#nerdy vibes

[aislingstorm]

Updated Schooling Kate, too. It’s my fun little escape novella that was my first attempt at finishing a book. Thought I’d submit it to harlequin, but I don’t write in boxes enough to fit their tropes.

To any teachers out there, looking for a mini summer fling. Check her out! Only 0.99 on Kindle! 🫶

[ghoulwithglasses]

Starting Fresh on Twitch – Again (A Rant, a Reflection, and a Reboot)

Well, against my better judgment, I’ve decided to start streaming on Twitch again. Yep, here we go — round two... or maybe more like round five at this point. But this time, it’s different. This time, I’m starting from scratch. A clean slate. A brand-new username, a new identity, and no baggage from the past.

Back in April, I had a falling out with one of my closest friends and most supportive followers — someone who had been part of nearly every stream, who was integral to the little community I had worked so hard to build. That fallout felt like a gut punch. Not just because of the personal sting, but because it forced me to confront something I had been trying to avoid for a while: things just weren’t working anymore. Not with Twitch. Not with my content. Not with my sense of fulfillment.

I walked away. From Twitch. From the half-dead Discord I’d tried to keep alive. From the screen name I’d used for almost four years. I was so deeply tired of that name. It carried weight — not the good kind. It reminded me of who I was when I started. And who I no longer wanted to be.

That account was born during a really dark chapter of my life. I started streaming back then as a distraction, a lifeline, something to look forward to. Somehow, I found a little community that welcomed me. They made me feel seen, even if I was just a voice behind a screen. Encouraged by that, I jumped into streaming. And for a while, it actually felt amazing. I was making something. Sharing my love for games. Building something real.

But over time, the momentum faded. The numbers stopped climbing. The chat got quieter. I took long breaks to recharge, hoping things would feel different when I returned. I came back refreshed and full of new ideas, only to be met with the same lack of engagement. I tried everything — rebrands, schedule changes, Discord revamps, themed events. It felt like I was throwing ideas into the void.

And so, I nuked it all. Left the Affiliate program. Deleted the account. Wiped the connected socials. Burned it all down.

I told myself I was done. That I had outgrown streaming, or that it had outgrown me. But over time, a feeling crept back in — something I hadn’t expected: I missed it. I missed hitting "Go Live." I missed sharing game moments with others. Hell, I even missed stressing about dropped frames and botched overlays.

So here I am, once again, standing at the edge of the stream (literally and figuratively). But this time, it’s different.

This new account wasn’t even supposed to be for streaming. It was just a placeholder. A quiet username with no expectations attached. But now? Now it’s my new beginning. And I’m coming into this with eyes wide open.

There’s no pre-existing community waiting for me. No built-in hype squad. Just me — and a small handful of friends who followed me into this new version of myself. That’s it. And that’s okay. Honestly, it’s kind of freeing.

This time, I’m doing everything on my terms.

No chasing trends. No trying to keep up with other streamers. No gifting subs just to keep someone’s attention. I’m not interested in playing the game of popularity anymore — I’m here to play actual games.

I’ll be setting firm boundaries. I’ll be taking things slow, building at a pace that feels sustainable. I’ll be consistent with my schedule and intentional with the games I choose to play. I’ll focus on creating a space that reflects who I am — a little weird, a little nerdy, full of aliens and game glitches and chaotic fun.

I know it won’t be easy. Building from the ground up never is. But I’m not expecting instant success. I’m not looking for viral clips or overnight fame. I just want something real.

So here are my first three goals for this rebooted Twitch journey:

Goal #1: Get Affiliate — start small, build the foundation

Goal #2: Reach 100 followers by October — a tangible milestone to work toward

Goal #3: Be consistent — show up, play games, keep promises to myself

More than anything, I want to enjoy this again. That’s the heart of it. Not numbers. Not clout. Just the love of gaming, of community, of connecting with people who might be out there feeling the same way I did when I first hit "Start Streaming" years ago.

If you’ve ever felt burnt out, disconnected, or like you had to walk away to find your way back — I see you. Here’s to fresh starts, to second (or fifth) chances, and to building something better, brick by brick.

If you'd like to check out my twitch and toss a me follow here's my link. Click here! Live on Mondays, Fridays, & Saturdays!

[solis-solaire]

Sabro Sabnock fans where you at

[vampofthevallee]

Nerd Beel

[east-polaris]

Guys I have a vision but you have to hear me out

[lunarifie]

Kinda pissed over a few people’s reactions to the Fantasy High webtoon. I can admit, that since we’re in a pretty cynical age, I was also skeptical of how it’d turn out.

But I can confidently say that I was pleasantly surprised by the art and competence of it. The cameos were cute and it was generally true to the original episode/plot.

What I’m noticing is people are more so complaining about outfit/art style changes, as well as character interpretations that honestly aren’t that significant or altering. Its a completely different medium, and the characters are going to change style wise, some niche and very specific details aren’t going to filter through because they’re focusing on major components.

While yes, people are allowed to be critical, I truly think we should give this webtoon the benefit of the doubt. Especially since it feels like a gift to us and I’m super proud of Dropout and Fantasy High for coming this far to produce something as linear as this.

[blightbrxt]

[neverforgetyouremyfavorite]

this is canon to me

+ bonus

[livvymd]

Poems Meant for Silence.⋆｡˚ — arthur tv x reader

You never meant for him to find it.

The letter — no, the offering, the quiet hymn stitched from the thread of your heart — had been nestled at the bottom of your bag like a sleeping bird. Thirty pages bound in soft ivory paper, flecked faintly with gold like sunlit dust dancing through a window. You hadn’t written it with the intention of being seen — only with the need to breathe, to bleed in ink the kind of love that sits too large in your chest for conversation.

You were meant to spend the evening curled up on his sofa, legs tucked under you like a cat, a tart between you and a film murmuring in the background. Maybe Pride and Prejudice, if he was feeling particularly sentimental — which, with Arthur, was more often than not.

But in a moment of clumsy, laughing chaos — your bag slipped from your shoulder, tipping gently open like a secret unwound.

And there it was.

He bent before you could stop him, fingers brushing the bundle like it was made of spun sugar. His eyes flicked over the cover — the title written in careful, deliberate ink:

“Thirty Pages About the Boy Who Makes Me Believe in Poetry Again.”

You froze. Like a deer caught in lamplight. Like a stanza suspended mid-thought.

“I—Arthur—please, that’s not for—” you stammered, reaching out instinctively, breath caught in your throat.

He held it delicately in both hands, almost reverently. “You wrote this?”

“Yes. But I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

“Is it about me?” he asked. But the question wasn’t suspicious or smug. It was reverent. Wondering. As if he were trying to speak in the presence of something holy.

You swallowed. “All of it.”

Silence bloomed in the room like a hush in a cathedral.

And then, softly, like a vow: “May I read it?”

Your heart twisted. “You… want to?”

Arthur looked up at you then — really looked — and there was a sort of quiet awe in his eyes, like you’d hung stars from your fingertips and handed them to him.

“You wrote thirty pages for me,” he said. “How could I not want to?”

He sat cross-legged on the floor beneath the soft yellow light, back to his bookshelves, and began to read. You didn’t dare speak. You didn’t even blink too loud. You simply watched as his eyes skimmed line after line, turning pages like they were petals from some long-forgotten love song.

He read slowly. Thoughtfully. Not like someone flipping through a letter, but like a man walking through a museum alone, letting each word echo in his mind like the click of his shoes on the marble floor. He didn’t skim. He absorbed.

And sometimes, he smiled.

Once, he even laughed — that breathy, nose-wrinkling laugh you loved — at a line you'd nearly edited out: “You don’t know how often I think about the way you hold your tea like it’s a first edition you’re afraid to smudge.”

Twenty minutes passed like a dream.

And when he looked up at you, you felt the moment lodge itself into your ribs — something about the quiet reverence in his gaze, the way he held the book close to his chest like a relic, like he needed to feel your words pressed to his heart.

“You,” he said, voice low and full of wonder, “write like you love me.”

You nodded, barely a whisper: “I do.”

In three slow steps, Arthur came to you.

But he didn’t just sit beside you — he reached out, gently guiding you into his lap like you were a silk thing he didn’t want to crease. You let yourself be gathered, straddling him, legs tangled with his, face hidden in the warm wool of his jumper. You could hear his heart like a steady drum beneath your ear.

One of his hands rested on the curve of your hip. The other… wove into your hair, slow and tender, fingers combing through the strands like they were threads of starlight. He stroked them back gently, again and again, grounding both of you in that unspoken rhythm.

“I had no idea,” he murmured. “That someone could feel that deeply. That you… feel that deeply for me.”

You couldn’t speak — not without shattering. So you nestled closer.

“I’ve walked through galleries and stood in front of portraits that took a decade to paint,” he continued, “and none of them have ever made me feel what your words just did.”

You closed your eyes. It felt like floating. Like the hush between waves.

Arthur’s voice dropped even lower, soft as a sigh. “Reading that was like walking through the halls of your soul. And every room whispered, I love him. I love him. I love him.”

A breath caught in your chest.

“I didn’t know someone could write that way,” he said. “Not about me. Not for me.”

You pulled back, just enough to see his face — flushed, eyes wet, smile like something sacred.

“I’m keeping it,” he said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “This book. These words. All of it. I’ll keep it forever. Read it when I miss you. Memorise it like a prayer.”

And then — slowly, deliberately — he kissed you. Not with urgency, but with something deeper. Worship. Wonder. The kind of kiss you only read about in your favourite pages.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, as though the moment itself was too beautiful to fully open his eyes to.

You blinked through the prickling behind your eyes. “You really liked it?”

“I loved it. I love you.”

And you — heart blooming, soul unraveling — buried yourself back in his chest.

He held you close. He played with your hair like it was his favourite melody. He murmured sweet, sleepy things into the air: lines he loved, words you’d written, and little I love yous tucked between breaths like hidden verses.

You stayed like that for ages. No tart, no film. Just the boy who loved museums and words and you.

And the poems, finally, were no longer just pages. They were this.

They were him.

They were yours.

TAGLIST:

@jamiekluivert

@wherethezoes-at

@pretendyoucantseeme

@artvscvntymullet

@chrisolivia4l

@formulaal

@smzyyx

[7lizardsinacoat]

"Hey, Steph? If things were different, would you wanna go to homecoming with me?"

"I'd like that, Pete. I'd really like that."

A digital painting of Stephanie Lauter from Nerdy Prudes Must Die! She's smarter than she thinks she is and it's a crime and a half that she doesn't know it. Hope to one day be as cool as she is.

[screenshotsonpinterest]

On one hand, I don’t think that the Chasitys would have let Grace watch Veggietales but on the other hand it is exactly the kind of childhood media that results in sexual fantasies manifesting as choreographed musical numbers later in life

[write-nerdy-to-me]

so obsessed with tadius making his crush the queen. never settle for less than you deserve, get you a freak who will do treasonous acts for you 💜

[beccawise7]

We nerdy bookworms... Oh the places our minds & imaginations travel to.

~beccawise7💜🖤

[isabeauwolf]

Look at our emo, unhinged and sexy pre time skip snow leopard, Trafalgar Law~

Seriously, bring him back, Oda, please!

He's cocky, smug and I love his morbid curiosity.

We actually hear him laugh.

[yourmoodboards-areonfiirree]

Ruth, Richie and Pete moodboard with Cozy Video Game night inspo!

☼︎ rq'd by @ender-of-the-sender! ☼︎

(All images found on pinterest)

ⁱ ᵈⁱᵈⁿᵗ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ "ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ" ᵇⁱᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵠ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡˡ ⁱ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ⁱ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ 😭

[ricky-mortis]

The Band in Black