#[[ technically can be for any verse so ]]

[princeof-flowers]

UGHHHHHHHH

Currently writing a fic that's basically just- "Emmrich has reached a level of besotted fool that even he can't handle because Rook gives him a hug and kiss every morning and night, and often gives him flowers and just thinking about that gets him hard and makes him pre because he's imagining married life already Send Help".

Like??? There's not even any dialog really it's just Emmrich being like- "he gives me kisses and hugs every day and gifts me flowers and alchemical ingredients 🥺🥺🥺" and fantasizing about being married to him and waking up next to him every morning like DAMN. Emmrich you got it bad. You're down horrendous.

[soulsxng]

[dreadbornesaint]

A wistful expression that softens her features graces her visage, a reflection of the ache to return to what is forever lost. The longing she refuses to name, the yearning that makes its bed alongside the dread. Her gloved hand rests on the hilt of her sword, a casual gesture, a reminder of what she is capable of. Though, despite the imposing figure she cuts, she’s not feeling a need to satiate the bloodlust she’s become intimate with. 

She stands before a beautiful sunset; it would not do to spoil such a beautiful scenery with bloodshed. It certainly has not stopped her before, but moments of tranquility are rare for Beryl and she intends to enjoy it. A brief respite. A reminder that there is more to living than the edge of a sword or the ichor that stains her skin. “Times like these call for a drink.” She muses out loud. How fortunate, then, that she has a few bottles of soju on her person. A sigh passes through slightly parted lips. “If only I had some drinking snacks to pair with this…”

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

ˎˊ˗♡ open - mutuals only ♡ˎˊ˗

She's walking home from work, muttering a curse under her breath. Of course it would start raining on one of the nights she works overtime and has to walk home. That kind of luck is what she ought to expect, she thinks, especially on a day where her injuries ache in a way that has her want to be buried beneath distant and dark sands. 

Ah, well, she could wait out the storm. She's underdressed for the weather and left her umbrella in the office. Not ideal conditions by any means. It truly is a circumstance where either option is suboptimal. Walk home in the rain or wait indefinitely for a calmer moment. Beryl decides she'll take her chances and wait out the storm for a few minutes; perhaps it will let up then. Regardless, she resolves to head home after no matter what the conditions are. At the very least, she can take some of the water out of her hair. And thus she ducks under the nearest set of eaves, not expecting to encounter anyone else given the late hour and inclement weather conditions.

“Oh, my apologies.” She's in the middle of wringing the water out of her hair, both hands still holding the strands with a delicate strength. Beryl flashes a quick smile–is that the appropriate expression to make in this circumstance?–apologetic and uncertain. “I do hope that I am not intruding. I will make myself scarce shortly.”

[yllowpages]

❝ Do you have a second to talk? ❞

❝ Before or after we kick some Outworld ass? ❞ Very cavalier coming from a guy who crossed realms today to fight in some tournament that could be life or death ( he feels like the rules haven't been totally explained yet ... ) . But he's got to hand it to these Edenians — it's some nice digs they ( being the ' Earthrealm champions ' ) were given by the royal family. Not as nice as his house but ... there's no accounting for taste ( Casa del Cage is a very specific and magnificent beast of architecture and style ) .

Johnny has some self-confident smirk on his face, the previous comment being only partially a joke — confidence is key after all. But he takes a breath and loosens up a bit : ❝ For a fellow champ and a fan, I got two. ❞ ( The last part of that was a huge assumption — as he's wont to make ... ) Though it is quite the little band of badasses that Lord Liu Kang has managed to put together. ( Is there someone out there who's just handing out ' Lord ' titles? Or does he have some credentials he just hasn't shared? ) He settles into one of the many seats in this apparent living area. Eyes flick curiously over to their god and protector, chatting with this kid Raiden. But they quickly come back to Ichigo. ❝ I mean, it's been a pretty fucking crazy day, right? ❞

@ichigokurosaki

[darqx]

😈

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

I drew Demon Strade from memory and have absolutely 0 recollection how big he actually is lmao. Side note the subtitle for this in my head was "it's dangerous to go alone take this" except its not Strade saying it XDD)

Rire will put someone into any position he feels like (because honestly manoeuvrability is not a problem for him) so lets just say...a lot of them.

Would you even be able to reach his head lol

I would say that he mostly travels (as sometimes it also depends on who/what he's collecting and whether anyone is technically looking for him - ie did someone murder these people wth?). Keep in mind that one of Rire's powers is that he can, essentially, step sideways into a Gate in one country, navigate a void space for a few minutes/seconds, and then exit from another Gate somewhere in another country lol.

There's a bunch of different AUs/verses (because i like sticking my characs in them for fun) where he's technically an "ordinary guy" and to answer your question in ever single one of them he is in some position of power :d Eg: Headmaster, mafia boss, compound leader in a zombie apoc, high ranking military official, rich and popular college kid (this one somewhat debatable as BTD!College AU doesnt specify whether Rire is actually human or not XD) etc.

What has Saturn ever done for me? 🤌🏻

Check the bottom of this one :d

Every single Royal in the Nether is considered a dictator and Rire is no exception. His subjects consider him one of the more preferable ones because a) kind of leaves them alone for the most part, b) if he is inflicting terror on them/someone it's usually for a reason (as far as they know) and c) the economy has been doing great since he came into power.

You can consider Rire more of an...acquirer. Meaning that if he can't do something, he has an extensive network of people who owe him a favour or several that might be able to. Also loopholes exist hahahahah

If he's not exchanging for your soul, he's folding you into this network, that's how he works.

Rire's ego is not so big that he wouldn't be calculatively thinking about how best to exploit this |D

Oh yeh he def has servants to do a bunch of stuff for him! However, he has only been a Royal for a relatively short amount of time so he does actually know how to cook etc by himself if required.

Not a game but he will be plot B in a comic. As for being inserted into YKMET lore that's up to Gato XD

Warm tone gold type colours

Nah he heals pretty well. Also I feel like if he did get a serious enough wound that looked like it was going to scar then he'd use some sort of medical cream or whatever to make sure it didnt.

He'd be a little shit and vague about it ("oh somewhere quite far from here"), and if people keep trying to guess would literally give his Sector name from the Nether and later agree that it's in one of the random countries that were being guessed. Ah but so well hidden you won't be able to find it on a map, sure, try if you want.

Anon even i don't know in what context you are using this word lol.

The sense factor for this essentially 🫲🏻"is a demon (and a feeling of how powerful they might be)" and 🫱🏻 "is not a demon" which usually means a human lol. For your qs case, maybe only if said human was exceptionally powerful (so that the oddness registered as something "off" human) OR if they were using said power at the time (as happens with Battle Priests).

I haven't thought about a lot of things and i can clinically say that's one of them lol.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 3 of Danny the forever teen in the DC universe au, he gets a new hero identity and is introduced to superpowered kids.

[Pt 2 here]

The Titans and Young Justice don't interact as teams very much. Like, they see each other outside of teams fairly often, but it's only as individuals. The teams don't question the sudden combined meeting being called, though. Batman, Red Robin, and Robin were the ones to call it, and after a month of complete radio silence from the Robins, their teams are excited to see them again.

Red Robin cheerfully waves and Robin nods to their teams as they help Batman set up his briefing. It takes a minute, but the Robins flank Batman's sides once everything is ready. It's a detailed presentation of Ecto Entities and a short explanation on what exactly the JL and Bat clan has been working on.

"Any questions?" Silence. "Good. Now there is someone I would like you all to meet. He will be floating between your teams when he isn't helping the Justice League Dark and Justice League."

"Wha-? Are we getting a new babysitter??"

"Hn. In a manner of speaking."

"Nah, he's cool. He just needs to hang out with people his physical age that aren't just Bats." Red Robin waves away the babysitter allegation before looking to his left. "Don't you agree?"

A glowing young teen fades into visibility. He has white hair and green freckles dressed in black and white armor with neon green highlights and starry motifs that looks similar to Robin's, just without a cape. The black domino mask he has neon green lenses verses the usual white. "Oh! Um.. I guess so?"

The young heroes excitably shout before Batman cuts them off.

"Silence!" There's a couple mumbled apologizes as Batman waves the newcomer to stand in front of him. "Introduce yourself."

The kid makes a head movement that the Robins use to indicate they're rolling their eyes at you, even if you can't see it, while complying. "Hello, I'm Astrum. I'm the reason you just had to learn about ecto entities, as I am one. I both am and am not 14 years old."

"What do you mean?" Beast Boy asks, "About the age thing."

"Aw, well, there's 3 separate ages I can give." Astrum continues once the confused noises die down, "I'm physically 14, but I've been an ecto entity for 30, so I might count as 30, but chronologically, I'm 44. It's why I can't commit to only working with adults or children, I'm technically both and will need to interact with both to be emotionally healthy in the long run."

"That sounds confusing."

"Welcome to my life. A confusing painful disaster. I might explain more later, but unless you're about to dive into all your deepest traumas right here and now, I ain't explaining shit." Astrum grins at them, his teeth are a little too sharp for comfort.

"Language."

Astrum whips around to gape at Batman. "Langu-?? Seriously, B-man??"

"Don't bother. He still does that to 'Wing and Hood. There's no escape." Red Robin tells him. The poor guy flounders over the news.

"Hn. Meeting adjourned."

"Cool! Come meet the teams, Astrum!" Red Robin drags him towards the teens. He introduces each person with their full government name and hero identity, getting a lot of stuttering.

"Red! Why are you giving him out secret identities??" Wonder girl protests.

"Because he's Phantom! He can be trusted!" Impulse says, and Astrum jolts and starts trembling.

"Please.. please don't say that name.." Astrum looks so much smaller. "I.. there's too much trauma involving it now...."

The teens rush to reassure him they won't call him that again. If only because the Bat Clan members look a little too calculating. No one wants a pissed off Bat being petty towards them.

"Thanks... I have another name you can call me when we're hanging out outside of hero work." The teens perk up at that. "My name is Danny... just Danny."

"No lastname?" Artemis curiously frowns.

"My human lastname is irrelevant, I stopped associating with it after my birth parents vivisected me." That gets a lot of sputtering.

"We should move this to the lounge." Red Robin pipes up.

"Indeed. We plan to introduce Danny to the many movies he missed out on in the last 28 years." Robin adds. "He's more out of date than I was."

"WHAT?"

"I was being hunted. I didn't have the time or money to see movies" Astrum whines, letting himself be bodily dragged to the lounge.

"Be happy I had a PowerPoint of all the slang you needed to know to survive this." Red Robin teases.

And that's how Astrum, previously known as Danny Phantom, starts hanging out with teens and forcibly learning to be a modern teen himself. He doesn't go on many missions with them because he is too overpowered, and it can hurt the other teens' confidence. He hurts the adults who think he's a dumb kid's confidence when he goes on missions with them too, usually it's a daylight JL member. So he doesn't take it personally.

He loves working with the Flashes, Supers, Wonder Woman, and Zatana, but the Bats and John Constantine are his absolute favourites to work with. They understand how he works the best and can roll with the punches if he does something unexpected. He also lives in the Watchtower, the view of space feeding his obsession is excellent on his mental health as well. Everyone slowly adjusts to this semi-feral ghost child being under foot, doing his best to be helpful, and absolutely demolishing any supernatural threat with ease. No one realizes how powerful he actually is because he holds back and doesn't inform anyone he's the Ghost King.

[tomicscomics]

11/22/2024

Governor? More like gover-NERD!

___

JOKE-OGRAPHY: 1. In this Bible story, Jesus is arrested by Jewish priests who've become jealous of Him. The priests aren't allowed to kill Him since they're technically living under Roman rule and Roman laws, so they hand Him over to the local governor, Pontius Pilate, and tell him that Jesus claimed to be the king of the Jews. This, they hope, will make Pilate think Jesus is trying to start a rebellion against the Romans. Pilate questions Jesus in a pretty simple but dramatic interrogation, beginning by asking Him if He's really a king, to which Jesus replies that His kingdom is not of this world; if it were, His servants would be fighting to free Him. 2. In this cartoon, the first part of the comic sticks to the Bible story, but when Jesus mentions His servants fighting for Him, Pilate tries to clarify by asking, "So you have no servants to fight for you?" But Jesus wasn't saying He doesn't have servants; He was saying they aren't going to fight a physical war to free Him because His kingdom is not a physical one, nor can any physical kingdom hope to threaten it. As Jesus implies this, His actual servants -- the angels -- pester Him to let them beat up Pontius Pilate for Him, but He tells them to calm down since that's not part of the plan. 3. Gabriel (the angel with the blue cape) says, "Pontius Pilate? More like, 'I'm gonna PUNCH THIS Pilate!" PONTIUS is often pronounced PUNCHIS (at least where I'm from), which sounds a little like PUNCH THIS, so Gabriel is just making a play on Pilate's name and saying he's about to clock him if Jesus gives the go-ahead. 4. Michael (the militant soldier angel in the red cape) gives a declaration that sounds a lot like Matthew 8:8. In that verse, a Roman centurion begs for Jesus's help, saying, "Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word, and my daughter shall be healed." In Mass, we mirror this quote before receiving the Eucharist, except that "roof" refers to the roof of our mouths, since we're about to consume the Eucharist, and instead of "my daughter," we say "my soul." In this cartoon, Michael mirrors the Mass version of the quote, but ends it with "and his soul shall be BROUGHT TO HEEL (i.e. forced to submit)."

[reidsism]

➳ COFFEE RUN — S.R

to nav 𓇙 to s.r mlist 𓇙 to records!reader mlist

spencer reid x archivist!fem!reader

dr reid brings you a gift. sort of.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: noneeee!! i love these two so bad already i need to keep writing for them. i adore my lil basement cryptid </3

a/n: WEEEEE my babies back again <3 this technically takes place in the middle of the records!reader ‘verse bc i still cant write in order lol

The elevator descends slowly, and Spencer watches the numbers drop on the screen, his left hand jittery, fingers tapping on his thigh, while his right hand holds a cardboard tray balanced with two cups.

He adjusts them one final time as the doors open, the screen reading B3 in red LED.

The hallway of sublevel three is cold and quiet, and he just makes sure to check his posture as he makes his way to the only door.

Records Archive, it reads.

Your lair.

He knocks softly on the doorjamb, watching as you peek your head around the corner of a massive shelf.

“Doctor Reid?” you blink, stepping into view, a collection of manila folders in your arms. “Can I help you with something?”

He smiles slightly, a nervous little thing as he holds up the tray higher, stepping forward to set it down on your messy desk. “Not right now,” he looks at you. “I just, uh. I brought coffee.”

You blank at him, stepping forward slightly. “Why?” you ask, brows pinching in confusion. “I didn’t ask you to.”

He pauses. Then purses his lips, nodding slowly. “I know. I just thought- I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Maybe you might like a cup? You know, instead of the cheap stuff they have from the coffee vending machines here. I stopped at that place on Eighth on my way in.”

You nod, as if you have any idea about that place on Eighth, as if you’ve ever even been on Eighth at all. You step closer, now, eyeing the tray and him like they’re things you’ve never seen before, studying both him and the cups.

“I didn’t know what you like,” he coughs. “So I got a dark roast and a latte, just in case. And uh,” he points at the collection on the empty section of the tray. “I brought a bunch of sugar and cream packets, in case you wanted them.”

You look from the drinks to him, a small, hesitant smile growing on your lips. You reach for the latte with one hand, setting down the folders with the other. You bring the cup to your lips, sipping it before your eyes widen involuntarily. “This is really good,” you whisper.

Spencer nods, a tiny grin tugging at his lips as he tears open four sugar packets at once, dumping them in the dark roast. You watch him strangely. “You… like sweet coffee, Dr Reid?” you ask with a short laugh.

He blinks, bringing the cup to his lips. “Yeah,” he says simply, “I have a bit of a sweet tooth.” You simply nod, like you’re storing the information away, before taking another sip.

“I think I should check out this mysterious place on Eighth,” you grin slowly. “Their lattes are really good.”

He smiles slightly, nodding back at you, watching as you flip open the files. He stuffs his empty hand into his pocket nervously, looking around at the room. It isn’t the first time he’s been down here, but it amazes him every time. “Are you busy?”

You sigh. “I guess? But not really. I’m just going through some old files I think might be of use to the CARD team, based on the abduction they’re looking into right now,” you nod at the stack of folders you put on the desk moments ago. “I like to be prepared, so…” you shrug.

Spencer nods again, taking another sip of his coffee. “It’s impressive,” he mumbles, eyes raking over the massive shelves of paperwork and files. “Your work. What you do.”

You shrug shyly, curling into yourself. “I dunno,” you laugh. “It’s just paperwork.”

He shakes his head. “It’s more than that. I’m- honestly I’m stunned by it. You personally manage all of the Bureau’s physical files on your own. I didn’t really believe it when I heard they didn’t have a whole team down here, but you…” he exhales. “You’re pretty… incredible, you know?”

You blink, eyes widening. “Really?”

Spencer just grins brighter, a little shy around the edges, but earnest. “Yeah. Really.”

“Did you want to, um,” you thumb over your shoulder. “Look through them with me?”

He nods, following you to the shelf as you pick up the folders again. You sit on the cold concrete floor, crossing your legs, and Spencer sits beside you.

You drag a box over, heaving a bit at the weight of it. “This is the box of casefiles I sorted out, all to do with kidnapped children in the Philly and general Pennsylvania area. I figured it might be helpful to the CARD case, but,” you shrug. “It’s a lot, and I dunno if any of it will even end up being useful for them.”

Spencer blinks at it. “Uh, okay. Do you know the details of their current case?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Unfortunately I am not privy to any details until a case is over and I organize the files. I just know it’s about an eight-year-old boy who was abducted in the middle of the day in Philly. I think he was blond, but don’t quote me.”

Spencer nods. He reaches into the box for the first file, and speeds through their details, setting aside files that could be useful, and putting the ones that wouldn’t be into a separate pile.

He jumps when a voice booms through the room and he swears for a moment he just heard god.

“BAU to records, is Doctor Reid with you?” Hotch’s voice thrums from the wall.

You hardly blink. “Yes he is. Did you need him back?”

“Yes, we have a case. Thank you. Hotchner over.”

You smile at him. “Thanks for your help, Dr Reid,” you say, watching as he stands from the floor. “And thanks for the coffee.”

He nods, picking up his nearly-empty cup. “Uh, no problem.” His eyes scan the room. “Where did that come from, by the way?”

You quirk a confused brow, lips downturning to a small pout. “Where did what come from?”

“The… booming voice of Hotch?”

You cover your mouth as you laugh. “It’s the PA system,” you point at it. “There’s no cell service down here, so I rewired it when the landline started getting fuzzy. It took me a weekend, but,” you shrug. “It works.”

His lips part slightly. “You… rewired it?”

You nod slowly, like he might be stupid or something for not understanding your words. “Yeah…? Is that, like, unusual or something?”

He blinks, shaking his head. “No, just,” Spencer exhales. “You’re very impressive, Dewey.”

You freeze, brows furrowing. “You just called me Dewey.”

Spencer grins, a little bold, a little playful, less shy than usual. “I know.”

“Like… like the Decimal System?”

He nods. “Exactly, Dewey,” he chuckles. “But I really do have to go.”

You wave him away with a warmth in your cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Um,” you swallow tightly. “Sorry for, uh,” you cough softly. “Keeping you, Dr Reid. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

He just shakes his head, like you weren’t, really. And when he leaves, stepping into the elevator and pressing the sixth floor, he has a grin on his face so wide that he just knows he won’t be able to explain it away when Morgan asks.

[flippinpancakes64]

Hello, I absolutely love your work. iv re read your stuff so many times that it's getting concerning.

Can I request the cullens x artist reader who made a painting of them I just think that would be cute

The Cullens with an Artist! Reader

Thank you?!?! I suggest seeking mental help for rereading my bad stories tho

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

We all know that he is an artist too

He made Bella a whole song on the piano

As someone who can play the piano, that’s not easy

So he definitely loves that you’re also artistic

For you, he’s a muse

I mean, how could he not be

Literally the definition of perfect

So obvs you sketch him a lot

When he finds an almost finished painting one day of him, he is floored

He can never seem to wrap his mind around the fact that you are just as obsessed with him as he is with you

He hangs it up

Even if it’s not finished

If you insist on finishing it, he will begrudgingly take it down and give it back

But as soon as it’s done it’s all his

Alice:

She’s also an artist

But more with fashion

And design

She’s not so well-versed with the classical arts like painting or sketching

So she always loves seeing your paintings

She’s a coexistence girly

She loves to just be doing something while you’re painting

You know just sort of existing in the same space at the same time

The day you give her the painting, she is so surprised

It was so difficult for you to hide this from her

Especially with her gift

She absolutely loves it

She hangs it in the main room of the Cullen house

She wants absolutely everyone to see it and acknowledge how talented her s/o is

Jasper:

He loves the arts

They’re relaxing to him

Some of his favorite classes he’s ever taken in all of the schools they’ve been at have been art classes

He’s not good by any means, but he loves it anyway

Art dates with him are a must

He would love that tiktok trend where you and your partner trade paintings every couple of minutes

Never misses an opportunity to tell you that he loves your work

He honestly almost started crying when you showed him your painting of him

You made him look so happy, so peaceful

He’s used to being perceived as a monster

Definitely hangs it up

But only in his room

He wants to be the only one to see it

Rosalie:

She’s more of a technical, sciencey person

Not to say she doesn’t like art

Just that she doesn’t necessarily enjoy making it

She can definitely appreciate good work tho

And she loves everything you make

She buys you new supplies all of the time

If just one pen ran out of ink in your favorite set, she would buy you a whole new set

When you give her that first painting though, she’s obsessed

She wants at least 20 more by tomorrow

But actually, she knows that she’s beautiful

But something about the way you capture her is just so different she loves it

Emmett:

He’s not an art person either

He’s a bit of a meathead

But he can appreciate art

Probably not as deeply as other people can

But he know when it looks good

And he genuinely thinks you’re the best artist ever

He will gladly put all of your little doodles in the clear pockets of his binders

And hang them on his locker

When you give him the painting of him he’s actually dumbfounded

Like awestruck

What do you mean the best artist in the world just made a painting of him?

Get ready to be cuddled for the rest of the night

Esme:

Resident artist

We already knew that tho

I’m pretty sure it’s said that she’s the one who made the grad cap piece?

Idk

Either way she loves art

Pottery dates, painting picnics, date nights at the art museum

She loves it

So if you were to ever paint her and give it to her?

Yeah she’s gonna start crying

She just loves art, she loves you, and you put them together and she’s so in love

She hangs it in the main room

It doesn’t matter if the colors clash

And it’s never coming down

Carlisle:

Another appreciater of the arts

I mean, he probably knew Da Vinci on a personal level this guy is so old

So it’s no shock

Whenever he’s home and hanging out with you, he loves to watch you paint or draw

Especially if he’s doing some paperwork

I just feel like he would like the company while he’s working

Now I don’t see Carlisle as the type of guy to necessarily enjoy pictures or paintings of himself

The only portraits he has in his office are either him in a crowd or family photos

So when you give him a portrait of himself, he’s a little shocked at first

He doesn’t want to seem narcissistic, but damn you made him look good

He hangs it up in your shared bedroom

Even though he knows he will likely never have guests who would see it, he wants to make sure it’s hidden

He just doesn’t want people to think he’s vain

But he secretly loves it so much

Vampire! Bella:

I think I’ve talked about it before but this girl would have loved deviantart

Rip Bella you would have loved fan art of your favorite characters

But she totally had an artsy phase

I don’t think she’s necessarily good or bad

She just prefers to look at art rather than make it

So that’s where you come in

She loves just watching you work

Every once in a while she paints with you

But she always feels inferior when she looks at what you made vs what she made

So she usually just sticks to admiring

The first time you give her a portrait of herself, she doesn’t even know what to do

She’s still getting used to actually perceiving herself as beautiful

And then you capture her like she’s a goddess?

She needs to lie down

She loves it tho

[senipsenipsenip]

I’m a little obsessed with the idea of Ford making himself the most involved support network he can for Dipper and Mabel when they go off to college. Like weekly phone calls even if it’s just for five minutes to say “hey how are you you’re not alone I love you”. He knows what it feels like to be isolated, adrift in a new environment. He knows it can be hard to reach out, so he wants to make sure his niblings know he’s always reaching out already should they ever need him.

He makes sure he’s keeping up with what Wendy, Soos, Fiddleford, and the townsfolk are up to so that he can relay it to Dipper and Mabel, which has the (unexpected for Ford but unsurprising to anyone else) side effect of Ford gaining his own network of companions. If the kids are having trouble with their homework he does his best to help, but if it’s some subject he’s not versed in he’s quick to go to his college yearbook and find the name of someone he knew who majored in that field and tells Dipper and Mabel to look them up on the internet because “I hear you can do that now. You can find anyone but Stanley and D.B. Cooper. That’s because your uncle is technically dead and last I saw D.B. Cooper was in the Alibi Dimension.” Dipper reaches out to the alumni sometimes. He becomes sort of pen pals with this old guy who got his film degree at Backupsmore in his forties. The guy’s older than Ford, still works as a professor, and is thrilled to talk with a young, excitable student like Dipper. Mabel reaches out to ANYONE with fashion, dance, music, or any other liberal arts degree. She’s got about 400 LinkedIn connections and a lot of invitations to some family potlucks.

Sometimes even if Ford knows the answers, he still asks Fiddleford to help. It makes Ford happy to visit his friend and hear him proudly explain something that he helped Dipper solve over the phone. Ford tries so hard not to think of a world where this conversation is different, where Fiddleford has clearer eyes and is telling him all about how proud he is watching his Tate grow up.

“No use dwellin’” Fiddleford would say. “Not while we got years ahead.”

And Ford would say “Alright.” And after catching up with his old friend he would excuse himself because it was Friday and the kids would each be expecting a call. He would walk back home and scroll through his phone looking for the kids’ numbers, marveling at how long his contact list has become. How odd, to have lived in a town so long and only now be discovering the people. Oh well. No use dwellin’. Besides, Gravity Falls was full of odd things.

Odd, and often wonderful.

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Megatron has been done already, now I, Starscream, get a Multi-Universal Height Chart done! I decided to bite the bullet and do another big one (tho none compare to the behemoths of megatron and optimus.)

Wanna hear something weird? Starscream is the ONLY (and I mean only) transformer I don't like. I have nothing against those who do like him, I can understand why you do. He's your pathetic little meow meow male wife twink man in stilettoes. I get it, I just.. don't like him... personally. Which is odd bc I have at least some level of affection for every other transformer, screamy is my only exception. Idk, anyway, here he is, and uh- enjoy.

Quick Disclaimer, if any of the images look weird, it's because I had to stitch a few separate images together to create a full body shot of the character.

Master Post

Listed Heights and Explanations below the cut.

Beast Wars 2 - ~8 feet (TFWiki, idk either, I'm never watching it)

Earthspark - ~12 feet (No Source, I got this height by first measuring Bumblebee to a barn door, then comparing Bumblebee to Optimus, then Optimus to Megatron, then Megatron to Starscream. This show does not have concrete numbers, so this is the best I can do.)

Unicron Trilogy V2&3/ENG&CYB - ~14 feet (TFWiki, for the uneducated, the Unicron Trilogy has given each of its 3 seasons separate names and 3 separate art styles. These are the designs used in Energon (S2) and Cybertron (S3). The Wiki had Cybertron's numbers but not Energon's, so for my own sanity, I decided the two were the same height.)

Gen 1 - ~16 feet (TFWiki, I love it when I don't have to put in effort)

Prime Wars - ~16 feet (No source, but it's identical to G1 so it's the same height)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~16 feet (Same thing as before, identical to G1)

Cyberverse - 18 feet (This comes from a screenshot of this video, which has the Cyberverse height chart everyone uses, though the quality of the screenshot is iffy.)

Knight/Capel-Verse - ~18 feet (We have like two scenes of this bitch and he doesn't stand normally next to anyone. I'm used my TFOne heights bc the scaling should be around the same, probably. If they ever give actual numbers I will be very happy.)

One - ~18 feet (Okay, so this movie doesn't have any actual numbers, aside for some bullshit ones from a Walmart Promotional. I've been using the Knightverse Optimus number as a baseline since these were at one point said to be vaguely canon to each other. And the Bumblebee-Optimus scaling is the same. This was so hard to get, we never get a clean level shot of Starscream next to anyone. I was able to guesstimate that he's around Soundwave's and Shockwave's height, but I can't be certain.)

Unicron Trilogy V1/Armada - 19 feet 7 inches (TFWiki, technically this is for the videogame, which is it's own branch of UT canon but I don't care. The designs are identical between the game and show.)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC/TFP/RID15 - 24 feet 7 inches (Fandom, and even if they don't cite their source, I believe it. Look- every single one of these fuckers are massive when you pay attention to the show. It's a show full of freaks.)

Animated - 25 feet 6 inches (This number actually comes from @phoenix-inanis and the glorious calculations they have done on the TFA Characters. Go check it out, because animated has literally no actual numbers -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Bayverse - 31 feet (TFWiki, everyone say thank you mr. bay for making my life easy.)

Not Pictured: Unicron Trilogy Second Pallet(s) - Armada: 19 Feet 7 inches, Energon: ~14 Feet (Only the colours changed, otherwise everything else was the same so it felt dumb to include them), Unicron Trilogy Giant Starscream - Unmeasurable (look you can't make me and it's not even a number in the first place)

Here are the layers separated.

[lsunstreakerl]

Hey! So uh 💀 for the prompt I was wondering of we could get that o!fmf one shot you’ve mentioned if you’re down?

hi anon! you and another anon that asked for "o!ver2 first heat" are getting smushed together into a two-parter! (because "first heat" and "first real heat with each other" are two different things in this verse, and I wanted to showcase both.) part one, max POV, 3.3k. mature. (part two)

pairings: rico verhoeven/max verstappen

relevant heads up: omegaverse, dubious consent due to nature of heat/ruts, fucky politics and power imbalances, unreliable narrator, there's not technically any explicit content here but there will be in part two!

"...What?"

Max's voice is smaller than he means for it to be, scent spiking with fear despite his best efforts. He's done everything for their people, never once faltered, he doesn't understand—

Jos sighs, narrowing his eyes. His tone is deceptively gentle, closer to a croon than Max has heard in years.

"It's the only option, Max. The King is giving us resources we never could've gotten ourselves— it will save everyone. You have to understand that this is all I could offer in return."

He says it like he's discussing an item, not Max. Like this won't change his life in ways he'll never get back, like he isn't sending Max off to join whatever omega harem King Verhoeven has. Max won't be the only one, he can be sure of that— he'll just be the worst.

"I—"

Jos cuts him off again, leaving no room for argument.

"Will still have the opportunity to do a mating run, if you'd like. The King has promised to respect the terms of the agreement even if he can't catch you."

Max grabs onto the thought like a lifeline, desperately clawing at it, cradling it like it can protect him.

If he's good enough, it can.

Jos is frowning.

"It would be... a blight, on the names of all involved, if he wasn't able to succeed."

Max hears the hidden message clearly, baring his fangs and hissing loudly, louder than he's ever dared in his father's direction before.

"I am not throwing the results of my run."

Jos' lips press together into a thin line, but he nods, sighing heavily.

"I should've expected that. This would be much easier if you'd been an alpha, you know."

Everything would've been easier that way. Max is well aware. That doesn't mean he's going to roll belly up for King Verhoeven, just to end up some kind of concubine, only around to carry pups. He'd rather be dead.

------

Max twitches, curling his nails into his palms. His heart feels like a glimmerfly, rapid beats too fast to follow, buzzing in his ears. Mick is at the edge of the forest with him, scent rich with concern as he checks over Max's leathers one more time.

It's not technically cheating to wear them. The rules are to follow cultural standard for which region the participants are from, and as far as Max is concerned, the leathers are so ingrained into northern life that it would be weirder not to wear them.

Max doesn't say anything, but his scent is giving him away, thready with anxiety, and Mick can't even scent him about it— can't do anything that might throw the results of the run.

"It's just— it's like any other alpha, Max. You're stronger than everyone we have at home, so... This is no different."

Max can't even find it within him to purr reassuringly. His nerves are a tight knot in the back of his throat, preheat buzzing at the edge of his senses. He's participated in a few communal mating runs before, mostly for fun, but also because he'd been confident no one could catch him.

Now, it seems like everyone feels differently. They're not in Max's favor anymore, instead trying to reassure him that it won't be so bad, being up at the castle. He's never heard anything about King Verhoeven's omega harem, but it must be real— and he's not going to be a good fit. Mick is the only one acting like Max might still manage to pull this off.

He can smell his father's scent sharpen, biting back a whine as he realizes it must mean the royal delegate is here. He never wanted—

It doesn't matter what he wants.

Mick rumbles lowly at him, sympathetic, before leaning in, toeing the line of how close he can get to Max without being reprimanded.

"I'll visit, Max. We'll figure something out, whatever we have to do— fake your death or something. You just have to make it through this."

Max finally manages a thin purr, forcing a small smile on his face for Mick before turning to look at the delegate. His own group is small, only a few of them spared for ceremonial purposes, and it seems like King Verhoeven's delegate is thin as well.

He freezes when he spots the King. The alpha is huge, with a broad chest and powerful legs, and Max feels the first coil of fear that he's about to get caught, teeth ripping into his neck, taking away his freedom, forcing him to submit—

Mick rumbles again, and Max realizes his scent has gone off, thick with nerves and fear. It's not the impression he wants to give.

He forces the feelings down, lifting his chin as the delegate gets closer. He can smell a few alphas, the sweet scent of an omega or two, and they're all smoothed over in the way that implies a beta within the group, helping keep things easy. There's the spiced scent of the beginnings of a rut that can only be coming from the King.

As much as he doesn't want to be in this situation at all, Max can already feel himself responding to it, scent sweeting slightly in the presence of what should be, by all means, the ideal alpha.

But he's not, and Max needs his brain to work harder than the rest of him, because he can't get caught. He just has to make it until the sun sets, make a mad dash through the woods, and bolt back into the safety of his own group.

He can ride out his heat afterwards in peace, by himself.

Jos has stepped forward to greet the King, and Max is frozen in place as the massive alpha makes his way over. He knows how this part works— he'll be scent marked so that the chasing alpha knows his scent, and then he'll get one hour of a head start to run.

His blood is rushing in his ears as King Verhoeven steps closer to him, directly in his space, and then there's a nose in his neck, pressed against his scent gland—

Max wants to whine, wants to bite, wants to run away, wants to drop to his knees. There's too many conflicting emotions inside of him, and the King's rut scent is muddling his brain.

He's still frozen as the King steps back, pupils blown wide as he looks down at Max.

"It is my honor to chase you today, Maximilian."

Max swallows, salivia thick in his mouth. He doesn't believe him for a second— but he's not going to make it easy either. He doesn't trust his voice, choosing instead to nod slightly, hoping somehow that he isn't broadcasting his nerves.

The rut scent is heavy in his nose, fuzzing out the rest of his brain. Jos is speaking, saying something to rest of the delegate, and Max thinks that maybe Mick is moving next to him, but his rational thinking is falling away, faster then he wanted, faster then he can afford.

Both groups must be able to tell that he's dipping past preheat now, losing his senses one by one, because he hears Jos' voice piercing through the fuzz in his brain, heavy with alpha command.

"Max, go."

He's moving before the words really sink in, darting into the woods. He knows how to do this, even if he's not as aware as he'd like to be, even if he's never slipped this far this fast before.

There's branches whipping against his face as he pushes into a sprint, focusing on getting as much distance as possible. Traps can come after, if he's still coherent enough to make some, but right now he needs—

The river.

His leathers are mostly watertight, a fact he's deeply grateful for as he wades in, counting on the rushing water to help disguise his scent. There's river grass at the bottom, and he's tugging at it, fingers weaving with years of practice. He could make rope in his sleep.

He gets a few long lines finished, looping them around his shoulder for later. If he's able to stake out a good spot, he can set traps, something to make noise that will alert him to run.

He goes downstream with the river for a bit before deciding it's hopefully bought him some time, stepping out on the other side of the riverbank. There's not really any good spots immediately available, but he works in a zigzag pattern, occasionally doubling back over his own scent. It would confuse the average rut addled alpha, but Max isn't convinced King Verhoeven is the average alpha.

He can feel the beginnings of a cramp in his gut, and the river had thankfully cooled him down enough to clear his head some, but he's been out of it long enough that his heat is creeping back in, skin clammy with sweat under his leathers.

Part of him is relying on the hope that King Verhoeven's other omegas haven't been this difficult, and maybe he'll give up, content to let Max go now that he hasn't immediately rolled onto his back and spread his legs.

He's not counting on it entirely though.

Finally, he gets to a rockier area of the woods, carefully picking the most likely spots for a lumbering alpha to try and barge through before securing them with noise traps. He scales the small rock face ahead of him, plastering himself low to the ground at the top to try and look across the rest of the forest.

The sun has started to dip in the sky— he's well over his head start now, and King Verhoeven is in the woods. He can see faint curls of smoke in the distance from the campfires by the delegates, but it's hard to see anything within the woods past the dense foliage.

He scoots backwards, planning his potential escape routes on the other side of the cliff face, when a pang of heat slices through him.

He drops his forehead to the ground, whimpering softly. He's been steadily ignoring the feeling of slick against his thighs, but it's impossible now. He shifts, legs rubbing together as another cramp rolls through him.

There's no opportunity to really get off— not the kind he needs, fingers shoved inside of him— but he can dull the edge a bit, rocking his hips into the palm of his hand. It'll leave a scent mark, slick and arousal and heat soaked omega, but Max had spotted a startlingly close loop of the river nearby.

He feels heat fuzzy and frozen in time, just Max trying to satisfy an urge he knows he can't take care of— and it takes longer than he'd wanted. He whines as he crests gently, barely enough to feel satisfying at all, but enough that he can start his descent of the rock face.

The sun has dipped further than he thought, and he's annoyed at the time he's lost up on the rocks. He freezes when he hears a clatter from the other side of the rock face.

The noise trap.

There's no way Verhoeven has gotten here this quickly, no alpha has ever caught up to Max this fast before— but Max doesn't know how much time he'd lost on the rocks, and King Verhoeven is no ordinary alpha.

He slips quietly back into the underbrush, making his way to the river. It will take a moment to get to the top of the rocks, and if he's really lucky Verhoeven will get distracted at his scent spot.

Max almost cries with relief when he gets back into the water. It brings with it a semi-sharp clarity, tugging away the sticky threads of heat at his brain as he pushes downstream. He's made it a few hours already, he just needs to manage until the sun is setting, and then he can get back to safety— and their people will be safe as well.

The King had promised to honor the agreement even if he didn't catch Max, and Max refuses to end up a concubine in the palace, whelping pups for an alpha he rarely sees.

He's fairly confident that's how that works, anyways.

He makes good time in the river, weaving river grass together as he goes. He'd wasted his other ropes on the noise traps, and he's not entirely sure what he'll do with these ones, but it makes him feel better to have it.

He has to break back into the forest eventually. He's been tracking the sun, watching it dip lower, and he's been fighting through the steadily increasing waves of cramps. Once he leaves the river, he has no doubt that his heat will hit in full force.

Even now, in the water, he feels lightheaded, slightly disoriented. He knows he's started his journey to double back to the delegate camps, but he's not sure how far they are, and he's fairly confident he's at his best opportunity now.

If he wants the shortest, most coherent run back to the camps, he'll have to wait here until the sun dips further. The thought makes him nervous, and he's paranoid enough already, constantly twisting his head, trying to—

He can smell rut. It's faint, but it's on the wind, which means Verhoeven is getting closer. Max can't afford to wait any longer, and he can't go back to camp, and—

He makes a break for it, darting out of the river and into the trees. He follow the riverbank as closely as possible, branches and leaves cutting into his face as he runs. He's going to want to get back in the riverbank eventually, and he doesn't want to gain too much ground, but he needs distance.

His head is starting to fog, thighs uncomfortably wet inside his leathers, balance starting to fail him. He's deeper into his heat than he'd thought, pressing his palm over his stomach to try and soothe the deep ache. It hurts, and he's empty, and there's an alpha that wants him.

Max needs to get back to the river. He can feel the walls closing in on him, rational thoughts flying out the window, and he could swear he smells—

Dirt. Alpha. Hurtneedmoreneedmoreknot—

Max hits the ground hard, wincing preemptively before the knock to his head, but it never comes. A palm cradles the back of his skull, absorbing the impact as they roll, and he immediately starts to struggle, because King Verhoeven is here.

There's a low rumble in his ear, large legs straddling his own, and despite Max's best attempts to buck him off, the alpha is heavy. He settles his weight solidly on top of Max, nose tucking tight to Max's scent gland as he holds his wrists tightly in front of him with one hand, the other still holding his head.

The first brush of his nose against Max's scent gland makes him whine, fighting every instinct telling him to tip his head back and take it.

His heat is burning him up from the inside, hot and boiling as the alpha pins him with his weight. Max is waiting for the bite, for the immediate claim, but there's no scrape of teeth— just the press of his nose, and then a moment later—

Max moans when he licks across his neck, hips bucking up underneath him. The rut scent curling into his brain demands submission, and his own heat makes him desperate, but Max isn't finished yet.

The sky is getting dark above them. If he can make one last mad dash for the camps...

He can feel Verhoeven's heavy cock against his hip, and Max wonders briefly if he'll end up beheaded for this anyways, before he swings his knee up with a vicious snarl, darkly satisfied at the wounded noise the King makes. He puts all of his strength into shoving the alpha off of him, breaking into a panicked sprint.

There's no strategy, no traps, just Max and his desperate need to get out, to get to safety, to get—

The second tackle isn't any gentler than the first. Again, somehow Max doesn't hit his head, but Verhoeven isn't taking any chances, grappling him facedown into dirt. There's a tug at his arm, and Max doesn't realize for a moment what the alpha is doing, until he feels slick river grass wrapping firmly across his wrists, tugging them tight.

He snarls, deep in his chest as he tries to buck out of his grasp anyways. Using Max's own rope against him—

There's a heavy hand in his hair, shoving his head back down as he feels a knee pin him across his back.

The river grass gets looped around his ankles as well, tugged tight. An alpha in their rut shouldn't even remember how to tie rope, but Max finds his bonds have no give at all.

He tugs despite this until there's a low growl directly in his ear, dangerous.

It makes Max freeze. Verhoeven makes a pleased noise before burying his nose in his neck again, taking a deep inhale. Max flinches when he feels heavy hands at his waist, thick fingers locating the different buckles.

He whines, a desperate attempt to make the alpha take pity on him, but all it gets him is a low rumble next to his ear, and a tongue flicking across his scent gland, large hips pressed flush to his ass.

He yanks at the ropes again, dull panic clashing with the arousal of his heat. He's never taken a knot before, he doesn't want to get bit, he's scared—

Verhoeven gets most of his leather successfully unstrapped, pressing his chest along Max's back before crooning softly.

His chest is vibrating with a low rumble, nosing into Max's neck gently, and he only realizes a moment later that the alpha is trying to soothe him. He hates that it's working, muscles starting to relax under his weight, head tipping to the side to expose more of his neck.

There's a large hand stroking down his side, like Max is a spooked horse and not a panicking omega, but the pheromones are getting to him.

His hands and feet are bound, and the sky is dark. He's missed his chance to get back to the camps in time— he's lost. Even if the King doesn't knot him here on the forest floor, by all rules, he's won the chase. Max belongs to him now.

Tears burn hot at his eyes as he dips his head to the dirt, all the fight leaving his body at once.

It's over.

A cramp rolls through him and he whines, but even that sounds defeated, and he's limp underneath Verhoeven, who makes a concerned noise before carefully flipping Max onto his back.

Like this, he can see the chase has also taken its toll on the alpha, cuts across his face, clothing partially ripped and wet. Verhoeven leans in, pressing the side of their faces together as he rumbles.

His fingers are skating lower as he peels away the leathers, Max's slick heat scent filling the air around him. He whimpers, thighs falling open despite himself, because it hurts.

He's lost anyways— what does it matter if the King takes what he wants?

Verhoeven makes another low noise, teeth scraping across Max's scent gland. He thinks momentarily of how many other omegas the alpha must have back at the palace, how many other times he's tackled and knotted someone in the woods. For a brief moment, it fills him with rage. This is the rest of his life now, by no fault of his own, and if King Verhoeven thinks he can just get away with treating Max like any other omega—

He snarls, low in his throat, chest rattling with the force of it. The alpha rears back in surprise, and it's all the opening Max needs to lunge forward, to get his teeth wrapped around his scent gland.

He catches a flash of stunned hazel eyes.

Max bites.

[anotherlibrocubicularist]

So, from TC to everything TOA, everyone expresses their distaste for Apollester's haikus. I believe that they don't actually hate on the technical execution (he's usually adhering to the form pretty well, unless you take into account that haikus are usually nature-themed in some way, but there's such a thing called artistic freedom, so it shouldn't factor in that much). Most people not liking his haikus don't have that knowledge on the technicalities of it anyway.

But any haiku, even the very first one in TC, was just Apollo "going through the motions". It seemed as if he did it because he felt like he had to, like it was expected of him as the god of poetry (and I can understand this, as there are soo many mentions of him being tied to the sun in the pjo!verse, and just as many of him being the god of archery, but not as many about poetry, so of course he wants to remind people). It's performative, and not in a good way.

Art is always best if it's coming straight from the heart. And any time Apollo does perform something heartfelt (like he did about Daphne and Hyacinthus and Jason), it is well-received.

In my opinion, Apollo's journey as Lester Papadopoulos isn't just about changing his character's personality, it's also about him redeveloping appreciation for art and its ability to put your emotions on display in any way, shape or form you desire.

Quick disclaimer: I've read the reblogs (and loved them, first time someone reblogged my posts and adding their own thoughts, so yay 🥰), and I just want to clarify that my post was never meant to say that I think Apollo's haikus suck, I just wanted to get to the bottom of why they're not well-received by the in!verse characters.

[darqx]

If you didnt come to party [get the hell out of this club]

In which there's some links to old art - I've been getting a number of asks that are already technically answered so that's just what I'm gonna be doing if i can even remember what RAD they originally came from lol.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

UNFORGIVEN.

Yes he can speak at least two demon languages (commons and a more specialised one).

Not really cos the ichor will eventually disappear if it's not in contact with Rire for a while lol. You ever wonder how someone could mysteriously drown whilst not being around anything they could have drowned in? Yeah.

I have drawn several such instances a long time ago. But it's not really Rire flirting with Ren it's more him being like...subtly condescending to Ren since Ren's submissive level is not very interesting to him |D

I...think you may have possibly mistaken me saying Rire might cry if he was in severe pain to mean that's the only time he could cry XD; To answer your q, yes Rire can cry from emotions - the point is he would choose not to (esp in public) as that would be a weakness.

🤔 You could probably get away with the same dress design but in black, tbh (if it was Lady Rire). Since the outfit design is 1930s/1940s based Rire's equivalent would be like...a 3 piece suit with a long overcoat/trench coat.

Got you covered bro [from a suit meme I did before]

Rire has a very long life span, but he's not immortal XD;

Tbh I don't really have thoughts about any of other peoples headcanons. Like I'm generally quite neutral towards headcanons because I primarily deal with the canon; the extent of my thoughts would be like "hm i wonder how they came up with that" lol.

This is actually in my FAQ :d but good of you to check for permission! If it's your own artwork then yes it is ok to make fanmerch of Rire. Similarly Gato allows fanmerch of her BTD and TPOF characs as long as it's your own art you are selling (and not like, our art/someone else's fanart that they didn't give permission to turn into merch).

It would be in Cain's best interest not to.

Cain is literally saying Olé Olé because i happened to be listening to this song at the time.

I can barely keep up with my ask box as myself let alone do it while pretending to be a charac lol, so no 😅 You can find a bunch of the most common qs in the FAQ pages though.

No and not really - though he is a bit more sensitive to light compared to a human as he has much better night vision than a human. He may also be able to see more colours than humans 🤔

There is technically no "stereotypical" demon in my 'verse, there's a bunch of different species each with their own looks/powers, so if he was another species then he'd have their physical characteristics. Rire's species is considered "plain" because outwardly they can pass more easily as a human than say; Izm's species (who have a really noticeable Glasgow smile-esque mouth as one of their physical features).

Yes he was born a demon...to his demon parents...|D;

He's the king of his sector and his sector is pretty well-to-do, I think you can draw your own conclusions from that lol.

Maybe, depends on what the human in question does with that.

Your second q has two answers depending on what context I answer them in, so I'll reply in the BTD context keeping in mind a charac like EP's Cain :d Basically yes Rire would be able to sense them like he does other demons. It's not a specific sense of "THIS CHARAC IS AN ANGEL" but more like "this charac is not human" and depending on what else he gets from it a "in your best interests to not engage".

Something big with long black fur and yellow eyes, maybe like a Norwegian Forest Cat or a Maine Coon.

[yesimwriting]

I absolutely loveddd your piece about iwtv! I feel like the characterisations of louis and armand were spot on, and as someone whose favourite character is armand, I'd love to see where the dynamic between him and reader is going����

We all know armand loves a challenge *cough* daniel molloy *cough*. Do you think there's some sort of romance that could be simmering underneath his curiosity about reader?

i appreciate the characterization comment! i worked very hard on their voices!!

okay, i accidentally put so much thought into this in relation to armand's characterization/my interpretation of him, so this response is only thoughts on that. however, this did give me an actual idea for a fic in which armand is incredibly cutesy and manipulative to reader after she goes out without louis, so if you're interested in that pls let me know <33

disclaimer: a lot of this is based on how i see (show) armand, but the wonderful thing about media consumption is that people can see the same source material in different ways and i'm not claiming that my thoughts on armand (even in the context of bestie!reader verse) is the only viable way to see him :))

----

this is such an interesting concept and i've been thinking about it a lot.

it's also so cool that you brought up daniel bc i think one of the most important scenes for armand's characterization in the show is the fight in the 70's where armand is much more hurt by louis calling him "boring" than any mentions of his actual trauma.

to me, armand's such an interesting character bc he's an ancient, 514 yr old vampire whose so incredibly impressive, who doesn't need to make anyone look at him, who doesn't need validation, but he wants it, he'd never admit it, but that desire to be looked at and loved is so there.

i think louis, someone who armand really values, deeming reader as someone 'special' is enough to catch armand's attention (similarly to daniel) .

however, armand is being subjected to louis's love and interest in the reader much more consistently/openly than louis's relationship with daniel, which i feel like would only aggravate any subconscious insecurities on armand's end which would make him want reader's attention even more bc what could possibly make louis's 'special' human good enough to not want him??

this is such a side note, but i think it'd add such an interesting layer of tension if technically armand saw reader first. an 'origin story' i've been thinking about is armand and louis going to an art gallery, and armand seeing reader's painting, and then reader, and impulsively placing an anonymous bid for some crazy amount just for louis and reader to run into each other maybe an hour later and become besties.

okay, back to the main analysis--armand can't express his interest in reader too overtly bc louis would clock it immediately, so he'd be subtly manipulative by letting reader stumble dangerous situations just so he can be the hero, also i think he'd talk to reader about art to try to establish a connection/relationship outside of louis.

also once he's down this path he becomes almost overwhelmingly jealous (even though reader isn't with him in any capacity 🧍‍♀️). but bc he doesn't want to alert louis or shatter the carefully curated version of himself he's crafted for reader, he "punishes" her subtly.

his number one, go to way to hurt the reader for dating/upsetting him at all is to use louis against her. armand would plant the idea of reader falling in love with a human boy, settling down, and forgetting about louis to make louis insecure. this tension would eventually come up in front of reader, and reader would have to reassure louis and probably take a break from dating for a little.

armand would also be a little mean/snarky to reader after she goes out with others (romantically or platonically) in a way that makes him look like a concerned companion. you were out all night with some boy...and louis was left pouting in his coffin until sunset...how dare you leave them him? armand doesn't allow your friendship for you to hurt louis.

in this scenario, you might be wondering what armand's end goal is bc reader is much too loyal to be with louis's companion in any capacity, but i feel like this is something he's stumbled into accidentally and now it's a little too late. oh well, he deserves his matching set.

as this progresses, something armand swears is about simply proving that he can win reader over becomes less and less convenient. by that i mean that instead of getting reader wrapped around his finger, he's wrapped around reader's <33.

also, as a side note, i think if everything finally clicked for louis near the end of the interview, when their relationship is falling apart, he'd briefly be more worried for the reader's life than upset...and then maybe after dubai divorce armand threatens reader to hurt louis and louis is like 🧍‍♀️ she tells you she doesn't like your tone of voice and you change it you know damn well you're not touching a hair on her head unless it's to take her to the salon.

also another side note, i lowkey would love to find an excuse for daniel and reader to interact. it'd be a diva off for sure.