the custom tees yaml. This will remove the limit on colors available to the user, so they can have any color with any of the logos!

VP (and Writing)

A glimpse at a set I took last week for inspo in the presidential PWP that's been stalled out at 5.7k words. More on it in a minute...

Even though the pics are cropped, they're still on the risque side, so I'm sticking them and the rest about the PWP behind the cut.

Not shown: Johnny both rolling his eyes at V and enjoying the show

I've been working on a PWP that was unrelated to the President's Merc AU for months now, but have been stuck because, well, I don't know how to wrap it up. I posted about it a little ways back and someone helpfully suggested that I just have to keep going until one of them passes out. Which, is what does happen, but I don't have that kind of patience to write it out and nearly 6k words is already well longer than my usual PWP, so I went in game to set the scene and possible prompt some ideas for a potenial ... climax to the scene.

It worked! I have a plan, and I think it won't take more than 500 words to reach the end, plus a few more touch-ups to help set up everything, then a rewrite or two for cleaning and polishing.

In the meantime, as I've been working through this version of Val and how she responds to Rosalind, it's the perfect prologue to The Tower story that I've been writing longhand. Val is going to leave this encounter fully loyal to Rosalind and will turn So Mi over with only a moment's hesitation. She doesn't have any attachments in this universe other than Misty and Vik, and after she wakes up to what Night City has become, it's easy for her to walk away from it forever. Especially when it puts her closer to Rosalind.

What about you? What are you working on? 👀

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk modding #wip wednesday #wip whenever #tag games #cw flashing #mods i made #coding things #valerie vermilion #streetkid!val #rosalind myers

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thedeleteduser · 2 months

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Why “Playtime’s New Park” is actually the new Project Playtime map instead of being the Chapter 4 location:

So people have been saying that this poster is hinting towards the Chapter 4 location amidst other theories, such as a prison or the labs. However, what irks me is the fact that there would be an entire amusement park underground Playcare (which is pretty submerged under the factory itself). I mean—who would go all the way down just to go that certain amusement park? Most amusement parks are usually out in the open, free for people to enjoy without taking extra steps.

Now the reason why I think this would be the new Project Playtime map is because, honestly, an amusement park’s layout seems better fitted for the gameplay for that game instead of the standard Poppy Playtime gameplay. Plus, another unrelated mascot horror game named “Rainbow Friends” had Odd World as their setting for Chapter 2, and that reeks of Project Playtime vibes as well as the first chapter for that game.

It leads me to believe that the Chapter 4 setting will be hinted in the amusement park Project Playtime map, because Destroy-A-Toy hinted towards the Smiling Critters being the main faces for Playcare.

Sorry for rambling about this, as I might've repeated some things, but I had to get this out.

Thank you for my Ted Talk.

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #the smiling critters #poppy playtime theory #poppy poppy playtime #project playtime #fuck it #rainbow friends

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tacticalhimbo · 1 month

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Hello hello @floodl8 ! I'm here to deliver you a gift for this year’s Celebradiation exchange, hosted by the amazing team at @falloutfandomeventhub !

Sorry to come in so late, but you know what they say! Anyway, I had a lot of fun reading over your Christmas-themed comic and learning about Maya's relationship with Charon (as well as seeing her passion for robotics in her other tag content)!

I took some liberties with this piece, and I hope you enjoy <3

Also, let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

East Coast summers were a lot different than they'd used to be—and much different from the controlled, homeostatic environment of Vault 101. While there had been enough years between that fateful day in October 2077 and now for the extreme fluctuations to plateau, there was still something warmer about the summers. Something stifling. Enough for many of Megaton's residents to keep indoors best they could, while remaining true to their routines. The world didn't stop then; there was no reason for it to stop now.

Moira was one of those individuals who found themselves wandering around the rickety walkways to the town, yelping softly when her exposed arm brushed against the scorching railing. Pouty lips grew more prominent as she rubbed at the pinkened flesh, nose scrunching as the pain subsided quick as it'd appeared. Vibrant red hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, same as it always was, though almost tighter to ensure no loose strands found themselves on her neck. Her jumpsuit was unzipped, the upper portion tied and tucked around her waist to expose freckled shoulders to the unrelenting sun. She stepped away from the railing to avoid repeating her fate, only to find herself nearly bumping into—

"Oh! Hey there Maya!" Her pout quickly turned into a beaming smile. One that almost competed with the great star in the sky. "How are things? Any new and exciting projects on the docket?"

In a world that seemed against Maya every step of the way, Moira was one of the few out there who made it feel a little more like home. Sure, there was Butch who had accompanied her out into the unforgiving wastes with that same passionate—or perhaps naive—spark in his eyes. And sure, there was Charon, who had initially joined Maya's adventures out of obligation, but found himself oddly curious about her. But that was different. They'd come willingly, traversed outside the rusted metal walls with her and faced the cruel, cruel world head on. But Moira? Moira stayed put. Stayed cozy and waited to see that familiar blue suit and nearly-fiery hair bobbing and weaving through the day crowd. Eagerly awaited the trio's shopping trips to hear all about the wild shenanigans they'd found themselves involved with. It was comforting.

It was homely.

Maya couldn't help the smile that crept up on her heat-exhausted features, nor the spark that'd ignited in her brown eyes.

"Well, after you gave me that new energy cell, I figured out what was wrong with the Protectron. Turns out the area around the contacts was shot, so I tinkered with it a bit and got it to stick. Still, better to make sure it was juiced up."

"That's just great! Say—I was just headin' back to my shop, I found something else you might like. C'mon!"

Before Maya could speak, Moira had already turned heel and happily skipped along, idly chatting about this and that as if the other were already in tow. For a moment, she talked to herself, but Maya was quick to join by her side. Anything to get out of this miserable heat. Plus, the extra company was nice! With Butch doing… whatever it was Butch found himself up to, and Charon wandering up to Moriarty's Saloon to pick up on any potential leads, it was lonely back at the humble little abode sat atop its creaking stilts. Besides, the prospect of getting a new toy couldn't help but make the inventor feel a little giddy. She'd seen enough of Maya's projects, both complete and otherwise, to know just what to fish around the stockroom for. Today was no different, as upon entering the general store, Moira gave a perky little 'just a second!' as she dipped behind the desk and sifted through some boxes. Now where was it…

Was this?—Nope, that wasn't right. Nor was the dulled knife felt her knuckle scrape against. Ouch! Was that rusted? Oh, she hoped it wasn't. That would sure be a pain to deal with, and would mean a trip to see Doc Church. Now that was a scary thought. One that made Moira almost instinctively pop her head over the counter to glance around and ensure he didn't manifest before her. He had a habit of that, or perhaps it was known she was the town klutz. Either way, she beamed when she saw Maya patiently waiting. That's right, she was looking for…

"Here it is! Sorry about the wait, haven't exactly cleaned through the new stock yet. With more people coming in and out of the town now that that Vault of yours opened up, it's just so hard to keep up! Anyway—" A slender hand coyly waved about a mess of wires. Nestled beneath it all was a sturdy processor, reinforced and clearly meant for a bot much bigger than either were used to working on.

Maya tilted her head. "What is that from?"

"Oh… I don't know exactly." Moira set it down on the counter, eagerly watching as the Vault Dweller found herself taking it to examine closely. "The fella who brought it in said it was some RobCo processor widget."

"RobCo? There's a factory somewhere nearby, right?"

"Bingo! Anyway, he said that supposedly, if you connect it to the factory's mainframe, you get access to an army of robots! Can you imagine?" Moira laughed enthusiastically, pitch bordering squealing, as she imagined the possibilities. They could turn the factory into its own settlement, or bring this robot army back to Megaton to help bolster protection, or—

"Or get yourself killed."

The voice that'd interjected was raspy; signature. There was only one person in this little town that spoke so succinctly and with a perpetual air of annoyance. Though, in reality, it was only slightly so. Almost half so—He just wanted things to be quick, simple, and painless as possible. Charon folded his arms as he remained by the shop's exit, shaking his head and nodding to Maya. She beamed back at him.

"Tell everyone about that processor?"

Moira tilted her head. "Hm… Nope, just Maya. And now you. And then of course the shop guard here saw the whole transaction—"

"Alright, I get it. Factory's bad news. People go in, nobody comes out. It's dangerous."

"Aw, come on Charon—" Maya set the processor down on the counter and stepped over, rocking on her feet as she thought it over. Yeah, it may have been dangerous, but… "We've dealt with a lot worse than a couple of robots! Besides, all those buildings have deactivation terminals! We go in there, you and Butch cover while I dip to deactivate each level, and we can get to the mainframe easy."

The ghoul's eyes narrowed, arms folding across his chest. He hated to admit it, but she did have a solid plan. Even if it meant it was his ass getting burnt to (even more of) a crisp by the bots' weapons. "… Fine. Get the piece and go find Butch. Or don't. I'll be back home when you're ready."

"Sweet!" Happy arms threw themselves over the man's physique, pulling him into an enthused hug as he'd raised his own in surprise. He grumbled under his breath and reached to lightly pat her back, a subtle smile forming on his worn features. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Enough for Moira to see and excitedly shimmy her shoulders as she bit back the urge to comment on her little lovebirds in the making.

Was it an adventure he wanted to partake in? Not particularly. But was it one that he'd go on without question? Well, he had his questions, but he kept them to himself if it meant making sure Maya was safe… and seeing her happy. Poor girl needed it now more than ever; it was what she deserved, and even he found it in his calloused heart to admit that.

#txt #my fics #fallout 3 #fallout #lone wanderer #moira brown #charon fo3 #lone wanderer x charon #celebradiation24

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beautifulpersonpeach · 8 months

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Well these Bloomberg interviews and vids with Bang PD are very enlightening. Everyone saying JK’s music output this year has been brokered and driven by SB and the ‘synergy’ of Hybe America and Hybe SK and that JK was the pet project for this exploration will feel vindicated in their assessment. But it seems - based on Bang PD’s words - JK was all in on being a rock and staying home until Bang took him to dinner and played him “Seven” which JK said was the reason he got off the couch too. So the new question for people mad about SB’s involvement is whether they would have rather that JK put out no music this year (as seemed to be his plan) or that he’s trying all these new experiences working in the US and making songs that aren’t seeming to pass the ARMY test but are at least offering us a chance to watch JK work? It seems clear that JK got to decide what he wanted to do and it’s possible maybe he actually needed a little extra push from a new face at the co (in this case SB) to light a little spark under his tush and here we are now expecting 8 whole new tracks on the album.

(Unrelated but not really but BH dropping photos of JM with his BB Hot 100 #1 sash and the gorgeous cake clearly taken back when it happened is just hilarious given how much uproar over the cake. It was a very pretty cake too. Point is - we really don’t know what’s happening I’m that building!)

***

Yup! To both JK's Scooter sitch and the famed Jimin cake that had people writing mistreatment essays here for months. I found other things about Bang PD's interviews interesting, more about the business side of things especially regarding the scale of investment into new ventures.

But anyway,

It sounds like Jungkook hit a wall creatively, got 'stuck', and Bang PD plus SB got him excited again to put something out. I personally hope this translates to more involvement from JK on at least some tracks, because Bang PD's A&R for me is severely lacking so far.

And Jimin, with every new content drop all I can do is laugh at almost all the takes I've seen in the last six months. I won't say any more than that.

I hope you're having a lovely Jimtober, Anon.

#bts #bang pd #hybe #jimin #jungkook #jikook

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sentienttoastah · 9 days

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Canto 6 possible literary reference other than Wuthering heights?

Canto 6 already ended a while ago but I’ve recently got a thought on it which I’ve already shared with some mutuals but I thought ehh, why not make a blog post on it.

This doesn’t really relate to the plot all that much and more about the literary references used in canto 6 that isn’t confirmed yet still gave me those vibes yk. But either way they still kind of count as spoilers so It’ll be under the cut for those who haven’t got there.

LONG RANT!! I REPEAT, LONG RANT WARNING!!

It’s noted that there’s many similarities with erlking Heathcliff and those abnos based on the little red riding hood fable, as well as the clear reference to the erlkonig of course and the possibility of the hunt being a reference to the fox hunting sport popular in many parts of europe (unrelated but calling it a “sport” specifically when they do it not for food or pest reasons and only for the thrill of killing a fox is very unjust) but I’ve also noticed another potential reference.

So this is going to be a far fetched stretch and I don’t know if anyone else mentioned or thought of it before but certain bits of canto 6 really, REALLY, reminded my favourite childhood novel of mine: Watership Down.

I might just be delusional but like there really were a lot of similarities that I noticed between specific plot lines. And also considering Watership Down was one of the best selling novels of all time during its golden years it’s not that surprising if Project Moon included them right??

For those who don’t know; Watership Down is essentially a book about rabbits who, after one of them receives some kind of prophetic dream of destruction, leave their home warren to go in search of a new one. It sounds like a generic enough plot but it also tackles into topics of death and grief, the cruelty of nature, fjking politics, how much humans take their joys for granted and most importantly for me it’s also about acceptance. It’s a great book (and also old animated movie if you don’t want to take the time in reading, there’s a full one available on youtube) but that’s not the topic of discussion in this rant.

Now I’m not sure how to word this as it’s late into 3 AM as I write this so here’s a list of points and comparisons on why I think the reference might be there, more specifically on the erlking and the dead rabbits gang.

The Erlking and General Woundwort: General Woundwort is the Chief Rabbit of an opposing warren called Efrafa who is driven to attempt a siege on the down due to hatred and vengeance. The Erlking is of course very similar in being the “leader” of the Dead Rabbits and also having the same motivations by leading the hunt. Also noted that there is an implication I think that Woundwort wasn’t the original chief and got his position from some shady way.

The Dead Rabbits Gang and Efrafa Warren: Many members of The Efrafa, especially the lower class rabbits were actually kidnapped, trapped, forced or tricked into joining the warren. Similar to those mad rabbits who turned out to be T corp citizens who were experimented on. Plus they’re rabbits, obviously.

The Hunt and The Siege: This one is self explanatory but yeah. Both ends led their armies to attack a single, smaller-in-number group who pissed them off slightly lol. And both ended terribly.

Dante; Hazel and Heathcliff; Bigwig: Basically a comparison of characters. Dante being similar to Hazel and Heathcliff being similar to Bigwig. With Dante/Hazel starting off as inexperienced amateur leader who over time started to become more familiar with the traits of their group and soon adapted and developed their charisma. And Heathcliff/Bigwig being the more experienced and stubborn one who is doubtful at the beginning for their leader’s competence, but warms up and trusts them in the end. Plus that interaction with Heathcliff and Dante at the stairs part before they slowed down time can be compared to Hazel and Bigwig’s convo before Hazel made the run.

Woundwort’s Quote: One of General Wounwort’s quotes is “I fear no elil, I am the elil!”. With “elil” meaning “predator” or any carnivorous animal in rabbit language. Woundwort flipping the prey and predator roles can be compared to The Erlking, leader of the rabbits, hunting down our Heathcliff who is symbolised as a hound with his distortion.

There might be more, but for now those were the only comparisons I remember. I like to think of it kind of in the same way that Demian is not only a reference to himself as his book counterpart but at the same time is also a reference to La Petit Prince/The Little Prince. A dual reference!

though I might just be stretching it. What do you guys think? I’d love to hear thoughts :,)

#limbus company #lcb #canto 6 spoilers #heathcliff lcb #watership down #rant post #🐟

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flashdoesahundredyarddash · 6 months

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ok but what do you think of demiromantic hal?? someone mentioned that he's aro coded and it's something I didn't knew but needed it 😭

As someone who is on the ace spectrum (demiromantic and asexual), I really like when people write about some of my favorite characters having the same sexualities as me.

I do headcanon him as demiromantic, and also pansexual.

(Down below is me explaining him being demiromantic when it comes to his feelings and also Barry + Carol...)

HOWEVER, he is... as Ollie says a space tomcat, he takes on emotions much more seriously in my hc. He can do whatever, but when it comes to how he feels romantically it became a lot harder for him to express himself romantically too. <- Trouble with love genuinely but with trying to tell people anything related with love has been a topic for him. Which is also an explaination of the acts that he does for the people he cares about because it REPLACES him trying to explain his feelngs. When you think about it, the way Hal shows his love towards people or showing that he cares comes into a lot of wild acts or making sure that he'll come to the ends of the Earth when it comes to someone. (Like in your post, which I forgot to reblog and add to it :3, in DC vs Vampires, how Hal wanted to rule the world with Barry....) ------ Unrelated but related-- While yes, he does save people, Hal is deepened through emotional bonds both platonically and romantically... (I like to take this literal, as a form of being bonded by lantern ring emotion such as Carol with holding to Star Sapphire and Barry with being expressed by HAL to hold the mantle of hope, because it took years with these two for Hal to be linked with them in some type of way -> Sorry, I'm kinda normal about the bond Carol and Hal have, there's many levels of a relationship that these two have -- Including Barry and Hal together. There's a lot of things to talk about these two.)

This first occurs with Carol. As they grew older (Teen years to Adulthood <- Before JL), it gave Hal time of falling for her. Whether it was those long talks out on drives or opening up to each other about the deeper things. Plus, bringing in the things they face together and the collaborations these two agree on or disagree or OVERALL the way they communicate through different forms when it came to both in suit and out of suit. One of my thoughts for my Demiromantic Hal hc. Not only this but they also have a deep connection together later when it comes the Star Sapphire Possessions + Hal being Reborn in Spectre while Carol has presumably moved on. Although it took a bit to figure himself out, he both cares and loves Carol in impossible ways that could be explained. Which leads me to the next case...

(I had to ramble about them... They are like the best friends ever + including Barry and Iris when they come along.)

Sharing to add on for your post... But this is ALSO an idea I've been having for a fic... But I don't have time to write it ALL because I want to make it to many chapters. Be Prepared because I like when you mention HalBarry to me, I get happy because I don't talk about it to people. I also love to hear HalBarry thoughts because I project things that people don't get much like what I'm about to write..

The way Hal feels when it comes to being in love, is partially dumbfounded, it's something that sets him back when he realizes that there's an elephant in the room. One he describes as longing in a way where he didn't know he felt this fast. When in reality it has been years since this friendship. Yes, feelings for one of his best friends. One that he's been friends with since the beginning of the Justice League formation. Which was long... His hair is grey and the smile that was once without wrinkles now forms lines whenever he smiles or laughs.. In his mind, it feels that the feelings that are coming into play feel dangerous. How it makes his palms sweat just being near Barry. How when he isn't being occupied by anything busy, he's thinking about a fond memory with Barry. How Barry makes him smile, the way everything about his friend just makes him giddy like some teenage puppy love. Something he never got to experience but god, when he's with Barry, he feels so young. That even imagining them growing old together is just one step to keeping Hal feeling so young. It's like being awkward when you have no idea where to put your hands. Especially with a friend you've had for many years. A friend who's been there by his side that Hal now begins to think an eye for god knows how many minutes. The friendship teasing between the two and the playful chases that they would take on those evenings when everything just seemed perfect. How standing on that cliff when they were younger, the intimacy of the stare they held. Their deep connection that brings Hal to appreciate every moment he's had with him. How they're practically linked in color. How hope filled the willpower that settled in his personality. That when it came to Barry, it felt like he might have something to lose. Something and someone he's lost before. He knows what it felt to lose Barry. Which one proved his love for Barry to be a lot stronger than what he first thought when it came to the last glimpse of friendship. How that bond turned into a strong form for what Hal should keep fighting for. It was so unexpected. So unexpected to be in love with your best friend.

#THANK YOU FOR THE ASK UHMM #I LOVE DEMIROMANTIC HAL I THINK ITS MY FAVORITE EVER :(( he is so relatable I get him #also don't mind me going insane on the halbarry part...#guys he is so distance by christina perri coded...#i was listening to the halbarry playlist do you get me #UGHHH I COULD GO ON FOREVER BUT IM SEEING LINES ON MY COMPUTER #hope you enjoy this because I so need to write more to the ending #thats like a summary for this #barry fell first but god hal fell harder for him #hal jordan #barry allen #halbarry #and a bit of halcarol in here guys #speedster ramble #if we ever collab cessmaga tthis this #we need to make them halbarry real #i mean it is in one universe but maybe another guys do you get me #I LOVE HAL JORDAN #i would like to say the way hal shows love is really special to me like he cares for people no other

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hpowellsmith · 1 year

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How do you manage working both on games and on IFs? Both are industries I'd love to work in some day so any advice would be deeply appreciated!

Small background info: as of May 2023, I'm doing a variety of freelance narrative design and consulting work for game studios plus my work for CoG projects.

A lot of people I know who do narrative in the games industry started out with IF in various ways, whether they continued doing that or moved into other types of games. The skills you learn making small (or big!) interactive pieces are essential for understanding narrative design and game writing. Job application requirements often ask for Twine or Ink excerpts in portfolios. Although game studios won't always use those tools out of the box (ink or ink-plus-custom-tech is more common, but often proprietary tools will be used, or something like articy) building your knowledge of the possibilities of what can be done with interactive storytelling is vital. So if you are interesting in pursuing game writing or narrative design, creating some IF is a great thing to look into.

I don't know if I have good advice, exactly, because 2019-2022 I was working full-time in games and making my CoG games during lunch breaks, evenings and weekends and... it wasn't easy especially at the points where I was doing Royal Affairs and Noblesse Oblige sort-of at the same time while making King of the Castle (in practice, I alternated between the two CoG projects but switching between three very different games was quite the endeavour!)

So my primary advice would be to keep an eye on your mental and physical health because the risk of burnout is huge. Especially if you're working in a creative field already - you can get into a cycle of leisure time turning into work time and you don't really get decompression.

One thing that not everyone knows is that some (not all!) game studio policies restrict the creative work you're allowed to do on the side, with varying levels of strictness. For example:

-you may be required to ask permission to do side projects at all, with the possibility that they will say no

-you may be required to specify what you're working on and state that it isn't related to what you're doing in your day job

-you may be required to sign a contract stating that if you don't get written confirmation otherwise, the company will own your side project and be owed revenue from it, even if it's done outside of work hours and not using any work related equipment or software

-and many other possible restrictions. I have had the experience of having to ask permission to work on side projects when working a job that was entirely unrelated and outside the game industry

Whew!

So: if you have a salaried job and you want to do a side project, especially but not only if you're getting money from it, really do your research and make sure you're on solid ground legally.

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knightfeared · 9 months

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➤ FIGHTING HEADCANONS. [ ; ] Fighting Experience. Fast Learner despite Lack of Experience. Competitive.Usage of Physical Exertion / Exercise to Combat Stress.

A thought that cropped up cause Jayce — I still craving sparring threads & that led to thinking on this but — he doesn’t have any real fighting experience in Arcane.

◈ Everything he does pick up, it’s a combination & almost improvisation of what heavy-hitting movements he knows can do the most damage, stuff he’s learned through forge-work. He puts a lot of power behind his swings, sticking mostly to defensive maneuvers up until he spots a safe enough opening to catch his enemy off guard if they’re up close.

◈ I also feel he thrives heavily in fights. For him, I did mention in the past how he has a habit of hyperfixating / growing a little blind to his surroundings when he zeroes in on a project — when he fights, it translates there, allowing for him to focus on a single target. While he struggles in crowd situations, adrenaline & his natural skill of being used to adapting on the spot definitely helps enough for him to stay on his feet unharmed.

◈ I personally also really adore how his Mercury Hammer has little surprises with the attacks it can do, how it can shift & change to adapt depending on how he himself needs to change in the fight as it goes. Sometimes it can emit small pulses of electricity to stun his attacker, giving him that chance to strike back, others, he can combine it with an incoming swing to not only add more power but keep them down longer. He knows enough to go for the sides to batter & stagger them & if truly needed, he can aim for the joints to incapacitate.

◈ He is one hell of a fast learner & he adapts on the spot to react accordingly with what we see in the factory raid. I think personally? He would love to spar with people because of the competitive nature of it overall, as well as the chance it gives him to learn something new & pick up new skills through watching & going against whoever he’s fighting with.

◈ This man thrives on new experiences & I know for damn sure he would be curious enough to try at least once if someone’s offering. Plus the fact that it’s close enough to what he does already with using physical exertion / exercise to combat stress & also acts as a way to relax like the manual labour he does in his Forge? It’s close enough a comfort he can slip easily into it & admittedly find some kind of a thrill in it. He gets to show off what new skills he’s learned & developed to fit his style specifically — not all that different from what he does with unveiling new projects in the lab.

*Overall? In time I could see him poking people he trusts or finds an interest in to spar. Over time it could come to form in a friendly or rivalry heavy dynamic where they engage routinely in a friendly competition.

◈ Either way, I think he definitely got into the habit of regularly training with Caitlyn, with her target practicing, hence why he added a long range attack in the form of a cannon within his Hammer — but for other things, Vi could also potentially step in to help keep him sharp. From there, it opens up the way for him to poke others to spar with him if he’s not in the lab tinkering.

*A final unrelated but related thing, I’m dropping a snippet from his Bio / Story here because I think it sums a bit up in how he fights.

#╰┈➤ ┊❛ CASE STUDY. / CHARACTER ANALYSIS. ❜┊#╰┈➤ ┊❛ HEADCANONS. ❜┊#MUSE: [ JAYCE TALIS. ]#Also just an excuse to gif the forge scene shhhhh ahaha #flashing tw #flashing gif tw

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blackjackkent · 4 months

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Gortash battle report!

Starting state of play:

There are two mechanisms on the wall behind his combat starting point, labeled "Micromodron Force Curtain" and "Deranged Force Curtain" respectively. Examining them, we learn that the former gives him immunity to Thunder damage and resistance to physical damage, while the latter (which is malfunction, hence the "Deranged") is currently making him vulnerable to elemental damage. They seem to operate on a two turn cycle, so we have one turn every other turn where he's unprotected.

A large majority of Minsc's damage with Nyrulna is Thunder damage so this is a bit of a shame and it might be nice to have Hector punch the thing off the wall if possible (it's vulnerable to bludgeoning damage).

Examining Gortash gives the entertaining note that he is wearing boots which give him a +1 to Charisma checks and a coat which gives advantage on Intimidation and Insight, which is hilarious because the person he would be trying to charm/intimidate/read is ME, and I am not governed by the dice.

There's also three Black Gauntlets in here but let's be real, I'm not trapped in here with them, they're trapped in here with me. Gortash and his wall art are the main threat.

Other exciting decor in the room include several wall-mounted "grenade impellers" and "incineration casters" which throw conc grenades and spew fire at regular intervals, respectively.

Combat:

Another interesting wrinkle: Gortash is able to throw something called a "Reflectoguard" onto his companions, which for two turns causes them to reflect any projectile sent at them. This fight really is designed as a huge fuck you to Minsc and his Nyrulna throw build personally. :(

Gortash opens the fight with the scream "This city is MINE!" and then lines up a perfect shot with what appears to be Sunbeam OUT OF HIS CROSSBOW that managed to line up on the entire team and blind everyone. I would like to take a moment to give massive props to whoever programmed his AI to calculate his position to make that happen because I am sure that gave someone fits in development. (Honestly there are SO many little combat AI moments that make me think this; this must have been such an intense project.)

(Side note unrelated to anything - it's funny that I'm still getting XP for things even though everyone's max level. It doesn't do anything at this point right?)

It looks like my read from above was correct - Gortash spends turn 1 resistant to everything, turn 2 normal, turn 3 vulnerable to elemental, turn 4 normal, and then repeat. Some interesting potential strategy here.

As expected, all the adds pretty much went over like dominos so we could focus on the big man exclusively.

Shoutout to me for remembering to finally use consumables; had Karlach load up on the "Crawler Mucus" that has been sitting around in our inventory for a while, hit Gortash in the face, and both Paralyze and Poison him, removing his reactions, bonus actions, and movement and giving him attack roll disadvantage. HUGE.

His paralysis then gave Owlbear Jaheira three auto-crits in a row. >:) It then wore off but it was worth it to the tune of over a hundred damage just on Jaheira's turn, plus he skipped his turn, which I think probably gives us the fight.

SUCCESS!

Hell yeah. (Follow up drabble to follow before I go to bed. XD )

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle

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harpagornis · 6 months

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Multituberculate Earth: Dryolestoidea/Meridiolestida

(As with all animal pages so far, this only goes so far into the Miocene… for now)

Xenotamandua allocaellusfrom the Paleocene of Bolivia.By pale.relics.

The thesis of this project is a world where multituberculates rose to dominance instead of placental and marsupial mammals. In doing so, I uplifted some other groups as a butterfly effect, but no group stands so starkly as dryolestoids, a completely unrelated lineage of mammals sharing equal power in this timeline. This is because dryolestoids, alongside multituberculates, likely suppressed therian expansion until their decline, so it makes so logical sense that whatever didn’t cause the downfall of multtuberculates also allowed dryolestoids to keep on thriving.

Plus, they’re fun as well.

Dryolestoids are in many respects similar to therian mammals and likely close relatives, differing primarily in some cranial aspects like a well developed premaxilla, double canine roots, slower tooth eruption patterns (indicative of longer lifespans compared to therian mammals) and the presence of “eupantothere” molars, a sort of intermediate between the triconodont teeth of mammals like eutriconodonts and the tribosphenic teeth of therians. Unlike multituberculates they don’t have a palinal stroke, instead mostly chewing “normally”, so they lack many of their pecularities. Like with multituberculates phylogenetic bracketing suggests they probably had a cloaca, internal testicles and bifurcated penis like modern monotremes and marsupials.

Dryolestoids first appear in the fossil reccord in the Mid to Late Jurassic, roughly at the same time as early therians from which they split likely shortly before. They were common in the Late Jurassic and Early Cretaceous of Europe, but disappear from the nothern continents around the Mid-Cretaceous, likely due to ecological turnovers caused by the spread of flowering plants. This was no problem, however, as some had made it to Africa and then South America, where they not only survived but actually became the dominant mammals alongside gondwanatheres. Most of these Late Cretaceous forms belong to the group Meridiolestida, but a few basal forms continued to survive until the KT event.

Cretaceous forms were rather diverse, including insectivores (some of which possibly sengi-like) and large herbivores and omnivores. The KT event seems to have obliterated a large portion of their diversity, but the Paleocene saw some diversity in South America and Antarctica, culminating in the giant herbivore Peligrotherium tropicalis, the largest south american mammal of its time and likely functionally similar to the black rhino. Afterwards their fossil reccord is much scarcer, with an Eocene Antarctic tooth and the Miocene mole-Like Necrolestes, ending their long reign in a strange little note.

Suffice to say, in this timeline they do not decline, and keep on diversifying across South America, Antarctica and Australia, even as the landmasses break apart. Though a few new faces like ptilodontoideans have shown up in their turf, for the most part their reign continued uninterrupted even across major events like the PETM and Grand Coupure, ranging from small insectivores to some of the largest mammals of this timeline.

Leonardidae

Sorilestes andinafrom the Paleocene of Bolivia.By pale.relics.

By far the most diverse lineage, leonardids first occur in the Cretaceous in the eponymous genus Leonardus and the closely related Cronopio, the latter in particular occasionally well known for its long canines, resembling Scrat from the Ice Age movies. They are ancestral to the Cenozoic mole-like Necrolestidae, so Leonardidae is treated here as paraphyletic in relation to that clade. The clade Brandoniidae is a controversial assemblage which may or may not be valid as it is known only from teeth that might belong to leonardids or mesungulatids; henceforth, putative members are treated as part of this group.

Fo gaxie, an animal used to play with the controversy of Brandoniidae. From the Paleocene of Bolivia, by pale.relics, you know the drill.

Leonardids occupied small omnivorous and insectivorous niches in the Cretaceous and ultimately that’s how they ended in our timeline (if as highly unusual mole mimics), but in this timeline they are a very diverse bunch, if tending toards carnivorous niches. They include also a variety of forms convergent with our didelphids (fittingly the clade Pseudodidelphidae), sengi-like runners (the aforementioned ‘brandoniids’), anteater-like forms and a few large carnivores. Their diversity increased in particular during the Miocene, as their larger mesungulatid cousins declined.

Sacadelphys, a pseudodidelphid. From the Paleocene of Bolivia, by pale.relics

Two particular clades went on to have a global success beyond the southern continents: Necrolestidae and Allochiropteridae:

The former started off as burrowing mole analogues as in our timeline. However, here they took to the seas in the Late Eocene genus Camahueto, spreading across the world’s oceans in the Oligocene. Propelled by four flippers like mammalian pliosaurs, they typically range at about porpoise size (though a few forms grew to up to 6 meters and as small as desman size in freshwater habitats), and occupy a variety of niches taken in our timeline by large fish, cetaceans and seals, from hunters of squids, shrimps and the remaining fish to durophagists plucking molluscs from the sea bed to macropredators hunting other marine mammals.

The latter took to the skies in wings rather similar to those of true bats from our timeline, their similarity earning them their name (“different hand wings”). The first forms evolved in Antarctica as semi-terrestrial foragers like our mystacine bats, but quickly flew far and wide across all major continents, some forms becoming flying-fox like frugivores and others hawking insectivores. They largely remain small sized compared to other contemporary flying mammals, rarely exceeding two meter wingspans.

The allochiropterid Chimil kaslem, from the Oligocene of Antarctica. Here depicted with speculative structural colours like those of mandrill faces, exhibitting for a potential mate. By hodarinundu

With generally dog-like faces, leonardids offer at least a hint of the familiar in this strange world.

Mesungulatidae

Allqu uyam, a relatively conservative mesungulatid. From the Paleocene of Bolivia, by pale.relics

Mesungulatids already started off big in the Cretaceous as formerly shown, and so it is no surprise that in this timeline they quickly diversified as megafaunal species. Some forms resemble their Cretaceous ancestors, occupying raccoon or skunk-like niches while leonardids and notoptilodontoideans crowd them at all sides.

But it didn’t take long for change to came in drastic aways. One lineage related to Peligrotherium (hence Peligrotheriidae) grew rapidly, already reaching the 3 ton threshold by the Paleocene, and only increasing in size across the Eocene and Oligocene with some forms rivalling our indricotheres and elephants as largest land mammals of all time. Some of these gigantic herbivores developed long necks, allowing them to literally tower above the gondwanathere competition, though peligrotheriids tend to be more mixed feeders compared to those hard-plant specialists. Unlike them, they have a more lateral and orthal chewing style functionally similar to that of rhinos, which also allows them to extract nutrients from plants differently. Others developed powerful canine tusks, used both for sexual selection as well as to dig out tubers and roots. Giant herds of peligrotheriids cross South America, Antarctica and Australia, true heirs to the sauropods of the Mesozoic.

Baroauchenia canifacis, here portrayed as a Falkor cosplayer but potentially hairless since its supposed to be a fossil species and all.From the Paleocene of Bolivia, by pale.relics

By contrast, some mesungulatids went in the complete opposite direction and became the mammalian apex predators of the southern continents. Some of these animals, vaguely cat or fossa-like, used their clawed forelimbs to wrestle with their prey until a fatal bite was strategically placed. Others, more akin to dogs and hyenas, developed crushing and terrifying jaws, running after their prey. Such animals might represent several different lineages, that took to a more carnivorous lifestyle as gondwanatheres and peligrotheriids expanded, turning competition into food. Developing carnassial-like teeth to cut meat, they quickly turned to hypercarnivory with few omnivorous forms, which has served them well for now but might become a liability when biomes become more unstable in the future.

Kuzcotherium elegans, a carnivorous form related to Allqu uyam.From the Paleocene of Bolivia, by pale.relics

Be them carnivores or omnivores, mesungulatids are some of the most impressive mammals currently alive, but as Antarctica cools and South America and Australia dry they might have to give up their throne soon enough. And indeed, across the Miocene, mesungulatids, both herbivorous and carnivorous, have started to decline…

#multituberculate earth #dryolestida #dryolestidae #dryolestoidea #meridiolestida #spec evo #speculative biology #speculative zoology #speculative evolution

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whumpsday · 11 months

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Whumpmas in July #1

Introduce yourself.

hi! i'm mill and i'm a whump writer. i've been writing since march of last year, and this is my second year participating in WIJ!

my writing masterlist is here! the main thing to check out is my main series, Kane & Jim, about a vampire whumper-turned-whumpee whose former victim takes care of him after he's tortured by vampire hunters.

i really like nonhuman whumpees (especially vampire whumpees). for this event, i will be devoting 5 of the writing prompts to my main series, and the others will apply to 5 whumpees of varied species: a borrower (tiny whump), a vampire unrelated to my main series, a fairy, an alien, and an immortal.

i also have a g/t (giant/tiny) sideblog @smallsday, where i blog about characters with size differences. there is a g/t event going on this july too, GT July, and while i won't be completing GT July like i will with WIJ, i'm going to combine a few prompts and some of my WIJ pieces will also function as GTJ entries. yay for tiny whump!

here are my answers to the WIJ introduction questions! i filled these out last year too, but some of them have changed:

❤️ Name: mill

💛 Gender: bigender (man/woman), though i'm leaning more masculine as of late

💙 Favorite season: fall

❤️ Average amount of sleep: LOL (barely better than when i gave this answer last year)

💛 Dream job: retiree so i can focus on writing as a hobby. however, my current job of teaching kids to read is also very fun :)

💙 Blog established: february 2022

❤️ Reason for URL: had dinner at friday’s that night and based it on their slogan "gere, it's always friday." my blog title used to be "here, it's always whumpsday."

💛 Fave Whump Tropes: immortal whumpees, nonhuman whumpees (especially vampires or demons), whumper turned whumpee, tiny whump, deprivation of basic needs (food, water, sleep, touch, air. especially air), claustrophobia, gore, captivity, recovery / comfort / sweet sweet caretaking

💙 Projects you’re working on: mainly just my main series, Kane & Jim! tried adding other stuff before and stretched myself too thin, so just that for now, plus some one-shots.

❤️ Favorite color: red

💛 Anything else you’d like to add: this is my favorite seasonal whump event, bar none. i love the little activities and how the writing prompts leave breathing room by being spread out.

@whumpmasinjuly

#whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day1

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archandshri · 2 months

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12 April ‘24 - [arch] Making a Comic in a Week, Disability and Burnout (all unrelated, of course!)

Hey Shri and folks!! LOVED seeing part three of the Lionheart Brothers cover. Stunning!! And awesome to see your process. Also cool to see what you’ve been looking at lately - I’ve just finished a rewatch of Firefly and the characters are still living in my brain a bit.

Life is a bit relentless, huh. I’ve spent a lot of time and energy working on disability stuff - meal prepping, sorting silly government forms, all that sort of thing. Exhausting and super easy to burn out on - but also sets me up for the future in my personal life and for illustration! I want to discuss the balance of pushing and burnout this week with an excellent example - I tried foreshadowing to make a comic in a week.

When I was in uni, it was easy to create cool stuff regularly - you’re constantly receiving prompts, doing activities, getting feedback etc. I still have access to these things, especially through my shared studio community, but it’s not as easy as it used to be. I miss creating finished books, in particular, so frequently. So! I challenged myself to make a comic in time for Something’s Fishy Zine Fair in Plymouth tomorrow, which was just over a week from when I started.

I had come up with the concept for the comic while travelling, written the script and done a couple of sketches. I often come up with concepts while travelling - I just don’t often follow through :P Here’s a couple of sketches I did on the journey.

I’ve been chatting to lots of people about what they enjoy about art - I’ve noticed that I tend to crave the end of the project and having the physical thing with high expectations of myself, which doesn’t lead to a very enjoyable process. Many people I’ve spoken to enjoy the ‘zone’, the focus of the project where you’re just figuring stuff out and not thinking about anything else. Bearing this in mind, I wanted to make the process as fun as possible - this comic is for fun and not for the purpose of having the thing at the end.

I started with a few development sketches of the characters and the vibe. I used ink and my funky kakimori dip pen, plus some brushes. These mediums are hard to control, which makes them good for development for me - they don’t have to be good, this time is for gestural drawings and ideas generation. Some continued doodles in my sketchbook from some downtime :) Fish wouldn't leave my brain.

After a bit of character development, I began by adapting my script into pages - I read the script and try to feel the vibes on how I want to pace the comic, considering:

How much dialogue and plot do I want to put on one page?

Do I want it to be more text or image-heavy?

Do I want it to feel fast and snappy, or slow and dreamy?

Which parts of dialogue feel like a page-turner?

Are there any twists that should be separated from the rest of the scene by a page-turn?

Are there any moments that should sit next to each other on spreads?

You can see me changing some dialogue around, writing as I draw a bit. Also playing around with some weird looking fish?? With noses???

I got a bit stuck at this stage. I was scared my script wasn’t good enough. And worried about if I could even draw fish. After a couple of chats with art friends, and some rambling in my slides, I reminded myself that the lesson this time is fun!! Have fun goddamn it!! No point doing it if you’re not having fun. (it’s not like we make any money from riso printed zines anyway)

Screenshots from my slides - these things are wonderful for gathering inspiration and venting when you run into a problem with the project.

So I decided to just go for it. Not even thumbnail, but just take a scene and draw it. I asked a studio friend to choose a number, and I drew that scene.

Because of the chatty style of the comic, and how much dialogue there was gonna be, I knew there would have to be a LOT of panels. I decided to make it A4, and use a 8x6 grid. I’ll draw the images at A3, and than scale them down to A4 when it comes to printing.

left: A3 grid on the lightbox, for tracing over || Right: A4 grid with boxes of different sizes for me to reference while choosing the layout - this way I can see the final print size

First drafts of a couple of random pages from Moon Noodles.

The first day I drew several pages that I was really happy with! It gave me a lot more confidence in my script - seeing it come to life with the characters on the page - some pages even got some laughs which was nice. I would look at the page plan, script, and spend a few minutes thinking about the pacing and how I wanted the dialogue on the page, and the go straight in with the dip pen - with the awareness that it might be wrong. This process taught me an important lesson - you have to just do it. The thing is, if you do it and it’s bad, you just do it again but different. Repeat. Staring at that script thinking it wasn’t good enough wasn’t actually going to get anything done, be fun OR make nice stuff. You have to do the thing. Then you make it better.

The other thing I learnt from this process was to give it space. There was a day where I did one page, hated it and thought the pacing was off, and spent the next day trying to translate it into two pages. It didn’t work. I came back the next day and realised the first page I’d done was fine and just needed a couple of tweaks. Do the thing. Let it be.

Here’s a little picture of my setup.

(Sorry all of Printhaus for hoarding the light box and getting ink all over it :( love u)

Useful stuff!!!!

Finished pages to refer to, plus more A3 paper underneath for future pages

Laptop with script

Dip pen, ink and water for keeping that little guy clean!

development sketches for relevant scenes

Page plan (you can see I have shortened it considerably since last time - now it's 20-24 pages and noted on scraps of paper so I can move them around if there's any changes of plan)

A4 sheet with boxes to show the sizes of the final print

also scissors??? i don't remember why they're here

But then monday morning came. I realised that if I wanted to get it all printed by friday, I needed to:

Plan and 12 pages on Monday, and 12 on tuesday

Get the final files for every one of the 24 pages by Thursday

Print friday morning

Travel down to devon Friday afternoon

Fair Saturday

Not only is that basically impossible, but it would be very bad for my health, make for a rushed comic, and most importantly, not be fun. The thing is, I’ve made whole comics in a couple days before. I figured I could still do it. But that’s not actually a good thing - my skills and taste have increased, I'm aiming for bigger, more ambitious projects and yet I expect the timelines to stay the same? It doesn’t exactly work like that now, does it?

But I kept going anyway.

Tuesday morning, I decide to get the cover put together so I can get the preorder post-out. I get pulled into an unexpected meeting, and then spend the rest of the day inking this thing and getting the files sorted. At this point, I know for sure It’s not possible to get this done. Thankfully my two Printhaus besties were in. They helped me drop it. I love this comic, it feels fun and joyous and I’ve enjoyed working on it - lets not rush it and end up with a bad product that will bother me. Let’s take time, explore it and really enjoy the process!!!

All is not lost for Something’s Fishy Zine Fair, though! Originally, I had planned to do a print of the Moon Noodles Cover for preorders only, but why not print that for Something’s Fishy?? Anyone who buys the print will also get a discount code for the pre-order :D (also here’s the pre-order link)

So here’s a few images of the Moon Noodles cover print and the process!! I hope to see some of you at Something’s Fishy. It’s a joy to visit Plym again :D

Sketch printed out at A3, and 2 of the layers. I scanned these in and edited them on photoshop to get the files ready to print.

Coming to terms with the fact that 1) I don’t have illustration superpowers even if my expectations are that high and 2) I’m disabled (yes it’s been years and it’s still hard to face) is really hard!! I need to spend most of my time when I’m well preparing for when I’m not AND fight the urge to work until I burn out, which I always lean towards because it’s nice escapism.

The thing is that living, and not being too exhausted to move is much more important than a comic. And if I am gonna spend my functioning time making comics, they’re gonna have to be enjoyable to make. Otherwise your life slips away from you and you haven’t been really living it.

Hope that hasn’t got too deep for you. I think that stuff is important to face, especially since the creative life is so incredibly busy.

Thank you for reading this goddamn essay, I hope that it helped in some way! As usual, feel free to drop an ask if you have any questions.

Chat soon :D Archie <3