#my favs with different vibes entirely

[artisan-king-morleus]

3 fav silver haired in Reverse 1999 are wildly different

Dikke: I am the law

Pavia: FUCK THE LAW

(Zima): I dont wanna be here

[zephyrine-gale]

ZEPHYRINE IS A EPIC FAAN

SO what are your favorite songs in the sagas of epic???

luck runs out, puppeteer, wouldn't you like, thunder bringer, the challenge, wyfilwma! ramblings will be in the tags ajkdjg

my favorite character is hermes I love his silly horse laugh if i had to draw him rq he'd probably look like this in my style

[rose-tries-to-write]

nothing raised my standards like the movie Strange Magic

if you aint treating me like those two be treating each other (deadly + sexy + If Anything Happens to You, I Won't Allow It) i don't Want it.

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆 ☞ ♥•♥•♥•

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader | Viltrumite!Mark x f!Reader | Sinister!Mark x f!Reader | No Goggles/Lensless!Mark x f!Reader | Omni!Mark x f!Reader | Shiesty!Mark x f!Reader | Mohawk!Mark x f!Reader

Warnings: Umm there’s a mention of Lensless making his dick jump LMAO but that’s it

Tags: Fluff, comedy, romance, just cute silliness – you get the vibe

Word Count: uhhh the whole thing’s 3,236 but each part for all the variants is between 350-650

Synopsis: It’s so nice to have a superhuman boyfriend who relishes in the idea of you being so weak and helpless, he does EVERYTHING for you. Except, also, sometimes it’s kind of annoying and you just want to do things on your own. So when he’s gone on a mission that’s supposed to last a few days? You plan to take FULL advantage. Only, he comes back sooner than expected…

a/n: man, sorry i’ve been dropping the ball on posting lately. i wasn’t lying when i said losing all my old shit really killed my motivation. BUT i’ve been going dumb reading this comic and bruhhh i’m SHOOK by some of the differences – i digress. i feel myself slowly getting back to my usual grind so pls hang in there with me lovies!!!!

also, Shiesty is DEFINITELY my fav from this series lmaoo

The Set Up...

The thing about being home alone was that it gave you the rare chance to get things done.

No overprotective Viltrumite boyfriend hovering the moment you touched anything over ten pounds. No “babe, let me do it” every time you reached for the step stool. Just peace, music, and the triumphant satisfaction of moving the bookshelf to the wall it should’ve been on this entire time.

You’d nearly gotten it there, too—angled just right, towel under the bottom, scooting it across the floor one slow, squeaky inch at a time.

Main!Mark

You were mid-push, maneuvering the big bookshelf across the floor with a towel under it for glide, when you heard the familiar whoosh of a landing behind you.

“Hey, I’m—whoa.”

You turned around, sheepish but proud. “Hi!”

Mark stood there, mask off, still in his suit, eyes flicking between you and the halfway-moved bookshelf. “Were you… moving that by yourself?”

“Technically yes. But, like, strategically. No lifting. Full physics. Minimum chaos.”

He blinked. “That’s… kind of impressive.”

You beamed. “Thanks!”

He nodded slowly, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, no—super cool. Really cool. Totally capable. Independent. You got this.”

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Me? Yeah. I’m good.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Mark.”

He scuffed his foot across the floor, eyes cast down. “It’s just… you didn’t wait for me.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to help me push furniture around after flying halfway around the world.”

“Still,” he muttered, glancing at the bookshelf. “It’s kind of my thing, y’know? Being helpful. Picking up stuff. Making your life easier. Super strength is kind of… my niche.”

Your chest ached a little. He wasn’t mad—just quietly, adorably bummed. Like a golden retriever watching someone else throw the ball.

So, naturally, you took two steps back, turned just slightly, and just happened to stub your toe on the side of the coffee table.

Loudly.

“OW—oh my god, ow, okay nope, I’m dying,” you yelped, grabbing your foot and hopping in place.

Mark was instantly at your side, arms out. “Wait, what happened?! Are you okay?!”

“Stubbed my toe,” you whimpered. “On the corner. I think it—ohhh nooo it’s broken.”

He crouched in front of you like a concerned EMT. “Which foot?! Can you walk? Want me to carry you to the couch??”

You blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Would you?”

He was already scooping you up, like a knight cradling a wounded princess. “Of course. I’ve got you.”

You let your head fall dramatically against his shoulder, hiding your grin. “My hero.”

He smiled. A real one this time. “You can move bookshelves, sure. But I’m still the toe-stubbing emergency response team.”

You kissed his cheek. “See? Still irreplaceable.”

A pause.

“…You faked that, didn’t you.”

“No comment.”

Viltrumite!Mark

“…Sweetheart?”

You froze.

“Are you… are you moving that? Alone?”

You turned to see Mark standing in the doorway, uniform still on, brow furrowed in a mix of horror and disbelief, like he’d just caught a toddler wielding a chainsaw.

You opened your mouth to explain—but something in his expression gave you pause.

So instead, you took a slow, shaky breath… and rested the back of your hand against your forehead.

“Ohh…” you sighed. “You’re right. That was… so reckless of me.”

He was at your side in a blink.

“[Y/N],” he murmured, already cradling your face in his hands, inspecting you like you might crumble. “You should’ve waited for me. What if you got hurt? That shelf is solid wood.”

“I just… I didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, leaning into the moment. “But I feel so faint now…”

He gently brushed your hair from your face, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You shouldn’t be lifting a finger. Not when I’m here. Let me take care of you.”

You almost felt bad.

…Almost.

Mark pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go sit down. I’ll finish this.”

You gave him your best helpless nod, then flopped dramatically onto the couch as he lifted the bookshelf with one hand and carried it across the room like it was empty.

“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want it?”

You sat up, pointing. “Against that wall, just—yeah, right there. No, wait—actually a little to the left.”

He adjusted.

“Hmm. No, sorry, more to the right.”

Another adjustment.

“Okay, now turn it a bit. Clockwise. No, my clockwise. Yeah, okay—wait, back a bit.”

He tilted his head. “Back? Or back back?”

You squinted. “Like… scooch it. A half scooch.”

He sighed (very soft, very loving), and scooched.

You stared.

“…Okay, I think it’s—wait. Nope. Now it’s too far.”

Mark blinked. “Sweetheart...”

You gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped your head into your hands. “This is why I just wanted to do it myself.”

He chuckled—low and warm—then gently tapped your knee. “And miss out on being treated like royalty? Why deprive yourself of such a treat?”

You smiled softly "Very good point..." Then you paused, glanced at the shelf and looked up at him again. “If I’m royalty, does that mean I can tell you to move it back to where it was?”

His face went stony for a moment, but then was already turning. “Only for you...”

You smiled. “I love you so much.”

Mark was ready to move planets that point.

Sinister!Mark

You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the floor when your body stilled.

The hair on the back of your neck rose. The air shifted. Then you heard his voice. Smooth. Amused.

“…Interesting choice of project.”

Your blood froze. No. There's no way he's already back, is he?

You turned your head slowly, painfully, like a horror movie character about to meet their doom.

There he was. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly red, with the kind of cold smirk that said “so this is how you betray me.”

Without even thinking – no hesitation, zero shame – you let out a gasp, dramatically tripping over the edge of the towel you’d been using to slide the shelf on and falling down in what felt like slow motion.

The entire bookshelf tipped sideways with you, crashing to the floor with a thunderous BOOM.

Books everywhere. You sprawled in the wreckage like a tragic Victorian heroine struck down by an airborne piano.

“OHHH NOOOO!” you wailed, arm flung across your face. “Why did I think I could do this alone?! I was so foolish! I was so fragile!”

Mark was in front of you before the dust even settled, crouched low, eyes narrowed as he looked over the scene. Not at the bookshelf. Not at the mess.

At you.

You peeked between your fingers. “Is it bad? Am I concussed? Paralyzed?”

He tilted his head. “You’re not hurt.”

“I’m emotionally hurt.”

“You don’t have a scratch on you.”

You whimpered. “But what if I had? I—I thought I was strong enough, but I’m just a weak little thing, aren’t I?”

He leaned in close, his tone syrupy and sharp. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”

You gave a broken little sigh. “You were right. You were so right. It was arrogant of me to think I could do things on my own.”

Mark finally smirked something deep and you felt a wave of relief rush through you. “Well. At least you’ve learned something today.”

He gently lifted you into his arms, stepping over fallen books like they were debris after an explosion. “You won’t be lifting so much as a fork without my help from now on.”

You clung to him like a damsel in distress. “Oh nooo, what a shame.”

He paused at the doorway and looked down at you.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” he asked, voice suddenly low and flat. “Because you know I’ll find out.”

You blinked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Mark. My bookshelf fell on me. I’m lucky to be alive.”

His eyes searched your face for a long, unnerving moment… then he smirked again. Kissed your forehead.

“Good girl.”

You sighed dramatically, burying your face in his chest as he floated you off to the couch.

Another day, another tragedy avoided. Except for your bookshelf, you supposed...

No Goggles/Lensless!Mark

You were really just starting to make progress on the move when you heard it.

Click.

Thud.

“Hey,” Mark said casually, suddenly perched on top the bookshelf and looking down at you with a lazy grin. “Didn't realize you were this strong, babe. You ever think about joining the Viltrumite army?”

“Wha—Mark!” you gasped, heart racing just a bit. “W-What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just watching you work, babe! Gotta say—I’m impressed. Keep going. Show me whatcha got.”

You flushed a bit. “…But you’re sitting on it.”

Mark gave you a dramatic blink. “Yeah, and? I mean look at you! You’re so strooong, move it with me on it.”

“Mark...”

“C’mon!” He kicked his feet a little. “Let’s see that strength. I’ll just stay here and supervise.”

“…Can you get off please?”

“Nope. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

You furrowed your brows, pouting for a bit. “Alright. Fine.” You braced yourself and tried to nudge the bookshelf forward, only for it to not move an inch under the added weight of your lovely, idiotic boyfriend.

He grinned even wider. “Aww, is the strong woman struggling?”

You scowled, leaning back off the piece of furniture. “I can’t do it with you on it. Get off.”

“Nah, I’m comfy.” He shrugged. “But if you really need help, I guess I could show you how it’s done.”

Before you could say anything, he jumped down and scooped you up in one smooth motion, plopping you onhis shoulder like you were a prize.

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he says with a sigh. “I got this.” He reached over with one hand and picked the bookshelf up like it was a cardboard box.

“Wait, but—I didn’t even tell you where to put it!”

He grinned as he moved it toward the far corner of the room. “Right here’s perfect.”

“Noo, I wanted it on that wall.”

“Ehh, I’m feeling this spot more. Looks better, don’t you think?”

“Mark, I’m serious, that’s not—”

“You’ll love it,” he said with a laugh, already walking away from it and towards the sofa. “Trust me. I’ve got an eye for these things.”

You thought about arguing but stopped yourself short, realizing there was no point. He wasn’t even listening.

Mark kicked the couch aside with a careless boot and dropped down into the cushions like a king on his throne, moving you smoothly to straddle his waist. His grin was wide and feral, hair a little messy, pupils blown.

He looked very pleased with himself.

“Yup,” he said, hands sliding to your hips, smug as hell. “Pretty strong, babe. Got, like... crazy stats.”

You couldn’t help but look a bit amused. “….Stats?”

“Oh, you know,” he said casually, voice dropping as his eyes dragged slowly over your body. “Strength. Speed. Stamina. Core control.”

You bit back a smile.

“Wanna see what else I can do?” he grinned, and didn’t wait to hear your answer. You suddenly became very aware of the repeated tapping between your thighs.

He was making his dick jump.

You choked.

“Mark!”

Omni!Mark

You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the living room when his voice cut through the space like a blade.

“You shouldn’t be doing that.”

You froze, hands still on the edge of the shelf. “Jesus—Mark?”

He stepped into view from the hallway, calm and unreadable, but his gaze was locked on your hands. On the effort. On your shoulders straining beneath your t-shirt.

“I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow,” you said, breath catching just slightly.

He said nothing to that. Just looked down at the shelf. Then back at you.

“I’m fine,” you offered, trying to keep your tone light. “Promise this might come as a surprise, but humans move furniture all the time. There’s a whole job field for it, actually. Movers. Crazy, right?”

The corner of his mouth twitched downward. Clearly not amused.

“I know you’re capable,” he said, stepping closer. His voice dropped a little. “Of more than you’ll ever give yourself credit for.” You blinked. “But this?” His gaze flicked to the shelf again. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Not with your hands.”

“My hands are fine.”

He reached out and gently took your palm in his — and suddenly, the shelf didn’t exist anymore. The room didn’t exist. Just his fingers wrapping around yours, warm and impossibly careful.

“These hands,” he said, brushing his thumb along your knuckles, “shouldn’t be calloused from dragging wood and steel. They should stay soft.”

You opened your mouth — probably to argue, maybe to scoff — but no words came out. Just heat. Everywhere.

“I don’t protect you because I think you’re weak,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I protect you because I can. Because you’re the only softness in a world that doesn’t deserve it.”

And just like that, you were putty. Your entire body went slack under his gaze, your throat thick, breath gone. Your fingers curled a little tighter into his without even meaning to.

“…You’re not playing fair,” you whispered.

His other hand lifted to your face, thumb brushing just under your cheekbone.

“I never said I was fair,” he said quietly. “Only that you’re mine.”

You nodded, helplessly. Of course. Obviously.

And when he leaned down to kiss you — slow, reverent, like you were something holy — you realized the bookshelf could stay exactly where it was.

Forever, even.

Didn’t matter anymore.

Shiesty!Mark

The bookshelf barely budged as you leaned your weight into it with a frustrated grunt. You were so close to getting it where you wanted it.

“You tryna remodel or build muscle, bae?”

You froze at the very familiar but very unexpected voice.

Mark stood in the doorway, one brow raised, smirking like he’d walked in on you cheating with another man — who just so happened to be made of plywood and frustration.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you said, trying not to sound as guilty as you felt.

“Clearly,” he said, strolling in like he owned the floor (and the ceiling, and probably you). “You out here grinding furniture across the floor like a damn forklift. Did I miss the call for backup?”

You sighed. “It’s not that heavy. I’ve almost got it.”

Mark leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like a man enjoying premium entertainment. “Oh no, go on. Don’t let me stop you. I love a strong woman. Grrr,” he teased, flexing his bicep in mock solidarity.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the shelf. “It’s just gotta slide like three more inches—”

“Oh you tryna get precise with it,” he cut in. “Okay, okay, I see you. Interior design. Feng shui. Heavy lifting. Very sexy of you.”

“I swear to God, Mark—” Before you could finish, he was already behind you.

“I got it,” he said, voice suddenly softer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t hurt yourself, pretty.”

You stepped aside reluctantly as he crouched, rolled his shoulders back, and—because of course he did—lifted the bookshelf with one hand.

You blinked. “Did you... just curl it?”

He grinned, looking at you over his shoulder. “You like that? That was rep one. Want me to rack up a few sets? Maybe do a little shoulder press while you admire the view?”

“Mark.”

“Say it again like that and I’ll drop this bookshelf just to carry you to the bedroom instead.”

You would’ve choked if you’d been drinking something.

He moved the shelf exactly where you’d wanted it, then turned and leaned in close, mouth brushing yours. “See? I do listen. Sometimes.”

You melted. A little. Maybe a lot.

“So,” he said casually, already lifting you like a backpack, “wanna rearrange anything else while I’m warmed up? Your guts, maybe?”

“Mark!”

“Babe, I’m just tryna be helpful.”

Mohawk!Mark

You braced both feet against the floor, gave the bookshelf one last stubborn shove, and managed to move it a grand total of two inches.

You stepped back, breathing heavy, hands on your hips.

“Gotta ask,” came a gravel-rough voice behind you, “you movin’ that thing for fun or outta spite?”

You jumped. “Jesus—Mark! Warn a girl!”

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, suit already halfway unzipped and his hair looking a little messier than usual.

“You weren’t supposed to be back yet,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Clearly,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling in with that easy, heavy gait. “Figured I’d come home and find you curled up on the couch. Not out here goin’ to war with a damn bookcase.”

“I wasn’t—I am perfectly capable, thank you.”

“Sure you are,” he said, like he was humoring a toddler insisting they could drive.

“I am!”

He stopped in front of you, looking down at your flushed face and dirt-smudged palms. His gaze dropped to your hands, then back up to your eyes.

“Babe,” he said, voice lower now, quieter. “You don’t gotta play tug-of-war with your furniture every time I’m not in the room. You miss me? Call me. I’ll fly in, carry you and the couch if you need.”

You opened your mouth as if intending to explain your reasoning, but he was already moving. Already crouching. Already sliding one hand beneath the bookshelf like it weighed nothing.

With a casual exhale, he lifted it off the ground and nodded toward the other wall.

“Point where you want it.”

You furled in your lower lip, trying to ignore how hot this was. “...There,” you mumbled.

He walked it over. No strain. No effort. Just raw, grounded strength like it was part of his muscle memory now.

He set it down exactly where you needed it before turning to you again, rubbing sorely at the back of his neck.

“You good now?” he asked. “You wrestled the inanimate object. I showed up to finish the job. Domestic bliss achieved?”

You smiled, trying not to laugh. “I’m good. Thanks.”

He gave you that familiar crooked smile. “Next time just call,” he muttered. “You think I won’t drop a whole planetary threat just to come move furniture? Priorities.”

You snorted. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He stepped a little closer, lifting your chin with two fingers. “You’re never a bother,” he said, voice just slightly softer now. “Maybe a bad decision, sometimes. But never a bother.”

You were biting hard into your bottom lip at this point, really trying to hold back your smile.

“…Bet you want me to carry you around now, too?” he asked, already bending to hook an arm under your thighs.

All you could do was squeal and giggle as he hoisted you up bridal-style, with a dramatic grunt that was absolutely just for show.

“There we go,” he muttered, planting a kiss on your temple. “Soft hands, remember? You keep ‘em pretty. I’ll do the heavy lifting. And the thinking. And the rescuing. You? You just sit there and look smug.”

You melted into his chest with a sigh. “Well, I was doing just fine before you showed up.”

He snorted as he lowered onto the couch, pulling you into his lap. “Yeah, you moved it a whole two inches. Might as well call NASA.”

You leaned back slightly, lips twitching. “I did move it though.”

He gave you a slow, unimpressed blink.

Then muttered, “You want a trophy or a chiropractic bill?”

You laughed—loud and warm—and when he leaned in to kiss you again, you didn’t even mind the dirt smudge still on your hands.

[trevorsturnioloappreciator]

If You Want To

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

-matt and readers first date ends with her on top of him in his living room

cw: minors dni making out, dry humping, praise kink, pet names and use of “good girl”, a little dirty talk, no use of y/n, one mention of Matt knocking someone out and one mention of throw up and someone dying but its just a thought :D

a/n: continuation of Vigilante this one is very fluffy then it gets a lil smutty at the end, the blue text in the beginning are text messages, not many warnings this is pretty mild

also the title is from the beabadoobee song and the notes of cologne i described are versace’s dylan blue it’s one of my favs and gives Matt vibes

˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚ ˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚ ˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚

A day has passed since your unexpected meeting with Matt, the entire time since has consisted of you typing out a message, rereading it, deleting all of it then promptly throwing your phone away from you.

It was sort of silly how nervous you were to reach out when it had been his idea to give you his number, but you were worried maybe it was simply a courtesy, he could’ve thought you’d need someone to recount how you got home, or you may have choked on your vomit, died in your sleep and the police would need him to explain his connection.

Your spiraling thoughts make you take a deep breath, you knew you were a bit of an over-thinker but even you found this train of thought to be utterly ridiculous. That small realization might have been the reason you crossed your room to where your phone lay on the carpet.

The text was nothing special- hey, Matt, it’s me, from the club the other night :)

You’d rather start off boring as opposed to overbearing and maybe reveal too much of your personality, more than you already did asking the guy to carry you to bed like a baby. Shaking the thought from your head and tucking your red face into your hands, you think about how different you acted that night, not different like you were playing a character, different in the way that you weren’t playing a character.

Maybe it should’ve concerned you how easily he endeared himself to you, if it wasn’t for the context in which you two met and the way the rest of the night played out, you would think he was just some serial charmer, working you over before moving onto the next one.

Something about Matt made you feel comfortable enough to let go of the barriers you put up when you’re with anyone else. Just as you start to lose yourself in your thoughts about the brunette boy, you hear your phone chime. He replied, he replied and for some reason you’re entirely shocked that he would even text you back.

Hey there, it’s good to hear from you! How are you feeling?

Reading Matt’s text makes you smile. To think that he still cared enough to check up on you, his character showed even through the phone. You reply back to tell him you woke up feeling disoriented, but you did at least remember the events of the previous night.

You also can’t help but let him in on how sweet and thoughtful it was of him to leave his number, you don’t let him know this part but you had fallen asleep, hearing him lock your door behind him, with the lingering thought of how foolish it was that you hadn’t asked for a way to contact him. Matt’s reply is swift;

I have to admit, I left my number for my own selfish reasons. I would’ve been kicking myself for the rest of my life if that was the last time i saw you.

This message has your face burning, cheesy smile splitting your face, you can’t think of a reply fast enough as you fall heavily onto your bed and roll to your stomach. Kicking your feet behind you and staring at the words on your screen, you feel emboldened by his admission.

i was too nervous to tell you, but after you left i regretted not getting your number, was worried i wouldn’t see you again… would you maybe want to go on a date with me?

Now you’re really feeling nervous butterflies, your blush moving to your chest as you await his reply, tucking your face into your folded arms. When the beep of a notification goes off a couple of seconds later, you can’t get yourself to look.

The fear of rejection when you first texted him paled in comparison to how your palms sweat and heart raced thinking of his response. After a minute of stalling, you finally pick up your phone to read the response.

I’m relieved you didn’t take me leaving my number the wrong way, I thought you might take me for a creep. I would love to take you on a date :) When are you free next?

A soft giggle bubbles out of you, a giddy feeling rolling in your stomach as you bite the tip of your finger, thinking about Matt on the other end of the line. Flopping onto your back, phone laying on your chest, you wonder if he’s feeling the same way you are, maybe he’s out driving around or he could be sitting at a desk somewhere diverting his attention between work and you.

Checking the clock you see it’s nearing 8 PM, but it’s a Friday so you text back to tell Matt you’re free all day tomorrow, asking if that would work for him. When Matt texts you back all he says is;

I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow?

˗ˋˏ𖤓ˎˊ˗

Waking up around 8:00 is pretty unfitting for you but you’re absolutely buzzing for your date. After Matt’s text setting the time of your meeting you both continued chatting for a bit, agreeing together to go out for lunch.

You were excited that you wouldn’t have to wait around until dinnertime like you usually would for a date, anyways you were infinitely more excited for this one than any date you’ve been on before.

Thoughts swirl of what you’ll wear and how Matt will look when he picks you up (address still logged in his Apple maps, so it was the obvious option) while you make a morning coffee. You wistfully move around your apartment, performing your morning routine as if you’re in a fairytale, head in the clouds.

As the time nears closer and the nerves once again set in, you take a long, hot shower, spending time on your skincare regime, way more time than you usually would. You even decide to crack open the expensive body oils and tinctures you keep for special occasions. Slipping on your silk robe and wringing the water from your hair, you move to your vanity, clicking on the lights around your mirror.

You apply a light smattering of makeup; curling your lashes, lining your eyes with a neutral shadow and finishing off with your favorite lipgloss, before drying and styling your hair. Slipping off your robe, you spread on a lightly scented lotion, rubbing your everyday fragrance oil from your wrist to the pulse points on your neck as well as your hips and shoulders.

Deciding to keep your outfit casual, but still elegant, you pull a mini, lace a-line dress off it’s hanger. Pairing it with a slightly cropped cardigan, buttoning it just once before slipping on some chunky socks with your favorite shoes. You top off the look with your everyday jewelry and a thin cream bow in your hair.

Checking your phone, you see a text from Matt letting you know he’s leaving now and will be arriving in the next twenty minutes, you open your purse throwing in your keys, wallet, and a small bag of makeup for touch ups, along with some other essentials you like to always have on hand. Straightening out your dress, taking a last look in the mirror and adding a light spray of perfume before gingerly walking to your apartment’s lobby to wait for your dates arrival.

As soon as Matt’s contact lights up your phone screen with a call all the nervous jitters return to you, being slightly forgotten with how busy you were to perfect your look and make sure you felt as confident as possible before leaving your front door, they’ve now come back with a vengeance.

You clear your throat before bringing the phone to your ear. “Hi, I’m in the lobby, are you outside?”, you’re pleased at how steady your voice comes out, trying not convey just how much you had been overthinking.

“Hello! I’m actually walking up to the door right now, I’ll see you soon, okay?”, his words bring a smile to your face, of course he’s not the kind of guy to make you search for his car in the parking lot. Before you can even reply you see Matt pulling open the door to your building, a blinding smile and a wave of his hand greeting you.

“Matt! Hi, it’s really good to see you… I can’t lie I was sort of nervous, seeing you I feel a lot better.” Pairing your words with a shy smile, you walk over to meet Matt as he walks over to you, he looks incredible wearing a thick black sweater, falling just above the waistline of his dark-wash jeans, paired with a black fiddler’s cap. The sleeves of his top are rolled slightly to show off his scatter of tattoos, the entire look leaves you blushing.

As you take one more timid step closer to him, he holds open his arms, confidently coming to stand right in front of you welcoming you into a hug. All the tension you felt melted away as you accept his invitation, moving to wrap your arms around his waist, his coming to lock around your shoulders.

“Hey there, ya look beautiful, no need to be nervous. ‘S really good seeing you too.”

Your smile never leaves your face as you keep your face nestled into his chest, surrounded by the scent of him. It was something you hadn’t remembered until it was presented to you again, his cologne, it was slightly oceanic. Notes of something airy, but deep, a subtle spice while still having a citrusy freshness to it.

Feeling the side of his face pressing down on top of your head and the way his right hand sits heavily in between your shoulder blades makes you forget that you’re supposed to move from this spot, that Matt didn’t come here just for a long hug and that you two were supposed to be heading on to continue your day.

Matt slightly steps back, keeping his hands on your shoulder as he smiles down to you, “Ready to go?” You nod up to him and reach up to take his hand off your shoulder and lacing your fingers through his, cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. Matt’s own smile brightens at your gesture, taking one last long look over your figure before gesturing with his head for you to follow him out to the car.

You’re now both seated at a quaint diner you always walked by but never stopped at. The short drive from your apartment had been filled with Matt’s playlist (you noticed the title; Soft) humming quietly through the car, the both of you exchanging shy smiles and fleeting glances, and still your butterflies persisted; but they had calmed from the anxious variety to a subtle, exciting, murmur.

“So… what made you finally message me, I was sittin’ around all that time, waiting for ya.”, Matt’s words are said with an impish expression, jovial smile playing at his features. Once again you felt that pull, like you couldn’t lie to Matt if someone paid you, if it was anyone else this might have annoyed you but something about this boy, and the spell it seems he’s putting you under, does nothing to deter you.

“Honestly? I was kind of embarrassed about how we met, I mean you carried me to bed.” Your words are followed by a sheepish chuckle which Matt enthusiastically returns,

“C’mon you don’t have to be embarrassed about that, I actually happened to enjoy tucking you into bed.” his words are teasing but the smile he’s flashing you is warm and sincere.

Leaning onto his elbows on the table between you, getting a bit closer to your face, he looks down to your lips as he continues speaking, “Carrying you to your room might’ve been my favorite part, wouldn’t mind doing it again… Y’know, if you ever need me to.” As he says this, he reaches out to take your hand into his own, “I’m glad it was me that night, I- I just mean… I’m glad I know you now.”

Listening to his words, entranced by the way he speaks, with only one thought running through your mind. Like your mouth has a mind of its own, you blurt out; “Can I kiss you?”

The instant heat to your face and the change on his face, mouth dropping slightly, still with the same smug smile, makes you widen your eyes.

What is it about this guy that makes me want to embarrass myself?!?

“I-“, before you can get a word out, Matt’s eyes soften. Examining you for a second, he puts his free hand to your jaw, leaning just a bit closer to capture your lips in a deep kiss.

It was incredible. Slow and easy, it’s not the kind of kiss that leads to something else, he’s kissing you like it’s all he wanted, like he could just do this forever, his nose brushing against you as he moves with the way you do, tongue just barely brushing your lips as if he’s introducing you to the way he kisses, it’s making you melt.

The minute he pulls away, you feel yourself tilting forward to chase his lips. You, as well as Matt’s large hand on your cheek, stops your movement. The look in his eyes is heavy, his thumb strokes softly against the apple of your cheeks, never breaking eye contact with you while you feel your head get fuzzy, focusing on the way he licks his lips.

“Y-you’re really good at that…”, you giggle as you say it, no longer concerned with feeling stupid around him. Matt moves the hand on your cheek up to your hair, smoothing down where your locks had fallen into your face, beaming at your words.

“How’d you guess flattery works so well on me?”, he’s now moving to the other side of the booth to sit next to you. Matt doesn’t let go of your hand, just lets your locked fingers rest on his leg between you two. Smirking down at the way you’re blushing for him, he leans down to whisper closer to your ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

Turning your head to face him, your nose brushes his face he’s that close. “Yes, please…”, you nod and squeeze his hand lightly. Matt stands up and leads you out to his car, holding the door for you on your way out.

Matt asks if you’d like to go back to his place, saying it’s only fair since he got to see your bedroom already. Of course, you agree. Your lips are still tingling from his kiss, the hand he was previously holding yours with, is now squeezing your thigh as he drives. You thought the feelings you had for him before were intense, but now you almost feel like you’re gonna explode if you don’t get your lips back on his.

Pulling into Matt’s garage, he turns to meet your eyes, “We’re here, my brothers are home, you can meet ‘em if you’d like?”, you nod at his suggestion, “I would love to.” You can’t seem to wipe the smile from your face.

The second the door shuts behind you a voice calls out from the top of the stairs, “Matt? Is that you?”, to which Matt responds back affirmatively. “How’d the date go, bro?!”, the voice nears, then a head of shaggy hair and a backwards cap pops over the banister, looking down to you two.

“Oh-“, the boy says as he now takes notice of your presence as Matt leads you up the steps. “Sorry, hi, didn’t realize Matt had company.” the boys look changes from surprise to a cheeky smile, wiggling his eyebrows. Matt scoffs and turns to you shaking his head, before shooting a look up at his brother, “Jesus, Chris have a little decorum, dude.”, as you reach the living room and come face to face with who you now can identify as Chris, Matt moves his free hand between you two, “This is my brother, Chris, he wasn’t dropped or anything he’s just like that.”

This sentence spurs Chris into a raucous laughing fit, you can’t help but join as he breathlessly says; “God, you are funny, isn’t he funny?”, Matt is now rolling his eyes, but he can’t deny the smile stretching over his face as he gently tugs your hand, leading you to sit on the couch.

Chris is on one side of the sectional sitting heavily into the cushions, still trying to catch his breath. Matt stands in front of you where you’re perched politely on the edge of the seat, posture perfect, like you’re trying to make the best first impression.

“You can get comfortable, take your shoes off if you’d like, want anything to drink?”, his reassurance is helping ease your nerves, it’s not that you’re uncomfortable, you just always felt a little awkward when in a new place with new people. Shooting a thankful smile to Matt, you slide back in the sofa to slump further against the backrest. “Yes, please, uhm I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

When Matt leaves your side to walk into the kitchen, you toe off your shoes, moving them to the side of the couch and out of the way. Chris sits up, resting his elbows on his knees and turns to look at you, as you tuck your leg under yourself, getting more comfy in your seat. “So how’d you guys meet? This kid doesn’t tell me anything.”

Laughing lightly you look over to Chris, “It’s sort of a crazy story, uh, he saw me outside that club downtown, uhm this guy was trying to get me to leave with him and your brother came up, knocked the guy out and ended up driving me home…”, you blush relaying the story.

Chris’ mouth drops open and he straightens up, looking behind you to where Matt is. “Okay so that’s why your knuckles were busted and you came home in the middle of the night, Batman! I’m telling you this guy is more tight-lipped than the secret service.”, he shakes his head in awe, “That’s insane, are you okay? Sounds pretty scary.”

You nod as you see Matt coming back to the couch, handing you a glass of water as he settles into the cushion right next to you, throwing his arm over the couch behind you. “Yes, yeah, everything’s fine now, just… probably shouldn’t go back to that club.”, you mumble out the last part and Matt moves his arm down to your shoulders pulling you closer into him.

“Nah, you should be able to go where you want to without freaks like that. Y’know our brother Nick really likes that place, if you ever need an escort. Plus he has the same face as Matt, but he’s way more vicious if you could believe it, that creep wouldn’t even look at you wrong.”

You smile at Chris’ words, finding out Matt’s brothers are just as kind and sweet as him warms your heart. “I guess you’re right, just, yeah it shook me up a lot. Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” you face your attention to Matt, who you noticed is already looking down at you, “Where is your older brother?”, the boy next to you shakes his head lightly, “‘M not quite sure, he’s always out, the total opposite of me.”, He finishes his sentence with a sheepish look.

Chris stands up while checking his phone, “Speaking of which, I’m actually about to bounce too, gonna get dinner with Sam.” Matt nods to Chris as he makes his way down the stairs, before refocusing his attention to you.

As soon as Chris is out of sight, you put your glass onto the table in front of you, with a new sense of confidence under Matt’s heady gaze, straightening up, you attach your lips to his, hand coming to rest on his knee thats bent on the couch between you. Your boldness must’ve caught Matt by surprise as he makes a soft gasping noise, instantly moving his hands to the sides of your neck and pulling you deeper into the kiss. This time it’s entirely more intense than your first kiss, which in comparison would be considered soft.

Matt’s kissing you like he’s hungry, like he has to kiss the air out of your lungs for himself. It’s messy and greedy, and you feel like you can’t keep up with his pace, but it’s turning you on in a way you’ve never been.

The feeling of being wanted so much feels so unfamiliar to you, the needy dominance he’s pouring into the kiss is making you feel lightheaded. Matt’s hands move from your neck down your back and to your thighs, he reaches under you and uses his grip to manhandle you into his lap.

Breaking from the kiss, you throw your head back, chest heaving as you try and suck in as much air as possible, before Matt is laying on his back, using one hand on the back of your neck and one on your waist to pull you on top of him and back to his mouth. A small whimper leaves you as you’re now sitting completely on top of him, chest pressed to his, and your panties are right on his belt buckle. You feel his hips rolling up into you, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud moan, “Matt- Matt…”, he moves his lips to trail over your cheeks and jawline as you tuck your face into his neck, hiding the blazing blush over your face, “Fuck, so pretty…”, his voice is an octave deeper as his breath fans against your ear, his hands are all over you, rubbing up and down your waist, moving one hand to cup your jaw, pulling you back to look at him.

“So fuckin’ good, doll… Want you to grind on me, hm? Can you do that?”, your face is about two centimeters away from his, the way he’s looking up to you, his eyes pleading and your sparkly lipgloss shimmering on his lips and chin, you couldn’t possibly deny him.

Readjusting on his lap, moving to sit directly on his hard-on, causing Matt to let out the most delicious whine you’ve ever heard. “Mmm~ yes, yeah”, nodding frantically you sit up straight, hands on Matt’s chest as his lock tightly onto your hips, he doesn’t shift you, just holds on waiting for your move.

You start by circling your hips shyly, grinding down into him, feeling his jeans get tighter, it makes your whole body hot. Looking down, furrowing your brow and whimpering slightly at the sensation of him letting himself be used to get you off, “Fuck, Matt, so hot, feels so good, thank you~”, he groans deeply, squeezing your hips and bucking up into you. “Always so polite, huh? Good fucking girl, just how you need it, just take it from me, baby… Fuuuuck, got me so hard just from your lips….”

The way he talks to you makes your mind blank, hips stuttering as you feel yourself getting closer, “Can’t- Matt, ‘m gonna-“, your words cut off as you continue grinding down onto him, his hips still working under you, matching your rhythm even as it changes, Matt pulls you by the back of your head to kiss at your face, speaking in between each one, “‘S okay, baby, I want you to, want you to come undone, doing so good, f’me…~”

Your breathing picks up as you start to fist his shirt into your hands, hips speeding up as Matt grabs at you again, helping your movements by guiding you to grind deeper into him. “Uh huh, there ya go, sweetheart, are you gonna cum, baby? Just let go~ ‘s alright…”, his voice comes out right next to your ear as your face is tucked into his chest, muffling the strangled moans being pulled from you.

One last sharp thrust from Matt is what sends you over, letting out a loud whine, burying your head farther into him as you grip onto his sweater tighter. “Fuck yeah, good job, baby. Need ya to let it all out for me… thaat’s it… good girl~”, you feel one of Matt’s hands come to rest on the back of your head, soothing you.

Your noises don’t cease as Matt continues moving under you, your body going limp on top of him, “M-matt, too much, too good… please…”, the overstimulation on your sore clit makes you shake. “Okay okay, doll. You’re alright… Atta girl”, he smooths down your hair, patting your back as you come down from your orgasm.

You catch your breath while you cuddle into the side of his neck, your hands unfurl from his top as Matt keeps an arm wrapped around your back, sitting up with you still in his lap. “Y’okay, kid?”, he whispers into your ear, rubbing up and down the small of your back, using his left hand to push your hair off your face and tilting your chin up to look at him.

When you lock eyes with him, you give him a dazed look, smiling lazily. “M’okay, that… did- did you… finish?”, suddenly you start feeling shy again, which you know is stupid since you just rode this guy with all your clothes still on. Matt chuckles, his smile is sheepish as he speaks, “How could I not have, you’re a pro…” His teasing praise makes you laugh as you sit up a bit, playfully smacking his chest, “Stop.” you once again tuck into his chest, hiding your embarrassment.

“Okay, I’ll stop teasing. Seriously though you do not have to worry about me, ya looked so good, princess. I like seeing you all blissed out like that, you’re gorgeous.”, he leans into you, kissing from your cheek to your jaw, coming to kiss under your ear before whispering into it, “Can’t wait to see how pretty you look while I fuck you stupid.”, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his words.

part 3

[sparrowlucero]

Instead of discourse about showrunners and lesbians and whatever, I'm gonna bring a different type of discourse...whats ur fav and least Dr Whomst monsters. Hard mode: only the practical ones.

ok so I do like all the obvious ones, I like the angels, I like the vashta nerada, I like the not-things, I like the eternals. Here's a few deeper cuts (focusing on the tv show specifically):

they peaked with these maggots. they rock. pretty sure they're made with taxidermy? really great puppetry. I really like this thing:

what a cool design for this kind of forgotten midseason episode.

this is such a fun design for a langolier-type monster. I love how their crest and tail gives them the silhouette of a grim reaper

The 60s cybermen rock. I feel like they're hesitant to use them often in the modern show because they do look very 1960s but I think there's something really uncomfortable and evocative about the cloth faces that's lost when they're cool metallic robots. The mix between looking like an old diving suit and the implication of there being a chopped up person inside is gnarly and I love it. Simple, creepy, iconic design.

My favorite design in the show is probably this:

The 456 from the spinoff series torchwood. They didn't need the puppet to emote or move a ton since it spends the entire season in a little tank obscured in mist, so they just went crazy with the design and made it really bizarre looking. Extremely top tier alien. Anyways, negative. I really don't like this satan. the satan kind of sucks. the impossible planet is great atmospheric sci fi horror; every image of build up in it is haunting and leagues ahead of the climactic scene where he meets the satan. It singlehandedly kind of kills the vibe.

Personally I would have just kept the actual appearance off screen, just have it be eyes in the dark or something. Apparently they also tossed around the idea that it would end up being a normal little girl who was chained up in the cave and I think that would have visually fit the rest of the episode better.

I'm really not big on the modern design for the sea devils (the green one on the right). I think the classic ones clearly took a lot of direct influence from real animals and generally is a pretty thoughtfully realized design, the modern ones seem like they were first and foremost using the classic ones for reference and didn't quite capture the nuance of the design. Sad, as I would really like to see design for these guys with modern puppetry.

I think this is actually a pretty contentious opinion but the work of the specific studio who headed this redesign generally wasn't my favorite. Apparently there was some sort of major, semi public falling out between the fx studio that had been working on the show since 2005 and the people who started running the show in 2018, and they were briefly replaced with a much less experienced studio. No hate to them of course (I think this was actually their first job like, ever, and a lot of the work was done in crunch time?) but the difference did stand out to me:

[glowettee]

✧･ﾟ: what's in my bag (2025 edition but make it y2k) :･ﾟ✧

hey everyone!! ✨

sooo i just spilled my entire bag on my bed trying to find my airpods and omg?? the amount of stuff i carry around is actually insane but also like... necessary?? thought i'd share all the girly essentials i can't live without in 2025 (even tho my aesthetic is still stuck in 2003 and proud of it!!)

⋆｡˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚｡⋆

first thing i grabbed was my collection of glosses!! i literally cannot function without at least 3 different ones. my current rotation is this super clear glassy one, this pink shimmer one that smells like cotton candy, and this plumping one that makes my lips tingle in the best way.

my baby compact mirror covered in those tiny crystals!! it's literally from claire's but looks designer and catches the light perfectly when i check if my lip combo looks good (which is always).

this tiny atomizer i filled with my fav perfume because carrying the full bottle is just too much?? it's this sweet vanilla scent that makes me smell like a cupcake and i'm not even sorry about it.

soooo many hair things!! tiny butterfly clips everywhere (the metallic ones are the best), those mini claw clips with the rhinestones, and my lucky scrunchie that's basically falling apart but i refuse to throw away bc good hair day charm??

i always keep this tiny disposable camera even tho it's 2025 and everyone's like "just use your phone" but the vibes are completely different?? some moments deserve that grainy 2000s quality and i will die on this hill!!

my mini notebook with the fuzzy cover where i write down random thoughts, cute outfit ideas, and quotes from movies that nobody else remembers. paired with my pen that has this giant fluffy pom pom on top that makes writing so much more fun?? (cher horowitz is my inspo)

roll-on body glitter because why not?? shoulders, collarbones, cheekbones when i'm feeling extra. sometimes i just apply it randomly during the day when i need a confidence boost and suddenly i'm the main character again.

gum in this super cute tin i found at a vintage shop that literally looks like something britney would've carried in 2002.

my emergency kit in this tiny zippered pouch with hearts all over it: clear nail polish (fixes EVERYTHING), the cutest bandaids, bobby pins, mints, and this tiny sewing kit that's saved so many outfits!!

and yes my bag weighs like a million pounds but being prepared is just like... my thing?? and when i pull out exactly what someone needs in a crisis they're always like "omg thank youuu" so worth it!!

stay sparkly!!

xoxo, mindy 💖

･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･

[pokemonbattletournament]

Announcing: Tumblr's Strongest Pokémon Tournament!

It's been one year since Mimikyu was crowned Tumblr's favorite Pokémon, not only on this blog, but independently by a bunch of different Pokémon tournaments across the site. One question still lingers: who would win in a one-on-one battle tournament?

I will be again running a tournament on this blog, but instead of answering the question "which Pokémon do you like more?" we are asking "which Pokémon would win in a battle?"

This tournament will again follow a 1v1 knockout format, and it will be seeded according to base stats.

Arguing why your fav would win the battle is highly encouraged. Both joke voting and seriously considering how each battle would play out are encouraged.

FAQ:

Why are the polls all coughing baby vs. hydrogen bombs? That doesn't seem fair!

That's because the polls are seeded by base stats. This way, we ensure that the very strongest pokémon don't face off until the last few rounds, AND if a weaker mon causes an upset in the early rounds (defeats their much stronger opponent), they have a good chance to make it further because they have to face relatively weaker opponents, keeping the tournament exciting!

Why is X form included/not included? Why do some male/female pairs get separate polls?

Forms are included if a) they have different stats or b) they have different types. The exceptions that aren't included are the forms of Aegislash, Minior, Eiscue and Palafin, because you can expect both to occur in the same battle, and the forms of Arceus and Silvally, because there's too many and they, especially Arceus because it's the 8th strongest, risk overwhelming the tournament. The exception that is included are male and female Meowstic, because they have such different movepools.

I found a poll with a wrong image/images in the wrong order/set to only 1 day/something else wrong with it.

Please bring it to my attention, I will fix it asap! The existing poll will be declared invalid if the poll time is wrong.

What happens in case of a tie?

We go into a one-day sudden death poll where the winner moves on to the next round.

What happens if there's an odd number of pokémon in a round?

The three last pokémon in the round will each face off against the 2 others. The one to win both polls will move on to the next round. If each only wins one poll, the one to win by the largest margin will move on.

How should I vote?

Anything that makes you think that the Pokémon should win in a one-on-one. Stats calculations? Valid. They would win in the anime? Valid. They would win in smash/TCG/pokémon pinball? Valid. Vibes? Valid.

Shouldn't you have... [weeded out the weakest pokémon first / included more information in the polls / only included fully evolved pokémon / encouraged people to vote more seriously / something else]?

Yeah probably, but I'm not going to restart the entire tournament over it. I always encourage more people to do tournament blogs though, so feel free to run your own tournament the way you want it!

[gallapiech]

And that's the end of Highway of Hedonism... It's now fully finished!! So you can binge read it if you want 😌

[READ IT HERE] time to pull back the curtain

the huggerrr!!!

The direction of this one was pretty straight forward!

I don't have a sketch for this one since I simply painted over the original drawing, but I figured it could be interesting to see them side by side! It does feel kinda bad that my last few drawings were all so sad 😭 Since there isn't much art to show in this post I'll show a couple of cancelled drawings :3

I actually sketched out a little kiss for the ending where it shows the trucker hat with the updated tally! But I simply didn't have the time or energy to finish it 😪

I initially planned to make a drawing for the scene where Mickey undresses in the car. But Rory told me that the straddle scene would make way more sense. (which, true. sighhhh no undressing mickey 😪)

One of the first things I drew was thumbnails for our chapter art! We originally planned to give every chapter different art but decided to use that energy for the story art instead hehe. I had put the chapter art on the backburner for a while and when I looked back at what we had I just did not vibe with it. But I was also swamped with a bunch of other stuff so I asked Rory if she could make it instead. And I am SOOO glad that I did because SHE FUCKING DELIVERED!!!!!! The chapter art we have now might be one of my fav drawings of this entire fic!! - All the other unseen art has been made by @roryonic (I very much encourage her to show it! There's some beautiful pieces hidden from the world </3!!!!) Speaking of, once again thank you Rory for being overly ambitious on this project with me. LOL. I definitely had moments where I was scared that this would be a bust, or that I couldn't do it anymore. But your work ethic inspired me to keep going, and I am grateful for your support, both mentally and physically. Eternally grateful that you took on some of the art jobs ♥ Both thankful but sad that its over now!! 🤣 I think im gonna take a 200 hour nap now. Thanks for checking out our fic ♥

[nights-at-crystarium]

Fragments - episodes 47-52 author notes

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

Time to recap the first proper wolgraha miniarc. See what you might’ve missed, or simply enjoy the extra content in form of my rambling.

47 stands out as a bit disconnected, floaty, introspective episode fully focusing on Exarch’s pov. I’ve scattered some breadcrumbs for him throughout the entire comic, time to pick those up. He may be an oblivious fool in certain moments, but I believe he wouldn’t keep insisting on staying deaf and blind when evidence’s shoved in his face. So, this moment of recollection and rethinking marks the start of the canon divergence, all of his future actions are colored by this.

Vivi has a dire effect on some people even without trying to manipulate them.

The composition forms a star here :3c

This panel should make their likeness even more obvious, they’re mirror reflections, albeit deliciously twisted ones. Also, the V sign is literally something that Vivi. Just. Does.

Exarch's heard from Vivi himself that they might be the same, Urianger literally tells him to go to a mirror and ponder, but when he does, and tries to look a bit more like he imagines Vivi, he can't stand what he sees in the mirror. They still aren't the same in his heart of hearts, even if reality itself tries to prove otherwise.

Hidden Angst Time! I can only hope that most readers are familiar with the flashback bubbles by now, and that this panel reads as it should: Feo Ul embraces Exarch while pointing out that they’re also being ostracized by their kind. Though the ultimate fae wisdom lies in accepting something the way it is, and just not caring too much.

More under the cut~ 

*rewinds all the way back to episode 1* hehe

“Does a hero have to be happy about his job” is one of my personal fav lines so far, I think it hits hard, pointing not only at Vivi, but at Exarch as well, and the visual supports it. I think this encapsulates Exarch’s ideology.

Exarch’s GASP could be interpreted as saying GASP out loud, which only makes it funnier.

Vivi carefully plans his entrance in order to make the atmosphere less formal. Approaching normally just wouldn’t do it. Also he just feels relaxed and safe to be silly. Remember how lowkey he was since his arrival to the First? His behavior all but contradicted what I said and showed about him in the ARR arc and outside of the comic.

Well, that’s in the past now. He’s finished assessing the situation and concluded that it’s okay to be more himself.

Feo Ul's upset that Exarch used his “radar” to detect Vivi’s ambush while they’d just used a similar ability to make sure that no emet-selchs are around.

If you catch a flirty vibe from Vivi in this episode, you're correct.

Vivi when he's remotely interested in a man:

My flavor of lampshading the obvious exposition dump. Oh Exarch, you asked for this, no take-backsies.

Another few hard-hitting questions from Exarch. It's easy to gloss over these, but if you slow down and think, it's decent angst material. Has anyone ever been concerned about Vivi's feelings, or was it more convenient to look away, even if intently, even if both sides knew they're better off not talking about that, for there's indeed no wol replacement. What good does acknowledging the situation if you can’t change it.

This's Vivi's memory, thus he appears small against the looming forms of the world leaders. Rigid, formal, impersonal. Raha's memories of the Ironworks seem to have a different vibe, despite all the parallels of the duty imposed by the world on one special guy. Also yeah I do wanna make my own version of the 8UC timeline and characters someday, for now these are just random characters that I consider as placeholders. And the dunmeshi cameo x’D

Yes, he mocks the people that he's saved. He's VERY frustrated with his job.

I offer you a fun game: spot all the mannerisms that make Vivi and Emet so alike. I genuinely never thought about this until this year, while this scene's pretty damn old, i.e. Vivi's always been like this, it precedes my Emet brainrot.

I swear that this line also was there before my Emet brainrot, but now it makes for a hilarious kind of foreshadowing.

You could already tell how "fit" he is for solving trolley problems.

This’s his “oops I talked too much shit” face.

The way Exarch just quietly TURNS and LOOKS at Vivi cracks me up. Don't undermine the tone with random jokes, dammit. But is this random? I’ve already analyzed this moment somewhere but for the sake of keeping important things in one place: they wrestle for control here. Exarch winds up for something serious, while Vivi wants to steer the convo towards more casual. It does somewhat lower the tension, though Exarch doesn’t relinquish his lead in the convo.

This doesn’t save him from becoming Frank forever from here on.

This miniarc’s rich with raw, hard-hitting words, so I’ll bring this up again.

We’re finally getting the explanation and context for a lot of previous episodes:

And the following episodes only help driving this point home. Vivi already sees the First as a viable escape from the Source with all of its shitty people and endless problems.

"This's why I... enjoy my time away from the Source": even at this seemingly high level of trust between them Vivi won't openly tell Exarch about his plans to stay here, a variable he doesn't want to become a risk.

Yes, he does an entirely calculated and strategic flop. A literal thirst trap.

Meme provided by my discord server:

Vivi casts provoke, it's..... not effective

^ This’s one of my personal fav exarchs I’ve ever drawn DADDY PLS

A panel that everyone loved to bits :>

I pair angst with other flavors to make it fun and non-repetitive. It's not "boohoo I can never kiss my hero, the world will end if I do, I'm so aggravated with myself", it's the hooded Exarch (duty) being mad at the unhooded Exarch (human), and delivering the same notion in a fun exchange. You can't help but laugh at the comical chibi violence, at the same time you acknowledge that it's a pretty fucked up act of suppressing one's innate human desires.

It's not a date, they just sit and talk <- the water in which Exarch is being slowly boiled.

I rarely talk about the visuals, but here I intended to make it look like a magical moment frozen in time. It's immersive, whimsical, full of color and movement. Despite the perceived warmth, the composition splits them apart, they're alone together. It’s still Raha’s pov, Vivi doesn’t seem to have any fond memories of the Source at all, we only hear about the past from his current jaded self.

An in-universe acknowledgment of the ARR arc lasting only 11 episodes x’D Though it’s all by design, it was meaningful only to Raha, while being a forgettable blip in time for Vivi.

Episode 52 opens with.... *drumroll*

NIP SLIP

I lovingly rendered that nip and I’ll make you look at it.

Ibuprofen meme would be the first thing that comes to mind, but consider the better/worse caption: "come to daddy". In all seriousness though, it’s a cool panel that I wanted to appreciate again. This IS Vivi’s pov.

The grimy beaten up Vivi creates questions that are answered in episode 53, which is yet to be released publicly at the moment of writing this. Some episodes, like 52-53 and 42-43, come in pairs that only make sense together due to the non-linear storytelling.

Yes this’s Aymeric, no I won’t say anything else :’> One thing that’s worth noting is the face Vivi makes here. And the distant, emotionless tone with which he recalls the moment of his own near-death.

Lemme spell it out even more plainly: Vivi romanticizes the moment he almost died. Exarch just happened to be present in that moment, and Vivi latched on to him as someone who would grant him escape, freedom, peace.

“A kindly wizard from fairytales”. I regret to inform you that we have two delusional fucks on our hands. Both see each other as some kinda dreamt up, idealized, mythical figures.

This miniarc isn’t over yet, but I’m wrapping up the recap here. Thanks for reading till the end~

[starcurtain]

I read your "PhaiDei isn't like other hoyo mlm pairs" posts and I'm so confused because I didn't see it in the main story. AT ALL. Like I'm the n⁰1 "please keep queerbaiting us hoyo, I understand there is censorship" and even then I only thought of them as friends?? I was literally playing through amphoreus and saying "omg they're besties :)" I don't know why this has happened. I have to rewatch the missions with the yaoi glasses on. What is wrong with me

My fav hoyo ship is xingyun and one thing they recently did is that they made Xingqiu explicitly blush because Chongyun was flattering him, which I found very cute and thought to bring up since you mentioned it in your post

I also have a personal problem with renheng because Dan heng has stated multiple times he wants to move on from his past and that he isn't the same person as dan feng (maybe he was, at first, but he certainly isn't now), but I also dislike it because enemies to lovers isn't my cup of tea and Blade left a terrible first impression regarding Dan Heng when I met him

Now that I think about it, maybe I didn't see PhaiDei when I played it for a similar reason I didn't see RenHeng (I was genuinely surprised they shipped them together bc they seem so toxic to me, and after reading a bit about it, I came to the conclusion of the last paragraph regarding that ship), and that is that I really want to smooch Phainon myself, maybe not as much as I want to smooch Dan Heng but... lol

Ha ha well wanting to keep the character for yourself mighttttt influence things, yes. 😂

As for not seeing Phaidei, may I ask what language audio you play in? I play in Chinese, but I was recently watching a friend stream in English and I was genuinely shocked at Mydei's voice acting. No hate to the voice actor at all, because I think he has a very fine voice, but I feel like the voice director must have told him to like... sound pissed all the time. I was genuinely so confused listening to the lines because the delivery in Chinese seems completelyyyyy different in many places, and it feels to me that English Mydei has a more aggressive vibe in a lot of scenes. Maybe this affected your read of the characters a bit, if you play in English?

Love me some Xingyun, very cute ship. I was surprised by them adding the blush in the recent event! I think they were able to "get away with it" so to speak because the Traveler was there too; they can use the Traveler as their plausible deniability. But that scene was definitely grade A+ Xingyun bait, for real for real. (And the scene where Xingqiu said he'd have to run away to Chongyun's house and stay for weeks. I was like, "Sir, that's called eloping" lmao).

I fully respect your opinion on Renheng; "you ruined my life and I'm not over it" is definitely not a dynamic for everyone. My opinion is the dead opposite though, funnily enough; I love Renheng! ...But I tried to care about Yingxing/Dan Feng and I just have zero interest in it at all. I think I'm the only one in the entire fandom that prefers Renheng to Yingfeng lol. Enemies to lovers is my jam, although I can definitely see why not everyone likes it.

May your account be blessed with lots of Phainon to blow smooches to in the future!

[juqtier]

₊˚╰ 𖣠 MERCY ✧.* SPENCER REID

SUMMARY: During one of the most detrimental and devastating outbreaks this world has ever seen, the BAU had spent countless hours trying to bring in the man responsible, dead or alive. When they seek help from a minacious mercenary, and personal feelings somehow get involved, the situation quickly becomes much more complicated and difficult than anticipated.

GENERAL WARNING: ANGSTY and horror (somewhat), weapons, violence, descriptions of viruses and diseases, death, kissing of course, zombie like creatures, apocalypse, outbreak, descriptions of mutations

CHAPTER WARNING: descriptions of violence and viruses, reader is kinda an asshole. THIS CHAPTER MAY SEEM BORING BUT PLS the story will get interesting as it progresses! just gotta explain the basic concept!

A/N: the first chapter, yay! this is clearly inspired by resident evil (my fav game series). i thought it’d be interesting and unique to combine my two fav hyperfixations. i made the virus names and effects, and im clearly not a scientist so if they are scientifically inaccurate ignore it or im gonna cry. also, I wrote this with early spencer in mind (3-5) but if you imagine him from a different season lmk! ALSO sorry if any of the writing is bad, my english is terrible!

ACCOMPANYING SONG : SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT, NIRVANA

. . .

CHAPTER 1

January 15th, 2009

- 985 days since the outbreak

You had been caught. You had finally been caught.

Of course, you were well aware of the risks that came with being a mercenary, being caught was one of them. Yet, this didn’t diminish the anger you felt, sitting in a dingy, dark interrogation room, cuffed to a table.

It felt as if days passed by. Your eyelids felt heavy, you couldn’t manage to find a comfortable position to rest in. A metal folding chair would quickly prove to be a poor place to even attempt to relax in. Sitting in silence for so long, your ears could perfectly hear the buzzing of the flickering bulb above you, and it drove you crazy.

Just before you could drive yourself insane, focusing on each bothersome aspect of the interrogation room once more, the door opened.

Two men, two entirely different vibes.

One was an older, tall, stoic man wearing a suit practically devoid of color.

And while the man that stood beside him wasn’t wearing the most colorful outfit, his blue shirt and purple tie were a stark contrast to the other man’s outfit.

His long, wavy brown hair stood out as well. A part of you wanted to just stare at him, he was so pretty. But the other part of you, the majority of you, wanted to knock both officers unconscious and attempt to run away.

“I’m Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, this is Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” The older man explained as both of them took a seat across from you.

The words practically went unnoticed by you, your mind had been more focused on the discomfort caused by the tight cuffs around your wrists. Your eyes met Hotchner's, and he could tell exactly what you were feeling.

Angry.

“Wanna take these cuffs off?” You request.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that until you cooperate with us and give us the information we need.”

“What information?”

Your eyes naturally rolled, gradually growing more annoyed by the second. Even with how frustrated you were, you weren’t going to cooperate easily. You were a mercenary, and the FBI was well aware you had only ever been motivated by payment.

It sounded selfish to everyone else. It was selfish, but to you, it was the only way to survive.

Hotch extracts papers and files from a manila folder, spreading them out onto the table in front of you. Your eyes watched his hands as he displayed each paper for you.

“For the past seven months, me and my team have been observing your every move.” Hotch’s eyes are glued to you. “Several times in these past months, you’ve been employed by Luca Ansaldo.”

The name has been drilled into your ears by this point.

Luca Ansaldo, a wealthy, ‘brillitant’ virologist and CEO of the virology company SynX. And, unbeknownst to you, the creator of the Lazarus Virus.

Ansaldo had employed you many times before, and with the pay being more than generous for a seemingly easy job, you didn’t think twice about accepting his offer.

But now, just hearing his name was enough to enrage you. Yet, you remain calm, returning Hotch’s eye contact. You barely even noticed Reid beside him, merely observing the interaction between you and Hotch.

“He paid me well for a simple job, is that what you wanted to hear?” You mutter.

You knew that wasn’t what they wanted to hear, but you also couldn’t tell what they wanted.

The past officers that had come in, aggressively interrogating you, never made it clear what exactly they wanted from you. All you could really understand was that they wanted his whereabouts, and you couldn’t tell them that. You didn’t even know.

“What jobs did he pay you for?” Hotch inquires.

“Easy jobs. I’ve done that plenty of times before for others, why does it matter now?”

Hotchner adjusts in his seat, probably finding it just as uncomfortable as you were in that moment.

“It’s important because we’re not currently after the other individuals you’ve worked for, we’re after Ansaldo.” He explains, sliding a document toward you.

Your eyes quickly scan the words on the paper, taking in all of its details.

“Under SynX, Ansaldo has managed to manufacture one of the deadliest viruses known to man, the Lazarus virus. You can see the results of his work walking in the streets.”

“Lazarus Virus?” You question. “Like, from the Bible?”

You clearly knew about the outbreak, every human did. You just had never been able to put a name to the virus responsible.

Reid took this question as an opportunity to share every bit of knowledge he had about the virus.

“Yes, actually. The name derives from Lazarus of Bethany, mentioned in the Gospel of John. The story claims Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, only four days after his death.” He hadn’t even noticed your eyes locked on him as he rambled. “We believe the virus attacks the brain stem, destroying the brain's basic functions. However, while mental capabilities deteriorate, physical capabilities are enhanced, explaining why they’re rather strong and violent. Those infected by the virus are called ‘Revenants’.”

You couldn’t help but be impressed at his ability to speak for so long without even losing his breath. He had spit out each word with urgency, as if he had been waiting to share this information with you.

“You seem to know a lot about the virus, why am I here?”

“We don’t know enough.” Hotch replies. “Without a sample of the virus, we won’t be able to produce an effective antidote. Ansaldo is currently the only man we know of that has any samples, and you know more about him than any of us. You may be our only chance at finding him before it’s too late.”

He leans forward, an even more intense stare accompanying his statement.

For a moment, for a brief moment, you allow yourself to absorb his words. It was as if a switch flipped in your brain, allowing yourself to prioritize others before yourself.

And again, this sounded so incredibly selfish. You could recognize that, of course. But you couldn’t blame yourself. And quite frankly, neither could Hotch or Reid.

The outbreak was and is devastating. Major cities were overrun and filled with chaos, with millions dead or missing. Trusting people wasn’t as common as it was years ago. Especially for you. You had been alone, fighting to survive, for years. It was all to protect yourself. You had the right to protect yourself, right?

“How much?” Hotch’s words bring your attention back to him, back to the situation you were in.

You weren’t sure if you misheard or misunderstood him, and it seemed as if Reid shared that same thought. His eyes widened as he snapped his head towards Hotch, questioning him with his eyes. Hotch, however, doesn’t even seem to notice Reid’s shock.

“What?” You stutter just a bit, clearly confused.

“How much do we need to pay you for your cooperation?” He repeats.

“You want to pay me to work for you?” You reply, skeptical about the offer.

Reid visibly shared the same sentiment. It was as if he couldn’t close his mouth. You didn't expect this, and neither did he.

“You are the closest connection we have to Ansaldo.” Hotch ignores the shocked faces of you and Reid, “If we have to pay you for your cooperation, then we are willing to do that.”

His expression shows that he’s serious. You consider the offer a bit longer before spitting out the first number you can think of.

“Two hundred thousand.”

You wait for any change in his expression, you wait for him to simply refuse. But he never does.

“We can arrange that.” He gives you a small nod before rising from his chair, Reid following. “I will assign an agent to keep an eye on you. You will be kept under supervision at all times as you work alongside my team. If you even attempt to betray our agreement, I promise you will not see a single dollar.”

“Wait.” You blurt out before they can even make their way to the door. “Can I choose what agent gets to follow me around?”

The way you word it makes it sound like a privilege, like it was an honor to have to watch over you. In reality, it most likely wasn’t.

The FBI considered you a dangerous, difficult mercenary. Asking you for help was a last resort, one they tried to avoid. But as they watched the virus spread across the country, unable to stop it, they knew they had no other choice.

“Do you have an agent in mind?” Hotch raises an eyebrow, confused by your question.

You nod in response, your eyes landing on Reid.

You couldn’t explain why, but his quiet, shy demeanor drew you to him. He wasn’t standoffish like the other officers and agents, he was actually quite the opposite of you.

Reid furrows his eyebrows. Neither he nor Hotch had expected the request; their looks expressed that. Hotch looks over at Reid, as if he were contemplating whether he could handle such a job. It was a silent conversation between the two; you were just an observer in that moment.

“Reid will watch over you as you work the case with us.” Hotch proclaims.

“Hotch, are you sure?” Reid whispers, just loud enough for you to hear him. He sounds nervous as he speaks, causing you to smirk.

“If she causes any problems for you, I will assign a different agent for the job.” Hotch responds, going for the door. His hand lands on the door knob, twisting it and pulling the door open with Reid behind him.

“Can you take these cuffs off me?”

Hotch and Reid turn their attention towards you once again before Reid digs in his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. Hotch watches as Reid walks over to you.

Your gaze remained fixed on Reid as he fumbled with the keys. You observed his shakey hands, finding all of it almost humorous.

When he finally managed to remove the cuffs, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in.

You stand up from your seat, rubbing your wrists where the cuffs had previously been.

“Thank you so much.” You say with a teasing, playful tone.

His eyes never meet yours as he steps back, allowing you to stretch, glad to be free from the metal chair you were held down to.

“The team is gathering to discuss our next steps in the case. You’ll be joining us, since you’re working alongside us now.”

He explains the situation quickly as he leads you out of the room, still avoiding any eye contact.

“Exciting.” A smirk was still plastered on your face as you walked behind Reid.

While Reid was more nervous about the situation, and you clearly found it amusing, there was one thing the two of you had in common at the moment.

You had no idea what you were getting into.

. . .

pt. 2

a.n. : again sorry if the writing is bad, but i’m excited for this series to play out! it’s a concept i haven’t seen done before so i wanted to make something cool with it! i believe even if you aren’t a fan of resident evil, criminal minds x mercenary is still kinda cool. also, if you want to be on tag list im more than happy to add you!

[justabeewithapen]

Idk anything about Dandadan, but the art’s made me curious. What’s your fav dynamic (of two or more characters) from it and why? :o

(Spoilers are fully welcome! Which is why I’m asking, but just in case you were worried about that)

Jiji and Vamola by like a long shot, though the whole main cast has a very dynamic group energy that is very fun, but Jiji and Vamola man… Jiji is an only child who has a big ole’ heart but is the most annoying man you’ve ever met. He makes a “deez nuts” joke in the dub and it is entirely in character. He is the kind of person you can’t stand but if anyone was ever mean to him you would beat them to a pulp. Vamola is a Sumerian (an alien from the planet Sumer/Sumar which are implied to have either lived on earth previously or evolved from humans, unsure which direction they are going) who doesn’t know anything. She came from a planet ravaged by war and is just trying to survive. The two of them act like the biggest idiots together

I live for their dumb sibling energy, both of them are only children and I love the idea they latched onto each other to be dumb together. I am just kinda a huge sucker for found family concepts and these two read so heavily as “this is my sister I will teach her all my dirty jokes and kill anyone who looks at her funny”. It is different from the regular “besties” dynamic everyone else has!! Aira and Chiquitita have a similar vibe but you mostly see them interact off to the side in group shots,,, but she has definitely mentally adopted that child.

[iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning]

so i think this might have been top three, if not top one, worst years of my life; and while i still don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel, as i’m still concerningly depressed and consistently declining (my therapist just quit her job so now i have to start all over w someone new AND my psychiatrist wants me to take 6 wks off work to do iop dbt so that’s fun), i’ve managed to conjure up some teeny tiny shreds of hope that next year will be even slightly better

i don’t drink much bc i really hate the taste of alcohol lmao so i probably won’t be drinking tonight and i’ll probably be in bed asleep when the ball drops

but i wanted to say thank you to all of you, who have been so so kind to me since i decided to join our little tumblr community. you guys have provided comfort to me in some really really dark times (and i literally suck so much at responding to people so i apologize for that and rest assured, its one of my resolutions lolol), and even in the not so dark times when i get one of those cute ask trends (the ones where its a cute message and then you send it to your favorite blogs too, y’all know what i’m talking abt) in my inbox bc truly i love them sm 🥺. they make my day every single time i see one, even if i don’t respond to it right away

happy new years everyone🍾🎊 hopefully this next year is better for all of us, even if this year wasn’t all that bad for you

(also even though i quite literally just admitted to being terrible at responding ((again so sorry)), send me messages bc i love this little community and i want to talk to more of you guys and be lil friends bc y’all seem so fucking sick and cool as shit and i promise i’ll try so hard to respond better stg but also pls have some grace if i don’t sometimes bc sometimes i don’t have the mental capacity to formulate any kind of sentence or response in any way but stg i’ll try my best😭)

(also also thank you to every single person who puts any kind of time and effort into writing any and all of the fics that are out there ((check out my fic recs for all of my favs (((i’m a smut whore if no one could tell😅))) )). genuinely and sincerely those get me through every day of my life ((esp when i reread my absolute favs in the entire world)) and i love to see all of your different writing styles. i’m so looking forward to whatever different directions you all go in with your writing and ideas. cheers to y’all for making my life a whole lot more bearable lmao🥂)

edit: i’ve decided i’m forcing myself to stay up until midnight so that i can ring in the new year listening to miracle (specifically the “i wanted to dress a blade up in red w both of our necks…” part🥹) yk to drum up good vibes for the new year. upward and onwards everyone🤝🏻

[lucydixon]

Pelle with Bubblegum Pop Partner Headcanons

This is such a fun request from my fav anon

Enjoy <3

You’d probably meet Pelle after your friend Ann-Marit takes you to a gig one night to watch a band playing at a grungy bar across town. She’d met the guitarist at a party a few weeks before and badly wanted to see him again, so the plan was to watch the show and go find him afterwards.

You’d stare at your friend like she’d lost her damn mind the second that you stepped inside the crowded venue. Everyone inside was dressed in leather and silver studs, not a lick of colour in sight, except for maybe some red, printed on a few band shirts. 

When she’d said that she was going to a show and wanted you to come, she’d warned you that it wasn’t exactly your scene. You’d agree to come along when she asked you, but standing there, you’d be pissed that she hadn’t warned you about the attire. 

You’d stick out like a sore thumb in your pink miniskirt, white knee-high socks, and Strappy pink top. Several people had turned to stare at you blatantly, and you would be doing your best not to allow your body to curl inwards in embarrassment. 

You were used to people staring at you, you knew that you dressed a bit outlandish compared the the average Joe walking down the street. You liked your glitter, and just about everything you owned was pink, but you liked the way you dressed and never took it to heart. This felt a bit different somehow.

You’d let her pull you towards the stage, weaving your way through the crowd of long-haired men in leather jackets and black denim. Every single person you pass would do a double-take and stare at you. 

Your eyes would immediately be drawn to the frontman as he introduced the band as “Mayhem” in a raspy, guttural voice. His long blonde hair and black paint around his eyes would have piqued your interest right away. 

The music would start, its opening notes loud and like nothing you’d ever heard. Then, he’d start singing, and you’d feel like you’d been dunked in ice water. You’d feel that shit in your bones. Goosebumps would break out over your entire body as he growled into the microphone.

Ann-Marit would drag you backstage the second the set was over and introduce you to everyone. They’d all be noticeably taken aback by your outfit and overall vibe, but you’d hold their stare and wouldn’t let it bother you.

Pelle would be intrigued from the second he laid eyes on you. It would be so jarring to see you standing there in your pink clothes, surrounded by metalheads. He didn’t really care all that much about girls. It had always just been him, lost in his own world, but the attraction he’d feel towards you would be instant. 

I think it would be a bit confusing for him. He would be overcome with the urge to talk to you and ask any of the thousand questions he had rattling around inside his head from the moment he laid eyes on you. He’d want to know what you were doing at a show like theirs, dressed like that, and if you’d liked their set. He might even ask you if you approached him first and told him that you’d loved it and that he had a great voice. 

His cheeks would probably warm at the compliment. I don’t think he’d thank you, but I don’t think he’d immediately start firing off his questions either. You’d probably have to steer the conversation, asking him how long he’d been in the band and how he’d wound up in Norway when he had a clear Swedish accent. 

Eventually, he would ask you why you were there and why you dressed the way you did, and you’d animatedly explain to him how Ann-Marit hadn’t really briefed you on the dress code and how you’d always dressed like this. Pink was your favorite colour, and even though he didn’t understand how someone could love such a bright colour, Pelle wouldn’t make fun of you at all. 

I think he’d learn to love the colour pink over time. He’d start to associate it with you almost immediately, and every time he saw anything pink, his thoughts would drift to you, and he’d get this little smile on his face. 

You’d start hanging around their house with Ann-Marit after she and Euronymous start dating, always dressed in your signature pink clothing, even after you and Pelle start to get closer and eventually start dating. Ann-Marit would slowly start dressing more metal while you kept up your aesthetic.

You and Pelle would walk through the woods together, and he’d show you his favourite meadow. He’d expect you to refuse the first time he asked you, sure that you wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty pink sneakers in the mud, but you’d surprise him by nodding eagerly.

You’d ruin so many pairs of shoes and frilly pink dresses by trampling through the woods with Pelle, but you wouldn’t care one bit because all you ever wanted to do was spend time with him. 

The other boys would poke fun at Pelle when you eventually start staying the night and leaving bits and pieces of yours in his room at his request. It’d be a hot pink hairbrush on his desk or your clothes draped over a chair. They’d jokingly ask if it was his, and he’d just roll his eyes. 

I don’t think Pelle would try and make you change your style at all. He might find you a pink Denim or leather jacket and paint something dark and freaky on the back of it, just for you. You’d wear it all the time, showing it off to anyone who asked about it, telling them that your boyfriend made it for you, and wasn’t it just so cute? If Pelle is standing near you when this happens, he just blushes and looks away, smiling faintly to himself. 

Anyone who has anything unkind to say about you and your favorite colour, or comments on how you really do not fit in with the rest of the crowd wherever you are, is always met with a sharp glare from Pelle, promising violence if they don’t stop and walk away. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume that they’d wake up to a dead animal on their doorstep the next morning. 

The two of you would look like polar opposites, but that wouldn’t stop him from holding your hand in public or hanging off of you at parties. 

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[the-mpreg-guy]

Was lying awake last night thinking about the way that Samgirls "see Sam as a woman", which is something I find so bewildering, and I think I finally came to a conclusion that makes sense to me: (some) Samgirls ascribe such an undue and non-canonical level of helplessness, victimhood, and lack of autonomy to Sam that it makes them see him as a woman due to (internalized) misogyny.

I can't rationalize it any other way. Plenty of Deangirls and Casgirls woobify their fav to extreme extents, but there is nowhere near the absurd degree of feminization that I see in the Samgirl fandom. I literally never see anyone call Dean/Cas women (except in trans headcanons), even though (and I am not in Casgirl Tumblr so I can't speak for that) Deangirls often enjoy highlighting Dean's more feminine likes/traits, draw him in feminine clothing, call him things like babygirl (but not literally thinking of him as a girl), etc.

Like, Samgirls can call Sam "woman-coded" (and ugh I *hate* when ppl call characters "woman-coded" but that's another convo) but they can't point to anything exclusive to Sam other than sexist stereotypes like his long hair or lack of adherence to a hyper-masculine diet. Other things that people have pointed to to call Sam "woman-coded" are things that Dean experiences as well to a comparable and sometimes greater degree (sexual assault, denial of autonomy, objectification) (and Dean is more directly compared to Mary from a narrative perspective than Sam is, and Dean was even the one who acted as John's spouse/Mary replacement in canon).

(also hi we're mutuals 🤝 I prefer to keep thoughts like this off of my blog but I was really interested in the conversation this might provoke)

First of all, hi! Love seeing mutuals in my inbox. 💞 So much to unpack here, but I'm gonna do my best.

Disclaimer before I get into it: when I'm talking about Samgirls I'm not talking about Samgirl Fandom as a whole (just a loud vocal minority who've been trolling my mutuals' inboxes for a while). I vibe with a ton of Samgirls and I'm literally never going to come for someone who likes a character more than my fave. I also straight up don't believe in echochambers, and differing perspectives on media and character analysis is good for enrichment.

I also just wanna say for the record, I am a HUGE SAM LOVER. This is not me bashing Sam as a character at all. I'm just talking about how some parts of the fandom talk about Sam.

Yapping under the cut:

There's three huge problems with the entire "Sam is woman coded" discourse: 1) bad Sam character analysis, 2) fandom bullying, and 3) mistaking "maternal Dean," trans Dean, and Dean's relationship with gender in general analysis with Deangirls actually thinking that Dean was purposefully coded to be a woman.

Character Analysis

Whenever I see someone say that Sam is "woman coded," it's usually because of one of two reasons. Either it's because someone is taking certain character traits of Sam (he likes dieting, has long hair, went to college (?), verbalizes liberal beliefs, etc. etc), or it's because there are a few arcs where Sam deals with lack of body autonomy and sexual assault/objectionable (as you said).

To the first, I roll my eyes because Sam is a very masculine presenting person who never once in the show has a moment where he struggles with masculinity vs. femininity. Like he just doesn't, I'm sorry. And there's nothing wrong with that! Sam has so many interesting struggles that he does go through, like his relationship with family members, trying to achieve redemption for things that he's already been forgiven for, struggling to determine whether his life is real or not, etc.

The second one I can't entirely discredit, because Sam does have his autonomy taken away by Lucifer, and it is implied that he was assaulted in hell by him (and he was molested by Meg). I can't shove it into a "Sam is woman-coded" box, though, because Castiel and Dean also have had their autonomy taken away (and don't get me started on how many times the show implies that Dean was assaulted numerous times).

(I also find it a little disgusting, personally, that someone being assaulted or objectified makes them "woman" coded. It's disrespectful to woman who actually have been assaulted, and also disrespectful to men who are victims of assault.)

So yeah, I think that "Sam is woman-coded" is bad character analysis. There just isn't a reading for it in the text.

Fandom Bullying

I think certain Samgirls also lean into "Sam is woman-coded" for gross, fandom purity culture reasons. That's the best way I can describe it. Woman=good, man=evil, gender essentialism. Sam is a woman so Sam is good, but everyone who's mean and hurts Sam is a man so they are evil.

Some Samgirls are just kinda mad at Deangirls tbh

Sooo I'm gonna be real, in my personal opinion I think that "Sam is woman-coded" is a weird, but direct reaction to Dean having a bunch genderqueer readings, and also being explicitly written as a Mary parallel in the show. I'm not going to get too deep into this, but as you said, John treats Dean as a partner (that's a whole other post), he's more Sam's parent than John and Mary ever were, and he's one of the most nurturing characters on the show. He also has a fun relationship with femininity vs. masculinity which has made him the topic of a ton of trans readings.

I don't think this makes him "woman-coded." I think this gives Dean a unique relationship with his gender. I wouldn't mind if Samgirls talked about Sam having a relationship with gender (even though I don't personally think he does, or at least not in the same way Dean does), but instead we gotta hear about how Sam is "woman-coded."

And lets be so fr. Woman coded isn't even a thing. It's as dumb as saying someone is minor coded for being short.