#i love how hes always wearing that jacket

[abby-howard]

I love everyone's outfits in Scarlett Hollow (especially Kaneeka's) so I wanted to ask how do you go about designing multiple outfits for each character that are different yet still fit that characters general aesthetic. Also do you have a favorite/least favorite outfit.

Aw thank you!!

Designing outfits is definitely not something that came very naturally to me at the start of Scarlet Hollow, but I've been gettin' the hang of it as I go-- I'd say a lot of it is about the vibe. I sketch a new outfit, and if it feels like they're in a costume, I scrap it. Color in particular gets tricky... one color can throw off a whole look and make them feel like their aura is off. Picking a palette in advance is a good idea!

I think it's mostly about understanding your character and the kinds of choices they make; Kaneeka cares a lot about how others view her, so she presents as very put-together, thus her outfits are always a little complicated and carefully constructed. Whereas Stella is laid back and probably hates having to think about what she's wearing, so she goes with roughly the same combination of jeans and a t shirt every day.

More of my rules for each main character under the cut! Minor spoilers for Scarlet Hollow:

I answered a similar question during an AMA, so I'm paraphrasing from those answers~

Stella: her shirt must match the theme of the episode while also being a believable cryptid/folklore t shirt design. She has a red/neutral theme, plus jeans. Butch sense of fashion with casual sensibilities.

Kaneeka: is a nu-goth, so no corsets or elaborate frills, and no techno-goth or scene/emo accoutrements. Her emo days are far behind her... so now she wears all black, no color besides her red braids, with interesting clothing shapes and the occasional lace or metallic accent. This is pretty close to how I dress so I just think about if it's something I would wear.

Oscar: he's a professional! So suits and button-ups, except his undershirt episode. He has a tan/yellow theme with unsaturated red accents, which he shares with his daughter Rosalina. His outfits are the toughest to mix up, because he dresses nice for work and only owns one suit. But I try to get creative where I can!

Avery: a plant theme, which includes mostly greens, with some purples, oranges, and earthy yellow allowed. Definitely has the widest palette, since they have to have interesting patterned button-ups. Can have a coat if needed, always tan, and nice dress pants that have a little bit of a bellbottom.

Reese: Wears whatever. A vague blue theme. Nothing looks like it fits him right. I have given him a cool jacket for Episode 5, but I can't post that sprite... too spoiler.......

[mephisto-reporting]

I Love You: Caleb Edition

Premise:

Trope: Angst with open ending

Pairing:Reader x Caleb

Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction. This can be read as MC or non MC reader... I kept the details as vague as possible. Let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist. HELP (If anyone has a nice header of his warmer memories, please share because I struggled to find them online and I need them for my fics.)

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition | Xavier Edition | Zayne Edition | Caleb Edition

The evening air felt oppressive, a strange mix of warmth and chill that matched the storm brewing in your chest. The world around you blurred into muted lights and faint sounds, the hum of traffic in Linkon and chatter of pedestrians barely registering in your ears. You should have been paying attention, counting steps, tracking the time—but your thoughts were too loud, too consuming.

Caleb.

His name echoed like a ghost, haunting your every waking moment. It had been weeks since Skyhaven, weeks since you discovered that the boy you’d grieved, the boy you’d buried in your heart, wasn’t dead after all. For months, you’d carried the weight of his loss, only to find out that he’d been alive all this time. That he hadn’t told you. That he’d let you believe he was gone.

And he wasn’t the same as you remembered him.

The Caleb you remembered was warm, his laughter infectious, his presence a steady comfort. He’d been your rock, your protector, the one who made you feel like nothing in the world could touch you as long as he was by your side. The explosion had taken him, or so you thought. You’d mourned him, grieved the loss of the one person who had always been your anchor. And now? Now, he was a Colonel of the Farspace Fleet with a cold, calculated aura that clashed with the warmth you used to know. It wasn’t that his warmth was gone, but there was something hidden, something tainted in him that existed alongside the man you thought you knew and lost. A man who moved through the world with an iron grip and a sharp edge, commanding respect and fear in equal measure.

At times, it was like looking at a stranger wearing Caleb’s face.

You rounded the corner to your street, the familiar sight of your small home coming into view. But there, sitting on the steps of your porch, was the very ghost you’d been trying to escape.

Caleb.

Your heart clenched. He was dressed casually, his black and orange flight jacket unzipped, revealing the crisp shirt beneath. His head was bowed, but as you approached, he looked up, those piercing purple eyes locking onto yours.

“Hey…” he greeted, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“What are you doing here, Caleb? Or should I say, Colonel?” Anger, confusion, longing—it all tangled together into a knot that threatened to choke you.

“I needed to see you...” he replied simply, standing to his full height. His presence was overwhelming, a mixture of the Caleb you knew and someone entirely new. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. “Avoiding you? Avoiding you?” The words spilled out, raw and unfiltered. “I didn’t even know you were alive, Caleb. You let me think you were dead. For months!”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I mourned you!” you continued, your voice shaking. “I grieved you. And now, suddenly, you’re here, alive and well, acting like everything’s fine. Like you didn’t lie to me. Like you didn’t leave me behind!!.”

“It wasn’t like that!” he said, his tone clipped.

“Then what was it like?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Tell me, Caleb. Explain to me why you couldn’t let me know you were alive. Why you couldn’t trust me enough to—” Your voice broke, and you swallowed hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “Why you couldn’t trust me???”

“It wasn’t about trust,” he said, his voice softer now. “It was about protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” you repeated, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how much it hurt? How much I—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “No. You don’t get to say it was for my own good. You don’t get to make that call.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “I had to. If you knew, if anyone knew, you would’ve been in danger. I couldn’t risk that.”

“Danger from what?” you snapped. “From who? You keep talking like you’re some kind of martyr, Caleb, but all you’ve done is shut me out and expect me to be okay with it. Well, I’m not okay with it. I’m not okay with you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everything I did was to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You let out a harsh laugh, the sound breaking into a sob. “You think this is what safe looks like? I lost you, Caleb. I lost you, and now I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’re not the same. You’re not…” Your voice faltered, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“I’m still me... This has always been me...” he said, stepping closer. “I’m still the same Caleb who—”

“No, you’re not!” you interrupted, your voice rising. “You’re colder. Harder. You kept me in the dark, Caleb. The boy I knew, the boy I loved, would never—”

You froze, the words catching in your throat.

But it was too late.

Caleb stared at you, his eyes wide, the mask of control he always wore cracking. “What did you say?”

You let out a frustrated groan, the weight of everything crashing down on you. “You’re impossible...” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This is all too much, Caleb. I can’t—I can’t keep doing this. Not when…” You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. But they burned to be said.

“Not when what?” he pressed, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

“Not when I’m in love with you!” you burst out, the confession ripping from you like a dam breaking. “I mourned you, Caleb. I mourned the man I loved, and now you’re here, and I don’t even know who you are anymore. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Caleb stared at you, his eyes wide.

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I can’t do this, Caleb. I can’t keep pretending like I’m fine when I’m not. I’m not fine. I’m in love with you, and I don’t know how to stop.”

The silence that followed was deafening. “You…” His voice was barely a whisper, and he took a step closer. “You love me?”

Before you could say anything more, he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a crushing embrace. His arms wrapped around you, strong and unyielding, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“I love you too.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I’ve loved you for so long. I never thought you’d feel the same. Not after everything.”

You tried to pull back, to argue, but he held you tighter, his face buried in your hair. “Don’t.” he whispered. “Don’t say anything. Not yet. Just… let me hold you. Please.”

You tried to pull back, to look at him, but he held you tighter. “Caleb, this doesn’t fix anything. We still have—”

“Shh...” he interrupted, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll figure it out. Later. Just… stay here. Let me have this moment. Let us have this moment.”

The plea in his voice shattered what was left of your resolve. With a shaky breath, you leaned into him, your hands clutching his jacket as if it were the only thing keeping you upright. His scent—smoky and faintly metallic, like the air before a storm, flooded your senses. The steady beat of his heart against your ear was grounding, a reminder that he was real, that this moment was real.

“I’m sorry…” he murmured, his lips pressing against your temple. “I’m so sorry for everything. But I swear to you, I’ll never let you go again.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to hold onto this moment and never let it slip away. But the questions, the doubts, lingered at the edges of your mind, waiting for their turn to be heard. For now, though, you let them fade into the background. For now, you let yourself fall into him, into the warmth that had once been your home. Whatever came next, whatever truths or battles awaited, could wait. Right now, you had Caleb, and he had you.

And that was enough.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition | Xavier Edition | Zayne Edition | Caleb Edition

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie

[clappingandcheering]

Hii baby, how are you? I wanted to ask Percy something where the reader's relationship with Percy has all 5 love languages? And it's so cute and romantic🙃

I'm so good!!! I hope this is what you meant?? It's like how Percy would show each love language, if that makes sense. I tried!

(Percy Jackson x Reader)

"All the Ways I Love You"

It was one of those quiet nights at Camp Half Blood. The kind where the campfire was flickering in the distance, but it was mostly calm—no monsters, no quests, no chaos. Just the gentle sound of the ocean and the occasional laughter from the cabins.

You were lying on a blanket outside your cabin, your head resting on Percy’s chest as he traced lazy circles on your arm. His fingers were warm against your skin, his touch gentle, and you couldn’t help but smile. You were comfortable here, wrapped in his presence.

“You know, you’re really good at this whole'making me feel loved’ thing,” you said, glancing up at him.

Percy chuckled, his hand stopping its movement to cup your face. “You make it easy.” His thumb brushed across your cheek, and you felt your heart flutter. “Besides, you deserve all the love in the world.”

You smiled, feeling the full weight of the affection in his words. But there was something in his tone, something about the way he said it, that made you think about just how much he loved you—and all the different ways he showed it.

Percy shifted so that he could look you in the eyes, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. He was always a bit awkward with words, but when it came to you, he found a way to speak to your heart.

“You know you’re amazing, right?” He said softly, his voice low but full of sincerity. “Like, I’m seriously lucky to have you. You’re strong and kind, and you make everything better just by being you.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. “I’m not that amazing.”

“Yes, you are,” Percy said, his gaze never leaving yours. “And I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe me.”

You leant up to kiss him—a soft, lingering kiss that was all about how much you cared for him. But it wasn’t just that kiss—it was everything he said. You could feel his love in every word and every whisper.

Later, when the night air grew cooler, you pulled your jacket tighter around you, shivering slightly. Without a word, Percy stood up and quickly pulled off his hoodie, wrapping it around your shoulders. He didn’t even wait for you to ask; he just did it because he knew you’d need it.

“You’re going to freeze out here if you don’t wear this,” he said, his voice teasing but gentle as he adjusted the hoodie around you.

“I wasn’t cold before, but now that you mention it..." you smiled, feeling the warmth of both the hoodie and his thoughtfulness.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Percy said, sitting back down next to you. “It’s just what I do.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the quiet love in every little thing he did.

The next morning, you woke up to find a small bag of chocolate—your favourite brand—by your bedside. A note was tucked inside that simply read, Thought you might need some sweetness today.

You smiled, recognising Percy’s handwriting, though it was a little messy. He didn’t know much about buying the “perfect” gift, but he always knew exactly what you liked.

When you found him later by the lake, you teased him, holding up the bag of chocolate. “What’s this?”

Percy grinned sheepishly. “I saw it and thought of you. Figured it could make your day a little sweeter.”

You wrapped your arms around him, your heart swelling with affection. “You always know just what I need.”

“Guess I’ve learned a thing or two about you,” he said with a wink, and you kissed him again, feeling the sweetness of both the chocolate and his gesture.

The day continued with the two of you walking along the beach, talking about everything and nothing. Percy made you laugh with his usual jokes, but there was also something soft and serious in the way he’d listen to you—whether you were venting about something small or sharing a memory from your past.

Every moment with him felt like a treasure—just being in each other’s company made everything feel right. You didn’t need grand adventures or flashy gestures; the quiet moments of being together were enough.

“I love just being here with you,” you said, slipping your hand into his.

Percy smiled, his eyes lighting up. “Me too. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

You didn’t need to say anything more. The way he held your hand, how he kept stealing glances at you with that goofy, love-sick grin, told you all you needed to know. Being with him was always enough.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, Percy pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you both sat on the sand. His fingers gently brushed through your hair, and you felt his chest rise and fall against your back with each slow breath.

You snuggled into him, feeling safe, loved, and completely content. His touch was grounding, and every small caress of his hand on your skin sent sparks through you.

“I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You smiled softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “I’d like that.”

And in that moment, you realised that Percy didn’t just love you in one way. He loved you in all the ways that mattered—in every word, every action, every moment spent together. His love was full and infinite, wrapped in gestures both big and small.

"I love you, Percy," you whispered.

"I love you more," he whispered back, and then kissed you softly, tenderly, as if the world outside of the two of you didn’t exist.

With Percy, love wasn’t just something you felt—it was something you experienced in every way, every day. And somehow, it only made you love him more.

[iiluvtaylorrussell]

𝒮𝓌ℯℯ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇 𝓍 𝒮𝒽𝓎 𝒩ℯ𝓇𝒹𝓎 𝒟𝓇ℯ𝓌

Drew was the quiet boy in your literature class the one who always sat toward the back his glasses perched on his nose, and an old notebook filled with scribbles on his desk. He was new to campus, having transferred halfway through the semester, and you couldn’t help but notice how lost he looked most of the time.

It wasn’t until your professor paired you up for an assignment that you really spoke to him. You offered to show him around after class, and though he seemed a bit hesitant at first, he eventually nodded, his shy smile making your heart flutter.

From that day on, you saw each other more and more. Drew turned out to be not just intelligent but thoughtful and kind, the type of person who listened intently and chose his words carefully. You found yourselves in a little routine walking to and from class together, studying at your place or his, and spending hours sitting on the fluffy rug of your room, old records spinning on your pink turntable as you worked through assignments or shared little quiet conversation.

Drew was very observant, always noticing little things about you how you tucked your curls behind your ear when you were focused, or how your pretty lips twitched when you were trying not to laugh. What he wouldn’t admit, though, was how much he adored the way you dressed.The soft, pastel pinks of your wardrobe, the little frilly dresses, and the delicate lace details of your dresses.or how he loved the faint, sweet scent of vanilla that always lingered around you.

He’d catch glimpses of you walking into class, your dress moving lightly as you walked. His heart would beat faster your soft curves and charm, and it left him completely tongue-tied. He wanted to tell you, he wanted to say how much he loved the way your style reflected your sweet personality but every time he would try to convey his words his lips failed him , and he’d end up stuttering then biting his lip and looking away.

The first time you held hands was when he offered to walk you home one evening after a late study session. The cold breeze made you shiver, As the wind picked up, you rubbed your arms for warmth, shivering a little, and without a word, Drew slipped off his jacket, gently draping it over your shoulders. “Here,” he said quietly , avoiding your gaze, his cheeks flushed. “You can wear it until we get to your place.”Drew reached out, his warm hand brushing yours before gently lacing his fingers through yours. You glanced at him, your cheeks burning, but he was looking straight ahead, his own face flushed.

It took months of stolen glances and little moments for things to progress into something more. One evening, you were lying by his side on your bed with Drew in your silky pink night gown. Papers all over the floor as you laughed about some book you two were reading . The lamp cast a soft glow over his face, and before you could stop yourself, you said , “Can I… hold your arm?”

Drew blinked at you, his brows lifting in surprise. “My arm?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I know it’s weird. Forget I said anything.”

But Drew only smiled, his shyness melting into something softer as he gently tugged your hands away from your face. “It’s not weird,” he murmured, his cheeks pink. “Here.”

He offered his arm, and you hesitantly wrapped your hand around his bicep, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his sweater. His skin was warm beneath, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“This okay?” he asked whispering

You nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder, your heart racing as you felt him relax beside you.

Drew was the sweetest boyfriend you could have asked for. Though he was shy, he was always attentive remembering little details about your day, bringing you your favorite tea to study sessions, and surprising you with the books you’d mention. He was tall and very handsome , with his glasses that framed his pretty blue eyes, he was so sweet and softspoken, which only made you fall in love with him even more.

Neither of you had many friends, but that didn’t matter. You both loved the little bubble you’d created together, filled with late-night reading sessions, quiet walks to class, and the soft sound of Sade playing from your pink record player. It was a world that felt entirely your own, where nothing else seemed to matter except each other.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Headcanon #307

In reference to that post I reblogged yesterday.

--

Shadow had a red letterman jacket he wore for years. The cut and weight of it were perfect for him, and the inside had a texture that he loved more than any other. He was very careful with it, and Amy taught him how to sew so he could keep it in good condition. No matter how many seams and hems he touched up, however, it still inevitably started to fall apart.

At last, a large hole appeared in the back, and his sewing just couldn’t save it. Frustrated and upset, he tossed the jacket aside.

A few weeks passed, and Amy noticed he hadn’t worn his favorite jacket in a while. Shadow grumbled, then retrieved it from his room and showed her the hole in the back. He explained that although he’d given up on fixing it, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. She scrutinized it for several seconds, then brightened up and offered to fix it for him, saying she had an idea. He agreed.

Amy showed up on Shadow’s doorstep a couple weeks later, jacket in hand. He turned it over to find she’d reinforced the seams and patched up the holes with pink cherry blossoms. She said she’d understand if he wasn’t a fan of the pattern, but she’d seen him admiring cherry trees when they bloomed in the springtime and was hoping it would make him happy to see them whenever he wore his favorite jacket.

She knew she’d gotten it right even before she’d finished her sentence. Shadow was gazing at the pattern, eyes wide and shining like a cat looking at a Christmas tree.

Shadow wore the jacket more often than ever after that. As much as he’d loved it before, it was even better now with the reminder that Amy not only noticed the little things about him, she was also willing to put in so much time and effort to bring him joy.

It didn’t hurt that pink and red was one of his favorite combinations.

To thank her, Shadow scoured every store he could find, both in person and online, until he found a black jacket with cherry blossoms on it. It wasn’t an exact match, but it fit her perfectly, and she loved it. Whenever Shadow knew he was likely to run into Amy, he wore the jacket, and she seemed to wear hers a lot, too.

People tried to poke fun at Shadow for the “girly” jacket and matchy-matchy aesthetic, thinking he’d be embarrassed about it, but he always just shrugged it off. After enough time had passed, he started telling them they’d understand if they had a wife who loved them enough.

[welcome-to-green-hills]

In light of you getting snow mystery. I think that you should make some headcanons of the boys (and Shadow) enjoying the snow

ASDFGHJKL! I am more than happy to share some Snow Day headcanons with you hon (I grew up in Florida and this is really my first Snow Day up north, so I’m learning how to snow 👉🥹👈):

Maddie would definitely be the type of mom to bundle her boys up in five layers of jackets, snow pants, scarves, and hats to the point that they can’t move. It’s all worth it in the end because she ends the bundle with a kiss on the nose.

As soon as it starts getting cold, Maddie and Tom drag their sons to the malls in Spring Valley to try on different winter clothes to wear. They’re growing boys and their warmies are always too small by the time the weather breaks.

Sonic is a UGG girly. ‘Nuff said.

Knuckles is a novelty sock girly. He needs socs with fluff and cartoon characters on it.

Tails is a fun hat girly. He likes wearing beanies with Chao heads on it or something comical.

The boys go nuts for snow cream. But they ONLY like it if it’s got sprinkles on it. It has to be a specific color or they won’t eat it.

Each of the boys like to make snow Puppers in the forms of their family. Unless Uncle Wade gets involved, then it’s an army that they make and pretend to have a snow fight with snowballs projected to one another.

The first time Shadow experienced snow was a shock to him. He was wrapped in some of the finest jackets that Maria stole from the scientists—along with a scarf that she made him—and took him on a stroll in the mountains. He fell over multiple times due to not understanding how to balance in the snow.

Shadow also tried to sneak a snowball into the bunker to show to a Young Director Walters, but got upset when it melted. Maria replaced it when Shadow wasn’t looking just to see him smile.

Tails documents every type of snow flake in Montana, photographs them, and keeps a journal of all of the shapes that he’s seen. He’s shared all of his photos with the family to enjoy.

Sonic and Knuckles are competitive snow sleds riders. They’ve tried once to build their own sled to go faster than the kids in town, but it accidentally caught on fire. Don’t ask. Just know that the fire was cool and they toasted marshmallows over it.

None of the boys can ice skate to save their lives. Whenever Shadow comes to visit he has to coach the boys on how to glide over ice.

Tom tried once to take his sons ice fishing. They didn’t last ten minutes on the ice.

Maddie crochet each of her sons a pair of mittens to wear. Since Shadow visits, she made him some as well to assure him that they do care about him. Shadow always wears his purple gloves whenever he comes to visit.

It’s become a tradition where the Wachowski family will get breakfast pizza (it HAS to be a pie cut evenly into five slices with specific toppings accordingly) downtown and take it to the farmers market to buy holiday goodies.

On very, very cold nights, Tom builds a fire downstairs and Maddie throws bedding on the floor to build a nest. Pillows and blankets cover the floor for all five of them (maybe six or seven if Wade and/or Shadow come) to bundle in while watching black and white films.

The boys go apeshit for frozen bubbles. It doesn’t matter how old Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles are, but they love seeing the bubbles freeze over and leave pretty flakes on it.

If Shadow comes to visit, Sonic likes to wake him up early in the morning to watch the sun rise on the rooftops before everyone wakes up. Neither of them say anything, but they do enjoy a hot chocolate on the rooftop and the sunrise.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ৎ୭. . . SORORAL ─── Platonic! Harley Quinn

⊹ ٬  Headcanon. Harley showed up at your door after years, broken by the Joker, and you, with more patience than common sense, took care of her. At the end of the day, no matter the fights or crimes, you were two inseparable souls, always ending up on the couch, reminding each other that sisterly love heals all.

⊹ ٬  Word Count. 2.14k

⊹ ٬  Content. MDNI. Violence, Blood, fights, drugs, toxic relationships, mental health, criminal behavior, past traumas, normalization of the self-destructive component.

「 (Adj.) Like a sister 」

You met Harley in college. The first time you talked was because you shared the same team project… and also a hatred for the same professor. It was all downhill from there. For everyone else, that is. You were at your best.

You were the Watson to her Sherlock, the Robin to her Batman, the salt on the edge of her daisy. Harley talked and you nodded, but not because you were quiet, but because no one had the energy to keep up. You tried to interrupt her once and ended up going on a two-hour monologue about why bats are adorable, all without taking a breath.

You were there for everything. Her first cry over a boyfriend who wasn’t worth it (and whose social media you hacked with brotherly love). Her yelling in the cafeteria about how her parents were the worst dynamic duo ever. Her fights with other students, where you just picked up her stuff and said, “You’re still alive, right? So let’s go.”

You were inseparable. You were her rock and she was your... earthquake. An explosive friendship, literally at one point. But then he came along. The guy with the green hair.

You heard about it on the news. "The Clown Prince of Crime Has a New Partner." At first you didn't believe it. Harley wasn't that kind of girl. But when you saw her picture with her makeup smeared and that crooked smile, you knew. Your Harley was there, buried under tons of chaos.

That day, at the medical center where you worked, you broke a cup. Not because you were being dramatic, but because it was the only way to make the pain feel real.

And then you understood: Harley wasn't anyone's Watson. She was always her own Sherlock, and now she was solving a case that was tearing her apart.

The reunion was a coincidence. Well, coincidence for her. You were leaving work, a long and boring shift, when the sound of a loud laugh made your blood run cold. You saw her leaning against your car, wearing a red leather jacket, torn tights, and a baseball bat that she was spinning between her fingers as if she was deciding whether to use it on you or not.

“Friend!” she shouted, as if it hadn’t been years since you last spoke and as if she wasn’t on the country’s most wanted list.

You didn’t know what to say. Harley threw herself at you before you could react, the smell of gunpowder and something sweet permeating the air. It was as if nothing had changed… but everything had changed.

You tried to pretend it was like before. You chatted for a while, forcing a smile while she talked non-stop, as always. She told you how she had “deconstructed” a bank last week, how Joker had said something “so romantic” that she almost cried, and how Commissioner Gordon “needed to relax, because, hey, a little dynamite never killed anyone… well, not many people.”

The Harley you knew was still there, but she was buried under layers of insane laughter and chaos. Her world was no longer yours.

“Why so quiet?” she asked at last, tilting her head like a curious child.

“Harls… I can’t do this.”

The silence that followed was strange. She looked at you as if you had spoken in another language.

“Oh… that’s why, isn’t it? …Because I’m a “criminal” now.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

She smiled, but not in the way you remembered. This smile was broken, crooked, as if she was trying to convince herself that she didn’t care.

—It’s okay, you know. I don’t need everyone to understand me. I have Mr. J. And he understands me better than anyone.

That hurt more than you wanted to admit. But not more than watching her turn around, the bat resting on her shoulder as she walked away, humming a song you didn’t recognize.

Harley didn’t look back again. Not because she didn’t care about you, but because she didn’t have room in her mind for you anymore. She had filled every corner with it, and you knew there was no way to compete with that.

And you, as much as it hurt, didn’t look back either.

Years had passed. A monotonous routine was your life. The medical center, the long hours, the patients who needed an ear more than a prescription. It didn't bother you, not at all. Listening was something you were always good at, and the idea of ​​a partner seemed far away. Between double shifts and sleepless nights, where was there room for romance?

It was a night like any other. Your apartment was silent, except for the sound of the rain hitting the window. You had left a forgotten tea on the table and were about to pick it up when you heard a knock on the door. Not a polite knock, but something desperate, insistent.

When you opened it, you saw her. Soaked, shaking, her makeup running from tears mixed with the rain. Harley. Your Harley.

"He left me," was the first thing she said, her voice broken and trembling.

You didn't know what to do at first. It was like time had gone backwards, but this time you weren’t in college and it wasn’t a fight with some campus jerk. Everything was darker now, more broken. Without saying anything, you let her in.

She plopped down on your couch, clutching a pillow like it was a lifeline. Between sobs and curses, she ranted about Joker. How he’d used her, how he’d betrayed her, how this time it was final.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she suddenly muttered, looking at you with swollen eyes. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? After everything that happened between us…”

You stayed silent for a moment. You knew she was right. Harley had disappeared from your life without looking back, but now she was there, broken, seeking comfort from the only person who ever truly understood her.

“I didn’t think of anyone else,” she whispered, hugging the pillow tighter. “Because… because you’re my sister, you know?” The one person who was always there, even...when I didn't deserve it.

That was enough to make something inside you melt. You sat next to her, gave her a blanket, and let her talk. Because that was your specialty: listening.

Harley talked until she was speechless. Until her voice faded away and only the sound of the rain remained. You offered no advice or judgment, just your presence. Because you knew that, as much as it hurt, she needed you now more than ever. And, even though time had separated you, there was one thing that had never changed: she was still your Harley. And you, as strange as it seemed, were still her sister.

Harley didn't leave after that night. At first, it was like having a permanent storm in the apartment. One day she'd come home drunk, staggering around and singing off-key songs about what was (or wasn't) worth it in life. Another day she'd show up with a black eye and a cut eyebrow, muttering under her breath that "being the clown's ex isn't exactly a queen's title."

You couldn't say you were surprised. Harley was always a controlled mess… until she wasn't. What you didn't expect was how much that mess would absorb you. You became her nurse, her therapist, her babysitter, and, on the worst days, her bodyguard.

"Why do you put up with me?" she asked you one night, half drunk, with an ice pack in her hand and a split lip that you'd cleaned yourself.

"I don't know, Harls. Maybe because I'm dumb. But someone has to take care of you."

She laughed, that cracked laugh that always made something inside you clench.

You couldn't help but be upset. Because, come on, Harley had gotten herself into this mess. She'd decided to dive headfirst into a world of chaos and crime, knowing full well there was no net to catch her. But it wasn't hate you felt, or even resentment. It was frustration. Harley had always been a big girl, someone who saw the world as an amusement park, ignoring the warnings to "stay off the grass" and "be careful, wet floor."

Sometimes you wanted to yell at her. You wanted her to understand that you couldn't rebuild her every time the world broke her into pieces. But then you remembered who she was. Harley had never needed someone to yell at her. What she needed was someone to show her the mirror, to remind her that beneath all that paint and mess she was still her.

So you took care of her. You cleaned her wounds, you put up with her cries and her unhinged laughter. Because even though it wasn't fair, you knew Harley was learning. Maybe not fast, and maybe in the worst way, but at least she was learning. And if that meant being her anchor in the middle of the storm, then you were willing to hold on a little longer.

One day, everything changed. It wasn’t a dramatic moment, or a revelatory speech. It just happened. You woke up one morning to find Harley in the kitchen, her hair in two uneven pigtails, humming a song as she made pancakes that smelled like they were burning.

“Morning, Doc!” she greeted you like they were in a 1950s sitcom.

It took you a few minutes to realize what was different: she was smiling. Not the broken, I’m-going-to-do-something-illegal-in-less-than-five-minutes smile, but a genuine smile. Harley was Harley again.

Sure, she was still a criminal. She wasn’t going to change overnight, and you didn’t expect her to, either. But now she was a criminal with… what did she call it?

“Scruples!” she said, holding up a half-charred pancake like it was a trophy. “No more punching the bird boy in the face. No more blowing up police stations!” Well, maybe one, but only if it's empty.

You found it hard to believe, but you saw it. Harley was different. She was still chaos, but a contained one. And even though she didn't tell you, you knew some of that change had to do with you.

Then the invitations came.

"Come on, doc! You need to get out of this hole," she'd say, tugging on your arm with the same energy as a tornado. "I'm going to introduce you to the girls."

"Ivy" and "Selina" turned out to be Ivy the Poison Ivy and Selina Kyle, Gotham's famous thief. You spent a surreal night in their company, sitting in a speakeasy where laughter was more dangerous than guns. Selina taught you how to pick a lock with a paper clip, Ivy talked to you about the importance of caring for plants, and Harley was still acting like you were the guest star on her own variety show.

But the height of absurdity came when Harley showed up one Friday night and announced,

“Black Canary is coming to party with us! You know how many people can say that? Nobody, because we’re exclusive.”

The night was legendary. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so hard or danced with such little sense of the ridiculous. Between Harley trying to do karaoke in a bar where no one had asked for karaoke and Dinah watching her next to you in amusement, you almost forgot that you were with a group of women capable of knocking down a building if they put their minds to it.

Harley looked at you at the end of the night, with a knowing smile.

“See? I told you you were one of us, doc. You can’t escape.”

And deep down, you knew she was right. Harley was still Harley: chaotic, unpredictable, impossible to ignore. But now, she was also someone who was trying to be better, in her own way. And you, without realizing it, had gone from being his anchor to being part of his storm... and it wasn't so bad.

The invitations never stopped. Harley was determined to drag you into every corner of her new life, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was like she was making up for the years she’d missed with you.

Roller Derby was one of the first things she forced you to witness.

“Doc, you have to come. I’m a legend on wheels!” she told you one day as she pulled out a t-shirt with her number printed on the back.

And she wasn’t lying. Harley was a storm on the track, charging at her opponents with a mix of skill and sheer madness. From the stands, you found yourself yelling things like “Don’t break that poor girl’s jaw!” and “That’s got to be a foul, Harley!” But she only responded with laughter, making a victory gesture as a rival player tried to regain her dignity after falling on her back.

“What did you think?” she asked you at the end, with a swollen eye and a half-dented helmet.

“I’ll tell you when my nerves are back on track.”

Burrito mornings became a tradition.

One day she showed up at your door at six in the morning, a greasy bag in one hand and two coffees in the other.

“Burritos and eggs, doc! The best hangovers are cured with food for champions.”

That became a recurring thing. Every week, Harley would wake you up early with the excuse that burritos “taste better at dawn.” You never had the heart to turn her down, though sometimes you silently cursed her when the caffeine wasn’t enough to keep you functional.

Other times, she’d take you on her “normal adventures.”

Like the time she decided you both needed a “spa day.” Her definition of a spa included going to a speakeasy with Ivy and Selina, playing poker with handmade cards, and ending up with nails painted impossible colors.

“Are you relaxing or not?” —Harley asked you while trying to dry your hair with a hairdryer she had clearly stolen from some hotel.

—I don’t know if “relaxed” is the right word…

And then there was her obsession with movies.

One random Tuesday, she burst into your living room with a stack of DVDs.

—Bad movie marathon. Time to educate yourself, doc!

You spent the night watching B-movies while Harley laughed more at your sarcastic comments than at the absurd dialogues in the movies.

—You’re a terrible critic, but I love you anyway —she said while throwing popcorn in your face.

But, of course, Harley wouldn’t be Harley without her chaotic touches.

One day she took you to a costume store because they “needed outfits for friends.” You came out dressed as a pirate clown, while she wore a unicorn costume. They passed through an ice cream shop, a park, and of course, a karaoke bar where she forced the entire bar to sing along to "I Will Survive."

It was exhausting, unpredictable, and honestly, the best few weeks you'd had in years. Because even though Harley was still a whirlwind of madness, there was something different about her. She was more herself. A criminal with a heart, a loyal friend, and someone who, after all this time, finally seemed happy.

And you, even though you never would have imagined it, were happy too.

Always, no matter how chaotic or exhausting the day had been, it all ended the same: the two of you lying on the couch in your apartment, too tired to continue talking but too comfortable to move.

Harley always took the larger end, curled up in a blanket she had declared hers. You settled on the other end, legs dangling because Harley managed to take up more space than she physically could.

At first you tried to watch something on TV, but Harley always ended up changing the channel every five minutes, claiming that “everything is boring.” So, in the end, you just stayed silent, enjoying each other’s company.

That night was no different. Harley was half asleep, her head resting on the arm of the couch and her eyes half-closed. She looked at you, somewhat sleepy, but with that mischievous spark that never seemed to completely go out.

“You know something, doc?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“What’s wrong, Harls?”

She paused, as if she was gathering the courage to say it, even though you knew Harley rarely had filters.

“I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first time Harley had said it, but this time it sounded different. Softer. More sincere.

“I love you too, Harls.”

She smiled, small and genuine, and closed her eyes.

“In the end, we are sisters, aren’t we? We always were. Even if we don’t have the same last name.”

“We always were,” you confirmed, settling into the couch, letting the calm of that moment envelop you.

And so they stayed, Harley breathing calmly beside you, and you wondering how something so chaotic had ended up being the most stable and comforting thing in your life. Because in the end, no matter what happened outside, how much trouble they got into, or how many egg burritos they shared, you would always be her sister, and Harley would always be your Harley.

[cha-melodius]

12 for henry & oscar for the hug prompts

(I love that you sent a Henry & Oscar prompt, and this one was so good for them. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this one is post-canon. read all the hug ficlets)

12: The “you know I’ve always got your back” hug.

One of Henry’s favourite outcomes of stepping down from his royal position was that he had more time to devote to the network of shelters that he’s been building with Pez. He loves planning the spaces, and visiting them, and meeting with the staff to figure out better ways to serve the community. Even the fundraising galas are less tedious when he can freely tell people to sod off with the ‘His Royal Highness’ nonsense and call him Henry.

These kinds of meetings he could certainly do without. Unfortunately, winning local city governments over so they’ll approve the necessary re-zoning and building permits is a vitally important part of the process, and so Henry is steeling himself for what is likely to be an unpleasant hour of his life. Usually, Pez would be here too—Pez is aces, as he puts it, with charming people, and all Henry has to do is sit there and chip in with a few key points when Pez prompts him. But Pez is travelling for some other business meeting, and Alex is stuck at home because of an important case, so Henry was resigned to facing this one alone.

That, as it turns out, isn’t quite the case.

“Cheryl Robinson will be your biggest opponent,” Oscar is telling him. “She represents—how should I put it—some of the less progressive interests in the city, and she’s unfortunately got a lot of sway. She loves dogs, though, so if you tell a cute story about David, you’ll soften her up.”

When Henry had made plans to stay with his father-in-law for this trip, he hadn’t really expected all of this, which, in retrospect, was probably silly of him. Oscar always seemed to delight in the opportunity to help them out, and unlike Alex, Henry has no hang-ups about accepting it. He’d insisted on driving Henry to his meeting and has been giving him a run-down on every city official that will be there, including every bit of inside information he has. Henry’s so grateful for the support he could cry.

He doesn’t, though. He sits in the passenger seat and takes notes—Foster, bad toupee, mention construction budget and local contracts—as they slowly make their way through LA traffic.

“Sure you don’t want me to come in?” Oscar asks when they finally arrive. He’s not wearing business-meeting clothes, but Henry thinks he probably doesn’t care.

“I think it’s probably best I don’t surprise them with a senator they’re not expecting,” Henry replies.

“Ah, you’re probably right,” Oscar says with a grin.

Henry smooths a hand over the folio containing his notes. “Thank you for all of this, though. It’s been immensely helpful.”

“Any time.”

To Henry’s surprise, Oscar follows him out of the car and stands next to him while Henry collects his briefcase from the back. When Henry turns toward him, he reaches up to straighten Henry’s tie and brush imaginary lint off the shoulder of his jacket. Henry’s used to such fussing over his appearance, though not from Oscar, and he’s certainly not used to it being the prelude to being tugged into a hug.

“They give you any trouble, you call me, ok?” Oscar says as he holds Henry tightly. “You got this, mijo.”

Right, Henry might actually cry now, which would definitely be counterproductive. He doesn’t currently trust himself to speak, so he just nods as he straightens up again, collects himself, and heads into the meeting a lot more confident than he’d been this morning.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

It’s so sad how mullet Stan lacks content of him 😭😭I wish there would be more fics of him so that’s why im gently asking you to give us more mullet Stan crumbs, it can be anything, headcanons or fic 😔 I will eat everything you’ll serve

⤿❝ Mullet!Stanley x reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)⭑

a/n: agree i agree just yeah 10000% ! traumatised guys with mullet, bad habits and abandonment, daddy and mental issues are my weak spot

sfw

ᯓ★ he’s terrified of commitment but more terrified of being alone. he’ll push you away just to see if you’ll stay. he wants to trust you, but he doesn’t trust himself

ᯓ★ when he finally realizes you’re not leaving, he clings hard. like, once he’s in? he’s all in. but the idea of starting a family? he wants it so bad but so scared of it. he doesn’t want to turn into his father. he’s aware of his emotional instability and the last thing he wants is to pass that onto a kid. he doesn’t even trust himself to be a good partner, let alone a parent

ᯓ★ despite everything, still has a soft spot for kids but refuses to admit it. will grumble and complain but the second a little kid looks up at him with big, teary eyes, he’s sighing and handing over the last piece of his candy bar

ᯓ★ he is a literal stray, a stray dog that growls when you first bring him home but now follows you everywhere. you don’t date mullet!Stanley, you accidentally adopt him. this man has no home, no direction, no plan. he crashes on your couch “just for a few days, toots, promise” and then six months later he’s still there, wearing your robe, drinking straight from the juice carton

ᯓ★ acts like he doesn’t care but is secretly the most doting boyfriend. will fix your car, carry your groceries, give you his jacket when you're cold, all without asking. he just does it

ᯓ★ he doesn’t take care of himself. showers once every few days, drinks too much, smokes too much, eats like shit. if you ever cook for him it breaks him, he just stares at the plate because it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done to him, “you made this? for me?”

ᯓ★ road trip king. you wanna run away? hop in, sweetheart, we’ll figure it out on the way. the kind of guy who drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. he’s got half a pack of smokes, a cassette of shitty rock ballads and a mouth full of sweet-talking bullshit

ᯓ★ as i said, he acts like he doesn’t give a fuck but actually gives too many fucks. will pretend he doesn’t care when you get mad at him, but the second you turn away, he’s overthinking. “fuck what did i say? shit, why am i such an asshole?”

ᯓ★ if you tell him you love him, he always hesitates before saying it back. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he doesn’t think he deserves it

ᯓ★ literally stunned when you take care of him. like, someone is doing something NICE for him??? with no ulterior motive???

ᯓ★ absolutely a ‘leaning’ boyfriend. leans against walls, leans against doorframes, leans against you. big strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head dropping onto your shoulder with a sigh

ᯓ★ survives off diner food, gas station snacks, and whatever you make him

ᯓ★ gets nervous when you’re nice to him. he’s been kicked down so many times, he doesn’t know how to handle kindness. the first time you tell him he looks good, he scoffs, says something self-deprecating, but then stares at himself in the mirror later, touching his face trying to see what you even saw in him

ᯓ★ secretly loves being babied. if you push his messy hair back, clean his cuts when he gets into a fight or tuck yourself into his side when he's sitting down, he fucking melts. “psh, ya don’t gotta do all that,” but his ears are bright red

ᯓ★ will steal anything for you. “ya like that necklace, sweetheart? consider it yours.” he’s a walking, talking, petty thief boyfriend who just wants to see you smile

ᯓ★ lets you play with his mullet when he’s feeling lazy. sits between your thighs while you brush it and if you’re gentle enough, he’ll doze off right there, resting his head against your stomach

ᯓ★ loves his car more than he should. will drag you to the garage to show you how he’s fixing up some old junker, but he looks so proud, you can’t even complain. bonus: he makes you sit in it for a “test drive” (he drives too fast just to see you scream and laugh)

ᯓ★ hands always busy. even when you’re just sitting together, his hands are moving, tinkering with something, rubbing circles on your thigh, tapping on table. he's anxious stressed guy

ᯓ★ he falls asleep anywhere instantly. he’s had years of shitty, uncomfortable sleep, so at this point he can knock out in two seconds flat. the first time you see it happen, you’re stunned. “Stan, are you seriously asleep right now—?” he is. sometimes, he falls asleep sitting up, mouth slightly open, arms crossed. if you try to move him, he’ll grunt, shift slightly and keep sleeping

ᯓ★ he’s a sucker for physical affection but doesn’t know how to ask for it. please, just hold him. run your fingers through his hair, rub his back, let him rest his head on your chest or stomach. sometimes, he’ll just stand behind you and wait until you notice and pull him into a hug. he won’t ask, but he needs it

ᯓ★ this man does not know how to handle being desired

nsfw

ᯓ★ he’s big. everywhere. broad chest, thick arms, a cock that barely fits. “c’mon, baby, you can take it. just a little more, there we go.”

ᯓ★ he’s a messy kisser. tongue, teeth, biting, groaning, he devours you. Stanley makes out like he’s trying to fuck you with just his mouth. his hands are always gripping your face, your neck, your hair, he’s desperate

ᯓ★ he loves fucking in places he shouldn’t. against the car, in an alley, in the backseat, behind a bar, on some random motel dresser, doesn’t matter. the risk of getting caught gets him off. zero patience. too horny to wait, too desperate to care where you are

ᯓ★ if you ever scratch his back? he fucking loses it. he wants you clawing at him, gripping his arms, pulling his hair. especially loves it when you bite his shoulder

ᯓ★ fucks like a guy who doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance again. so overwhelmed by how good you feel

ᯓ★ he groans and grunts. loud, unashamed. you know exactly how much he’s enjoying it because he never shuts the fuck up. if you try to shut him up, he just moans louder out of spite

ᯓ★ this man talks during sex. a LOT. filthy, filthy, filthy mouth

ᯓ★ but if you try to stifle your moans, oh, he won’t have that. “uh-uh, lemme hear ya, baby. don’t go all shy on me now.”

ᯓ★ he has an oral fixation, always has something in his mouth. a cigarette, a toothpick, his own damn fingers. pussy? oh, he’ll eat for hours if you let him. he’s enjoying it more than you are. his nose is pressed right against your clit, his tongue is buried deep inside you, his big hands are holding your thighs open so you can’t squirm away

ᯓ★ but what he REALLY loves? your fingers. if you put your fingers in his mouth, he’ll groan and suck on them absentmindedly. don't try to pull away, you’re not going anywhere. he’ll grab your wrist, keep your fingers between his lips and just look at you with those dark, needy eyes

ᯓ★ loves when you pull his hair so make sure to always grab and yank his mullet while he’s between your legs and he’ll groan into your pussy like he’s getting off on it

ᯓ★ the kind of man who will fuck you dumb just to make sure you don’t even remember anyone else’s name

ᯓ★ absolute menace with that tongue + so so messy. will spread your legs, settle between them and go to fucking work. licking, sucking, slurping, spitting on your clit, growling against your folds. doesn’t stop until you’re begging. “c’mon, sweetie, one more for me”

ᯓ★ absolutely gets off on how loud you are. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or the middle of the day, he’ll fuck you so good you’re screaming his name, he prefers it “Stanley” tho, not just Stan

ᯓ★ smokes like a chimney, including during sex. he’s the type to take a long drag of his cigarette while you’re riding him, exhaling the smoke lazily as he watches you bounce on his cock. “fuck, baby, keep goin’. look so pretty takin’ me like that.” then puts it out against the nightstand right before flipping you over and fucking you senseless

ᯓ★ smoking during foreplay too, pulls cigarette out of his mouth and presses it into the ashtray, muttering, “gonna put this out and focus on you, sweetie.”

ᯓ★ if you complain about him smoking too much, he’ll smirk, tilt your chin up, and say something like, “well, maybe if you keep me busy enough, i won’t need to smoke, huh?” such a brat tbh

ᯓ★ grabs whatever’s closest to tie you up. belt? works just fine. an old rag? perfect. (also wants to be tied up too)

ᯓ★ a tipsy Stan gets handsy, real handsy. he’s already got no shame sober, but when he’s had a couple of drinks, he can’t keep his hands to himself, your thighs, your waist, your ass

ᯓ★ praise him in the most filthiest way possible, call him big, tell him he’s stretching you out, tell him you’ve never had anyone fuck you like this. tell him how much you love his cock, how deep he is. he thrives on that shit, loves being told how good he feels. “fuck, baby, keep talkin’ like that and i might not last.” but he also LOVES teasing you. “poor thing, already dumb from my cock?”, “look at you, makin’ a mess all over me. filthy little thing.”

ᯓ★ i 100% believe that mullet!Stanley is a bratty switch who acts tough but turns into a desperate, whiny mess the second you take control. i think it needs its own post but ok

[gazsluckyhat]

Practice Makes Perfect.

To my first request! Woooo! I hope you like it! Kyle would be ace at eating you out. No arguments.

For 🍞 anon!!

My requests are open!

-Bunny

Kyle gently shook your shoulder, his fingers denting your skin slightly. Your head snapped his way as you realzied he'd been talking. You hadn't been listening, no, too focused on the group of girls snickering at you. Your fingers pulled the jacket tighter around you, trying to make yourself seem smaller.

"You alright?" He pushed a strand of hair out of your face, lingering on your full cheek. You nodded, putting a fake smile you'd hoped he believe. He never did though, knows you way to well. Those molten eyes look past you and to the girls sat around the table at the window. "How 'bout we get some take-away? Yeah? Your favorite if your feeling it?" Ducking your head, you nod. Anything to get away from there.

The tv played a rerun of your favorite show, a cop comedy. Kyle was beside you, his long fingers running through your hair. You'd tried your best to focus, pay attention to the show playing, but it wasn't happening. You brain had it's own reruns to play. The girls had been pretty. All thin figures and model like features. The leader, a blonde of course, had made the first move. Turning towards a brunette and whispering in her ear while staring directly at you. You didn't have to guess about what they were saying. You already knew. The words had be tattooed on your soul. Words repeated throughout your youth. And by any boy you'd ever liked. Except Kyle.

"Hey, quit that." You met those beautiful brown eyes. He had a stern look on his face. From the moment you met he'd seemed to be able to read your mind. You blushed and looked away. "Look at me, love." His fingers turned you to face him.

"Those girls don't know what they're talking about. Don't let them get in that pretty head of yours, yeah?" You shook your head.

"We both know they weren't wrong." You fingers started to pick at skin. You'd picked it up as a child, a habit to ease the nerves in your hands. A habit Kyle had chided you about. "Everything they whispered was accurate. I am fat and ugly."

"Absolutely not. I'm not letting you do this to yourself. Just because you don't look like them doesn't mean you're not beautiful." His hands took hold of your cheeks. "The second I saw you I knew I had to have you. You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. A pretty little sundress and those wedges? I was dead to rights."

"Stop." You turned your head, cheeks aflame. Kyle wasn't having it though.

"Knew I had to get you outta that dress. Needed to run my hands over your curves. Had to taste you on my tonuge." Said body part ran around the shell of your ear as one of his hands traveled down your belly and into your pajama shorts. You'd quit wearing underwear around the place the second week of living with him. Too many pairs got torn.

"Kyle…" You were breathless. A fire starting in your pelvis. His fingers easily spreading you open, circling your clit. He swallowed your gasp, fingers dipping inside you.

"Always so wet for me, pretty. And warm. Could spend forever inside your tight cunt." The filthy words whispered in your ear only fanned the flame in your belly. One of your hands wrapping around his arm and digging into the flesh there. Your words turned into whimpers as he added another finger and sped up. Kyle always new which buttons to press to have you melt in his hands. "Wanna taste you." His hand withdrew and instead pushed you up, a hand tugging your shorts to your ankles.

"What?" Confusion on your face. Kyle chuckled. He was laying down on the couch, his shirt beside your shorts.

"Sit on my face, pretty. Wanna taste you."

"Kyle, I can't- I'm too big." He tutted, dragging you over by your wrist and pulling you to sit on his chest.

"Never. Now do as I said." Terrified you'd smother him you hovered over his face, using your hands and legs to hold most of you above him. His hand found the fat of you hips and pulled you down, you knees resting on either side of his head.

"Kyle!" He was already enjoying you. His fingers keeping you in place while his mouth slurped and sucked you dry. "Fu-fuck." You tried to lift up slightly, to worried about your weight on him.

"Sit." You blushed. He wrapped his lips around you clit and sucked, causing your whole body to shake.

"Oh god." A whimper followed. A shaky hand wrapped in the curls atop his head. You were shaking. He was going between sucking and tonuge fucking you. Every sensation drawing you closer to the edge. You were gonna cum, your toes already curling up. Tugging on his hair to tried to get him to separate. "Ky, I'ma cum." He only chuckled and latched his mouth back to your clit and sucked. Hard. Tears prickled, your voice catching as he pulled a mind boggling orgasm from you. Your knees tightened around his head as you fell apart. Your body trembling, a sob leaving you. Kyle continued to suck until you whined and tried to pull away. And then he just pulled back, your slick glistening on his skin, caught in the light stubble there. He wore a proud grin.

"Think you can give me another one?" Your blushed.

[shegatsby]

Hello

Could I request this idea where Hannibal goes to see the “Swan Lake” ballet and becomes obsessed with the reader who plays the swan queen

Let me know what you think of the idea

A/N: Hi!!! Thank you for this request. Thanks to you I've watched the Black Swan on youtube here is the link;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rJoB7y6Ncs&t=1561s

this is the old version ofc. Love you all xxx

Doctor Hannibal Lecter climbed out of his car and headed towards to the building. Tonight was a special night because he was going to see The Swan Lake, it was a big production and last time he watched it was in Italy, this time he was in Baltimore, Maryland due to his work. He was excited for tonight, he liked being among high society, he was a classist who believed that people who belong to the upper class should have the higher power in politics and other aspects of life. He had grown up in this environment and to his bones he felt a sophisticated gentleman. He was well educated, he had a profound knowledge of art and literature, he respected all his life and he rewarded himself with treats such as opera nights or ballet such as tonight.

He was wearing his tuxedo, black and white with a dark red handkerchief on his jacket’s pocket. He slowly approached to the building, the entrance had red carpet, the doors with golden handles were opened for him, he smiled kindly to the workers. ‘’May I see your ticket?’’ the young lady at the front desk, ‘’Here you go.’’ He liked having tickets, or tangible things in his life. He liked living analog, of course he didn’t denied how technology made his life easier than before. ‘’You may proceed.’’ The lady smiled but didn’t reach her eyes, most workers had the same expression due to the fact that they worked minimum wage or even under. It was the way of the world, some were more fortunate than others.

The seats were dark red, he took his place. He looked around to see the dress code, everyone wore clothes accordingly which pleased him. He took a certain joy in order and people following it. The upper class he belonged to had always followed rules like these but for the other… they were the ones who would like to be ‘’different’’ and rebel against the system.

He crossed his legs as the lights dimmed and curtain opened, as soon as the music hit his ears he smiled to himself. The seat next to his was empty, for a split second he envisioned a woman next to him, wearing a dress he had chosen for her…. No. he stopped himself and focused on the stage.

Soon the Queen Swan entered the stage and Hannibal felt his breath hitching at his throat, she was wearing the same white dress as other women but she had a dark red feather sticking from her tied hair, she was the queen and they needed to show it to the audience. Her movements on stage were so elegant, without realizing Hannibal leaned forward on his seat, he couldn’t believe his dark eyes, she had total control of her delicate body which he admired and found it very powerful.

When the first act ended he immediately got his phone, ordered a bouquet of black and white tulips that had a red rose in the middle. He wanted the bouquet to represent the Black Swan and also the Queen Swan. He also wrote a note and asked the delivery guy to bring it to the Queen’s dressing room.

The ballet lasted for an hour and half, later he was approached by the director of the ballet, Lisa-Macuja Elizalde, he bowed in front of her. ‘’For an hour and 30 minutes I have experienced pure bliss. Thank you so much for your contribution Madame.’’ He kissed her hand, the woman smiled with pride. ‘’You’re welcome Sir. I’ve heard that you had sent flowers to our queen. Would you like to meet her?’’ with this question he couldn’t hide the grin he had. ‘’I would love to.’’

‘’Follow me please.’’

He followed her to the back stage, it was crowded, together they approached a door which didn’t have her name on it, on the door it said ‘’The Queen Swan’’ was she show off? Only one way to find out. Madame knocked on the door and they heard a soft voice say ‘’Come in.’’

She was sitting in front of the mirror, her make-up off, she had a long satin black nightgown, her hair was still tied with the dark red feather sticking out. She got up with a swift move, turned to them. ‘’Doctor Lecter?’’ she asked because the note she had on flowers had his name. ‘’Yes,’’ he extended his hand which she gladly took. ‘’I would love to learn the name of this enchanting Swan Queen, If you don’t mind of course.’’ He kissed her hand, ‘’Y/N, Y/L/N.’’

‘’Y/N… such a unique name.’’ he praised, ‘’Thank you.’’

Hannibal was an observant man and during this interaction he carefully watched her, Madame Lisa-Macuja Elizalde left them alone she excused herself because she had to attend to some of the dancers.

Hannibal and Y/N sat on the velvet couch and talked about ballet, classical music and fine arts. He never had such an elite and uplifting conversation with anyone and at the back of his dark mind he could hear his wicked thoughts such as;

Where does she live?

Is her home safe?

Most importantly… does she have a partner?

How long has she been performing?

Hannibal, deep down, knew that it was over for them both because she belonged to him now. He was going to make sure she had no one to go to but him at the end.

Thank you for reading. :)

[tigreblvnc]

Damn, this matchup's format is very interesting. I never thought of doing it this way, but it's practical if you were considering multiple characters for a matchup.

Let's dive into your vision.

Of course, Karasu is one of my most recurrent matches. I totally understand your point, and I think we would definitely get along well when it comes to being sassy against our opponents.

I can imagine him as adventurous but also cautious. I'd gladly help him step out of his comfort zone. And yes, I could totally play the psychologist for him—the crow deserves to be treated well.

I'm more surprised by Sae! I've never really been matched with him before, except for an appearance matchup once, but I can really see your vision for us. I think we'd have a very laid-back yet competitive relationship. We'd challenge each other, but my cocky side would definitely add an interesting twist to it all. In fact, I can picture something a bit like Shidou and Sae.

I could imagine this matchup that would encourage emotional growth

Ah, we'll see. I'll ask for an in-depth matchup with Sae one day. I'm curious to read someone's point of view on this cocktail.

Regarding Isagi, I think he'd be disturbed by me at first. Like, he wouldn't know how to act around me or with me. The unpredictable bothers him, and I'd love to play with him about this. From a more realistic perspective, I'd definitely be attracted to his wisdom and cleverness. His analytical skills are really interesting. He's good at finding the right answers that allow him to win over his enemies. I like that. I think I could also share deep, intriguing conversations with him, in between teasing and provocations.

Hahahaha, no, I'm not surprised to see Kaiser here. By the way, the pink ribbon suits him well; he should definitely wear it on the field. It would disturb his opponents and help him win, unless he finds that strategy beneath him, which I understand.

Anyway, I think the two of us would definitely share a love-hate relationship. Always verbally fighting in public but having a different kind of chemistry when we're alone. I can't help but think we were raised in similar ways, so it's hard for us to show our feelings in a proper, conventional way. I think fighting and teasing is one of my love languages, among others.

Would DEFINITELY travel with you, i could definitely see Kaiser and you seeing all over the world, both learning about the historical significance of the country, and the social construct in said country, (i think he would particularly like France, in the French Revolution)

I'd love to visit places and try new dishes with him. That's one of my biggest goals in life—eating a lot of good shit. That's my main reason to earn money, alongside traveling. And I'd love to visit Germany, especially the Christmas markets. But I'm not sure Kaiser would be thrilled about that.

if you were cold, or even if it was just slightly cold, (50f/10c or colder for reference) Kaiser would give his jacket/scarf to you, regardless of if you say anything or not, he’d notice if you were in any discomfort or cold.

That's really good to hear that; I hate being cold.

Would try to study you, maybe youd try to study him?? (Would try to study each other secretly??)

We'd probably end up constantly psychoanalyzing each other, to be honest. Just to find each other's weak spots and gain the upper hand. It's also a way to show our interest—deep, endless analysis about a subject, even if it means losing sleep over it.

It would take so long for Kaiser to admit he likes someone (aka you) but it would happen eventually.

I picture him as the kind of guy who shows his love through violence and degradation, since that's the only way he knows how to communicate.

On his birthday, (dec.25/typically christmas day) if you tried to cook him his favorite food, bread crust rusk, he would be in pure shock, Kaiser would not know how to react. (In a good way)

I'll cook him chicken with potatoes.

Honestly Kaiser would play with your hair and mess it up, kind of aggressively if im being honest, but would be SO gentle if you were sleeping and he was playing with your hair

And I'd gladly play with his.

Kaiser would say multiple times he would be able to support the both of you financially, however, i think you would be independent and want to work, Kaiser would respect that but remind you there is always an option to lean back on him.

Honestly, we'd probably spend all our money on food and travel.

As for Ness, I get your point. If Kaiser exists, then Ness wouldn't pay attention to me. But in a world where Kaiser doesn't exist but I do, then the story would definitely repeat itself.

Thank you so much for this matchup, you're really good at this. I'd love to do another exchange in the future. It was a delight to read during my lunch break!

Match up, for.. @tigreblvnc!

From reading about your personality, i would say you’d be best with a s/o who can hold their own in a intellectual conversation with you, someone who can entertain you, but at the same time have a deep conversation with!

(Scroll all the way down for actual results)

possible candidates-

1st runner up.. Tabito karasu!

Karasu’s sharp witted, and charismatic, he would directly contrast your well grounded and goal-oriented personality, while still holding similar views and interest as you. However, while you prefer precision and intellectual depth, his playfulness could bring out a more relaxed version you!

Pro:

You and Karasu would go on a lot of adventurous dates, ex: amusement parks, outdoor activities, and escape rooms, esc.

I could see so much late night deep talks with you and him.

If you got upset abt something, like someone who pisses you off, and you wanted to rant abt it, Karasu would listen in pure delight.

Con: 

You might get mad if Karasu doesn’t take situations seriously.

His insecurities might be a problem for you, I dont see him as a type of person to reflect these feelings in a relationship, so if you 2 discuss about these feelings, or if he manages theses feelings by himself, I don’t see there being a problem.

2nd runner up.. Sae itoshi!

This was a rather unexpected as a matchup for me, however the more i thought about it, the more i thought this could be a good match! Things like, ambition, both confident/not scared to confront someone, and the same ability to analyze people!

I could imagine this matchup that would encourage emotional growth, and one of intellectual challenge, 

Fun headcanon(s):

You two would secretly be so protective over each other

like someone is bothering you or being stupid, and you just didn’t have the energy to combat them, Sae would straight up tell the person to shut up and leave without a second thought 😭

Fashion would complement each other.

You like traveling? Well i have good news for you.

Would also be interested in trying different dishes.

He would buy so much lavish bs for you

like a ridiculous amount

He would be giving, small, but thoughtful gifts.

3rd runner up.. Isagi Yoichi!

Ok, so, definitely a back and forth, hate and love relationship between you and Isagi on field, would he possibly hate crime you if you tease him constantly (which you love doing)? Probably, but would you two still have a respectful relationship where both parties can learn from each other? Yes!

Despite you having similarities to Kaiser and Karasu, I would argue that you’re more grounded and mature, which would probably make Isagi like you better, regardless if your on field or off.

Fun heacanon(s): 

You 2 would help each other learn

Would trend on blue lock tv/live

He would admire so much how you can stand up/confront people in injustice, especially if they are higher ranking, or “superior”.

Con(s): 

I dont see isagi traveling alot 

Final results.. Michael Kaiser!

Lmao are you surprised? So, out of everyone in blue lock i think you’re the most similar to Kaiser, it kinda scared me at first. But, because you’re so similar to Kaiser, in personality and hobbies, i think you’d be the best match for Kaiser in all of Blue Lock!

Kaiser’s need to act likes he’s better than others, and your aggressive way of confronting people, would make Kaiser more than interested in you, whether you do it to him, or even your own teammates, but, despite Kaisers arrogance and how he’d totally bother you, he admires how you hold your own in a fight for your beliefs.

Kaiser’s cocky and confident personality would match your direct and blunt nature, i would definitely see you two constantly challenge each other’s ideas, opinions, and even small decisions, usually all in good fun!

Fun headcanon(s):

Would be giving love-hate relationship.

Would DEFINITELY travel with you, i could definitely see Kaiser and you seeing all over the world, both learning about the historical significance of the country, and the social construct in said country, (i think he would particularly like France, in the French Revolution)

On the topic of traveling, he would LOVE to show you around Berlin, Germany (maybe even the slums he grew up around if he trusts you enough)

if you were cold, or even if it was just slightly cold, (50f/10c or colder for reference) Kaiser would give his jacket/scarf to you, regardless of if you say anything or not, he’d notice if you were in any discomfort or cold.

Would try to study you, maybe youd try to study him??

(Would try to study each other secretly??)

It would take so long for Kaiser to admit he likes someone (aka you) but it would happen eventually.

I think you try are help kaiser to become a over all healthier person. Not in a way that will completely change him, but in a way where he’ll be able to process emotions without planning on murking the person.

On his birthday, (dec.25/typically christmas day) if you tried to cook him his favorite food, bread crust rusk, he would be in pure shock, Kaiser would not know how to react. (In a good way)

Honestly Kaiser would play with your hair and mess it up, kind of aggressively if im being honest, but would be SO gentle if you were sleeping and he was playing with your hair

Would be viewed as that one power couple, from your intellects to your clothing style.

Kaiser would say multiple times he would be able to support the both of you financially, however, i think you would be independent and want to work, Kaiser would respect that but remind you there is always an option to lean back on him.

Bonus! i wanted to add Ness to your matchup but i honestly have no idea if Ness would hate or love you. 

Omg 😭 im honestly disappointed with how i did on your match up, i took way longer than i usually take, and the way i described you seems so repetitive.

+ i tried to incorporate everything you told me in your matchup so somethings might seem out of place.

I made some references in Kaisers part, if you need a refresher or don’t know, check out Kaisers profile from the egoist bibles.

Thanks 💕 dm for any questions!

[skitskatdacat63]

AAAAHH THERE'S ANOTHER VERSION OF THIS PIC

[randomminty]

I hate to ask this of you if you’re not taking request since I know you’ve been getting a lot of asks lately, but I really love the bits of characterization you give everyone in your art and am just. Eating up every last crumb in your doodles…so would it be too much to ask if you would draw the OG champions (Cynthia, Lance, Steven, Wallace, & Diantha if you feel like it) interacting or doing something together? I don’t ask for more than that, it can be whatever you want and range from a silly/casual activity to something more formal. I just really love them together and you’ve fed the champion fandom so well lately, thank you for that 🥺🙏🏻❤️

(Whether you’re up to fulfill this request or not, I appreciate you so much for giving love to some of the lesser appreciated characters of Pokemon!!)

Read the word formal and blacked out

[johnwickb1tsch]

[ccbatman]

what if i said hal's mom called him "hally" specifically as a play on halley's comet, huh. what if i said she did that because she knew no matter how far he went, he'd always come back to her, hm. what then.