#i was like the fuck are you wearing in hell you fashion king

[viktorpartner]

don’t mind me just sobbing on the floor bc i’ve just noticed Edwin reverts to the clothes he wore when he died whenever he’s scared

[gutsby]

My Body, His Choice

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Warnings: 18+. Come get y’all juice (consensual freeuse). Unprotected p-in-v. Praise kink. Daddy kink. She/her pussy pronouns. Perverted but ever-respectful Joel.

Note: ‘Púdrete’ means ‘rot’ or ‘fuck you’ in Spanish.

Word count: 2.9k

It wasn’t often he’d fuck you anywhere but his bed.

At fifty-two, Joel was still old fashioned like that.

No matter how hard you tugged on the front of his shirt, begged him gently, baby, please take me right here on the kitchen table—on your desk—in your truck—really anyplace, Joel would shake his head and tote you away to his room. Then he’d blow your back out on a plush and cushy king-sized bed exactly how a gentleman should.

“Wasn’t raised to treat a lady any different,” he’d always say, sucking a breath through his teeth as he plunged his cock inside you from the comfort and quiet of his sheets.

‘Whatever you say, old man’ was your habitual response.

It was one that more often than not ended with you walking funny for the next couple days, thanks to that twenty-something stamina Joel was still able to boast.

So, with sore legs and a warm load leaking out of your cunt every night, you shut up. You didn’t mind being confined to his bed if it meant getting fucked like that. But you would let him know, every now and again or as often as you happened to be ovulating, that there was a freestanding offer for him to just…take, if he ever felt so inclined. The first time you’d said the real word for it, Joel had just smiled and kissed you on the top of your head.

“I’ll sure keep that in mind, sweet pea,” he’d chuckled.

Or, in boomer-speak: ‘No way in hell am I doing that.’

You’d made your peace with it. You’d quit wearing open-gusset undies in the hopes of getting bent over the sink while doing the dishes on a random Tuesday afternoon. You’d put all thoughts of freeuse out of your head and now just waited patiently under the covers at night if you wanted some action on the go. That was more than okay.

And when Joel thundered through the door an hour late one night, you just offered up a smile and a sleepy wave.

“Hi, handsome.”

You were splayed out comfortably on the sofa, and your favorite show was playing in a dim, muted glow on TV. Joel toed off his boots and ducked his head in the closet.

“I said he-llo, you big hunk.”

You regularly alternated between handsome, hunk, and some form of baby or beefcake if he appeared extra large that day. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his form coming in, but you figured you’d give it a stab, shoveling more popcorn in your mouth before returning to Narcos.

Somewhat garbled: “Well hello to you too, babycakes.”

It was either going to piss him off or earn you a big, wet kiss on the cheek—or both, if you were lucky. The words had scarcely hung in the air for more than a second or two, and your popcorn was going down in one slow, crowded gulp, when something fell heavy at your feet.

Your legs were stretched as far as they would go to the end of the couch, and Joel had just dropped his weight right next to them. Then he was leaning back, gingerly.

Carefully.

Joel groaned.

“God, he looks stupid,” he said, staring straight ahead.

You coughed. You winced at a sharp, lone kernel that had snagged your throat going down, and when it passed, you sat up and glanced over to where Joel was looking.

All you saw was a sexy, if not slightly anachronistically-mustached man with tight pants and a slutty stance onscreen.

“Javier Peña?” you asked him.

The man’s nostrils flared in response.

“With that stupid fuckin’ Members Only jacket— dumbass aviators, too, he looks like the biggest dou—”

“Joel!”

You blinked at your boyfriend in disbelief. He knew better than to abuse your favorite DEA agent right to your face. At last, Joel met your gaze, and his cheeks tinged pink.

“What? You wanna fuck him or something?” he snapped.

You turned back to the TV and pretended to consider.

“Hmmm…I don’t know, would Agent Peña come home an hour late with no explanation and then start griping about another man’s clothes when I try talking to him?”

“Yeah. And he’d probably backtalk you, too. In Spanish.”

“Púdrete.”

Joel scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?”

You raised both brows as if to say, ‘Yeah, dude, fuck you.’

Maybe there was a smile behind your eyes as you said it.

You didn’t mean to give in, or let him off so easy, but there was just no grappling with a man in blue jeans and a sweaty, dirt-sodden shirt giving you a look like that.

His eyes smiled back.

You didn’t protest when Joel muscled his way over across the couch and pushed you back on your side. Yanking your hips to lay flush with his front, taking up most of all usable real estate on the sofa just to lie behind you and curl his bicep around your belly. He nosed against you and inhaled deeply. He hummed.

You spooned and watched Narcos in silence.

“Bad day?” you murmured at length.

“Bad don’t even begin to cover it.”

Joel let out a breath, and you felt it migrate through your skull. The whole weight of the world, or, more likely than not, some dipshits at work who’d cost their team a bid or delayed a project by a week, ten, or twenty, was hanging somewhere close over his shoulders and depressing his whole demeanor. His grip on you tightened even more.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

“Me too.”

Joel’s fingers seared a string of small crescents in your skin through the fabric of your nightie. Realizing he was pressing in too much, he eased back. Flexed his hand.

“Ain’t no need to be—it’s on me.”

You felt a kiss land on your shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered as a scene of chaos broke out onscreen with some ill-fated raid or other, and Joel’s hand traveled up your side. It cupped one of your breasts through the sky-blue satin material, and just as fingers began to knead—

“I don’t actually wanna fuck Javi,” you sputtered, dumb.

Joel kissed the space between your shoulder and neck.

“I figured.”

Then his index and thumb found your hardening bud and pinched it between them, rolling the skin in soft, languid strokes. That, paired with the movement of lips up the length of your neck, had your head lolling back gently and your eyes struggling to focus on any of the mayhem unfolding in time. You wanted to turn away from it all—meet Joel’s mouth with a feverish kiss of your own—but when your torso jerked the slightest bit, trying to move, the arm around your front kept you pinned to the spot. Joel’s grey, stubbled chin tickled the shell of your ear.

“Keep watching, darlin’,” he mumbled.

A low whine sounded in your throat, a noise Joel was no stranger to. It bubbled up, almost reflexively, and then was swallowed back as by force when his left hand shifted from toying with your nipple to joining the hem of your dress. Your breath hitched when you felt the pads of three fingers make an easy, careless sort of petting motion between your legs. Stroking you gently there.

“‘M’sorry I was late comin’ home,” Joel continued in the same attritional vein, gliding his middle finger between where he felt the seam of your folds through your dress, “Makin’ you wait up, wasn’t too kind of me, huh, baby?”

“D-Don’t mind,” you shuddered, just as the tip of his pointer finger found your clit and made a circle around it with the other two—a torturous loop that lacked just enough pressure to make it feel really good, and teased.

You would’ve liked to press on, were it not for him, again:

“Aw, hell, honey.”

Your eyes snapped open, and fear seized you momentarily. Had something gone wrong?

Instead, when you glanced between your legs, you saw a stain—a crude Rorschach-looking splotch in its place. With all rational thought currently suspended and your brain in a primal fog of just wanting to fuck, you groaned.

“Joel, please.”

You know what to do. You know what you’re doing.

Joel continued to carry on as though he hadn’t heard you. He rubbed the wet spot even harder with his middle finger and let out the faintest trace of condescension with his breath, fanning warmly across your cheek. It was as though you could feel his big, stupid mouth forming a grin behind your head that made you purse your lips together and force back a whimper when he pressed.

“Left a real mess missin’ me here,” he chided, voice low, “Poor thing hasn’t been fucked in…what, twelve hours?”

You imagined the spot growing larger, gaining warmth and wetness and slick from the timbre of Joel’s voice alone. Nevermind the fact he was practically smearing it all through your panties, through your dress; you’d be soaking his hand in a puddle if he didn’t let up soon.

“Then fuck it again,” you gritted, hips stirring.

“But you’re so busy watchin’ your new man, I—”

At the last, you bucked pathetically against Joel’s hand.

“Don’t want him, Joel,” you moaned, “I need you.”

With what little strength you had left, you tried to turn your body to face the man behind you. He didn’t let you.

In fact, his hold constricted all the more unforgiving, and his right arm curled around your front from underneath you while his left hand took the plunge beneath your dress, finally. It was as torturous as it was fused with any pleasure, though, as his fingers made a pass through your panties, between your folds, and into your heat with little warning at all. Just a kiss to your cheek and then two thick fingers working inside your cunt all at once. You writhed at the stretch, and Joel nosed you again.

“I said you’re busy, baby,” he shushed, “Keep watchin’.”

Keep watching.

Like that wasn’t the most nonsensical instruction he’d ever given you, with his arm twisted over your front and his face in your hair and his fingers pumping in and out.

In and out.

“Don’t care about the fuckin’ show, Joel,” you keened.

He brushed the heel of his palm against your clit, and you could’ve cried from the sheer influx of pleasure.

“Sure you do, sweet pea, you’ve just been so—”

Joel pressed another kiss to your cheek and kept going.

“—busy, lately, it’s only fair I get to have my way, hm?”

Oh.

Oh.

You hadn’t heard his belt come undone. You were so focused on your own pleasure, and getting it fast, that you hadn’t stopped to consider for a moment whether Joel might be testing his ‘free pass’ after all this time.

And, as if to dispel any doubts, Joel kissed your shoulder.

“C’mon, baby, let me use this pussy how I need to.”

He couldn’t have made your body any more pliant and willing than if your limbs had been made of wax.

It was all happening like a dream, almost too good to be a real, flesh and bones man with his hand in your panties, your man, pulling the fabric aside and making you lie on your side while he tapped the head of himself right there.

The hand that had once been toying with your clit was now lifting your knee, parting your legs to make space for him behind you, just outside of you—sliding his dick back and forth at first while he left trails of kisses down your skin. You could cum from the friction of that alone, the little squelches of his skin on yours and the fact that you weren’t in a bed, for once, and he was doing it now. He was making use of your body and cherishing it whole.

In spite of that gaping chasm between you in strength and size, he was obeisant, in a way. Painstakingly slow.

“This okay, baby? Can daddy fuck you right here?”

Joel pressed the head of his cock right against the weeping ring of muscles, felt it pulse against him, and groaned. He let just the cusp of your folds suck him in, forming the slightest, shallowest ‘o,’ only for him to retreat, moving his dick back up and down your slit.

You’d already cried and told him, yes, yes, you can fuck me there, daddy, please—but Joel was too busy tilting your head back up to the screen. Making you open your eyes and watch the show, loath as you were to focus on anything else but the soft, steady brush of his member.

“Remember, hon, you gotta stay focused,” he said, too sweet, “Chin up and keep those legs spread for daddy.”

They were. You were. Your head was up, just barely, and your eyes were nearly brimming with tears from just how badly you needed him inside you. You whined when he kissed the side of your mouth, but loved it all the same because it made you feel safe where you were. At ease.

Joel held you open for him, the shelf of his belly nudging at the small of your back and only pressing harder as he sank in deeper. It was a sensation that felt almost foreign, the first inches he’d breached, as he filled you from a new angle and held you close, you whimpered.

“Fuck, that pussy stretches out so nice for me,” Joel let out in a groan, “Feels like she’s made just for me, huh?”

At that, you felt a hand pinch both of your cheeks, forcing your mouth in a little pout as you nodded fiercely.

“Y-Yes, daddy, she’s made for you, all for you.”

One inch retreating, three more pushing in. Joel’s breath was hot on your ear again, and you could feel the soft grey tufts of hair on his tummy fold into themselves against your back as he pushed even deeper. His cock parted the insides of your walls and fucked you open like it was nothing at all. Your eyes stayed fastened on the television screen, but, frankly there wasn’t a thing on the LED display that was registering more than a passing thought. You felt the hand on your face squeeze even tighter, then release. Then your head was tilting sideways of its own volition, and your body was not—being moved by Joel’s gentle thrusts now—and your lips somehow met his in a kiss. One of his moans bled into your mouth.

“Look so. damn. pretty. when you’re like this,” he panted, “Never look better than when you’re fucked out on this cock, don’t ya, sweet pea? Nod your head and tell me.”

You nodded. You told him. Or whimpered it, anyway.

It was exactly the same and somehow nothing like you’d felt with him before: a new place, a new position, but then just the way you were letting him have you was a territory left entirely uncharted for you both. He could take, and take, and take, keep fucking you until his old joints gave out, and you were a vessel for that pleasure. Your body was limp; Joel’s frame was imposing and always holding you up, milking from your cunt what he needed and always praising you for how good it felt.

“My pretty girl,” he murmured, words like syrup. Then, each new one punctuated with a thrust as he sped up, “Gonna let daddy cum inside this tight little pussy?”

And, to his shock and yours, the hole he’d been using all this time grew wetter, more slick, then was pulsing with arousal as an influx of pleasure washed over your body—your brain had barely registered his words before the rest of you was making an even bigger mess of it, welcoming Joel deeper each time as your cunt spasmed over again.

Pressed into the sofa with your hips tilted down, now, you didn’t need to supply a verbal answer, just pulling Joel closer and pleading in broken moans to paint you white inside. He, like you, probably couldn’t have kept it from coming out if he tried. His hands were gripping your body, pushing you down with the weight of his grasp and his thrusts and feeling too fucked out to even know how much of himself he was pouring inside you as he came.

But it filled you to the hilt, all the way down his length.

In fact, there was a moment Joel feared he might’ve stuffed you more full of cum than you could take. You’d just barely come down, still moaning and shaking and dripping with more nectar than you’d ever felt before.

Joel tried to wipe the pussydrunk look from his eyes—terrible and greedy and wanting to see what he’d left—and he was just about to pull out to make sure you were alright, when he felt something grip him. On him and around him, pinching his wrist and squeezing his length inside you, you couldn’t help but turn back to face him.

Your eyes were smiling again.

One hand had just started to inch up his arm, kneading the flesh like you needed something from him then too. Only now your gaze was drifting down to the place where your body and his were still joined, and from that look, Joel sensed there had to be a lot of him there—which is why he was shocked when next you said sweetly, softly,

“Can I have a little more, daddy?”

[brucewaynehater101]

I raise you really tall tim drake. (This mostly comes from being tired of the uwufication/twinkfication/babyfication that some fans give tim. Kinda hate that)

Tim is currently 17yo. At 18 he is tired of his so called family, Dick only cares about damian, jason always bickers around him. Bruce is bad at parenting as always... so he leaves gotham city.

At 18 he starts getting growth spurts. (Males stop around 23 or so) and Tim is half thrilled half mad because he now is stumbling. Also it hurts like hell. He goes to a doctor approved by the jl, because getting tall so suddenly and at that age can mean something bad is going on inside. Then he goes to magic users. But nothing gives bad results. So he is just getting taller and his clothes no longer fit him neither his custome. And he cannot get another inmediately because he keeps growing. So he is benched by his friends for like half a year and Tim is mad. He stops at 6'5 when he hits 21 (up to you how taller are bruce and jason) and finds himself as the tallest in his family. He has to train everything again as his body is no longer the same.

Just Tim getting tall as a treat.

(I agree about the uwu-ing of Tim Drake not being my flavor of fic. It's why I avoid a *lot* of the "Tim Drake Joins the Batfamily Early" tag. There are some very good Kid Tim Drake fics, but there's also a tendency to uwu him in that tag. I don't mind Tim being pathetic as long as he's also badass :( He can be both, y'all!!!)

Anyways!!!! Tall Tim Drake!

I do love him being a short king, but him being tall is a rare treat ^^

To add onto this AU, the batfam try to drag him back to Gotham after 3-4 years. To be nice to Tim, we'll say he's had to chance to grow more accustomed to his body and is a formidable fighter (no more of the awkward stumbling he struggled with while adjusting).

Let's say Jason is 6'3", Bruce is 6'1", and Dick is 6'0". Damian has grown in those three years. Since the age gap between Tim and Damian fluctuates, let's say Damian is 15 at 5'11". Damian was looking forward to lording his height over Tim (not in a mean way. More like teasing).

Tim goes back to Gotham for some world-ending event or whatnot, and it's the first time they Bats have seen him in years. They're expecting a slightly more mature looking 5'6" 21 years old [And also, poor fucking Tim. Nearly a foot of height in 3 years?? Ow].

What do they actually end up seeing?

Since Tim is there for hero work, they meet him in his vigilante getup.

Tim learned from Bruce that intimidation works wonders on Batman's foes. Tim learned from Dick that there are multiple ways to intimidate someone.

So, doesn't bulk up. He doesn't add fake muscles or thick armor. He studies fashion design and the subtle ways it can influence people's perception. He's naturally 6'5" and a lithe guy. He makes those intrinic qualities work *for* him rather than against him.

He wears 4 inch platform boots and tricks the eyes (with his fashion design) to make him look even slender.

Suffice to say, Tim shows up to meet with the bats and appears as a tall fucking cryptid.

Tim rolling up to the Bats all like:

[threepandas]

Bad End: Royal Weddings

They whispered. About the scandal of it all. Such a bold and shameless color.

As far as I was concerned? What was shameless? Was inviting your affair partner to a Royal Wedding. He hadn't even looked at her. Too absorbed in the sight of his True Love weeping. Too busy wallowing in his own drama to care that he wasn't the only one giving up his life to this.

After all... who WOULDN'T want to marry him?

She must be overjoyed.

I walk High Princesses Kiara, of the United Northern Kingdoms, down the aisle. In the traditions of her people, it SHOULD be the Crown Prince. To show that from this moment, this wedding, they walk together. It's symbolic.

The rich reds, the color of life and love, are painstakingly embroidered. It would have taken decades. Likely by her own hand. As is also traditional. A show of skill and wealth, I think. I studied up. All the better to serve my new lady. My Queen.

The prince hasn't even glanced at her.

People sneer.

This by all rights should be a wedding of mixed traditions, so as to not offend either people. Yet it... it is a paltry effort at best. An INSULT. Each turn another slap across the face.

First there were flowers, when there should have been a dagger and salt. I manage to hunt down satisfactory articles only to find them about to OFFER HER MEAT. On this! Her WEDDING DAY! Something I KNOW his Highness did not hunt himself and CERTAINLY was not PRESENTING himself!

I drive THEM off? Only to have to fend off maids trying to slather her face up in the "latest fashions" of make up. As though I don't recognize that HARLOTS maids! Is the humiliation of having her be the "poor bereaved lover" of the wedding not ENOUGH?! Not to MENTION that her Highness' people DONT WEAR MAKEUP ON THEIR WEDDING DAY.

On and on it went. For DAYS. I was forced to keep her Highness wedding dress WITH ME in my quarters! Lest it "mysteriously vanish" and she be forced to wear WHITE. You know, like a CORPSE? White? The COLOR OF THE DEAD for her people?!

Now, near tears, I walk. Steps even. Head high. Wondering how she has the strength.

These people are AWFUL. Vicious, nasty, ugly, soul-less, MONSTERS to the last. This... this was supposed to be a HAPPY day! Happy!! I was so EXCITED. One of the few people in the capital who had ever even studied the North in any depth, I... I thought it was an HONOR! But it WASN'T was it? No.

It was just one more insult.

The inexperienced lady in waiting, with no idea of how to do ANYTHING. How very perfect for the Queen that his Highness doesn't actually WANT. No. No HE wants his fragile, waifish, VIPER of a-!

"Calm. When you let them anger you, they begin to win. You start to make mistakes you can not afford. Be Calm. I am here." Her Highness whispers, voice soft but commanding beneath the bland music. It is the sort of voice meant for speech. The command of armies and simple men. "We will get through this farce and be done with it. Do not forget, but do not let it hold you. You are a bird, far from here. Their insults mean nothing."

I nod subtly. Try to visualize it. A bird... a bird... open skies beneath my wings, the rush of air. No whispers or cloying perfumes. Green countryside stretched out far beneath me. Free to go anywhere. I am a bird. I... I am a bird. Breathe.

We reach the end of the aisle. The prince I am supposed to one day serve as king, is making moon eyes at his fucking mistress in broad daylight. At his WEDDING. She dressed like this is a funeral. Oh, boo hoo. He's been ENGAGED SINCE BIRTH. This is NOT A SUPRISE.

Maybe it's first life sensibilities, the ones that carried over. When, for whatever reason, I didn't quite "blank slate" between dying and being born like everyone else. Got that proper Isekai experience of starting over. New world and a only sorta new me etc. But?

If a man is FUCKING ENGAGED? Maybe don't TRY THAT? What the actual hell? Yeah, yeah, complexe social mobility issues. But like? Royal Marriages are COMPLEX ALLIANCE CONTRACTS?? Fuckboi is risking a very real WAR? The assassins alone are going to be both vicious and immediate? Cause the King is not dead yet.

The Crown Prince HAS brothers.

"Hunting accidents" have a precedent here.

Her Highness brothers are going to be PISSED when they hear about this wedding. The treatment of their sister. The alliance hinges on "treat my sister well or at least politely". And he couldn't even manage THAT. It baffles and enraged.

I listen as the priest drones on... and on... and on...

With a growing horror? I realize? His royal moronic? Is using SOLEY our peoples vows. Which won't be RECOGNIZED by the United North as a valid marriage, according to ANY of the predominant alliances, agreements, or faiths. Motherfuckers. I KNOW I sent the wedding planners Big Boldly Worded Warnings about this!!

The prince reluctantly goes in for the binding kiss.

Her Highness leans back.

The room goes Dead Silent. Oh gods. I break line and, under the eyes of FUCKING EVERYBODY (ha ha... oh gods, this is terrible, I hate this so muuuuuch) step up to the royal couple. Pick up the gods damned KNIFE. You know? The MARRIAGE KNIFE? The knife specifically required to MARRY EACH OTHER? That one?

I offer it to her Highness. Who tears her now distainfully blank look away from the prince to look down at me. To consider what's in my hands. The moment seems... charged. I wonder if she's reconsidering her marriage to the prince. She looks at it, drags her gaze up to meet mine, then slowly reaches out. Each finger wrapping around the blade with careful precision.

Holding eye contact as she does. The hint of a smile gracing her face. Approval in her eyes. She tucks in in her sash, in the appropriate place. Then picks up the salt from where it was carelessly shoved aside. Turning fully to hand it to me.

Well THAT'S subtle. She's supposed to hand that to her husband. But I guess since he didn't hand her the blade, she refuses to hand him that salt directly either. I turn and try to offer the prince the salt. He rolls his eyes and demands to know if this is some "northern ritual".

YES, you TWIT. It's called a MARRIAGE CEREMONY.

Getting no answer, he turns to the priest and declare that they are married, can they move ON now? My jaw wants to drop. No. No, they are NOT. In EITHER culture. I was WATCHING. She didn't seal SHIT. Or even verbally AGREE to the vows. Priest. Priest for the LOVE OF THE GODS YOU SERVE-!

The coward nods, letting the sham continue. Holy shit.

They aren't fucking married. If he sleeps with her? It'll be considered an ACT OF WAR. I stare in horror at the priest, who avoids my eyes. He knows as well as I do that the marriage isn't complete. Watching him squirm in his expensive robes, sweating like a rat in a trap factory, I wonder who ACTUALLY owns his soul. In my hands, the salt in it's delicate glass container, feels like it's soaked in blood.

Slick with all the innocent blood that's going to spill, because one man and one COWARD couldn't finish a simple ceremony.

The North will NEVER forgive this trespass. This spit to the face. It goes against everything their people stand for. Cultural THEY CAN'T let this go. The people would RIOT.

My hands tuck the salt in my sash, careful and far away. Feel numb as I watch the priest skitter away to safety like an insect jumping ship. Watch the Crown Prince sweep away to escort no his Supposed WIFE, but his LOVER to the reception. In full view of the court. Before the eyes of visiting diplomats and foreign royals alike. Ha ha...

I want to scream. Just scream and scream until the horror leaves me.

But I can't. The day is not over and I am not alone.

A soft but calloused hand, warm and grounding, touches my arm. I turn to my future Queen. She is bathed in light. Tall and regal, unbending in the face of this endless parade degradation. Her eyes are like the clearest sky I've ever seen. The sunlight catching her hair and making it light itself. I wish I could be a fraction so composed.

"It's the practice." She says, lips barely moving. No doubt to the great frustration of attempted easedropers. "I've had years of training. You're doing well, considering the circumstances, little Brave. Let us go. Endure one last party. Then we will be free to consider our options."

She correct of course. Just... just one more party. And it's nice, reassuring even, how she talks like we're a united front. It does? Niggle something. Try to knock some factoid or other lose in my brain. But I'm so fried. Rattled. Just get through this and we're done. Just... just get through this. It can't be that important, surely. I would remember it if it was. Right?

.....right.

The reception is a horror show. I don't know why I expected it to be anything BUT, at this point. Every single thing The LOVER enjoys. A party to make HER happy. No doubt as an apology for the grave crime of DOING HIS DAMN DUTY. But of course, God's forbid! Any consideration for the BRIDE who had to LEAVE HER HOMELAND! Who ALSO is doing her duty!

At least, bless them eternally and to the last, the dignitaries and other royals all come and speak with her Highness. Keep her company.

Joke about her single status.

Sweet merciful fuck, the country is going to burn. And it's all that idiots fault. I don't even... actually? ACTUALLY?! No! No, this is above my pay grade. I tried! I really, really did! First thing in the morning? I'm sending the folks a priority Strongly Worded Letter that it might be a GREAT idea to pack up everything we care about and "visit the in-laws" over in Gammia. Heard the coast is LOVELY this time of year!

Whole ass family should join um. Take the pets. Any neighbors they much care about.

REALLY, REALLY Lovely. That Coast.

I have to stop FIVE MORE MEAT DISHES. Literally grab a server, drag him down, and inform him the NEXT bastard that brings any form of animal near her Highness? Is getting things thrown at them. Public spectacle be damned. I WILL throw carving knives, Do Not Test ME.

Strangely enough! Suddenly the miscommunication suddenly STOPPED.

.....I hate everyone here. Wish desperately I could be drunk. Can't afford to be. But wouldn't it be nice? Instead, I just aggressively correct people. Oh? You were talking? Not my problem. You were wrong. You KNEW you were wrong, were being RUDE, so frankly? Fuck you.

Fire me. I fucking DARE YOU.

Oh, that's RIGHT! You CAN'T can you? LAPDOG. Because YOU are to busy chasing the favor of the Crown Idiot's FUCKING SIDEPIECE to remember that? He's marrying an actual ROYAL. The person who will ACTUALLY have access to all those contracts, funds, and staffing decisions! (You know... if he ACTUALLY MARRIED HER.)

By the time we turn in? I am considering defecting to the North when this all blows up. I've heard it's harsh but ultimately nice. Good food, beautiful clothing, hot people everywhere. What's not to like? Certainly less asshole behavior. They get stabbed.

I walk the High Princess to her rooms. Pulling open the HEAVILY padlocked chests with the key that I'd kept on me. The wedding furs went on the bed, soft as clouds. They're decorative obviously. You move them before... well. But they are meant to show off her greatest accomplishments. Some fur from difficult hunts, others hide with stories carefully burned onto. A life's work.

See, it is meant to say, the whole of who I am and what has lead me here.

There are fabrics, beads, sets of jewelry. I am setting them all out under the softly watching eyes of her Highness. We are waiting. Even though the marriage is a fucking sham. The idiot still seems to THINK it's done. Which means he must come, remove her veil, undo her braid.

No longer a bride, no longer a girl. There are TRADITIONS. They are MEANINGFUL. They hold a special place in people's heart, in their lives and memories. It is supposed to be tender. Intimate. An emotional, close moment between two people, now bound for the rest of their lives.

Which is why, obviously, the BASTARD doesn't show.

I don't need to even GUESS where he's gone. Let my fury and disgust show, as I slam the door with a VIOLENCE. How dare he. How DARE HE?! ON HIS WEDDING NIGHT!? I hope they DO kill him. At this point, he's begging for it!

Rage shakes through me as I imagine wrapping my hand around his gods forsaken throat. Him and his viper DESERVE each other. I hope they BOTH get every! Last! BIT! Of what they've EARNED.

Hissing out a furious breath. I center myself. Shove it down for later. And turn back to the matter at hand. Her Highness still needs to sleep. And I DON'T trust any of these fuckers. Glancing the fire place, I grab the fire poker. Wedge it through the doors handles. There.

No surprises.

Turning back to her Highness, still sitting at the foot of her own wedding bed, surrounded by her life's work? Years and YEARS of hardwork and meticulous planning? Beautiful things meant to be SHARED with the one she loved? I want to cry and put my fist through something. Be sick. Gods... this isn't right.

"I can only assume then, he's not coming? I can not say I'm suprised." She says, hold a hand out to me. "But then who will remove my veil? Unbraid my hair? I wonder..."

Once again, I'm taking over for what the prince should be doing. I planned the wedding as best I could. Provided, to the best of my ability. Offered the knife and received salt in return. Now? After a, hopefully comforting, squeeze of her Highness hand? I gently begin unpinning her veil.

This close, she smells of highland flowers. The little white-blue ones, that I can only barely recall. I saw them once. When I was younger. They were beautiful. Cover everything, come spring. I wish I knew the name of them.

So many little pins. Her hair is soft. I try not to let my hands linger. It's not my place too. Besides, she's likely not remotely interested. It's been one shit show after another, since we met. Finally though...? The veil is free. I gently lower it away. Together, we remove the no doubt heavy bits of jewelry she's worn all day.

I fetch a brush. Sit behind her. Something about the straightening of her back, softly expectant. Does she think it will hurt? A sensitive scalp perhaps. I work to be extra gentle. Making sure to lightly massage her no doubt sore crown, from where all manner of things have pulled and tugged at her hair all day. Softly working her hair tangle free, I make loose sleeping braids off to each side.

"You know..." her Highness muses, a current of something I can't quite place threading through her words. "This technically makes you my 'husband.' We are married, by Northern law. Irreparably bound. I can not say it's what I expected, coming here... but I think we suit each other, no?"

She's smiling. The first time, fully at least, all day. I can not help but smile back. It's a joke, of course. Silly. I could never be married to a High Princess. No one in their right mind would ever allow it. Not to mention I'm fairly certain only a handful of islands and two nations in the south even recognize such marriages... right?

Again, the niggling in the part of my brain where half forgotten facts lay. Something about her Highness specific Northern region? Her faith? Maternal clan? It's something. I studied this. KNOW this. But... gods, it's been such a day. Can't we just joke and laugh in peace? Rest? Surely we can deal with it tomorrow...

I unearth her nigh clothes. Soft and warm. Sweep back to help her get free of her marital dress. Beautiful as it may be? It weights a TON. I am careful to pack it away. Refuse to chance any mysterious loses. Standing, I move to repack her marriage works. Only to be stopped by the sight of her Highness sitting in bed, covers moved back, hand held out to me again.

"Join me? Surely you will not have me sleep alone, on my wedding night, husband?"

The bed is far too large for just one person. Surrounded by her works, hopeful expression on her face, it would take a far strong woman then I to turn her down. Respectful thoughts. Respectful! Thoughts! It's just a joke. You are her FRIEND. This is FRIEND CUDDLING.

.....oh gods.

Pretty. So pretty. So, so, SO pretty!

Mentally I smack myself. Take myself by the shoulders and shake, as I go and change into my night clothes. Do! NOT! Make this weird for her! She is lonely and far from home. TRUSTS YOU. Needs a friend. You can die over how unbelievably gorgeous she is on you OWN time! Be the friend she needs right now!

I come back. Awkwardly crawl into bed only to get tugged down into unexpectedly strong arms. Uuunnnggggff?! No! NO. Respect thoughts! Ha ha... oh gods they are testing me.

Her Highness arms wrap around me. Cuddling me close. The bed is possibly the single most comfortable thing I've ever rest on. That scent of flowers. Everywhere. I am cradled, even as I lay there frozen and unsure. Feel a hand, softly stroking my back, as though soothing a skittish little creature.

"I've always preferred women you know. But the contract was already made. We do not go back on our word." The words as whispered, an intimate and dangerous confession, almost directly into my ear. "But certain parties have grown rather arrogant. Full of themselves and their supposed superiority. Unfortunate then, for them, that they broke the only thing keeping us from breaking THEM."

The pieces finally align enough, in my head, to click into place. Factoids connecting with string. Her Highness is from the Redcrest Clan on her mother's side. The Redcrest Clan, due to a Matriarch five generations back, formally recognize any-sex marriages. His Highness... if she completes the marriage exchange...

Wait.

A....am I married?

Her Highness presses a kiss to my forhead. Gently tugging my body closer toward hers. To tangle her legs with mine. A pleased little noise escapes her, deep in her throat. A near soundless hum that's more exhale then anything else.

"You'll love the North. And I have no doubt my brothers will adore you. We will have to fetch your Clan, of course, but I have lands I can give them. I swear to kill any who dare harm you. Love you as you deserve."

With a sleepy smile, that did nothing to hide the deadly edges to it and eyes that seems to dance with the coming flames of war, she whispered.

"I'll make you a Queen, my love. Lay these lands at your feet. You will look so lovely in a crown."

[normansnt]

The Prince

(Alastor x prince of hell!reader)

"HOLLLLYYY FUCKING SHIT (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER WE ARE VISITING CHARLIEEEE" yelled your dad while bursting into your room.

You looked up at your dad startled.

"Thats great, but why are you yelling?" You asked while raising your eyebrow.

"BECAUSE WE ARE GOING NOW COME OOONNN" he continued yelling while taking your hand and dragging you out of your room and off you guys were to the Hazbin Hotel.

When you arrived your dad almost run in before you told him to tone it down he is still the king of hell who has to keep up a certain image.

This was your relationship in a nutshell. You were not at all like your father and older sister. You were calm and collected and were there to calm them down. And why you stuck with your dad? Because he was broken after your mother left and you kind of got stuck being his mental support.

You never blamed Charlie for leaving you had the chance you do that as well but you decided to stay.

Your dad entered the hotel and immediately hugged Charlie. You just calmly walked in after him.

"OOOHHHHHH YOU BROUGHT (Y/N)" yelled Charlie as well excitedly and gave you the same bone crushing hug your dad gave her earlier.

"Yeah...'m here...sis....cant...breathe" you tried to get a sentence out.

"OH yeah of course sorry"

"Its fine Im happy to see you Charlie" you smiled at her while dusting your button up shirt.

After this encounter Charlie introduced you to the rest of the residents including her girlfriend, who you were delighted to meat since Charlie always rented about her when you guys would talk.

But of course your dad managed to make that encounter awkward as well to which you just sighed a little.

Unbeknownst to you a certain radio demon had his eyes on you from the moment you entered. It was one thing that your attire was something he himself would wear and it suited your figure perfectly, quite old fashioned just like he liked it, but when he saw that seemingly you were the distinguished one in the family you have won his interest.

The way you held yourself with a straight back chin up, truly befitting a prince. He noticed that you seem to either calm down or hint to your father on how to act. It was a sight to behold for sure.

"And this here-" started Charlie nearing the stairs where Alastor appeared. "-oh, this is Alastor our beloved building manager"

"Its a pleasure to meet you sir quite the pleasure" said Alastor while shaking Lucifers hand and wiping it in his coat after.

Not paying a second more of his attention on your father he looked immediately to you.

"And this magnificent creature is the prince of hell himself I'm sure" he said while taking your hand and softly kissing your knuckles.

Your face got a bit read while he straightened back up eye contact never leaving.

"I am, it is a pleasure to meet you sir, I quite enjoy your radio podcast" you managed to get out after re-gaining your composure.

What you said was true, though. You enjoyed his brodcast, his voice, and interestingly enough your taste in music was similar, the jazz part at least.

Alastors eyes lit up at that.

"Indeed? Well I'm honored the prince of hell himself enjoys what I do, and please do call me Alastor." he smiled at you and took one of your hands in both of his while you guys just stared at each other.

"Should we do something ooor...?" Whispered angel to Husk.

However the cat was to stunned to speak. He has never seen Alastor act like this with anyone before. The radio demon was literally flirting with the prince of hell.

"WOOOOWWW ooookkkkk nononono lemme just...squeeze in here" said your father while standing between you and Alastor which was almost impossible thats how close you two stood to each other but he managed.

"If you don't mind I believe my daughter was about to show us the hotel so see ya later" said your dad hastily while pushing you away from the overlord.

"Oh, no, we built the hotel together we should show it together, right Charlie?" Grinned Alastor at the princesse

"...Ok"

"I wouldn't mind at all to show the lovely little prince around" he smiled at you and offered you his arm which you gladly took.

All this while Lucifer was glaring daggers at Alastors back as you two walked off chatting happily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WOOOOOOWWWW LOOK AT ME POSTING AGAIN YEAAHHHHH WHAT CAN I SAY I HAVE A PROBLEM

And you bitches too I literally uploaded my Hazbin Hotel posts minutes ago and yall are eating it up already.

I mean ofc thank you sm for all the love (🥹🧡) but DAMN yall good? Anyone need a therapist?

Haha, just kidding...we all do.

ANYWAAAYSSS

I HAVE SOOO MANY MORE IDEAS AND I CANT WAIT TO WRITE THEM AND SHARE THEM WITH YOU GUYS.

I'm also thinking about writing a pt.2 for this so lemme know if yall would be interested😎

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies, gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and goodnight🧡🦖

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

Ok so as a sort of followup to that Yachie drawing, I did one of Yachie as well. I already had a pretty solid idea in mind (though tbh drawing her wasn't as fun as drawing Saki) but I'm overall pretty happy with this drawing.

Artist's Notes;

So I knew that I would never forgive myself if I completely missed the oppurtunity to give Yachie face scales, which is something that I haven't really seen many people do yet. I do feel like I could've pushed it a lot more, but I'm liking the direction my take on her is going.

I also wanted to take this opportunity to talk about some of my headcannons for how Hell's fashion works since I've had this on my mind for a while. So ever since I refined my own design for Zanmu, I really liked the idea of having there be some connection between her and Satori in their clothes because they're both the defacto "leaders" of their respective Hells, and then I had the idea of having Hell's fashion trends mimic real life history where it mimics whatever the upperclassman are wearing in someway? I've always been really fascinated with the idea of how Modern Hell works as a society and also how Old Hell was impacted by it's abandonment, and while I am aware that the animal realm isn't exactly Hell and is moreso it's own thing right next to it, I imagine that there would be some overlap in the fashion and culture due to their close proximity to each other. Of course, I still kept a lot of elements in from Yachie's original design, the only thing I really added to the outfit was the jazzed up sleeves and the bottom of her shirt as well as those cool triangle things ZUN added to her shirt in 19. I also have her some nice and sharp nails since I thought they fit her. I also tried adding some scales onto the tips of her ears though tbh IDK how well they read. Her colour palette also ended up becoming a lot more teal than I had anticipated, but I honestly like it as I love it whenever people make Yachie's colour palette and design a lot more teal. I also wanted to try and differentiate her face from Saki's, though I do plan on experimenting more on how to avoid same face syndrome, as it's a problem that haunts me in my dreams. There's not really much I can say here aside from "hee hee clothing rendering go brrrrrr" and how the Clip Studio Paint charcoal brush is really all you need for any given piece and it is literally the only brush I use aside from the occasional airbrush for lighting (sometimes) and the blend tools. I've been doing a lot more simple character art recently and I've just been waiting for a cool enough idea for a full blown piece.

Though now that I've talked about some of my headcannons about how Modern Hell works, I really just want a Touhou manga spinoff about Modern Hell. Like, please ZUN I'm begging you, just do it, it would be so fucking cool because Touhou 17 is literally the only time in modern Touhou when we've been to Hell proper, does modern Hell have any settlements of Oni and other Youkai? Does it have cities? Towns? Villages? What's the technological level of Hell? How do they keep sinners from pulling a Touhou 17 and summoning a fucking god to save them? Where do all the characters associated with Hell as of right now fit into everything? You can't just drop a character like Zanmu who is stated to essentially be the king of fucking Hell and then not elaborate further on how she fits into the general framework of Hell! Is she officially the king or is this more of a "true mastermind using the official king/ruler as a puppet" type deal? How does the Animal Realm fit into all of this? Did Hecatia purposefully create Hell so it would be right next to the Animal realm? Did it just appear there on it's own once Buddhism started popping off on Earth or was it established once Zanmu established Modern Hell? How long was Keiki a problem for, and how did that affect the rest of Hell? Seriously there are so many unanswered questions here and I don't know if I just need to read an interview Zun had where he was asked these same questions and if so please tell me because these questions have all been stirring in my brain for quite some time and I really wished we'd just get a new fucking manga instead of going over the same settings in Gensokyo over and over and over and over again dear god. Like, I get that there's still a lot to explore with what we already do have, but it would just be really nice to see the Animal Realm get a little more explanation as to how it fits into the overall grand scheme of Gensokyo's worldbuilding because that would just make such an already interesting idea for a setting in Gensokyo so much better.

I'm hoping to get the drawing for Keiki done before Touhou 17's 5 year anniversary, though I am willing to postpone that and take my time on it and I also have something coming up where I won't have access to my main drawing tablet for a while so it might be a while until I post again, maybe, who knows, consistent posting schedule? Who are they, I've never heard of them. I do fully intend on talking about my thoughts on Touhou 17 though, even if it's a day or two late, it's Touhou 17's birthday month so it still counts! Also because out of all the Touhou game anniversaries, this is the one I care about the most because Touhou 17 was the first Touhou game I played and 1CC'd(???) on normal, and even though it has plenty of flaws (i.e. the many missed opportunities for it's gameplay, how unbalanced the mechanics are and also screen visibility), I'm always going to have a bit of a soft spot for it and I think that the game's strengths make up for some of it's weaknesses in my opinion.

[bloodreddemons]

All Hazbin Hotel Fashion Ranked w/Roasting | (imo)

(Pilot to Present)

#20 Valentino | He literally looks like he smells of alcohol, smoke, and piss. How tf has Velvette not fixed him yet?!?! This gawdy wannabe gimp getup is NOT OK... He just strolls around naked under that Santa Claus/Zebra printed Nightmare....🤡 (I like his glasses tho imma rob him)

#19 Adam | Dude be fucking having that moo moo dress ON. I find it hilarious that his army is dripped out more than he is. I mean his final battle moo moo dress was a bit better than the original but he really just walks around like a certain Ice King from one of my fav Cartoon Network shows lmfaooooo. ✝️

#18 Carmilla Carmine | Lackluster. I wasn't really wowed by either two of her looks all that much I guess. There's just absolutely no color I kinda wish they incorporated maybe more purple or something in her. Carmilla also got some BIG ass hands. Idk her design just kinda throws me off. It reminds me of something abstract.

#17 Vox | I really like his coat and just the overall palette of that electric blue situation but his shirt low-key is giving me Freddy Krueger tease lol. As well as Pyrocynical and that dude from the show "Villainous". I hope in Season 2 Vox serves us more looks and variety. He's not bad, he just obviously doesn't compare to others.

#16 Katie Killjoy | She got only like one outfit but man does it EAT. A bit cliche for a reporter but it's just still too cunty to turn down. The pearls, the cut, the makeup, fucking slay I guess. Miss Bryce Tankthrust still serving in hell is a MUST. 📣

#15 Lute | Ngl I was just shocked how pretty Lute was. That fucking face card and you hide it under a MASK?!?! Her eyelashes/eyes and that bob is just chef's *kiss* honestly and I actually really do think the angel uniforms are pretty hot as well. You just can't go wrong with a thigh high BOOT. Girls really get it done. 💯 (Keep the mask OFF!!!)

#14 Mimzy | I hate Mimzy with a passion but I can't deny flapper dresses are beautiful. Mimzy you absolutely devoured and the body is bodying Cheers, you're timeless lol. 🥂

#13 Husk | Please don't hate me guys. I love Husk and all, but ever since Alastor stole his soul he also stole his swag. Man's hasn't worn a fucking shirt since that day lmao. 🤣🤣 Like where DID his suit go??? I would be depressed and wasted too if I was him. I don't hate his design or outfit, I just think it's a bit too simple compared to the other main characters. His personality and Keith David 100% make up for it tho. ♠️

#12 Rosie | Just like Mimzy but like, tripled lmao. Just timeless beauty that never dies. Mary Poppins WHO???? My favorite is honestly probably her hat, that thing is like the crown jewel. Color palette is also kinda satisfying, I stan the pink and mauve. 🌷

#11 Emily | She's like a breath of fresh air from all the red and pink tones. The baby and periwinkle blue is so beautiful and so are her features. Them big ass eyes, the freckles, & whimsical hair. I liked her dress too. Big W's for Em. 💙

#10 Niffty | Cutieeeee. I really like her redesign compared to the old one. 1950's style of fashion is also still very appealing to me as well. The pink dress she was wearing was so fucking adorable I almost had a stroke just to see it in person. She's also weirdly gorgeous covered in angel blood. 💄

#9 Charlie Morningstar | Ngl...a lil disappointed in our girl. As the main character....to have so many just similar looking outfits with not much variety is kinda the most unsatisfying thing ever. It often feels like her fanart and photos that we rarely ever see contain better outfits than the ones that repeatedly appear in the show. However there's nothing really wrong with her final design I just sometimes really miss the old one from the pilot. I think her rounder features and the lighter pink suited her better. Final battle outfit was her best look so far tho in my opinion. 💋

#8 Sir Pentious | Sir Pentious style sorta never changed, he's still rocking that snake do-rag and that suit top that's striped just like everybody else's. 😮‍💨 I really wish they would've made Pentious' suit a floral pattern. I know stripes might have been popular in the 1800s but floral was very popular too and it'd be something different that'd still completely match his Era. I love his steam punk style and his other creative looks but his HEAVEN outfit was just the best. Saint Pentious > Sinner Pentious!! 🤍

#7 Velvette | Thank LUCI they changed and upgraded this girl bro. She was lowkey a hot fucking mess in my opinion before. Man did she come out SWINGING. Not just with looks but also personality I was floored. She's literally the Queen of hairdos and assembling, not many people can pull off that many patterns. Unique and trendy with the energy to back it up. Velvette you'll always be famous!! ❤

#6 Lucifer Morningstar | 6.6.6!!! Very few outfits but I never seen a moment where this man did not serve!! He's always got that fire ass coat on and he gives you the hatsssss. They're stylish while also telling you exactly who he is. It's like regal as fuck while also kinda simple. You don't have to think too much while ogling to just know that he's a dapper ass cHaD. ❤️‍🔥🍎

#5 Cherri Bomb | Loved all of Cherri's outfits. She fucking devoured and blown away over half the competition. She is Kesha vibes. Mama is Avril Lavigne vibesss. She just gives it to you with her punk rock, y2k, fashion. (I know she's supposed to 80s Era but still lol..) Always loved her base look but the final battle outfit and the one from the addict music video were amazing. 🍒

#4 Vaggie | Vaggie the fucking queen you areeee. Talk about versatility. She can really pull off a lot. I noticed that she experiments with her hair a lot like Velvette and I LOVE THAT. The fucking bob?!? High ponytail?!?! Great bangs and great length?!?! Vaggie teach me your wayssss. I always liked her bow and a lot of her outfits. Most of them are sexy without trying too hard. I don't think I can even pick a favorite but I'd probably go with final battle outfit and also her angel gown because that is just too cute lol. 💅🏼

#3 Alastor | As soon as Alastor popped up on scene he was fucking slaying. Literally definition of "pink is cute but red is sexy". He got those sharp ass acrylics ON and his coat is fabulousy spooky lmfao. He also went from being bed bug red to....even more red and sharper (because that was some how possible) lol. Red and black is always an amazing combo and his deer-like appearance is kinda appealing even tho it's a demon lol. I'd venture to even say he's probably one of the most fashionable Overlord's. He's just eye catching and has that AURA. Maybe it's because he's an ancient relic with very peculiar cLaSs but it's really working for him. Keep going you psycho I will see you in hell lmao. (Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka called 🍓💀)

#2 Angel Dust | FUCKING KING SHIT. He just serves every time without fail. He has a whole wardrobe and they all fucking bang. The clothes are sexy, the makeup is sexy, the AURA is sexy. AND IT SHOULDN'T BE TRIFLED WITH!!! It's really sad because he spends so much time to "get pretty" for pieces of shit, but it doesn't take away Angel's talent to pull off so many gorgeous and hot things. Angel will always be a standout icon and I bet Heaven will look SO good on him. 💗

#1 Lilith (Probably lol) | We barely seen her, but I just KNOW she'd devour. Point. Blank. Period. lmfao. 👑♀️

[serraphinm]

♕Chapter 1 - The Crown♕

Notes: This has taken me so long, but it was totally worth it. Hope you all agree. When I wrote this, I thought of The Princess Diaries, but I wanted to make it have magic. There are phones in this world, but nobles are old-fashioned and don't really use them. If you have any questions, put them in the comments, and I'll do my best to answer them!

WC: 8k

Taglist: @bready101

Reblogging and comments are loved and welcomed!!

Field trips were the fucking best. Not only did you get a break from schoolwork, but you also got to run around like an idiot with your friends. The one downside was that I still had to wear my school uniform. Old thing was stiff as a board and smelt like dust, whatever the hell dust smelt like. 

Almost tripping up the stairs, I head into the Midiri National Museum, where our professors have chosen to have us walk around for the next 5 hours. My feet were hurting already. I huff, tighten the straps of my satchel, and pull my hair out from under it. Opening the heavy ass doors, I spot my friends and grin. Before I run over to them, I look at the museum entryway again. The massive walls and high ceilings always manage to steal my breath away. Taking in the details, I walk to my friends. Once I reached them, we exchanged whispered hellos and giggled. Our professor, Professor Hallam, instructs us to go wherever we like as long as we remain in the building. We head to the Royalty section to get a look at the Princess's crown and try it on. According to the legend, if you were the heir to the throne, the crown would glow, but everyone was sure they were just rumors. The King and Queen were assassinated twenty years ago, a month after the Princess was born. And on the same night, the Princess was taken. Many hoped the Princess would try on the crown and return, but I believe that's total bullshit.

"You gotta try on the crown.. come on!!!" A voice says to me.

"Absolutely not, Miriam. I'm pretty sure the thing is cursed."  Miriam was a sweet girl with butterscotch hair and green eyes. We had met at Sareth Academy about 13 moons ago, and she was well aware of how I felt regarding the Royals and the current temporary monarch. This was partially why I chose to apply to the academy in the first place. 

"Not even for a millisecond?" Evelyn practically pleads. She was tall and fair with blue eyes and blonde hair.

 She loved the royals and was thoroughly convinced she was the lost Princess despite having completely different features. When we came here a year ago, she tried on the crown and wore it for the full minute. Magic was funny, though; the crown teleported back into the case with some of her hair. We laughed about it for weeks, commenting on her bald spot as if our lives depended on it. I still don't think she's fully forgiven us for that. My footsteps echo throughout the massive room, and I begin to regret wearing these shoes.

"You guys are well aware how much that crown freaks me out. It's still a big fat no."

Miriam and Evelyn both roll their eyes. They didn't understand why I hated the crown so much. And I sure as hell wasn't about to tell them. We reach the Queen and King painting and bow to it before walking over to the crown.

"You know, Y/n.. every year we come here, you look more and more like Her Majesty..it's almost creepy, honestly.." Evelyn says, her eyes still focused on the painting.

"I'm sure it's just a coincidence." Miriam's voice rings out. Looking at the painting again, I study the Queen's face. I hated to admit it, but we were strikingly similar. We had the same nose and skin tone, and our hair and eye color were the same.

"It is kinda creepy, but a lot of people look like the late Queen. I'm sure Miriam is right." I say before I walk over to the crown with the girls. Evelyn puts it on as soon as she can reach it. Miriam and I chuckle, but she just grins at us. Evelyn sets the crown back on its stand, not wanting to lose her hair again, and steps back.

 That's when I hear it. A small… whisper..

Y/n

My head snaps in different directions, trying to figure out where that is coming from, but it ultimately lands on the crown. My friends look concerned.

"Y/n, you ok?" Miriam says softly as if she were scared of scaring me.

I ponder telling them that I'm hearing voices. This is why I hated the crown. It gave me a terrible headache and it whispered my name. It creeped me the fuck out.

 "It's nothing.. Just thought I heard something." 

Y/n

There it is again.

 What the hell is going on?

 I stare at the crown, almost glaring at it. A group of students comes in, their footsteps like thunder. One of my Professors is among them. My friends' heads snap in that direction, and mine would, too. However, I still stare at the crown as if it were mesmerizing. 

Y/n 

Y/n

Y/n

The voice gets louder, so much so it hurts. I groan and grab my head. Evelyn and Miriam call for the teacher. I hear something about the Prime Minister for some odd reason. Closing my eyes, I try and stop the pain. Dull aches find the smallest corners of my mind as the voice screams.

"Make it stop!" I cry out, my throat going dry. 

Opening my eyes, I see a man dressed in a light red suit. He has blue eyes and very short, combed-over, white hair. He smiles calmly at me and reaches for the crown. I panicked and tried to back away from it. A wall of mass sits a few steps back, though, and I look back to see two guards standing tall. I want to yell at them to move. To do something about the screaming. But it hurts so much I can barely think. The Prime Minister gently holds a hand out to me. To steady me. I take the hand with my own shaking. He gently places the crown on my head. And all is quiet. Before I can even take a deep breath of relief, a blinding white light fills the room. Groans and screams fill my senses, and I close my eyes once more. When I open them, I see everyone staring at me in shock. It clicks then….

I was Midiri's Princess.

How the fuck-

Whom the fuck- 

WHAT THE FUCK

The prime minister's voice pulls me out of my internalized panic and places a hand on my shoulder.

"We've been looking for you for a long time, Your Highness." What he says makes my ears ring and my brain hurt. 

I open my mouth to protest, but he turns to the room before I can. With a booming voice, he announces, "I present to you, her Highness… Princess Y/N L/N!"

He bows to me, and I'm acutely aware of how uncomfortable I am with this situation. Soon, the room follows in varying forms of curtsies and bows. I feel like Percy Jackson when it was revealed he was the son of Poseidon. 

The prime minister raises his head and gives me a look, which I can only assume is meant to be calming. 

Guards escort me to the front doors, and my feet seem to move on their own. Once outside, a large black limo comes around the street corner and stops in front of the museum steps. I want to scream. Say this is all wrong and go back to my friends. But something inside me is telling me this is right and that I can change what I hate about the monarchy. I steel my resolve and, with shaky legs, enter the limo. It felt bigger on the inside than it looked. On the plus side, I didn't feel claustrophobic. On the negative side, I was so overwhelmed and overstimulated that I felt like I was going to puke. The prime minister sat a few seats away from me, and I decided that while I was stuck here, I might as well ask a few questions.

I look up at him and, with a dry mouth, ask, "How did you know to put the crown on me?" 

He looks surprised for a moment, but to be fair, this is the first time I've spoken to him, let alone asked him a question.

"I saw your face.. and saw Her Majesty… I thought it couldn't hurt to try… I'm sorry if I scared you, your Highness." He says gently. I let out a breath I wasn't aware I had been holding and whispered, "What's going to happen now…?"

He gives me a sympathetic look and says, "Now, we begin planning for your coronation. Some instructors will teach you all you need to know, and a seamstress will be by to take measurements for a coronation gown and clothing." He begins listing other things that will need to be done, but I zone out. Switching on the TV, I see news report after news report about me—my face, where I went to school, all of it. 

"How did they find me so fast…?" I ask the prime minister, my head snapping in his direction.

"I'm not sure...However, there will no doubt be paparazzi waiting for you when we arrive at the palace." His voice is stressed, and I can tell he's worried about something, though I can't determine what.

"I'm assuming the Duke and his family will be awaiting my arrival as well," I note darkly. 

Duke Haleson was an all-around dickface, and I didn't need to meet him to know that. As the temporary monarch, he had more power than any person should ever have without proper checks and balances, and it showed. 

"I'm sure he will be there to greet you along with the Duchess. But not to worry, " he says, noticing the look of disdain on my face. “You currently have more power than him as the Princess."

It takes a whole minute for that to sink in before I realize that, yet again, this is real. I pinch myself once just to make sure, and when the pain registers, it too registers. This is not a dream. Then, so suddenly, as if it were lightning, Im determined and a little pissed off. If there's one thing I know about this whole situation, it's that I've been given the power to make things right. Being resentful came with knowing I'd have to clean up the Duke's mess. 

"Your Highness, if I may ask, how much do you know about the Duke and his family?" the Prime Minister asks softly. 

"Well, for starters, I know the Duke is the temporary monarch, which he took over when the King and Queen died… well, I suppose I mean when my parents died.." It felt weird to say that and to be honest, it just made me depressed. "He's the late King's cousin, and I believe he has two sons and a daughter. His eldest son is Emon, and his second son is Oren… I believe they're both 19."

Recalling information about the Duke's family was easier than I thought despite knowing the most about the Duke himself. "His daughter is Elora, and she's 14. I've seen several photos of them in the paper and magazines." 

The Prime minister nods and confirms the information.

"What I don't know are their affinities," I say, subtly asking the Prime Minister. Each member of the royal family by blood had affinities, which I suppose meant I had them too. Power takes form when a royal member reaches 10 and is in tune with their affinities. A type of energy per se. Different kinds of energies lead to various types of affinities and so forth.

He taps his chin as if deciding whether or not to tell me before simply saying, "The Duke has an ice affinity, The Duchess a plant affinity, Emon has a plant affinity as well, I believe Oren has force affinity, and Elora has a surprising teleportation affinity."

It was indeed surprising to have a teleportation affinity. From what I knew, they were extremely rare. 

"A teleportation affinity..?? Jeez.. I bet the Duke loves her.." 

He says nothing and just avoids my eyes. Deep down, I know what that means, so I turn my attention back to the TV.

We pull up to the palace, and cameras are flashing before I even step out. Guards line the pathway; I can see the Duke and his sniveled-up face from here. Someone opens the door, and cameras flash so much that I'm practically blinded. The same person who opened the door held a hand out to me, and I took it. As I stand, the flashes just get worse. Covering my face with my hand and walking, tons of questions are thrown my way. People are screaming my name somewhere, and it takes me a moment to realize there are tons of people with signs and posters outside the gates. I realized they were all there for me, so I decided to wave to them as a show of courtesy. That just makes them scream louder, and I try not to grimace. Focusing my attention on walking, I head toward the Duke. He bows to me, and his family soon follows. I was surprised to find out they'd all be here at once. 

"Are you sure this is the Princess? She looks like a teenager… and she's wearing a school uniform." The Duke comments with a grin on his face. Man, this guy is more pathetic than I thought.

"I'm 20, and this is usually what people wear when going to school, Duke Haleson."

He looks down at me once more as if acknowledging me was some horrible fate he had been subjected to. I keep eye contact with him and try not to glare… or bite his head off.

"My, you have quite the tongue for a young lady…"

"That's Her Highness to you, Duke Haleson. I respect your title; you should respect mine, don't you think?"

His jaw clenches, and I can see the irritation in his eyes. Good, it's about time he understands I won't be pushed around.

The Duke glares at me, poised to speak, but the Duchess interjects with a warm welcome, guiding me into the palace. As she shares captivating stories about the grounds, I struggle to keep my jaw from dropping. The sheer magnificence leaves me in awe when we step into the foyer.

With its soaring ceilings, the space feels vast and inviting. Gold accents glimmer on the walls, while the marble floors shine under the gentle light streaming through grand windows. Splashes of light purple and lush greenery breathe life into the room as vibrant purple flowers and cascading vines adorn both the walls and ceilings.

As we venture further, the beauty of this palace is almost intoxicating, yet there's an underlying weight in the air, a sense of history that seems to seep from every corner. Each detail is meticulously crafted, and I can't shake the idea that beneath this elegance lie untold stories—much like the voice that haunted me earlier.

My thoughts flutter between what the Duchess is saying and how on earth this room is real. We enter the drawing room, and more splashes of purple and gold fill my vision as I'm led to a plush white chair. As she is well known, Duchess Victoria sits across from me while her husband stands and stares. 

"I'm sure you have many questions. Are there any we can answer, Your Highness?" the Prime Minister asks. I suddenly realized that I hadn't even bothered to ask for his name yet. 

"What's your name?"

He looks shocked momentarily before he smiles and introduces himself, "My name is Bennet Winton, Your Highness."

I open my mouth to respond when I hear a chuckle from the Duke. This man was already pissing me off.

"You must really want my attention, Duke Haleson if you can't even keep yourself from being the only one laughing."

He shuts up.

I turn back to Prime Minister Winton and smile at him. "I appreciate your help thus far. My other question is when the coronation will be held and whether I'll be crowned Princess or Queen."

"It will be held in one week. And you shall be crowned Queen." Duke Halesons' cold voice fills the room. The Duchess speaks next, her voice quieter than the Dukes': "Don't worry, dear. We will prepare you for the coronation. I have a lovely seamstress I could recommend if you'd like."

"Thank you.. I would like that. What about education, though? I have no idea how to run a country."

This time, the Prime Minister says, "Not to worry, Your Highness. We have the best professors and instructors across the globe."

"Well, that's good; thankfully, I know quite a lot about nobles and such from studying at Sareth Academy." 

"Sareth Academy, you say. I thought I recognized that uniform from somewhere, " the Prime Minister says warmly. 

I was quite proud of myself for getting into such an elite school. "Yes, I learned quite a lot." 

Learning about people who were far more fortunate tended to anger people, and I was no different. However, attending the school helped me learn about affinities and nobles' power. I wouldn't have my seething hatred for the Duke without my education. Mostly because I'd be ignorant like most people who believe in the royals and nobles. The Duke had been placing people in positions of power who had no idea what they were doing or had too much of an idea and were using it to hurt ordinary people. 

"Oh really…?" 

I take a deep breath. The Duke had yet again tried to undermine me. He must take me for some idiot who just wants to be royalty.

"Duke Haleson, if you're going to be immature, I can get help elsewhere." My voice is unwavering and determined. In a matter of seconds, I see his expression flicker between outrage and calm. He clears his throat as if he were trying to stuff down another rude comment.

"Excuse me?" His voice cracks a little.

"You're not excused." 

Everyone in the room looks like I've just slapped them across the face. Then suddenly,… laughter. Oren laughs and soon follows his brother and then his sister. The Duchess follows naturally. The Prime Minister even cracks a significant smile. I feel a bit ashamed for a moment before I realize… they're laughing at him. Duke Haleson's face is red. I can't tell if it's because of my ridiculous petty comment or because everyone is laughing at him. Maybe a combination of both. 

"Now then.. I'd like to see my room, please." The exhaustion of the whole situation has finally worn me out, and I have decided to give the Duke some undeserved respite. I stand, and the Prime Minister waves a maid over. She looks to be eighteen, though I can't be sure. She curtsies to me and beams me with a smile. I smile back before I turn to the Prime Minister.

"Thank you for your help, Prime Minister.."

"Please, call me Bennet Your Highness. Rest well, and I shall see you in a few days."

He bows once more, and I decide to follow the maid for some well-deserved rest. With one last glance at the people in the room, I realize I may have more allies than I once thought. 

Exhaustion was a bitch, and we weren't friends. There were so many stairs in this palace I thought my legs were going to fall off. I learned the maid's name was Jane. She was seventeen and had been working at the palace for almost a year now. She seemed very shy and surprised by the many questions I was asking her. We reach this massive hallway with an enormous window at the end of it. Flowers and vines crawl up the sides of it in a delicate pattern. Jane snaps me out of my trance by walking up to a set of lovely double doors. They arch at the top with intricate designs along the sides. Everything in this palace was just so damn pretty. She opens the doors, and I feel a breeze. I smell the room before I see it. Vanilla and Rose fill my senses as I try not to trip over my feet when I see the space. It's an open floor plan; everything is marble, gold, and light purple. So simple yet so elegant. A bed the size of my old bathroom lays off to the left with a canopy and vines covering it. The sheer drapes are held up with delicate ribbons made of lace. Picking my jaw off the floor, I take it in the rest of the room. A covered balcony with flowers galore and a view of the gardens. A sitting area that could fit a football team. A massive walk-in closet with so many accessories I can't even count them. A bathroom that shines brighter than my future and a large desk that overlooks the garden. The space feels surreal, like something you'd only see in your dreams. Everything is soft and expensive, and I just want to jump onto the bed… or into the bath… I wasn't about to be picky.

It takes me a few hours to find everything in the space. And a few more to remember the names and faces of my maids. Anais had red hair and blue eyes; Rose had brown hair, a fair nose, and pretty blue eyes; Ivone had deep black hair curling at the ends and brown eyes. While Jane had light brown eyes, freckles, and green eyes. It was odd how close I had gotten used to them. Which also felt weird because these girls would most likely see me naked. At Sareth Academy, they taught us that working with nobles came with having to see them in all states. It was a requirement to know how to serve them even if you weren't going to be in that line of work. I thought it was ridiculous, but you do whatever it takes to learn how to beat the system. 

A lovely woman named Cherry came by as well. She was the palace seamstress that Duchess Victoria had sent over. As the palace seamstress, she took my measurements while I stood on a small fitting room platform. Cherry works quickly and efficiently, but as I'm wearing close to nothing in front of a room of strangers, it was difficult not to shiver. 

"Just a few more measurements, dearie." She chirps as she walks around me. Writing on her notepad, she looks up at me.

"You did wonderful, Your Highness, I'm all finished."

I immediately relax and step down from the platform. A maid whose name I've learned to be Ivone steps forward and holds out a fluffy robe. Slipping it on immediately, I shiver into it. I was thankful to no longer be in my knickers in front of everyone. Cherry waves over another maid whose name I believe to be Anais. She hands her a stack of what looks to be pajamas, and I'm thankful that I have something to wear to bed tonight.

"Rose, could you please get my stationery?" I asked my fourth maid. Somehow, during my panic attack over the crown, I lost my satchel and phone. So, for now, I was stuck writing letters, though it did kind of make me feel more like royalty.

"Of course, Princess," Rose says a little too happily. She runs over to my desk as Cherry packs up. Anais walks over to the double doors on the other side of the room and opens them to my walk-in closet. I watch her go before walking over to my desk and writing a letter to my friends back at the academy. Writing everything I felt on paper left it rushed, but I doubt they would care much. I seal the letter when something crosses my mind. 

Where was the Royal Seal?

I had heard about it in history lessons. It was used when royals sent letters to other countries or when the letter held important information. But if I didn't already have it, that meant only one thing: The Duke hadn't given it up. The Royal Seal was a sign of power, a sign that the current monarch was truly in charge. 

I hand the letter off to Rose, who happily takes it away as I ponder. I needed to get that seal if I was going to be Queen, whether or not I had to take it from his hands. 

"Princess, what would you like for dinner?"

Jane's soft voice reaches my ears, pulling me from my thoughts. I mutter a reply even though I feel too tired and stressed to eat. Usually, I would eat more than I needed, but for some reason, tonight, I just wasn't feeling it. Cherry says her goodbyes and well-wishes and I find myself relaxing a smidge more. I just wanted to be alone.

An hour later, Jane returned with the dinner I had requested. Surprisingly, I managed to get a decent amount down, and soon it was time for bed. Changing into the silk pajamas Cherry gave me, I find myself drawn to the massive bed. My maids leave, and suddenly, I feel everything all at once. Grief for my old life, happiness for my new one, fear and determination for the future. So much has happened in one day, and I feel the exhaustion clawing at my body. The bed surrounds me, and I fall into a deep sleep.

My whole body feels soft. Silk envelops me, and I wonder if I've died and gone to heaven. I open my eyes and see soft sunlight cascading onto the double doors of my room. The warmth is inviting, stirring a sense of calm I didn't know I needed. I yawn and sit up, stretching the sleepy energy right out of me. Glancing at the cord, my maids told me to pull when I awakened. I tug down on it, and a minute later, Rose, Anais, Ivone, and Jane come walking in. Rose pushes what seems to be a gold cart of food and brings it to the little area where I eat. Obviously, I get out of bed and walk over to eat.

After I eat, Cherry returns with dresses she altered to fit me until she can make some new ones for me. I wasn't exactly keen on wearing dresses every day, so I asked her to make me some pantsuits and everyday clothes, too. She seemed a bit shocked that I asked her that but nonetheless made a note of it. Ivone helps me get into one of the dresses, which is super awkward. Ivone doesn't seem to mind, thankfully, and we slip it on. It's a simple day dress made of silk. Rose suggested kitten heels, which I'm thankful for because I did not want to walk around in my uniform shoes any longer. I slip them on, and Anais fills me in on my schedule for the day.

"First, you will meet your new professors at 10 am, a small break for lunch; then you have dancing lessons at 3 pm."

"That is all, yes?" I practically plead. Wanting to be a good ruler and being lazy were both strangling me, and I couldn't decide which to fight off first.

"Yes, Princess, that is all." Rose giggles. I giggled along with her, and soon, I was headed to meet the professors.

The professors were certainly interesting. Despite growing up as a commoner, they seemed shocked by my seemingly decent education. However, one wasn't sure of my abilities and decided to question me further; needless to say, I put her in her place.  

I had also learned the steps to the Rumba, which couldn't have been more awkward. At least my teacher was a woman and not some old creepy guy. The song playing in the background isn't one I've heard before, and later, in my room, I find myself humming it.

"What's that song you're humming Your Highness?" One of my girls asks. Based on the voice, I think it's Ivone. 

"I'm not entirely sure…"

Each day is the same maddening cycle. 

Dresses get delivered.

Professors drone on for hours about history and math.

Lunch.

Dancing class while I try not to look at my feet and not step on hers simultaneously.

It was exhausting.

Thankfully, today would be different because today was my coronation day. The fun part was the ball right after. For hours, I was cleaned, prepped, and clothed. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this whole royalty thing….

I shake my head and steel my resolve. No. I wasn't going to quit now. I had worked too hard, and I could finally make a change. The girls step away from me as it seems they're finally done with their invasive techniques to make me look prettier. I stand and turn to look in the mirror. Doing a double take to make sure it's me, my mouth falls open in a way that isn't very proper. My girls had outdone themselves. My hair was elegantly wrapped into a low bun, and a lovely tiara was placed on my head. A deep purple Coronation Mantle was draped onto my shoulders, and a stunning light purple gown was underneath it. Jewels drip from me like water, and I feel myself twirl before it registers; my coronation was really happening. Grinning, I hug each one of my maids, thankful for their existence. 

"I… This is gorgeous, girls… thank you.." 

They all blush and mutter different responses before Ivone speaks up, "You better hurry Princess; I hear you're riding in an actual carriage to the Coronation Hall!"

An actual carriage, well, at least I'd get to see horses.

I walk down to the foyer and almost stumble over my dress. Walking in a ballgown and heels was more challenging than it looked. I manage to make my way outside and spot the Prime Minister, or Bennet, as he insists I call him. He bows to me and assists me into the open carriage.

"Nervous Your Highness?" His calm voice asks.

"I would be a fool not to be," I mutter as I fiddle with my fingers. Those long fake nails were on, and picking them was so much more challenging.

"Try not to stress too much, Your Highness. It will be over before you even realize it, and after that, your hardest triumph will be the number of marriage proposals you'll have to turn down." 

His joke doesn't help.

"Oh gosh, I didn't even think about proposals…"

"Yes, well, you will be the most powerful woman in the country… unmarried… suppose there's someone on your mind already?" he asks with a chuckle.

It almost warms my heart that he didn't immediately assume I'd be in love with a man.

"No… but I know it'll be hard to meet her in this position.." I say, a little annoyed that my love life is essentially going down the drain.

"Don't fret, Princess. I have a feeling you'll find her." His warm smile almost calms my nerves. 

"Thank you, Bennet."

If I had a dime for every time I had been in a massive building and emerged with a new title of royalty, I'd have two dimes. Which isn't many in the grand scheme of things, but it's odd that it's happened twice. 

The Coronation Hall of Midiri was ablaze with light as thousands of candles flickered above, casting a soft glow on the ornate decorations that adorned the stone walls. Tapestries depicting the kingdom's rich history hung from every corner, while fresh purple blooms filled the air with their intoxicating fragrance. The anticipation in the air was palpable, with nobles from all corners of the realm gathered to witness this momentous occasion—the coronation of Princess Y/N L/N, the new Queen of Midiri. 

Usually, the previous ruler would crown the monarch; however, since my parents were dead, the Prime Minister got the honor. His usually calming voice boomed across the hall, demanding everyone's attention. 

The ceremony was long and grueling, and what pissed me off even more was the fact that the Duke had the audacity to sit in the section reserved for royals. I wished then and there that I knew what my affinity was just so I could use it on his pompous ass. 

The massive crown they put on me practically broke my neck, and I felt so relieved when they took it off. 

I stand before the nobles, and they all rise and bow to me. It feels almost surreal. One week ago, I was a humble student in a country I loved but wanted to change.

 Now, I was its Queen.

I walk out of the Grand Hall, scepter in hand and crown on my head. As I ride back to the palace in the carriage, people scream my name. Guards are stationed on each side of my carriage as I ride through the streets of Midiri. Flowers are thrown in my direction as chants fill the air.

"Long live the Queen!"

"The Queen has arrived!"

"Long may she reign!"

Tears well in my eyes as I smile and wave to the people. Once at the palace, I'm rushed to my room by staff for a bath and a quick change for my appearance at the coronation ball. I would have to meet with delegates so I had to arrive on time. My maids scrub my skin so hard I'm surprised I don't lose any. I dressed, and a new set of jewels graced my body. Thanking my girls, I leave and walk to the ballroom. It was one thing to stand before so many people, and it was another to talk to them all. Maybe even dance with a few if I managed to avoid stepping on their toes. 

The guards notice my arrival and bow to me before telling the announcer that I am here. He bangs his staff on the floor to gain everyone's attention. The talking lowers to whispers, and as the announcer says in a loud voice,

"Presenting Her Majesty, Y/N M/N L/N Queen of Midiri!" 

As I walk out, the room erupts in louder whispers and conversations. I feel everyone's eyes on me, and I try not to panic. Bows and curtsies can be seen from every direction as I clear my throat and begin my little speech.

"Hello all, and welcome to my coronation ball. I appreciate you coming all this way to celebrate with me tonight. As I look out and see so many friendly faces, I can't help but be grateful for each and every one of you. Let us celebrate tonight so we may work hard tomorrow!"

Cheers fill the room as toasts are being made in my honor. I walk to the staircase on my right, and as soon as I come down, men swarm all around me, asking me for dances and to talk. I reject them all and make my way to my throne that sits against the main wall. Sitting down, people begin lining up to meet me. The first people I see are a couple. A very tall blonde woman is on the arm of a shorter man with black curly hair. They bow and curtsy to me, respectively, and I nod my head in acknowledgment. Based on their attire I would assume they're from the country Amaris. It's a gorgeous country known for its beautiful people and goods. They must've crossed the sea to be here, as Amaris is to the south of Midiri across the ocean. 

"Good evening, Your Majesty. My name is Prince Alwyn of Amaris. This is my lovely fiancee, Lady Isabella." Crown Prince Alwyn was known to be a womanizer, so it was a little surprising to see an actual fiancee on his arm.

"Congratulations on your engagement, you two. I wish you all the best. I appreciate you coming all this way for my coronation." 

Lady Isabella blushes before saying, "You're too kind, Your Majesty... Oh! That's right! We've brought you a gift."

She waves over a staff member, and they hand me a delicately carved wooden box. Its rich color and fresh scent catch me off guard, but I school my expression and smile. I open the box to find spices galore inside. Amaris was known to be a merchants' paradise, so many goods were imported to and from there.

"What a lovely gift, thank you!" It's challenging to procure spices here in Midiri, so I offer my appreciation. Trying to be the perfect Queen simply by talking was hard, but they seemed to hear the sincerity in my tone. 

"Please take this as a token of our goodwill and hope for a promising future between our two kingdoms," Prince Alwyn says before he and Lady Isabella depart. I hand the thoughtful gift to a staff member and instruct him to send it to the kitchen for my food. 

Next, Duke and Duchess Haleson step up. Both bow and curtsey to me before I speak.

"Ah, Duke Haleson, I was wondering when I'd see you. It seems you have something of mine. I'd like it back, please." I say ever so politely.

The Duke grins, happy to play my game, "I'm not sure what you mean, Your Majesty... Perhaps you could jog my memory?"

"Hmm, yes, perhaps I will… Duchess Victoria, do you have it?" 

The Duchess grins, and I see the smug smirk the Duke is sporting slip off his face. She reaches into her pocket and holds out the Duke's most prized possession, the Royal Seal. I smile and take it in my hands gently. 

"But- How did you- Victoria!!" The Duke turns his rage on his wife in an instant. But I knew this would happen. I pocket the seal and stand. 

"Duke Haleson, are you seriously so immature that you'd yell in my ballroom?" My voice carries across the room and eyes and necks snap in our direction. Whispers flood the hall, and I can practically see the Duke start to sweat.

"No…of course not Your Majesty…." His voice is quiet to avoid attention.

"Well then. I hope you keep to yourself this evening... Oh, and Duchess Victoria?"

Her eyes meet mine, and she winks before curtsying.

"Just Victoria is fine, Your Majesty."

"Victoria, then… do let me know if he acts up when you two are alone. I won't stand for domestic abuse. Not even from a Duke." 

Hopefully, other ladies in the room realize this also extends to them, and they can contact me. But for now, I focus on the Duke.

"If that is all, you two are dismissed."

The Duke begrudgingly bows, and he and his wife leave. I sit back down and let out a massive breath. If I hadn't had the Duchess's help, I have no idea what I would've done. I rub my temples and prepare for the next person when an almost raspy, calming voice speaks.

"Well, he seemed like a dick."

My heart skips a beat as I look up. She was…. Ineffable. Short auburn hair that looked like an organized mess. I spot a glimpse of a tattoo, but only a sliver. It looked like.. A fern..? She wore a deep grey suit with space pins on the suit jacket and a simple deep green cape. Pale green eyes one could get lost in. And a smirk that stole my breath away.

My heart skips a beat, and I realize I've been staring.

"I- sorry, what did you say..?"

She doesn't seem to judge and just repeats herself.

"I said he seemed like a dick." Chuckling and shaking her head, she smiles down at me.

"Yeah, he's a real piece of work… I, um, I'm sure you know who I am already, but allow me to introduce myself; I'm Y/N Queen of Midiri."

She smiles and bows to me, a slight blush flushing her cheeks.

"Yea, I know, this is your ball, isn't it?" The way she said it wasn't cocky. Almost understanding as she puts her hands in her pockets.

I clear my throat and internally scold myself for being so stupid. Gay panic was a real thing….

"Right. Of course, you know that… my apologies." 

"Oh gosh shit.. Sorry didn't mean to make you feel bad. Look, I'm not too good at this whole conversing with royals thing. Let's just start over, yea? My name is Ellie Williams, I'm the prince of Jackson." 

Jackson… yes, I was familiar with it. However, I knew nothing of the royal family, let alone their affinities. They were a very closed-off family, and few knew anything about them, let alone their customs. 

"Prince, you say…?"

She scratches the side of her neck as if it were a nervous habit.

"Yea.. I don't really like all the frilly princess stuff. Prince just suits me better, I guess. Wait fuck- I didn't mean that frilly things were bad." She quickly says, looking at my dress. She groans into her hands, and I burst out laughing. Her ears turn bright red, and I can't help but feel a little bad.

"That is the first time someone has sworn in front of me properly in the past 168 hours." My giggles spread throughout the room. She looked dumbfounded, and I can't help but beam a smile at her. 

"Wha- that makes me feel even worse!" Her face contorting to one of shame.

"Trust me, it isn't a bad thing. I'm so sick of being treated like a child. It's been driving me crazy. I hope you didn't think I was laughing at you…"

That seemed to help her relax, so I decided to ask her something now that she was calmer.

"Would you care to dance with me?" My voice is as calm and soothing as I can force it to be. However, on the inside, I was shitting bricks, hoping she wouldn't say no. Usually, a dance between a man and a woman meant the prospect of marriage. But no two women had ever danced before. It was completely unheard of, and while most of society had evolved, the nobles stayed in one spot. 

"I'm not a very good dancer; I'm afraid I'd step on your toes."

"So, is that a no…?" I say, feigning disappointment.

"No! No—I would love to dance with you. It was more of a warning…" she clarifies quickly.

"I'm just teasing you, Prince Ellie." I grin as she huffs.

"Could've fooled me." She mutters as she holds a hand out to me.

I take it, and she gently leads me to the dance floor.

"I think I did fool you," I say with a smug grin. She rolls her eyes and huffs a simple "Shut up…"

We stood in the middle of the dance floor, and I felt people begin to realize what I was doing. Prince Ellie wraps a hand around my waist, and I can feel her calloused fingers on my back. I stiffen just a little at the touch of her cold hands, and she mutters a quick sorry.

"It's fine; your hands are just cold, is all.." 

She chuckles and holds my other hand. Merry Go Round of Life begins playing, and I move through the steps I was taught. I discover very quickly that Prince Ellie is a horrid liar. Her dance steps feel precise as she leads me. We twirl around the dance floor, and my grip on her shoulder tightens as she lifts me. When I come back down, I almost tumble into her, but she catches me and swiftly moves me to the next step. I can feel my face heating up from the embarrassment. 

Getting into the rhythm of the Waltz, we reach the peak of the song, and I lock eyes with her. My heart pounds from the exertion, and I feel myself being pulled in by her. When she lifts me again, I feel like I'm floating. Everything from the glittering chandelier to the people in the room just… disappears. 

Locking eyes with her again, I realized then and there how some people fall in love simply by dancing with one another. 

"You're a liar…"

I whisper softly. Ellie looks at me, confused with a ghost of a smile.

"How so?" She whispers back as we twirl again.

 I meet her eyes again and say, "You're a wonderful dancer." 

"I'm only as good as my partner, Your Majesty…" Her ears turned a slight pink.

I want to glare at her and tell her she knows damn well that's not true. But I bite my tongue. We may be dancing together, but we weren't friends.

My gown swirls with me as we move, and I can't help but think of how nice it must be to dance in a suit. Suddenly, I looked back at the others and noticed that no one else was dancing. Everyone is staring at us in awe. I hold onto her tightly, and we move through the last bit of the song. We move in harmony as whispers and murmurs fill the space. Prince Ellie dips me, and when I look into her eyes, all I see is awe. The last notes of the song die out, and she lifts me back up. 

Applause erupts, and Prince Ellie still hasn't let go of my hand. We both curtsey and bow, respectively, as the cheers build. I can hear our deep breaths synching up as we wave and smile.

Pulling her by our connected hands, I rush to the balcony. People part as I open the doors and close them behind us. Walking over to the railing, I lean onto it and let out a massive breath.

"Holy shit…"

"Holy shit is right, I didn't think everyone else would stop dancing." Her voice rings in my ears as I try to calm my breathing. She seemed a little better off than me but must've been in better shape.

"That was… I didn't know…" Forming sentences is hard.

"Yeah…" She mutters breathlessly; she understands. 

"Sorry for dragging you out here… I just figured you might need some air, too, after that."

She says nothing and fiddles with her fingers again. I look back at her and stare into her eyes.

"Call me Y/n…"

She looks stunned, her eyebrows raising. "But you're the Queen.."

"Oh gee, really? I had no idea." I say, sarcasm dripping from my tone. She rolls her eyes yet again, and I smile. 

"Alright, smart ass, no need to get all sarcastic on me... I'll call you Y/n.. but only if you call me Ellie." Her smile is infectious, and I can feel myself grinning wide.

"Alright.. Ellie… tell me, how long are you staying in Midir?"

She walks closer and leans onto the balcony as well.

"Well, Joel said I should stay for a few weeks to 'properly show our acceptance of the new Queen, " she says, using finger quotes. My attempt not to laugh fails, and I chuckle a little.

"Then if you'll be here a while... I'd like to ask you to form an alliance with me." I say, pretending to be all posh. She stands straighter and puts on a fake fancy face.

"My lady, I would be absolutely honored." Her dramatic tone sells it. We burst out in laughter, and she held a hand out for me.

"Freinds?" Eyebrows lowered and small look of hope in her eyes.

"Friends," I say, taking her hand and shaking it. 

"Now that we're friends, I should warn you, I'm new to being this whole... Royal thing. I only found out a week ago."

"Yeah, I heard. Don't stress. I'm terrible at it, too."

"Liar, you're an amazing dancer."

"Well, that's just dancing... I'm far more interested in Savage Starlight than I am running a country.."

"What's Savage Starlight."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say I just slapped her across the face. She looks at me like I have.

"You don't know what Savage Starlight is??" She looks at me incredulously.

"Um…. no..? Should I?"

"Uhhhh.. yea! It's only the most popular comic book series in all of Jackson! I have the ultra-rare editions too. You can read my copies if you want. Just not the ultra-rare ones…Those gotta stay in their packaging."

She looks at me, hopefully.

"Sure, I'll give them a shot."

"Fuck yea!" 

We talked for a bit longer, and I discovered that her favorite color is green and that she plays guitar. Apparently, she has a guard named Dina, with whom she's practically best friends, and a butler named Jesse. They're here with her, and she has offered for me to come to her room to meet them sometime. 

"I'd love to. I'll try and stop by sometime this week."

"Great..I um.. I'm not too good at hosting, but it should still be fun."

"Oh great, another lie," I say, rolling my eyes, my tone heavy with sarcasm.

"It's not a lie!" She says, pretending to be frustrated.

"Uh huh…"

"Uh huh!"

I soon have to withdraw from the conversation. "I'm sorry, Ellie, but I have a lot of people I have to meet with... But I promise to visit you soon."

She frowns but nods in understanding, "It's alright. I get it… Come by soon, yea..?"

"Yea.. I will."

I leave the balcony and close the doors behind me. It takes all I have to not go back and talk to her but I force myself back to my throne. Throughout the rest of the night, I meet nobles as they praise me for absolutely nothing. They're all so… fake. Ellie is the first real friend I have in this world, and I don't want to fuck it up. She is like a breath of fresh air. If fresh air smelt like bergamot and pine. Snapping out of my thoughts, I meet with the final nobles of the evening before I drag myself back to my room. It amazed me how so many people could be sleeping under one roof. 

Immediately taking a bath has to be one of the best decisions I've made today. My feet were so sore from those shoes I debated getting rid of all the heels in my closet. Rose rubs lotion all over me while Ivone deals with my hair. Anais is off getting my dinner, which I'm thankful for. I feel like I'm starving to death. 

A slight knock on the door means Anais has returned.

"Come in!" My voice echoed a bit in the space.

"Here you go, Your Majesty! I got your favorite!"

The smell of the food reaches my nose, and I can feel my stomach rumble. My maids giggle, and I huff.

"Not my fault. I'm so hungry."

"Of course not, Your Majesty," Rose says with a smug smile. I stand and walk over to the food before digging into it. It takes me minutes to eat everything and after I relax in my seat. 

"Girls.. What do you think my affinity will be..?"

They all stop what they're doing and look at me.

"Why do you ask, Your Majesty?" Jane's soothing voice asks.

"Well.. it just seems so interesting. Besides, it's such a staple sign of power... Perhaps I ought to go to the palace Affinity Master.." My thoughts pour out.

"If I were to guess, I'd say you'd have a charisma affinity." Ivone notes.

"Really? Why charisma?" My brows furrow in confusion.

"It just makes sense, doesn't it? You managed to charm the ton in less than a week. I'd say that's certainly something.

"Plus, you managed to convince Duchess Victoria to join your side. That was quite brilliant." Rose speaks up. I had told them about what had happened when I took the Royal Seal from my gown pocket.

"Well, I suppose.."

I decided not to tell them about Ellie just yet. There were a few reasons, but the main one was that I wanted to keep her a secret for a bit longer. 

"I think I'm going to head to bed, ladies. Thank you for your help."

Standing and making my way to the bed, I yawn. Rose turns off the lights as the others finish their tasks, and one by one, they leave the room. 

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow across my room. It was one of those rare, quiet moments when everything just felt peaceful. Soon, I drifted off, thinking of all the good I wanted to do now that I was Queen.

╰┈➤Masterlist ⨾ଓ Next ↠

[crowroboros]

top 3 favourite Link, Zelda, and Ganondorf designs?

Easy. Again this is about their designs and designs only.

Link -

The #1 design for Link goes to Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom's Link (Especially Link in TotK with the Archaic Set, though the Snowquill set is a close second)

By far Link's best look across the entire series. From his hair to the arm to just the general artstyle of this era, I absolutely love this design for him. I would love to see more creative ways to have him in that classic Legend of Zelda green like this. The classic green tunic and cap is lovely, I think spicing the look up like this though is great (I consider the Tunic of the Wild to be BotW's green tunic only, even though it appears in this game as well.)

Wild Era Link himself just has my favorite design out of the Links—not even limiting him to the Archaic Set. I'm talking about the base man. He rocks.

#2 goes to Skyward Sword Link

Skyward Sword Link has what I consider the best traditional Legend of Zelda green tunic design (emphasis on traditional cause Archaic Set my beloved), especially in the artwork. I also like his hair, not as much as the Wild Era Link's hairstyles but The Hero of the Skies has nice hair too.

#3 goes to A Link Between Worlds Link (and technically Triforce Heroes but that game has a different artstyle so I'm not counting it as the same design even though it is the same Link)

It's a very "classic 2D Zelda" look—being very reminiscent of Link from most of the 2D titles from before 2002, but I just think that this specific look does the concept presented by Zelda 1, Adventure of Link, ALttP, the Oracle games, etc better. A big part of it is Ravio's Bracelet, the general artstyle of the game, and his painting form he takes. That wall merge mechanic is fantastic.

Zelda-

#1 goes to Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom Zelda (but more so Tears of the Kingdom's Zelda)

Yet another win for the Wild Era. I don't know who came up with the general look and design for this incarnation of Link and Zelda but fuck, they deserve the world. All of the outfits that Zelda wears in these games are great, and I think the short-hair look works wonderfully for her as well.

#2 goes to Twilight Princess Zelda

Despite my criticisms of TP Zelda's character (or lack thereof, if this was about character writing she would NOT make top 3. Go girl give us nothing!!), her design fucking slays. The colors, the intricate patterns and details, her rapier. Definitely deserves top 3.

#3 goes to Skyward Sword Zelda

I could go on for a while about this Zelda's character and her role with the people of Skyloft and Link and Goddess Hylia and how fascinating it all is...but this is about designs so that will have to be saved for another day. Although her two outfits are heavily tied into her character and how she sees herself: Zelda, inhabitant of Skyloft vs Zelda, Hylia Reincarnated and how she has to sacrifice who she is when forced into the role she plays in a conflict spanning millennia. I really want to make a post about her character in Skyward Sword. Maybe that'll happen one day.

Ganondorf-

#1 goes to Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Yeah, none of you should be surprised. They cooked unbelievably hard with the character designs in the Wild Era games. Link, Zelda, Ganondorf all look FANTASTIC. Hell even his rotted corpse look is great (and I wish we saw more of it; Lich King Ganondorf as a concept sounds so good)

#2 goes to Wind Waker Ganondorf

Best written Ganondorf from the best Zelda game, and before TotK he was the best Ganondorf design as well! I don't have a single negative thing to say about Wind Waker Ganondorf's design really. I think the colors are great, the details serving as nods to the Helmaroc King are cool, he duel wields swords as well. After getting sealed away in Ocarina of Time, he really stepped up his fashion game.

and finally, #3 goes to Twilight Princess Ganondorf

He looks cool. The scar in the middle of his torso from the failed execution at the Arbiter's Grounds (and then him wielding the weapon that The Sages failed to kill him with) is a detail I really like. That's cool as fuck. This design kind of feels like what was attempted in Ocarina of Time, just no where near as good.

But there you have it anon, my top 3 favorite designs for Link, Zelda, and Ganondorf.

[fruitcoops]

Debut

Day 5, ft. our black-cat lucid-dreaming king. Characters belong to @lumosinlove (sorry not sorry for what I did to your favorite boy) and header belongs to @noots-fic-fests!

Yesterday's movie: It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! (1966)

TW for mentioned movie-murder (nobody actually dies)

Regulus spared the glass double-doors hardly a glance before wrinkling his nose. It was hot out, sticky and steamy, and the direct sun pummeling the entire courtyard reeked of early September. Busy chatter ran rampant around him between flashes of color and blurry faces.

“I’m dead,” Regulus said decisively.

Next to him, Leo rolled his eyes and caught his tennis ball on the downswing. “You haven’t even been to first period.”

“This—” Regulus gestured at the main building, blindingly bright and stuffier than any high school had the right to be. “This is hell. Ergo, dead.”

“Tell me again in pre-calc and I’ll believe you.”

“You tested out of pre-calc,” Regulus reminded him, laying back on the hood of Leo’s car. The blue paint was unspecific and unassuming, almost black in certain lights. “And that’s an ugly sweater you’d never wear.”

Grey cotton switched to thick stripes by the time he looked at Leo next; the stupid silver chain remained around his neck. Leo frowned down at himself. “I like this sweater.”

“Hmm.” The characters didn’t tend to care whether Regulus interacted with them much or not. The plot plodded on until he shook himself awake or the blare of an alarm did it for him. It rarely came to a conclusive end.

“Natalie got a phone call last night from some weirdo on the landline,” Leo continued, tossing his ball back up in the air. “They were talking about…I dunno, I think he was asking her questions? Sounded like a guy, anyway.”

“Horrifying.”

“Kasey’s going over tonight with Finn’s brother to keep her company.”

Regulus stretched his back against the windshield and looked to the vast sky. No matter how far he tilted his head back, the old tin roof was always visible. It was a mutated version of his memories—he hadn’t tried very hard to remember what it looked like from the outside. Sirius had excelled there. Every professor remembered his name.

A thread on his baggy jeans was coming loose. If he allowed the dream to progress, Leo would no doubt call him later to inform him, distraught, that Kasey and Finn’s brother (whose name slipped Regulus’ mind constantly) and probably Natalie had died in some explosively gory fashion. It would be distressing despite the fallacy of it all, he’d drag himself awake, and then it would be three o’clock in the morning and he would be sweaty with adrenaline. Regulus had enjoyed the party at Leo’s new house. He’d prefer not to pay the cost of attendance (a rare seasonal hangover) before he absolutely had to.

Denim-on-denim warned him of a new presence before he could actively pick a new story. “O’Hara.”

“Babe, is he bothering you?” Finn’s voice dragged and drawled with California haze. Under his arm, Tremblay narrowed his eyes at Regulus. His bubblegum gave a violent pop.

“Not too bad,” Leo said playfully.

Did Finn even own a denim jacket? God, he probably did. Even Regulus’ imagination couldn’t have pinned something that specific from nothing. Maybe he should just let the rest of this murderous Riverdale-ass nonsense play out in its original form to punish that fashion nightmare.

“Can you wear a hoodie like a normal person?” he yawned. Apparently, he was overtired even in his sleep.

Finn fixed him with a comically disgusted look. “Why are you even here?”

Where the fuck had Regulus picked that accent from? “This is my high school,” he said. “I spent the whole night at your house, can I have some peace and quiet here?”

Logan popped another bubble. His scowl held far too little legitimate danger; if nothing else, that would have tipped Regulus off. The original outright animosity had rested much heavier on him than teenage pouting.

But there—on the steps. “Calisse de crisse,” he muttered, swinging himself down from the hood of Leo’s car.

The courtyard was almost perfect under his feet, as if he was feeling the asphalt through his old loafers. He had hated those goddamn shoes. He came to a sharp halt, right as his shadow fell across lined paper marked with meticulous, infuriating lines.

“Go away.”

Sirius blinked up at him. “Hi.”

“Stop,” Regulus insisted. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Why?”

“We didn’t go to high school together.” Honestly, it was so embarrassing for his brain to mix it up this badly. Valley-Girl Finn O’Hara was a nightmare in and of itself; the least his imagination could do was keep track of a timeline. “Put your physics away and leave.”

Sirius’ brow creased. “How did you know I was doing homework?”

“Unlucky guess.”

“How did you know it was—"

“Because you’re always doing your fucking physics in my nightmares!” Regulus dragged a hand down his face and gripped the back of his own neck. It felt like nothing, not even air. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face toward the clouds. “Yes, I understand, I hated the classes Sirius excelled in as an extension of my own complex inner world, merci, au revoir.”

When he looked down again, Sirius was gone. Remus Lupin leaned on the railing by the bay windows, looking out over the river. He had a book in one hand and a bloody knife in the other.

Regulus stared at him.

“No.”

It was Leo when he blinked. A dark robe and everything, and that tennis ball instead of a book. His face got a little fuzzy in profile, but cleared up when he looked at Regulus head-on.

Regulus tipped his head back and forth. “Better.”

He walked with Leo through the never-ending halls. Some were direct rip-offs of his actual high school, down to the navy lockers and their silver buckles. Others had been borrowed: a staircase from elementary school, a music room from Steinhardt, the artificial glow of Sirius’ basement skating rink around a corner. His stomach swooped at the sight of the broken dumbwaiter he and Sirius had used for hide and seek, and he ground his teeth hard.

He had his loafers on. His khakis were tight on his thighs. Leo’s footsteps made no sound.

“I think you’re supposed to be a serial killer,” Regulus noted on their third circuit of the second floor. “With a mask and everything.”

“Oh.” Leo sounded almost disappointed. “I mean, I could?”

“I might just be bad at imagining that.”

“Should’ve stuck with Lupin,” Leo agreed.

“I can go off and find him—”

“Don’t leave me here,” Leo groaned, walking backward for a few floppy steps that made him look more like himself than he had the whole time.

Regulus huffed. “Neither of you pose much of a danger to me.”

“I think we do, in a way.”

--

No.

The thought was forceful enough to pull Regulus to the surface. He exhaled hard, blinking fast until his left eye decided to get with the program and open properly.

The stove’s electric clock told him it was just past two in the morning. Not bad.

He sighed. His feet, tangled in the fresh sheets Leo had laid out for him, still felt too compressed. That explained the loafers. He could get up for a few minutes; make a snack, take a walk around the still-sparse main floor of the house. He didn’t hear anyone else up yet.

Or he could stay here, burrowed in a quilt that smelled lightly of magnolia. The sheets let his legs free when he stretched, still shaking off the scent of bubblegum and industrial cleaning solution. He was tired. Perhaps a little drunk, enough to dull the oncoming throbbing behind his temple. The sugar rush was long dead.

Regulus tucked his nose down into a butter-yellow square and shut his eyes. Being asleep was an exhausting business. He had too many questions. There was too much to nitpick. Too much psychoanalysis to avoid.

The sheer audacity of Leo to pull some therapy trick in Regulus’ own dream. As if he wouldn’t be aware of it, as if he’d fall into the trap that easily. Regulus muffled a frown in the quilt. If Leo, the real one, was an actual danger to anything but the occasional low doorframe, he wouldn’t be on the foldout in the first place. Really, it was just lazy writing.

Do better, Regulus thought as he shuffled deeper into his cocoon. From the top, this time.

[yae-energy]

get in bitch, we’re going shopping

synopsis: my take on what it’s like going to the mall with saiki and friends

cast: kusuo saiki, shun kaidou, aren kuboyasu x shopaholic black fem reader (all platonic)

cw: theft (kuboyasu’s part) , cursing

a/n: this won the poll so come get y’all snacks ! this was also mega fun to write omg 😭😭😭

—

saiki - doesn’t even wanna be there

- bro just wants to stay home ong 😭

- def keeps that germanium ring on him cause he is not trynna hear everybody’s nasty ass thoughts

- sticks close to you if you’re in a group cause you’re the only one who isn’t stressing him out

- also cause you tend to wander off when looking at display windows

- has to keep you from going into every store y’all come across but man is that an exhausting job

- like he don’t wanna be there all damn day

- but having to stop you from getting pouty cause they didn’t have the sneakers you want is worse

- will literally use his clairvoyance to find the shoes in another store and then swap it with a different pair of the same value so you can shut the hell up 😭 (love a supportive king !!)

“they dont have the shoes?? i literally waited all damn day for those and they don’t even- …. huh? since when did these get here?”

“must be magic, now let’s get the hell outta here PLEASE”

- food court enthusiast !!!

- without a doubt his favorite place in the mall

- buys you both lunch

- also buys you a key chain as a gift cause he saw you eyeing it in one of the windows, and puts it in one of your bags so you’ll see it when you get home

- will not tell you he bought it

- you rambling to him on the way to school the next day about how you must’ve gotten it by mistake is a reward in itself

—

kaidou - shopaholic bestie

- just like you, kaido loves a good shopping spree !!!

- he’s gotta deck himself out so dark reunion knows who they messing with !!!

- they don’t call him the jet black wings for nothing 😤

- gives surprisingly good fashion advice

“this color brings out your skin tone you should get this”

“these shoes match that hat you should get these”

“gold accessories fit your skin perfectly”

- loves when you give him a fashion show if you’re trying on clothes

- will literally make you runway walk 💀

- hot topic king !!!!

- prob their biggest buyer tbh

- gets those corny graphic tees and you have to BEG him to not wear them in public

- like he genuinely thinks they’re cool and you’re like

“😬…lets not”

- goes straight to the bookstore to see if they have any new manga

- will be there for hours if you don’t pull him out

- like he dead read a whole book once while you were out looking for bags

- you bought it for him as a treat cause he carried all your bags for you

—

kuboyasu - a thief in the night

- im sorry y’all but this man def steals (same tho/hj)

- and doesn’t give a fuck either

- but most of the time it’s not even on purpose fr

- like he’ll pick up something and be like

“damn this shit cool ash”

- then will forget he has it in his hand and walk out with it 😭

- is banned from 3 of your favorite stores for doing this so he just stands outside like a club bouncer and waits for you

- best believe if someone tries to get at you he’s there to keep em in check !!

- once a cashier tried to get your number and he was not having it

“nuh uh”

- like 🤷🏽‍♀️ sorry but if they look like a loser he’s not letting it happen

- people assume you guys are dating cause he does that but he’s just a little protective fr

- he ain’t letting no scrub try to take you out, tf he look like?

- steals you that expensive bag you wanted

- goes with you into the makeup stores and lets you swatch the lipsticks on him if you run out of room on your hand

- will be mad if they don’t have your shade in anything and curse out the employees

- gets banned

[proxythe]

i know not the first fuckin thing about fashion so of course i’m here to show u that akihiko can DRESS!!! with some cold hard evidence.

OKAY. first of all, it’s true. he does mostly wear suits, but i always think it’s important to remember how his looks seem to always be so put together no matter what he has on. his bathing suit (even if it’s for comedic effect), his school uniforms, and his reload battle gear are all examples of this.

(not sure what the hell happened with his arena battle gear, but akihiko also dresses decently well in the arena epilogue with that suit he put on.)

you can never convince me this man has no idea how to dress, or has not even a small taste for fashion. i know i know again, it is just suits and ties, but he knew wtf he was doing with the styles and colors… like come on. that counts for a lot i think

everyone knows i love this damn scarf. akihiko put that shit on and he made it work flawlessly. i’m obsessed. he’s king for real. + the general color scheme of this outfit is just in my head all the time. just perfect really. 10/10 outfit.

also i’ll never get sick of the gloves in 99% of his looks. he doesn’t give a fuck what the weather is, he is never taking them off. his dedication to the look is crazy. i’m telling you he’s a fashion expert… his eye is unparalleled.

+ he’ll never half ass a look. he’s going all out. and since he knows how to dress, he will always succeed.

for the butler outfit, all the boys’ outfits looks exactly the same, but akihiko wears glasses with his because he understands what it means to serve. the glasses are a small but necessary accessory. he will outdo minato, junpei, and shinji without even blinking. every time. just stop playing w him

for the drag outfit, akihiko is the only one who tops his look off with makeup. never mind the fact that akihiko’s outfit is the one which looks like it has the most effort put into it in the first place. the makeup, the boots?? like he wasnt fucking around omg

tldr: akihiko knows how to look good asf. thank you

[ronearoundblindly]

Fire & Ice (a RoAR drabble)

Flufftober Day 12, Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see series)

I blame @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory and @brandycranby for encouraging HughSaison. This is fairly loosely related to the prompt but there are a bunch of temperature references/illusions. 🤷🏻‍♀️Hey, I did my best. -> While I'm at it, does anyone want to own up (privately) to being the person who first asked about rich!Reader over a year ago??? I always wonder if that anon is still reading 🥹

Uhhh, angst with a fluffy ending... yeah, yeah, Ro loves writing arguments, we get it.

Warnings: If you've never read my Ransom before, beware. He curses like an angry sailor, inside and outside of his brain. Plus super suggestive language/mentions of sex. LOTS of dialogue. Zero editing. MINORS DNI. WC 1.8k

He cannot fucking believe it's come to this.

"Don't you fucking dare," he snips. “You cannot use a veto. You put me in charge.”

He watches you walk calmly, put away a dish calmly, sit at his couch calmly.

"I've made my decision, and that's final."

"Fuck you." Ran means it, but in his own way. "You said I could choose--"

"Not that," you say, so calmly, too fucking calmly for someone who managed to turn Ransom Drysdale into this, this thing that cares about something so petty for all the wrong--or just different--reasons.

He stretches to his full height and sucks on his tongue for a moment.

You continue to scroll through your phone.

He never thought he’d get married but he’s always loved a good party. Since the ring's not flashy, he wants you in the tiara. He hasn’t given you the ring yet either because…well, because it’s been less than a year and you practically live on the other side of the planet. Call him old-fashioned, but Ransom wants to be home for all the big things. He can plan a damn party though—and the look to match— whenever the hell he wants and for however long he wants.

At length in the quiet, he asks, "why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous, and I'm saying 'no.' Veto."

"You don't get vetoes for--" Ran smothers his frustration, but barely. "Does this have to do with...money? Because you know I’m not talking millions of dollars in real diamonds or something.” But, ya know, he’s expecting a couple hundred thou between colored and semi-precious stones, plus the setting in—would gold or platinum work best for your skin? Grandma Thrombey’s ring is made of yellow gold. Ran guesses he should match that.

The false calm never lifts from you.

Eyes icy and blank, you look at him while his plans keep running amuck. "No."

Two letters. One word. He fucking hates it.

"You'll look beautiful," he yells in annoyance.

The phone drops on the leather couch. "I'm not wearing a crown to be married in. It'll look pretentious, ostentatious. I won't do it and that's that."

"It's a tiara," Ran corrects, "and with a veil, it's near invisible. It’ll include the wedding colors with the stones."

"No."

His blood starts to boil. Don't say it, don't say it, he thinks fleetingly but fails.

"Says the woman with shit taste."

Slowly, calmly, coldly, you walk over to him, stretching to your full height, holding his gaze. You’re wearing one of his sweaters again and nothing else. That’s his favorite look, but only for him.

It’s winter outside, the heater turned up so that your naked skin stays comfortable. You stay comfortably exposed all the time, when he has his way. Comfort is king in Ran’s house. 

Despite being exposed though, he can see how you've made it so far in business—in life—even with shitty taste. Your poker face rivals champions, and you are stalwart in your dedication. There's a hard (and hardening) edge to your simple, sly grin.

You take a deep breath in,  a whiff of him, a sample for assessment.

"Poor--" you sigh "--boy."

His teeth grind together, jaw tight as a vice. How dare you.

Ran's petty, spiteful even when he tries so damn hard to keep it together, and the wound of disinheritance is still fresh enough he cannot abide that sting.

"Burn in hell."

You don’t take the bait and simply cock your head, waiting for his guilty meltdown. So far, he does this at least once a week, sometimes multiple times a day. It bothers you, you’ve told him, that he questions everything instantly, that he can’t trust you or your feelings or his surroundings, that he panics over the idea of ever having to get a job, but it’s also great ammunition against a man-child.

The grin never leaves your lips. You're in fine fighting form tonight. Ran shouldn't have tangoed.

"Go fuck some bimbo's ass."

Oh.

Oh, you bitch.

That's low.

Ransom's face contorts. "It was one time," he gripes, "and we weren't even dating."

Your palm lies flat against his chest. "We'd slept together several times, and you even volunteered for me by then so..."

Ran grabs your hips and brings you close, avoiding your gaze while hoping you keep looking at him, cooling him down, evening his hot temper.

"Of course," you add casually, "that wasn't the first time you did that, was it?"

This is where it gets tricky for him. Ran never had a real relationship before you--not even his 'bond' with his parents compares--but old habits die hard.

He shoves at your hips, spinning you two until your back hits the glass block window between the house and the bare woods outside.

His head ducks to mirror the angle of yours. "Doesn't have to be the last either."

"Hugh," you warn, as threatening as wind across his cheek.

He's gonna regret this. He knows he will, but curiosity gets the better of him.

"Tell me. Tell me why you don't want to wear something gorgeous and fancy for an occasion where you are meant to be gorgeous and fancy."

The turn in your expression is pronounced. He didn't expect you to be more alarmed by his caring than his come-ons.

"Bad form," you finally admit. "Some rich bitch thinks she's a princess. Looks really bad."

"You are rich. You are a--"

"Careful..."

"--I'm saying 'princess.' Calm down," he says to the perfectly, eerily calm woman in his arms. "Would you just fucking let me compliment you?"

Ran fiddles with some hair around your ear, noting proudly how your eyes droop shut slightly at the smallest touch from him. He likes that you respond to him, his distance, his fury, his doubt, and his passion. You make feeling okay. You are his safe space since you've seen him at his lowest.

You see him.

There's very few things in life that make more sense to Ransom than his wife will be the one who sees him and he lets see him. Everyone else and everything else can piss off.

God, he fucking hates that he loves you so much. Why won’t you just wear the fucking crown? You’ve earned it; you’re the one who conquered his demons, not Ran.

He could buy it anyway, have your veil sown straight on it, not give you the chance to argue, or he could take you out to shop, put one in your hands, knock it onto the floor, and claim ‘you break it, you bought it.’ Problem solved, but he’s a petty bitch.

He tucks the edge of his lip into his cheek.

He should be less of a petty bitch.

“What do you want?” Ran asks. “What’s it gonna take?”

He keeps his sharp eyes locked to yours, watching understanding shrink your once-dilating pupils

Change in demeanor. “Oh my god.”

Aaaand there’s the regret. “Don’t make a big deal—“

“HOLY SHIT.”

“It’s not—I’m just—“

“Hugh Fucking Drysdale?! Trying to compromise??? I’ve see it all now.”

“Stop,” he whines, dropping his head to your squirming chest.

“Wait—” you whip out of his arms and hustle back to the couch, retrieving your phone “—do it again.”

He’s too lost in staring up the sweater as you bend over to notice right away.

“Are you filming me?” Disgusting. Childish. Petty, just like him. Maybe he’s had more influence on you than he realized.

“Your face is priceless.”

“Give me that.” Ran doesn’t put much effort into reaching the phone. He would rather win for his cause. “Seriously, what do you want?”

The arm held up falls lax. He has a clear view of your home screen, so you weren’t taking a video. You just wanted to tease him. Fuck, you love to tease him.

Dramatically, your hand frames your chin in thought. “Well, I don’t want something that extravagant to go to waste, but it won’t go with every outfit…”

“No, not with colored stones,” Ran says absently. He guesses you want to get more use out of it. Gross.

“Okay, my compromise is whenever I wear it, you treat me like a princess, or perhaps, your queen.”

“Uh, sure,” he snorts. You already get treated better than any woman he’s ever known…by him, of course. He’s vaguely aware that some people do even more than the bare minimum, but those are other people. Baby steps.

“If that tiara is on my head, Hugh, you become a perfect and adoring gentleman.”

Ran wrinkles his nose. “What?”

“You heard me. That’s my compromise. Dress me that way and you have to treat me like royalty.”

“Like…” He rushes forward to sweep you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and thrusting his hips. “Princess Pussy?”

“Ran. Ew, no.”

“Queen Cunt?” Heh, he chuckles, King Comfort and Queen Cunt. No, don’t say that out loud.

You gag slightly. “Super not what I meant.”

“You’re already going to marry me, but you want me to worship you? No fucking way.” Ransom flat-out laughs.

“How did you get worship out of ‘treat me nicely?’” Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling your faces closer.

He exaggerates a groan. “I don’t know. That’s asking a lot.”

“Oh, right,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Just keep on being shitty…even to your future wife. What could possibly go wrong?”

He huffs.

Ran is passionate about making you look good, not just because you are on his arm. Sure, he probably focuses on all the wrong things—all the selfish things,—but you easily think of the big picture and completely forget about yourself.

That’s already a balance. That’s already a big compromise.

And yet…

Ran’s looking at your face and admiring your playfulness when he could be ordering you to unzip his pants. He’s more excited to see you decked out pretty things than he is to say he dressed you. He’s concerned with how you refuse to spend money for you even though you’ve put no restrictions on him. That’s…that’s just a different Ransom Drysdale. That’s a man he wouldn’t recognize if he weren’t watching his reflection in your eyes.

Ran pecks a gentle kiss to your waiting lips.

“Okay, princess,” he coos, his arms snaking tighter over your back and his fingers plunging into your hair. He keeps you close, noses touching, hot breath mingling. “Shh, shhh.”

He hears the faintest whine escape you, and he just can’t help himself. He’s a petty bitch.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll fuck your ass.”

🙈🙇🏻‍♀️😝

sorry not sorry.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @starkleila

[Main Masterlist; The Root of All Ransom Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[brucewaynehater101]

For Space Emperor Tim

C4 lost bets with one another and as a result they each, separately and without the knowledge of the others, got Dick Grayson to design several variations of costumes for them in the same vein as discowing. The bets each specified that they had to wear the loser outfit in a public venue. These costumes are relegated as part of their official regalia when they're on various planets performing their various official royal duties in space since none of them want to be caught dead on earth in the outfits. These costumes involve a considerable amount of sequins and interesting neon color combinations. Bart has a headdress with feathers.

Dick has no idea but his designs, as modeled by the space emperor and his consorts/advisors/the official saint or saintess of the planet/bodyguards are held up as revolutionary and of great significance for the history and future of fashion all throughout Tim controlled space and beyond. All of the C4's outfits for their official positions become, eventually, very much like those inspirational costumes.

I do fuck with C4 designing space regalia based on what they would not like to wear. They could choose anything, but they model Dick's costume. Hilarious C4 shenanigans.

The added part where C4 then inspire others to mimic or replicate their costumes (in a way that doesn't get them beheaded or whatever for royalty politics that C4 doesn't care about)? Great addition ^^

Have you seen the space cape designs for fandom Danny Phantom's Ghost King regalia? It's gorgeous.

What I mean by that is that Tim could have a stunning outfit (sometimes he slays), or he could wear a fuck ton of sequins. He probably does both even on the same day for the hell of it.

[knickknacksandallthat]

wait so do the foxes actually think kerejean is a thing?

or do they still think its just sex, cause kev never actually explained it

LMAO anon - this is a fabulous question! And I feel like, in true Fox fashion, Kevin hasn't answered it.

AKA the Foxes, while Kevin was at the hospital checking up on his dad the next morning, were definitely taking bets on what the hell just happened.

Boyd: *stuffing his mouth full of bagel* Dude, no way. They're banging. You see that possessive move by Moreau? Man was practically announcing to the room how they're bumping baguettes now.

Aaron: bumping baguettes? what the actual fuck, boyd?

Dan: *banging spoon on table* I will not allow stereotyping at this breakfast table! Observation allowed, withdraw the metaphor.

Matt: Withdrawn. Sorry, your honor.

Dan: Don't let it happen again.

Nicky: *on Kevin's laptop which the Foxes definitely found and powered up without asking* Okay, nope. Not enough. Those Trojans are the literal definition of touchy-feely, and they definitely turned Jean once he got there. So I need some facts - does Kev have a hickey? Are they wearing each other's clothes? Did you find a used condom in the bathroom trash can?

Aaron: I am NOT fucking digging through their trash, Nicky! Are you kidding me?

Nicky: *shrugging* You want proof? I'm just offering the method.

Allison: Nope, I'm calling it right here, right now. It's the whole enchilada. The big L, sex - the works.

Dan: Evidence?

Allison: Are you kidding me? Have any of you even been watching them? Neil, tell them.

Neil: *without looking up from his bowl of cereal* no.

Allison: See? That's proof right there. Neil would be denying it if it wasn't.

(Neil scowls at her.)

Aaron: okay, not that I'm buying into this whole "they're dating" thing, but they did sleep in the same bedroom last night.

Andrew: So did you, me, and Nicky for two plus years in college. Are you saying we all slept with him?

Allison: I don't know. Did you?

(Now Andrew glares at her.)

Aaron: *rolls eyes* That was different, Andrew.

Nicky: Well, I know I sure as hell didn't because lord knows I tried. That boy is the king of snacks and he let me starve. For years.

Dan: All right, so it sounds like we've got three categories: it's nothing, they're fucking, or they're an item now. Show of hands? Just raise the number of which choice you believe it is and I'll mark 'em down.

Katelyn: you guys are the weirdest bunch to eat breakfast with.

[seriousfic]

I also watched Megalopolis, which is... ah... it's gonna need a longer review than The Wild Robot.

On the one hand, I don't want to be a philistine and just say "it's so bad lol". But I don't want to be pretentious and pretend people who don't like it just don't get it, because it's stupid as hell and not good.

The best way I can describe it is a Jack Kirby comic from late in his career, while he was having an off day, as brought to life by the special effects of a Spy Kids movie, with a vastly overqualified cast and overinflated budget, which at several points goes to embarrassingly literal poetic imagery. And also to buying out Aubrey Plaza's nudity clause, which is obviously a far better use for it.

(That, or if someone decided to make a Disney live-action reboot of an unreleased Ralph Bakshi movie. There, there's your pull quote.)

Is it watchable? Yes, and moreso than a lot of would-be franchise starters and rebootquels we've had to suffer over the years. You'll definitely remember this one better than you will RIPD, if you were to watch them on the same day. And they cost about the same.

I don't want to list just weird things that happen, but indulge me a bit.

Adam Driver says that he misses his dead wife. Nathalie Emmanuel gasps in shock that he misses his dead wife. Laurence Fishburne narrates "Such are the mysteries of the human heart." Is it? Is it a mystery?

Shia LeBeouf, who is both Trump and an influencer and a rapacious bank president, forms a literal Nazi party out of disgruntled immigrants. Yes.

To be nice, while the Kings-like alternate reality where America is replaced by 'New Rome' is... pretty pointless... it does lead to some good imagery where the characters wear business togas and cloaks and fedoras. Gus Fring has a gold laurel he wraps around his neck instead of wearing a tie. It's kinda great. And really refreshing after how many sci-fi shows just put people in business suits or military uniforms.

Look, everyone, it's the future! Look what crazy clothes we wear in the future! Neutral colors and no hats! It's not a phase, Mom, this is fashion!

But Megalopolis also feels weirdly dated, like F to the F to the C didn't bother updating his screenplay in twenty plus years. Like one of the observations he makes is 'oh, bread and circuses in Ancient Rome, that's a little like pro wrestling these days!' What? Pro wrestling? Is that really the best modern example you can think of for decadence and debauchery?

And later he goes "oh, these pop singers who go on about how virginal they are, they're like the vestal virgins, aren't they?" Fuck, man, God knows I don't pay attention to pop music, but is anyone doing that? Aren't most pop stars bragging about how slutty they are? I don't think anyone's really pretending to be a virgin while secretly having sex.

So I don't know, I can't really recommend it as a good movie, but I did feel it was worth a watch, so if you don't go in with the expectation that Coppola is going to blow your mind, hopefully you'll have a good time.