#seriously thank you for all the love on my last one

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

Just random random headcannons about my wife <3

She makes lots of noises; grunts, sighs, groans. It’s basically a language that only you can understand at this point.

“Hmph,” she grunted with her usual grumpy expression. “You want cuddles?” She nods her head in response.

Snores but denies it. It’s like when you’re sharing a hotel room with your family and your dad’s snoring keeps you awake; staring at the ceiling. You’ve told her multiple times but she just doesn’t believe it.

“You kept me awake all night,” you said in disbelief as your utterly exhausted eyes met hers. “Uh-huh, how? Do NOT say because I was snoring.””You were snoring.”

But in all seriousness, she started sleeping on her side—the snoring was due to her sleeping on her back.

Doesn’t care for public affection, not that she won’t slip her arm around your waist or have her hand on your thigh once in a while—but it isn’t often.

(Saw someone else say this)—absolutely loves dad jokes. She won’t laugh at anything else but dad jokes.

“Hey babe,” you slid next to her on the couch. “Hm?””What days are the strongest?“ you asked. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Saturday and Sunday,” you started to smile. “Why?” She was slightly curious. “‘Cause the rest are weekdays,” she couldn’t even hold it before she burst out laughing.

Takes her mechanical arm off before she goes to bed because she doesn’t wanna hurt you.

Tough with everyone else but you, Jinx and Isha (they’re alive and well).

Isha made a cheerful noise as she raised her tea cup. Sevika sat across from her, hunched over the small table, teacup in hand. She pretended to drink from it, “Mm, nice.”

Perfers actions over words—for example, her version of an apology is by doing more of what she should’ve done in the past. If she wasn’t spending much time with you before, she’d immediately take it upon herself to fix her schedule.

VERY protective, especially when you’re at The Last Drop, nothing escapes her vision.

Once, this guy attempted to flirt with you but before he could get a word out, he was immediately met with a deadly glare from her. She pulled you closer towards her with a raised eyebrow, “You got something to say?” That sent him babbling in fear, “Uh-no, no, of course not!—“”Get out of my sight.”

Claims she’s not an animal person but will come home with a kitten she found on the street.

“It wouldn’t stop following me,” she said while avoiding eye contact with you. You knew she was lying.

Sometimes when she comes back from work she’ll just collapse on the couch. She’s a busy woman, alright?

Jinx cut her hair then made fun of her afterwards.

Jinx cackled after she looked at the final product, “Sweetcheeks ain’t gonna love you now, are they?” The older woman simply grumbled under breath, “You’re the one who cut it.””Yeah and I made it ugly on purpose.”

You ended up loving her hair anyway.

Secretly likes when you lay on top of her; loves seeing how comfortable you are

She’s always warm; your personal heater

Somehow gives the best hugs—bear hugs, but is so awkward with it

Takes the longest showers known to mankind; once she gets in, be prepared to wait about an hour. Meanwhile, half the time it’s just her staring at the wall.

Will let Isha climb her on rare occasions; sometimes the girl gets insanely hyper and is moving all over the place.

Says she’s “not fond of kids” but has a soft spot for them.

A little boy with blue-dyed hair walked up to her while she was outside one day. “H-hi, can you please sign this?” He asked in a soft-spoken manner, showing a drawing, offered with a crayon. She didn’t respond but took the paper and signed her name on the back. Internally, she was in disbelief that this boy looked up to her in some way. “Thank you!” He gave a big smile before running back to his group of friends, happily showing them the signature. A twitch edged at the end of her mouth.

[vhstown]

malala windsor ★ general headcanons

a/n: i love this girl to death you don't even know man... thank you to my friend sadi for talking to me about this character at less than ideal hours 🙏 i hope you like these! a little shorter than my other ones but i don't have much to go off okay...

When she originally gets her powers she's at the mosque for Friday prayers and her hands get stuck to the carpet and she's just stuck in prostration. Everyone sheds a tear from how dedicated she is to her religion but really and truly she's praying the skin of her hands isn't ripped off 😭😭😭 The whole mosque is empty and my girl is STILL there.

Definitely the talk of the town for a while. Loved and hated by Muslim aunties alike. There's a chunk of the carpet missing that's in the shape of her hands. Everyone just knows thats her spot.

Apparently her last name is supposed to represent the House of Windsor... I don't really have anything to add except for the fact that I think it's really funny. I feel like she actually does have a Desi or Muslim last name but really plays into the "Bri'ish" joke at Spider Society except they take her 100% seriously and now she's stuck with the Windsor on her spider ID (and she cringes bad whenever she sees it.)

Hijabi activewear for life. Wears it everywhere for practicality and also the crazy UK heatwaves.

TfL warrior. She can quite literally swing to places when she becomes Spider-Woman but she can't give up her aesthetic tube girlie lifestyle. Has her book and headphones and everything and endures the horrible ear pop on older lines with a straight face. She's kind of serving but the restaurant is empty cause it's London and nobody really cares. (Also I feel like London would be really annoying to swing through cause everything is shaped so differently and the train is probably faster..)

Loves sports. Totally feels embarrassed and tries to act uninterested but is a beast on the court. Plays every single sport you could think of but lover of basketball and badminton (she is not a coconut when it comes to badminton like me OKAY!)

Cannot cook to save her life (she's trying okay... I AM NOT PROJEC)

Has so many frankensteined hijabs in her closet from making suits. Feels like a total genius when she figures it out and geeks out about it to other spiders at HQ even if they've heard it like a billion times.

I think she knows a woman who's a lot like Jessica Drew in her universe so she's more friendly with Jess than anyone else would be. They totally like to gossip over coffee and tea and the bajillion strange UK biscuit variations in the break room (she DESPISES the 2099 cafeteria food).

Her universe's Uncle Ben is an electrician and he sometimes drags her around to his electrician jobs. She's there begrudgingly but definitely has a eureka moment when she remembers something niche and engineery he explained to her while working at someone's house when she's on a sneaky little mission.

Humanities babe. I know all the spiders are STEM people but I like to think she's into humanities and absolutely just free balls all the tech stuff and actually gets pretty good at it. Maybe explodes a few things. I think she's one of those people in her class that LOVE to debate. An absolute menace in history and politics.

She's from East London. No elaboration needed.

That's about it for now! BIG UP MY DESI GIRLS!!!!!!!! YEAHHHHHHH

thank you for reading! check out my atsv masterlist here!

[leesolbeesol]

I LOVE YOU! 愛してる! 사랑해!

sungho x fem!reader (ft. mild instigator!taesan and mistaken!woonhak)

GENRE: pure unedited fluff! SUMMARY: Sungho keeps avoiding you... so why is he confessing to you in Japanese? WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used one time | highschool!au but you can ignore that most of the time | this is my world and overtly self-insert so reader doesn't speak japanese and takes chinese in school NOTES: everyone say thank you boynextdoor for the fantastic comeback! seriously though, all their songs are so good i cant even believe it also no proofreading we post like god intended. WC: 2.2k (woww)

It was all Woonhak’s fault—that’s what Sungho thought, at least. He set up the damned snowball fight after all. 

The first time you saw—really saw—Sungho was when you cast a snowball at him and the icy contents landed right in his face and froze him when they snuck through his coat down his neck. You’re not sure why he didn’t block it, you saw him evade others thrown with far less warning and far more force. Instead, he stood with a ready snowball in his gloved hand. That’s the problem—he stood. He just stared at you as your attack wet his brown hair and dropped between his collar and his neck. You had met Sungho a handful of times, but when you did you didn’t speak to him much at all. He was kind of quiet and there were plenty of other mutual friends around for you to chat with, so you didn’t press it. He was pretty, of course, but that alone wasn’t enough for you to individually pursue him. Plus, anytime you showed up it’s like he suddenly had somewhere else to be. You eventually assumed he just didn’t like you all that much, and that was fine. A little disappointing, but fine. After your attack, his expression didn’t change, save for his eyebrows which raised a little. The poor boy looked like he had seen a ghost. You would have put more thought into it if another friend of yours, Taesan, cruelly dared you to a fire—or, snow—fight by crashing an icy cold ball of snow right onto your head. Almost as fast as Sungho had come to the front of your conscious, you were taken away again. The image of him, however, was burned into your mind. Why did he look at you like that? Why did he not react? How did he look so perfect? Those were some pretty frequent thoughts, though the last one you tried to ignore. Regardless, it kept coming back. The image of his soft brown hair, long for the boys your age, sprinkled with snow and his surprised, slightly parted lips came to you at the most inconvenient times.

—

The second time you saw Sungho, he was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair on the slightly raised wooden stage of your auditorium, his navy guitar slotted in his hands, about to start another song to the cheers of the small audience that had gathered during their free period. You remember him prefacing the song with something along the lines of ‘this is a work-in-progress,’ he tsked, ‘so it’s not done yet, but I hope you like it so far.’ You join the group on the periphery, smiling and nodding along to the song he starts. His voice rings clear around the room as he strums the hook. His hair falls just over his eyes that close when he starts singing the lyrics. You shoo away the thought that tells you he looks handsome—really handsome, especially in his element with the music swirling around him. It makes no sense, but when you look at him you want to talk to him. You want to ask him what inspired him to write it, you want to ask him how he got into music, you want to ask him. The song is heartfelt throughout, but the lyric that sticks with you is ‘yeah, I’ve got it bad,’ because that’s the line that preceded the chorus, the tentative chorus in which he critically screwed up when he saw you. You swear it was like his brain stopped for a minute when he saw you swaying along. Wrong chord, wrong lyric, wrong chord, again. You could feel the glances being exchanged by the confused crowd. After he tore his eyes away from you, he barely got it together for the end of the in-progress work. You looked to Woonhak, a few people to your left, and he just shrugged. The song was good, but still, you couldn’t quite figure out what was up with Sungho.

—

The third time you saw Sungho, you barely saw him at all. This was because of the open door, the paper thin walls of your classroom, and Sungho’s loud voice that fills whatever space he’s in. You infer that that’s how he is normally—‘normally’ meaning specifically not around you. It’s beneficial here, though. You were mercifully sitting against the interior wall and took the golden opportunity to rest your head and take a break from thinking so hard about… well, lots of things. Classes, new collectables, what you were going to have for dinner, you know what it’s like. It was Taesan’s, not Sungho’s, voice that broke you from your cursory peace. Taesan’s voice is certainly loud, especially when he’s surprised.

“You’re joking!” Taesan said and was quickly shushed by Sungho. It appeared to just be the two of them. It was strange—you were friends with most of Sungho’s friends, but barely friends with Sungho himself at all.

“Quiet down! I’m not kidding.” Sungho groaned, and you heard a clunk against the wall your ear was against, so you assumed he was leaning too. “This is just what I’m like, I don’t know what to do at all. I’ve got it really bad.” Taesan laughed at his friend’s complaint. It’s funny, that line was almost the same thing he said in the song. “It’s not funny.” He sighed. He was scolding Taesan, but you feel yourself frown as if he could hear your thoughts about his recurring phrase.

“It’s a little funny.” Taesan presses him. Sungho does not sound like he thinks it's funny.

“I’m being serious, Taesan. She’s all I ever want to think about.” Your ears perk up at the mention of a pronoun. Sungho has a crush? That’s news to you, at least. You mean, maybe it could be something else, but it damn sounds like he has a crush. This makes your heart twist in a way that you are highly uncomfortable with. “Everything's a mess, I’m all over the place. I can’t figure this��� this thing out.” He laments. You kind of get it, though. Something you don’t get, however, is the way you hope he doesn’t figure it out. The part you refused to think about was that you didn’t want him to like someone else. God, you hadn’t even spoken to this boy. This is pathetic. You tore your ear away from the wall and covered your ears. Out of sight—or, earshot—out of mind, that’s how it works right? Apparently not, because even after you can’t hear him and that moment gets farther in the past, you think about him. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? This is so stupid.

—

The Friday that Sungho came to school late with his hair sticking up and wearing wrinkled clothes was, counterintuitively, the day you found him the most attractive yet. He sat down after whispering a hushed apology to your frowning teacher. He wasn’t even wearing his contacts, and he always wore his contacts. His glasses framed his face nicely, you decided. You looked back down at your paper as quickly as you looked up at the latecomer entering your classroom. It was hard to focus on your work for the rest of the day. In your Mandarin class, you bombed your quiz. How do you even write that character? You had no idea. All of the sudden, ‘高’ only made you think of Sungho and his stupid broad shoulders and not at all if there’s a hook at the bottom or not. Damn you, Sungho! You got what he meant by the lyrics in the song he had played in the auditorium. You got it bad. As you glanced out the window, you saw the very beginning of the budding cherry blossoms. They look so happy, all bunched up together and starting to bloom in hues of soft pink.

They look the same as you exit from the main door, pink and falling and beautiful. You pause outside those doors, taking in the sight. The trees are pretty, even against the gray sky. You feel more like the gray sky, conflicted. Especially so because you heard Sungho tell Taesan that he “couldn’t take it anymore,” and was “going to tell her today.” That certainly dampened your mood. Not that you have any skin in the game, but you secretly hope that he finds a reason not to. 

You hear a commotion near the doors, and see Sungho rather unceremoniously shoved out of the door by, by the looks of it, more than one set of arms. He looks like a deer in headlights, but starts moving anyway. You watch him, puzzled, before he starts walking over… to you. Behind him, you see Woonhak’s face poke out of the door frame before he looks to be pulled back by someone. You turn your attention back to Sungho, and realize you weren’t mistaken at all. He was walking towards you, holding something behind his back. A slight smile plays on his nervous lips as he closes the remaining distance between you, and you can’t help but glance around to see if this is some kind of joke. He was “going to tell her today.” Is he serious? Are you dreaming?

“What is it?” You ask, though you’re not quite sure why you’re asking or what you hope the answer is. He says nothing, simply extending a hand from behind his back and presenting you with a neatly folded piece of white printer paper. The ink on the inside bled through, slightly visible on the back.

“Aishiteru. Open it.” He encourages you and rolls his bottom lip in his teeth. You had watched him long enough—not in a stalkerish way! Just… in the way that you like looking at his face—to know that this is the face he makes solving a difficult equation. You also know enough about Japanese to recognize the romantic nature of his initial phrase. Why the hell is he speaking to you in Japanese? Regardless, if you weren’t blushing already, you definitely felt heat creeping up to your cheeks now. Doing as he instructs, you gingerly open the folded paper like it’s an artifact that could disintegrate if you so much as touched the paper the wrong way. 

It doesn’t disintegrate, but it might as well have. You stare at what’s written with a blank face. You recognize every other character (your Chinese teacher would be proud), but this is definitely not Chinese. You do recognize the swirling nature of what’s written, however. You furrow your eyebrows, why the hell does Sungho think you speak Japanese? Why is he writing to you in Chinese? Now you’re more confused than nervous. The butterflies in your stomach have settled, evidently asking the same questions you are.

“Sungho,” his name isn’t a question, but it comes out sounding like one, “I can’t read Japanese.” You hold up the paper to him as if he didn’t know it was in Japanese, and he looks absolutely petrified as your words hit him.

“Really?” His voice comes out high-pitched, and he clears his throat. “I mean, you actually don’t speak Japanese?” His register is back to normal, and now he sounds just as confused as you.

“I take Chinese, who told you I take Japanese? What does this even say, anyway?” A smile tugs at your lips. Oh, Sungho. He’s not stupid, you don’t think, maybe it was Woonhak who told him. Woonhak could probably mistake Chinese for Japanese. It could’ve been Jaehyun.

He groans, “Woonhak did.” This satisfies the first part of your question, but he seems hesitant to answer the second part. You raise your eyebrows, prompting him, “well, this is super lame,” what you don’t know is that he internally curses himself, Taesan had told him ‘no self-deprecating statements,’ oops, “but I thought it would make the way I told you unique.”

“Told me what?” You cock your head. The butterflies are back. Thanks to Taesan, you have a sneaking suspicion of what it is, but you refuse to celebrate until you get confirmation. It’s like in debate (your friend had told you way too much), you can think you won the most rounds but you can’t say you won anything until you’re officially told so. It’s like that.

I love you! 愛してる! 사랑해!

“I like you. I like you a lot. I’ve got it really bad.” He smiles and you think your heart might melt or explode, you’re not sure which feels more imminent. You’ve been told you won. It’s like a big weight has been lifted. The cherry blossoms look pinker.

“That’s what you wrote in the song!” You remember, hoping that he’ll be impressed you were paying attention.

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, rubbing his neck, “that was about you.” It might be the best sight you’ve ever seen. This kind, handsome boy telling you he wrote a whole song about you. “It’s finished now, I can play it if you want… is that embarrassing?” He’s asking for reassurance, and, oh, do you give him reassurance. Reassurance comes in the form of putting your arms around him. Actions speak better than words—that’s your reasoning, at least.

“That’s not embarrassing. That’s cute.” You tell him, though your words are slightly muffled since you’re not speaking directly to him anymore. The butterflies in your stomach cheer you on as you muster all the courage you can find in the deep crevices of your heart and mind, “I like you too, Sungho.” You tell him, and you can hear his heart beating through his coat.

FINAL NOTES: yippee!!! going to a debate tournament wont post for a few days love you mwah

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

С Hello, hello, dear author, I am so addicted to your works that I can fully say that you are simply the best writer I have ever seen, I simply melt from your works related to Baldwin,Seriously!I would like to read something sad, so I would like to ask you to write something sad, where Baldwin and Y/N They are married, everything is fine with them, but one day Y/n became terribly ill with some kind of disease,it soon becomes clear that this is a dangerous disease and unfortunately Y/n dies, and Baldwin is saddened and broken.

)(English is not my native language, so I apologize for the mistakes and thank you in advance author!)!!

♧ Everything Is Worse Now - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello dear Sevina!! I am so greatful for your support and your such kind words, you have no idea how much they mean to me🫶. Thank you so much for this beautiful and sad request, it was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy it!! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

P.S. Im sorry this is so short, I wanted it to be more like a uhh poem kind of I guess?? Like short and sweet yk?? Idk if I'm making any sence but I hope you all enjoy!! Also SORRY FOR ALL THE ANGST. Next one will be fluffy I prommise 😭😭

TW: Death, Disease, Leprosy, Not a happy ending

It was an abnormally cold evening when it began.

The queen's condition had been faltering for a few days now, but she merely brushed it off as fatigue. Things had been stressful with the threat of invasion any day now, it was only natural to feel exhausted at times such as these.

Nevertheless, the young king was deeply concerned about his wife.

“Please my love, I need you to see one of my physicians. It could be serious-”

“Darling, I can assure you that I am perfectly fine. Truely, there is no need to fret, you have enough to be worried about. Please don't let my condition weigh on your mind” she had told him, taking his hands in hers with that gentle firmness that he so adored.

It only became worse from there. Baldwin had been attending a meeting when he received news that y/n had collapsed while walking the gardens.

He abandoned the meeting in a second and used every ounce of his strength to climb the stairs to the royal chambers where he was met with the horrific sight of his beautiful wife, pale and weak, laying atop their shared bed with physicians working at her side.

He staggered to her side, about to collapse himself, and took her hand pressing it to the cool metal of his mask.

The familiar sensation caused y/n to open her eyes to look at her husband.

She smiled weakly.

“Perhaps I should have been checked out sooner hm?” she chuckled.

Baldwin couldn't help but smile sadly. Even in the darkest times she always managed to make him smile.

Naturally, the young king assumed the worst possible scenario: That his vile disease had been passed to his beautiful wife.

He could barely think of the possibility without breaking down right there and then so he attempted to keep his mind away from the idea.

“My lord?” a physician spoke gently beside him.

Baldwin looked up at the young man expectantly, “may I speak with you a moment?” the physician asked.

The king nodded, giving y/n one last look before walking towards the door.

“Do you know what could be wrong?” he asked, his voice trembling with fear.

“We have a fair idea, my lord. Her symptoms match that of the flu. It is a European disease, this is all we know so far”.

Baldwin's heart sank and felt relieved at the same time.

On one hand, his worst fear had not come true and his perfect wife had not been tainted by his vile flesh. But on the other hand, she was still very ill with a disease he had only read about in books.

He felt light headed but was determined to stay on his feet. He had to be strong for her. 

---------------------------------------------------

Her condition worsened further from that day onwards, as did the rumours in the castle.

Guy was of the firm belief that Baldwin had contaminated the queen with his vile disease and all of his followers and friends were of the same view.

Baldwin himself avoided everyone and everything that wasn't y/n.

Despite the warnings from the physicians that she may pass her disease onto him, thus killing him faster, he didn't care.

“I'm dying anyway, what's the point in avoiding it if she’s not going to be by my side in a few weeks” he told them.

They spent every moment together, taking in their last few days by each other's sides. Y/n could barely move and her fever made her weak but Baldwin could not care any less.

He read to her, prayed over her and spoke of his days to her, even if she didn't have the strength to reply.

This was exactly what she had promised to do for him in his last days, it didn't seem right to be the other way around. They even continued to sleep side by side. Just as if nothing happened at all.

When y/n would wake in the night, brought to consciousness by the low grade fever, she would admire her sleeping husband.

“I’m so sorry” she would whisper.

“I'm so sorry that I have to leave you. It wasn't supposed to be like this”.

---------------------------------------------------

It wasn't until another abnormally cold morning that Baldwin opened his eyes to find her stiff with the icy touch of death.

He sat up and wept at the sight until physicians came to take him to another room. Baldwin was simply inconsolable and he stayed that way for days.

He became a shell of a man. Refusing to leave his chambers or even eat.

“You must snap out of this and tend to your kingdom” Sybilla had told him.

“The land will be in ruins if you continue like this-”

“I care not for the land any longer!” he snapped.

“Let your foul husband have it to himself for all I care” he said with a wave of his hand as he began to cry again.

Sybilla put a hand on her brother's back, “just because she is gone doesn't mean you must go with her” she said gently.

“I see no use in living if she can't be by my side. I'm dying anyway Sybilla, the future of the kingdom matters not to me. Let Tiberias take care of my duties while I am here. Just go and pretend as though I am dead already” he looked at her through the holes in the mask, those blue eyes that used to be so filled with happiness when he was a child were now empty and red with tears.

“I can't leave you like this Baldwin” she whispered, pulling him into a hug.

He closed his eyes and for a moment imagined that it was y/n hugging him instead.

“She would have wanted you to be strong and go on. To lead the kingdom as you did when she lived” Sybilla said, not knowing if her words were even getting through to him or not.

Baldwin sighed.

“I'll do my best, dear sister”

[pinkmirth]

thinking about s/o who likes to dress up their vampire bf (yes i'm talking about adrian) and they always make sure that he likes the outfit too. he's just so pretty i can't 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪ ˖ 𓈒 “DOTE” FT. ADRIÁN ‘ALUCARD’ ȚEPEȘ! ⸻ ( 2k+ ) words of ⨾ fluff + suggestive/nsfw, alucard x fem!reader ( black-coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century (1400s), established relationship, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

my love letter! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ oh my goodness luna, i adore this!!! doting on adrian and clothing him sounds like a dream! it’s moving enough for me to want to put it into words . . . i ended up writing this out to be a teensy bit sentimental, if that’s okay! i feel like he’d be hesitant to receive affection but eventually ends up reveling in it because it’s just what he needed! adrian truly deserves some loveee, and i’m here to give it to him >.< please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

there’s something you and your lover like to call the ‘ echoes, ’ simply put, for any noise that bounces off the walls resounds throughout the entire castle. it’s a reliable system, and adrian’s able to use it to call your attention from anywhere within it.

“darling,” there goes his soothingly silken voice, ringing out all the way from the east wing. at times, you’re amused at how it can reach you from this far. “would you come over and give this a look, please?”

at his plea, you’ll be there. so you settle down the leatherback-book you’d been reading, slinking the pad of your finger beneath a page to fold it by the crisp outer corner.

“coming!”

you’re sure he feels you nearing, courtesy of your shallow-heeled footsteps thudding upon the wine-red shag of his home’s romanian rugs. he acknowledges your presence by swinging open the door to the primary bedroom.

you didn’t think you’d have to tiptoe around mountain-sized heaps of clothing upon entering adrian’s chamber— his closet’s practically ravaged. although, living with a dhampir was never known to be an experience short of surprises.

in the midst of all the madness is where he stands, still adorned in his cream nightgown. he’s got a garment clutched in one hand and a pullover tunic in the other. the subtle veins running along his slender hands makes his grip look exasperated. alucard appears to be having one of those days— where nothing feels just right.

“what’s all this, dear? thought you’d have been dressed by now,” you call out, making your way around a stockpile of trousers to approach him. gently, your delicate hands come to settle upon the broad expanse of his clothed chest. just as he figured it would, your touch immediately soothes him.

the man sighs before he speaks. “i apologize,” adrian peers down at you from where he stands, dropping both items to rest his hands on either side of your hips, “i’ll make sure to clean up afterwards.”

“no worries,” you hum, offering him a warm, sweet smile. when he tends to grow reckless, you know what he needs most is a dash of affection. “you wanted me to take a look at something, yes?”

“i did,” he mumbles, sunny eyes flitting over to his plundered closet, “though now i’m seriously reconsidering every single piece that i own.”

you don’t make a point to say it, but you know it isn’t about the blouses or the pants or any of those things. it’s his mind that tends to run rampant on all that’s been and all he’s lost. at tines, it manifests into agitation, a period of overstimulation where one thing makes him shirk and another gets him withdrawn. despite it all, he’s consoled that you’re here to reel him back in and distract him from himself in that dreamy little way that you do.

“show me the one you were last contemplating on, adrian.” you do it with such ease, pulling him out of his own head and bringing him back into the moment. for a good second, he thinks of just how lucky one man could possibly be.

“go on,” you pat his chest, and his lips flit up into a subtle grin. now more content, adrian scours for it and eventually plucks it off an embroidered chair situated in the corner; only God knows how it got there.

pinched between his index and thumbs, alucard holds up the top, exaggerated sleeves and all, presenting it to you; a simple chestnut colored option that shares the same wood-like hue as the bedpost.

“my twelfth option of the day,” he snidely notes. his sarcasm pries giggle from you. “what do you think, love?”

“it’s quite pretty,” you tilt your head, inspecting the piece with sparkly, concentrated eyes. he admires the way a wispy strand of hair falls along to drape against your face. just precious, he believes.

“it’s a little puffy at the sleeves, though.”

“i knew it,” adrian attests, “this is too . . . flouncy.”

“oh, forget what i said! it’s the perfect amount of flouce.”

“no no, it’s far too much. it’s practically screaming at me.” to that, you chuckle a bit. he can be ever so keen to such minute details.

theatrically, adrian mounts the nearby bed and flops atop the tousled sheets, an exhale leaving the depths of his chest upon impact. “i suppose this is just an ‘only-underwear’ sort of day.” you nearly add that he might as well free himself as a whole and go naked, but the poor man would flush so badly that you choose to refrain.

“you know, adrian,” you scan over his collection, eyeing the finest of silks, puffed shirts and ruffles. his wardrobe practically looks fitting for that of wallachian royalty. “i could make it easy, choose an outfit for you.”

its sudden, how he sits upright and turns to you. his eyes blink just a bit wider, a little slower. alucard’s mouth strikingly quirks upwards in a way that makes you believe he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea— almost as though you’d been meaning to treat him like a child.

“you’d . . . dress me up?”

you retract in the slightest, “only if you’d like. it isn’t a must—”

“please,” he ultimately responds, tone soft and low, “by all means.” it had just been the thought of the sheer intimacy that dazed him. you selecting what would fit him best through your eyes, pulling himself free of his clothes, revealed unto you as you’re dolling him up . . . it all sounds so touching and right now, he wants nothing more.

he can feel palpable relief roll off of you in waves as you beam, “sounds perfect, then.” he calms himself and fixes his countenance, gracing you with a sincere smile. rosy pigment scatters itself upon his face. you catch onto that hopeful glimmer in his eye, one that shows he’s pleased though you can’t quite place it. he’s too softened to say that gratitude has overcome him.

your back is facing him as you rummage around and take your pick, “undress while i put something together, alright?”

“bold request,” adrian characteristically quips. you merely laugh, “you should be bare once i turn around, you hear?”

he hums in acknowledgment, although he opts for tidying up the room first. you can’t see him with your back turned, yet you know he made use of his vampirian speed to grab and fold all his clothes that’d been thrown-askew, including the night attire he’d already been wearing. it amazes you that it only took him a solid eight seconds to complete it all.

“i’m sure that’s convenient,” you muse, turning his way with your selections in hand. alucard’s bare now, adorned in nothing other than his undergarments. a plain and skimpy pair of beige-white breeches shouldn’t excite you so— but god, they hang so low on his hips it’s like they’re barely even there. and how could you possibly ignore the way the cloth clings to his thighs? his arms look strong and coiled like wire, and the chiseled lining of his lean torso is embellished by the fleshy-pink scar that runs past his abdomen all the way up the center of his firm chest.

adrian can only hold your gaze for so long before realizing that you’re drinking him in. consciously, he pivots his head the other way as though to escape it, allowing his lengthy hair to drape down and cover the flushing of his fair cheeks.

you inch up to him, setting the clothes on his bedside. you find his larger hand to interlace with your own, and he only grows redder. there’s an indescribable pride that comes with being capable of riling him up.

“oh, don’t tell me you’re shy,” your hum is sugary like marmalade, “i’ve seen you before . . . you’re beautiful.”

“oh my god,” he whispers, pressing a palm to his heated face. sometimes adrian finds you to be too sweet. he isn’t sure how you haven’t yet succeeded at killing him with all your flattery. he bashfully smiles, cheeks warm as you stand high on your toes to peck them. “you and that mouth of yours.”

“i’ll leave you alone before you overheat,” you tease, halting your affections to return to the task at hand. “you love to toy with me,” he breathes out, and your giggle confirms it. you then display your choices; fitted pants of black leather paired with a warm-tan blouse, one that brings out the shine of his sharp eyes and adds a flush of vitality to his fair skin. interestingly enough, it resembles the color of his golden hair. you’d gone with something similar to his typical style so that he’d feel comfortable wearing it; though you know he’s been rather picky today.

“is it okay?” the way you await his approval makes his heart throb right within his chest. if only you knew that you handpicking anything for him was enough to make him fall in absolute love with it. it had never really been the outfit— he’s sure he just needed you all along.

“more than okay.” he smiles up at you, lips soft and pale-pink. you wonder if you’d end up altering the mood if you leaned down to kiss him. “well chosen, dear.”

“i know just what you like, don’t i?” you sound quite delighted, and it warms him up inside. “but of course. it’s my closet, after all.” the both of you share a knowing laugh that makes you feel so wholesome, so bound. you’ll be sure to commit the feeling to memory.

he then rises to his feet, standing a solid foot above you as he works his way into the bottoms you chose. a pout overtakes you, pretty lips pursed as you whine, “i could’ve done that!”

“you’ll get to fix the blouse. sounds fair, yes?” adrian knows if you were to have worn his pants for him, the hard-on he’d sport would’ve been more than embarrassing. you’ve seen each other vulnerable a good amount of times, and made love even more than what could be counted, but during a moment like this would only sully the mood, he’s sure.

with a hum, you give in. “fine,” your fingers trace against the threading of his shirt, “sit back down for me. you’re too tall for me to dress you from here,” alucard’s always found the contrast in size between the both of you to be endearing, especially whenever you go on to mention it. you’re surprised he decides to choose obedience instead of poking fun. he takes his place upon the bed and makes room for you to settle atop his lap. it’s instinctive, how quickly his hands reach for your waist. he rubs them along the patterning of your corset.

“arms out,” you’re a little less content when his touch leaves you, though you adore how well he listens. you ease the top over his head, onto his arms and finally onto the rest of his frame, tucking away the mussed locks of wavy blonde hair that fall array.

“i’ll brush it out for you later, adri,” you murmur, smoothing down the frizz before bringing your hands to cradle his cheeks. his face looks simply ethereal this close; flawlessly structured, handsome yet elegant. once again, his hands find their rightful place upon your sides. you watch him melt in your very hold when you coo, “my pretty boy.”

he whimpers a lowly call of your name. “thank you . . for all of it.” you know these sort of pocketed moments mean so much to him. his gentle pitch wavers with the subtlest hint of desire; you’d know the sound of it anywhere. still soft-spoken, though the slightest bit deeper. raspier, even. he only reserves such a tone for you.

your response is hushed, just about breathless, “always, adrian.” the pair of you are so close that the straightened tip of his nose grazes against your own. when the tension grows too thick and you can no longer escape his lips reeling you in like magnets, you finally lean into him and let your mouths slot, warmth blooming between you. his lithe fingers roam and you suckle at his bottom lip, prying a soft groan out of him.

alucard kisses you with longing, the span of his fangs subtly clashing against the pearly white of your teeth as he works at prodding his tongue inside, nipping at your lips and tasting of you. he frees out soft, little ‘ i love you’ amongst all the licking and sucking.

you both wind up toppling down onto the bed, with his back to the mattress and your squished breasts to his heart. making out with a man such as adrian always gets so heavy; you’re panting into each other's mouths, swallowing up the other one’s sounds, and you just can’t seem to help but slowly roll your hips into the stiffness of his crotch. a handful of minutes with him already has you entirely soiled.

“this is becoming something else,” alucard breaks away with a huff, fighting himself not to rip off the clothes you just adorned him in.

but fuck, you aren’t helping. “allow it, then . . .” is your solution, bringing the plush surface of your lips to suckle along his jaw, against the column of his throat, right down his neck . . . no point in refraining now. you eased him of his worries, and he only wants nothing more than to repay you.

“quite a shame, dear.” it truly is— especially considering that you put together such a stylish assortment for him. “now everything must be undone.”

© 𝒫𝐼𝑁𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻! ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ❤︎

[leapingbadger]

One of Us

This is a gift for @lonewolflupe for the @galactic-gift-gathering. A bit of Bad Batch downtime fluff. I hope you like it!

This will likely be my last gift, but I've loved writing for these prompts and seeing what everyone else came up with. Thanks so much to the organizers for putting this together! hope to take part again next year!

Beautiful Batch banner by @blackseafoam

Read on AO3

“No, I do not think it should go there, Echo.” Tech said pointedly.

“Give it to me,” Crosshair said, snatching the brush out of his new brother’s hand.

“Crosshair, it was my turn.” Tech protested with a scowl.

“Actually, it was mine,” Echo’s deep voice said as he watched the commotion with a wry smile.

“You take too long, Reg. Look, there…”

“No, you did it wrong, give it to me.” Tech said, leaning over his brother’s arm, reaching for his right hand and the brush clasped hard within it.

“Get off me,” Crosshair hissed, his left knee kicking out at his brother’s ribs to keep him at bay.

“If you bite me again, Crosshair I promise you will not be prepared for the consequences.” Tech spat.

“Fella’s, Theres plenty of time. Tech, get off of Cross. Cross, give Echo back the brush. It’s his armor, it can look how he wants.”

Tech settled back on the floor with a huff, adjusting his goggles that had been pushed sideways on his face. Crosshair reluctantly handed the paint brush back to Echo, his scowling face not leaving Hunter’s gaze. Echo gave the Sergeant an appreciative nod as he methodically carried on with his task.

The Marauder had been covered in pots of paint and pieces of wet armor for the last few hours. Clone Force 99 had been waiting for their new orders after their second successful mission as a squad of five. Hunter grinned as he watched his brothers clustered on the grated floor, dabbing at bits of plastoid.

The requisition had finally come in for Echo’s new and improved armor. With some suggestions from Tech and quite a bit of tinkering, the plastoid fit perfectly around his cybernetic enhancements, if you could call them that. The white armor of the GAR, however, wouldn’t really work with the squad’s aesthetic, which Crosshair had been quick to point out.

“You look like a reg.” he had said, hand on his hip, toothpick hanging languidly in the corner of his mouth.

“I am a reg, Crosshair.” Echo said calmly, looking down at the shiny white armor.

“Not anymore,” he said, reaching into a storage compartment on the ship, removing a small pot, and smearing a large black stain on the chest of the brand-new armor.

“Was that really necessary?” Echo asked, his large amber eyes rolling in frustration.

Crosshair smirked and handed him the paint, “yes.” He said, before collapsing into a nearby chair.

It hadn’t taken much convincing for the rest of the brothers to get involved. All offering their advice on design ideas.

“How about a giant skull in the middle of your chest. ‘Cos you faced death and survived,” Wrecker said enthusiastically.

“Erm,” Echo started before being interrupted by Tech.

“I do not think Echo needs a giant skull to remind him of his ordeal, Wrecker.”

“Yeah, that’d be like Tech having a datapad painted on his chest,” Crosshair said sarcastically.

“And what would you have? A toothpick?” Tech said with a sideways look to his silver haired brother.

Hunter chuckled before his brothers rounded on him.

“What about Hunter?” Wrecker asked with a smile.

“Hunter has already fully committed to the squad by having our emblem tattooed on his face. Anything more and it may come off as parody,” Tech said seriously.

“Or stupidity,” Cross followed up.

“Need I remind you, Cross, that you were planning on getting the same tattoo on the opposite side of your face, until you backed out at the last minute?” Hunter teased.

“Only ‘cos I saw how stupid it looked on you.” The youngest brother spat.

“It’s better than the stick and poke you ended up with.” Hunter said with a chuckle.

Crosshair crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, heat climbing to his cheeks.

“Aw, you’ve hurt his feelings now,” Wrecker called from the far end of the ship.

“Grow up, Wrecker.” Crosshair hissed.

“Aw do you need a hug from Lula to cheer you up?” Wrecker asked teasingly, on his feet with his tooka doll in his shovel sized fist.

“Get away from me with that. I don’t need a doll.” Crosshair said, hands up in defense as his enormous brother tiptoed around the pots of paint to smash the toy in his brother’s face.

“I told you. She’s. A. Stuffy.” Wrecker said with a chuckle, smacking Crosshair across the face with every punctuated word.

Hunter stole a look at Echo, giving him an apologetic shrug as his brothers descended into chaos. After a quick mele, a few knocked over pots of paint and Hunter threatening to trap them in binders together until they sorted things out, Wrecker and Crosshair settled back on the floor to finish up the final touch ups on their armor.

They looked comfy in their blacks and he smiled thinking back to their time as cadets and the late night slumber parties they’d have after lights out, blankets spread over their room to make a fort, string lights Wrecker had made suspended from a pully system of Tech’s own invention. Hunter would smuggle snacks from the mess while Tech read them stories he’d found on the holonet.

“I need the red,” Wrecker barked from the far end near the gunner’s mount, “who’s got the red?”

“Here you go.” Echo said, putting on the lid and throwing it like a thermal detonator down the end of the ship.

Wrecker caught it easily in one hand and started dabbing and the blood red of his helmet, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he did so.

“Do ya think I should add some blood on the teeth?” Wrecker asked the room at large.

“I do not think you need to strive to look any more intimidating than you already do. A separatist wet himself at the site of you a few days ago.” Tech said seriously, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

Hunter chuckled and finally sat down between Crosshair and Echo, the former shifting away, likely harboring resentment that Hunter would pay for later.

Echo held up his chest plate, running his hand over the black paint tentatively. He lunged to his left to take the white paint from Tech. His left hand hung suspended over the right side of the plate.

“Need a hand?” Hunter asked quietly.

Echo smiled, casting a quick look at the other brothers, momentarily distracted by the red paint spilling dangerously close to Lula.

“Quick, move her, move her” Wrecker cried, leaning over Tech to get to her in time.

“Thanks” Echo said looking embarrassed “…it…ah…I’m not really left-handed…” he said, a faint pink stain coloring his sharp cheekbones.

Hunter smiled and took the chest plate, “Don’t worry about it. I painted the other skulls too.” He said with a nod to his brothers’ armor littering the ship.

Echo grinned, “I guess it makes sense that you’re the resident skull expert with the…ah…tattoo…”

Hunter shrugged, unashamed, “I drew it when we were cadets. I just kind of stuck, I guess.” He said.

“What about the 99?” Echo asked, curiosity finally getting the best of him, “did you know him?”

Hunter closed his eyes and sighed, smiling as he thought about his older brother. “Yeah, we knew him. He…ah…kind of adopted us…kept an eye on us, when he could. You know. He was like that. Kind.”

Echo smiled back, “Yeah, I know. I fought with him. I watched him…I was with him. When he died.”

Hunter’s eyes flicked to the others before boring into Echo’s amber gaze. “I know.” he said quietly, dabbing gently at the armor as he completed his first pass at the white skull. “I read the report. After he died.” He felt his shoulders slump and tried to pull them back, to pull himself back from the memories.

“How’d you get hold of that? I thought all reports on the attack on Kamino were sealed?” Echo said, his voice full of admiration.

Hunter chuckled and nodded to his brother, “there’s nothing Tech can’t get into. We… we needed to know. ‘Cos we weren’t here to help, you know. We were off world. Training.”

Echo nodded his understanding.

Hunter took a deep breath and Echo paused, perhaps expecting some deep, emotional revelation but he just blew on the white paint on the armor before handing it back to his new brother.

“Want to add anything else?” he asked.

Echo paused, resting the chest plate on his scomp and running his left hand over the left side.

“I dunno, maybe a handprint?”

“A handprint?” Hunter asked, his eyebrow raised in confusion.

Echo laughed, “it’s a throwback from my first mission. Rex put a handprint of eel blood on my armor to make a point. I kept it. Had him do it with paint when I became an ARC.”

Hunter laughed, “Hey Tech, any idea where Captain Rex is right now?”

Tech adjusted his goggles, putting down his paint brush and picking up his datapad, never too far from his hand.

“Hmm…It appears he is on a classified assignment with General Skywalker.”

Echo smiled, “It doesn’t matter. Maybe you should do it.” he said, offering his chest plate back to Hunter.

The Sergeant stiffened, taking hold of it tentatively. “Are you sure? I’m no Captain Rex” he said.

“You got that right!” Crosshair hissed.

“Hey, be nice” Wrecker said with a playful bonk to his youngest brother’s shoulder from the back of the ship, Lula crammed into the neck of his blacks to keep her away from the paint.

“You’re my new boss. Makes sense to me” he said with a shrug.

Hunter looked back into Echo’s eyes, they seemed to glow in the low light of the ship, impossibly so. Hunter took off his right glove, carefully painting the palm of his hand in red paint and kneeling in front of the chest plate on the floor.

The other brothers had stopped what they were doing to watch, and Hunter felt their eyes on him. He looked up at Echo one last time before turning the chest plate over and placing his handprint on the inside.

“What are you doing?” Echo asked as Hunter used his left hand to press down on his right.

“Saving room for the Captain” he said quietly, pulling away his hand to reveal a blood red print, “it’ll be the best of both worlds. You can have Rex do it when we see him next.”

Echo picked up the armor and looked at it closely. “I like that idea,” he said, handing the chest plate to Tech and reaching to shake Hunter’s hand. “Thanks, Sarg.”

“Welcome to the Squad, Echo.” he said.

[iphyslitterator]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

tagged by @liminalmemories21 (thank you, I LOVE stats)

How it works: Share your top 10 tumblr posts from last year! Visit this site, scroll down to "Find your Tumblr Top 10," type in your username, and select 2024. When you get the results, simply click "Share to Tumblr"   and you'll get an auto-generated draft for a post with links and previews. Make any adjustments you see fit.

1. 650 notes - Nov 28 2024

Did some very cursory research, and it turns out having mental health issues on your record can seriously complicate...

I'm thrilled this is my top post. First of all, it was very funny to ruin everyone's day on Thanksgiving. But mostly I think it was a useful and important topic to introduce to the fandom ecosystem, especially after some back-and-forth with the venerable @bekolxeram.

2. 495 notes - Jun 27 2024

Picture, if you will, Buck and Tommy's pre-teen daughter sitting Tommy down and asking how he knew he was gay. And he takes a...

I love this post, but it did age badly 😕 Buck's answer is going to be complicated after all.

3. 466 notes - Aug 26 2024

sharing my vision of chimney dragging tommy into a comedy b plot and rambling to him at 6 in the morning until tommy says...

I was surprised this did so well, but the people crave Chim & Tommy.

4. 437 notes - Aug 13 2024

when I'm feeling down, I like to imagine early s8 Tommy calling Buck and saying, listen, I know it's your night with Eddie, but...

Man, remember over the summer when people thought Eddie would have a serious mental health struggle, and Buck (and Tommy) would be supporting him, and Buck & Eddie & Tommy would have to renegotiate their dynamic? I miss that.

5. 394 notes - May 7 2024

One of my favorite things about 7x06 Bucktommy is that at no point are they trying to impress each other. Buck at the bachelor...

Earliest post on the list. Solid meta, but the most notable part is the footnote from someone blissfully unaware of Henleygate.

6. 388 notes - Sep 16 2024

tommy with a nonstop eight-minute rant about last night's baseball game while he's getting ready in the morning, mostly yelled...

I love this 😭

7. 380 notes - Aug 29 2024

"Hi!" Buck calls out when he hears the door open from where he's sprawled sideways on Tommy's couch, engrossed in a book on the...

This was supposed to be a little thing, but it got a bit longer than I expected, so I ended up posting it on AO3 - my first official fic since November 2020 🥰 Part of a genre, but as far as I know no one had done it with a couch.

8. 342 notes - Jun 4 2024

i just want to see eddie treating a severely injured buck while tommy struggles to keep him conscious and following...

Love this post + equally love these additions from @dadvans and @zeraparker (the end of the second one haunts me).

9. 322 notes - May 17 2024

oh my god he's walking on his knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting

The only non-Bucktommy post on the list (it's Bobby in Step Nine). Post "Wild Geese" during a commercial break = easy website.

10. 288 notes - Nov 28 2024

Flame

Day 1 of 118 Daily Drabble, and my most popular because it turned into a spontaneous collaboration with @peppermintquartz. I was SO excited to write back and forth and see people get invested; nothing like that had ever happened to me! I also liked getting the notifications (despite writing significantly less lol 🤭 hey, there were no rules). The original drabble is sad, but after five installments we got to a happy ending.

tagging @espressotonicc @jamieroyjamieroy @do-androids-dream-ao3acc @bucksdaffy @tommykinard217 and the people tagged above

[lavenderdnp]

The story of my life 🤍

[ssreeder]

heres some sketches to go along with my rant (in a different ask cause i did these after) I FORGOT WHAT JET LOOKS LIKE BUT THATS SUPPOSED TO BE HIM W SUKI UHHHHH

so jet and suki doing the… spit handshake… or whatever… and then zuko laughing and sokka being shocked, then sokka dying from the spicy dumpling he took from zuko

OKAY THATS ENOUGH FROM ME THANK U FOR THE FLUFFY CHAPTER!!!!!!

WAHHHHH ART FOR ITF?!?! NO WAY!!! I love it!!! I AM GOING CRAZYYYYY!!

Jet looks so devious and also handsome!! SPIT PACT LETS GOOOO!!!

& zuko did get to laugh finally after over one million words haha. Thanks again for these they brought me so much joy!!

[riddlerosehearts]

i found ur blog recently after becoming incredibly infatuated with twst but specifically idia shroud (my friends said i act like him to an uncanny level and they were absolutely right...) and i love your vilidia posts dearly. ok that's it thank u

OMG that's so awesome, welcome to the twst fandom and congrats on having such fantastic taste in characters and ships lol!! i adore vilidia (obviously, if my whole vilidia tag is any indication) but i haven't posted about them in so long, i hope you don't mind if i use your ask as an excuse to share some silly little headcanons that i don't believe i've posted before:

so i think that when vil was like, 10 or so, his dad tried to encourage his love of potion-making by getting him one of those candy chemistry kits. the ones that come in super cute colorful boxes and teach you how to make things like exploding pop rocks and glow-in-the-dark gummies while explaining the science behind it. (here's a picture of basically the exact thing i'm thinking of.) but vil, poor sweet little vil who'd already let the brutality of the entertainment industry make him believe that he needed to be absolutely perfect, just rolled his eyes and said he was too old for that stuff and that all of that candy wouldn't be good for him anyway. he never once touched the kit, even though part of him probably did really want to.

and i also think that at some point, after he and idia had started dating, idia bought one of those same kits online and just barely mustered up the courage to ask vil if he'd like to join him and ortho in making some of the candy. he claimed the entire thing was ortho's idea, but vil could tell that idia really wanted them to do this together and he decided it'd be okay to indulge his boyfriend just once. as he actually made the candy he realized that although it obviously didn't teach him a single thing he didn't already know, it was still a lot of fun and he wished he hadn't rejected things like that as a kid.

also, speaking of chemistry, there's a voice line in-game where idia implies that he is not good at it. so while i think he and vil would be fascinated by each other's different fields of scientific interest and would love talking about it together i also think that one day idia just very overdramatically goes like: "omg i'm doing soooooo bad in my chemistry classes... if only some super smart and kind and very attractive person would help me out..."

and vil responds by telling idia that he most certainly does not share his younger brother's talent as an actor. but he agrees to help anyway and then they have cute study dates.

idia's habit of starting to excitedly infodump about his interests only to suddenly get embarrassed and stop persists for a while into his relationship with vil but every single time it happens, vil encourages idia to keep going. he often says things like "oh, are you done already? that's a shame, i was so looking forward to hearing more about sora's journey to save kairi". it takes a long time but eventually idia gets to a point where he's so comfortable around vil that he doesn't feel embarrassed anymore.

[aauroralightss]

happy wolfwood wednesday nicholas d wolfwood is a LOSER and i don't mean stampede wolfwood (although he is too with his tech bro ass big sunglasses and coat) but i mean trimax wolfwood. literally everything he does is so fucking funny to me. the scene where he tells vash to shoot him? did he honest to god think "oh yeah vash is gonna shoot me this will be great" ????????? like what did he truly expect to happen. and he monologues through the whole fight against grey the ninelives. he makes me sick why is he so EXTRA

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[babykittenteach]

2023 in review! I made an effort to try more things and it worked mostly (at least for TV and movies). New things, new-to-me things, and new installments of old things all had characters to love even if I didn't necessarily feel fannish about them, and I'm hoping 2024 does, too.

[chipeanuts]

After a month of hyperfixation, I have finally come to the conclusion that Majimako is, and will always be, one of my favourite ship of all time at this point. Thanks for coming to my ted talk stay tuned for more 🤓✌️

[theinfinitedivides]

so i just finished Café Minamdang and uh. Choices were made

[darkdragon768]

I feel like crying.