#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?”

[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🧡🦖

[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."

[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. 👑♀️

[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.

[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

[sleeby-anon]

Unorganized NSFW Lucifer Morningstar thoughts

Afab gender-neutral reader, minors fuck off.

- Lucifer morningstar is a tits guy. He love all parts of the body don’t get me wrong—it’s a pretty equal tie but if he had to pick it would be your tits.

Something about listening to your heartbeat—the rise and fall of your chest, the way he can hear the humming of your voice through it—it’s as close as he can get to you, and yes: the fact that it’s soft and pretty isn’t a deterrent.

- It’s practically law in the fandom that Lucifer gives oral like he invented it, wrote the book on it, and then committed himself to earning a doctorate. This is true.

If giving oral was a language he would be fluent in all dialects. He fucking loves the taste of you after your multiple orgasms—the mix of sweat, cum, you, and him—he could feast on you forever.

If you ever squirted while he was down there he’d stop and look up at you with a dazed and dangerous grin before saying “do that again.”

He loves it when you sit on his face. Before you can say “but what if I hurt you.” He will look you dead in the eyes and tell you that if he dies by your thighs and the taste of you on his tongue he will have lived his life to fullest and died doing what he loved most.

Also he’s king of hell and was married to Lilith for 10,000 years. He can handle his face being sat on.

- If it was up to him he would get rid of the pesky clothes thing. He loves seeing your naked body and can not for the life of him understand why you would feel weird about that.

He successfully courted his first wife before clothes even existed. Call him old fashioned but your bare body is way better than any lingerie you could wear.

- Lucifer doesn’t really care to label how he prefers to be treated in bed. It really depends on his partner—he like making them feel good—however they interpret that. Whether that’s him on his knees or him railing them into next week it makes no difference.

If it were about him however he does enjoy subbing and being treated kindly. He’s not really into hurtful punishments on his end—more of the kind that leave him exhausted, spent and loved. He likes knowing he is loved and wanted.

- If he can’t hear your moans or see your face during sex it is almost not worth it. He likes knowing how you are falling apart on him, likes watching your facial expressions and hearing you plead for him.

If you try muffling yourself or turning away from him he will stop and either turn your head back towards him so he can see you or growl and force you to release your muffle through excessive pleasure.

There are exceptions to this however—if you are in public and murmur how badly you need him and he’s not in a position to leave and have you taken apart like he usually does, he will give you what you want—but he will try to make you break your established silence in an attempt to be discreet—it’s a risky punishment for not being able to wait.

[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]

[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.

[frasier-crane-style]

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.

[nailbatss]

Forever Will Be You and Me

This is another entry for @harringrovesummerbingo !! Name inspiration comes from Check Yes Juliet by We the Kings. I love this song and I think it fits Harringrove in any universe <3

Square & Prompt: B2 - Free Space

Rating: Angst to fluff, SFW

Word Count: 1.8k

Major Tags: Harringrove, fluff, getting together, genderbent!Harringrove, omegaverse, Alpha!Billie, Omega!Stevie, Stevie has bad parents, Billie has bad parents

Summary: Stevie was supposed to do everything by the book. She was supposed to marry another rich family and have strong pups to be her heir. Her parents don’t care about her. She’s determined to break that cycle and be truly happy. All she has to do is run.

“Stevie, I need you to get the hell out of your parents’ house.” Billie scoffed as they relaxed in her pool one afternoon. She was sitting on a flamingo shaped floatie, sunglasses slightly skewed down her nose to see her better, and her red hot bikini hugging her curvy frame. Stevie herself was wearing a yellow floral bikini and it hugged her curves just right. Her own sunglasses were sitting atop her head as she relaxed in the shallow end, sitting on the stairs leading into the pool. 

A frown made her face scrunch up. “That’s easier said than done, Billie.” She sighed and looked down at her nails.

“Why? I got away from my folks and got a place, why don’t you move in with me?” Billie asked like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Are you crazy? They already don’t like that I’m friends with an alpha and won’t tell them who. You know how old fashioned they are.”

“Right, because they believe in alpha/omega relationships and nothing else.” She frowned. “I mean, I am an alpha. Why won’t they let you be with me?”

“Though we’re opposite designations… they don’t like the thought of me being with another woman..” Stevie said softly.

“That’s such bullshit!” Billie snarled as her fangs dropped. “We could be perfect together!” She hissed.

Well that suddenly got Stevie’s attention.

“Billie? I- what?” Stevie squeaked.

“Fuck.” The blonde muttered and looked up at the sky, groaning. “Fucking cat’s out of the bag now.”

“Y-You like me?”

“Yes, princess. I don’t just hang around you for no reason. While I do like to be around you, I think you’re the most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen. This shitty town’s never done anything for me except giving me one thing. They gave me you.” Billie said. “Now I sound all sappy.” She pouted.

Stevie giggled as she swam over to her, grabbing onto the side of her floatie and looking up at her. “Billie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re cute when you get all pouty.” She smiled and laughed again as Billie’s face turned as red as her bikini.

That didn’t stop her from leaning down and responding. “And you’re all cute when you’re flirty.” The blonde smiled and connected their lips, earning a mewl of pleasure from Stevie.

~*~

“What do you mean I have to marry him?” Stevie’s eyes widened.

“You were promised to the Hagan family long after you presented.” Her father growled. “If you presented as an omega, you’d marry their alpha son. If you presented as an alpha, you’d be promised to another family with an omega.” He crossed his arms. “Pack your things, they’ll be coming to collect you in the morning. Once married, you’re going to provide an heir that will take over the family business.”

“I don’t want to!” Stevie stomped her foot. “There’s no way you’re going to make me!”

“Oh, but you’re an omega. You’re viewed as property to anyone else, especially in our society.” Her father continued and growled. “As your father and your alpha, you will obey me.”

Stevie shot a look to her mother. “You seriously can’t agree to this.” She swallowed, horrified at the thought of having to leave everything behind, especially her chosen alpha. The two had been courting in secret for weeks now.

Her mother fell silent, as usual. “What your father says, goes.” She had been promised the same fate unfortunately all those years ago. She was sworn to marry Richard, obviously not happy about it either.

“Fuck you.” She spat in her father’s direction. 

“What the hell did you say to me, girl?!”

“Fuck. You.” Stevie said and turned on her heel, grabbing her bag and running up the stairs. She slammed her bedroom door behind her and sobbed. 

How was she supposed to tell Billie? 

She simply couldn’t. 

But she couldn’t just not live her own life. She had to do something and do it fast.

Grabbing the phone, she dialed the number she remembered by heart all those years ago. A tear slid down her cheek as she heard the ringing back in her ears.

“Hey princess, what’s going on?”

“Is that offer still on the table?” Stevie asked shakily.

She could practically hear her grin over the phone. “For you? Always.”

“I want to take you up on it.”

“I’m on my way, princess. Be there in 5.”

Hearing the dial tone, Stevie hung up the phone and wiped her eyes. No time for getting upset now. The brunette was packing her bags in a flurry and making sure she grabbed everything she needed. The young omega was not going to let her father ruin her life again. She was going to find her happiness somewhere that wasn’t there.

Even so, she knew she would be cut off from her family, which was fine. She had enough in her savings anyway. The minute she turned 18, she automatically removed her parents from her bank account. Whatever money she had was hers, and that was a safety net at best. 

Taking one more glance around, Stevie knew this would be the last time she’d be in this room. She picked up a stuffed bunny from her bed. Cinnamon, she had named it, was won by Billie at the state fair up in Indy. She had held onto it ever since and it smelled just like her. Though Billie’s scent had faded from the plush fur, Stevie held onto it as a memory. One of the seldom few she had where she was purely happy.

So into her bag she goes. 

Hearing the familiar roar of the engine, Stevie was out the door. She dropped her keys into the bowl of keys. Her car would surely be taken from her too, so it was better to leave that behind too. It was an ugly reminder of who her family is.

“Stephanie!” Turning her head, she realized her mother was watching her now.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly.

“I understand, but please…” Her mother rushed over with an envelope and handed it to her. She sniffled. “I’m so sorry that your father is like this.. I never wanted this life for you. You don’t deserve this.” 

That was the last time she hugged her mother. 

Taking a deep breath, Stevie walked out the door and never looked back.

After all, her true alpha was here to protect her from them. She’d never look back again.

Climbing in the car, Stevie immediately felt overtaken with relief, warmth, and safety.

“Hi, princess.’

“Hi beautiful.”

Suddenly, Stevie was embraced in a loving hug. The warmth was familiar, encasing her with happiness and support, but most of all, love.

“Don’t ever look back. They’ll tear us apart if you give them the chance.” Billie told her soothingly and rubbed her back.

Suddenly, she gasped when feeling tears soaking through her shirt.

“Oh baby, don’t you worry. I got you now. Come on, let’s go get some ice cream at home, yeah?”

“Home?” Stevie echoed with a raspy tone.

“Home.” Billie smiled softly.

“Okay, yeah, I’d like to go home now, please.”

“Then home it is.”

~*~

Warm. Cozy. That’s what Stevie felt when she woke up. She trilled softly when feeling strong arms around her waist. Her nose immediately went to her neck, sighing quietly as she breathed in her scent. It was unlike any other alpha’s scent which was usually musky, heavy. Hers was coconut, lime, and all things beachy. Stevie’s herself was more floral, like jasmine, daffodil, and a little bit of peach. Their scents were perfect together and almost like a tropical getaway.

Heaven. That’s what this was.

Stevie was in heaven when she was with Billie, her alpha.

They had moved in together practically overnight and they were finally at peace. People would talk, surely. Stevie Harrington living it up with Billie Hargrove in the trailer? Scandalous.

She didn’t give a damn anymore.

All Stevie cared about was being happy. At the very least, Billie was her happiness and she was going to always protect her.

Yes, they were young at only the age of 18, but they were here together. They’d finish school together and they’d probably never hear from any of these people again. That would be paradise to them definitely.

“Do you ever think of moving away?” Billie asked curiously one morning.

“W-what?”

“Do you ever… want to get away from here?” Billie repeated this time.

“I mean, I’ve always thought about it.”

“Yeah? What of it?”

“I’d like to… but I don’t want to leave behind the pups.”

Stevie had grown quite attached to a few pups that she used to look after. Namely, Dustin Henderson. That was her first pup she was trusted with. Claudia had always offered her a place to stay if needed and a warm meal before she would return home. The other pups followed right after: Lucas, Mike, Will, and El were a few more to name. Of course, she couldn’t forget about the other sassy, yet sweet pup, Max. Though she was Billie’s sister, Stevie adored her all the more. 

“We could always come back to visit.” Billie offered.

“We could, yes, but I’m happy here with you.” Stevie smiled warmly over her cup of coffee. Her wavy hair was thrown up in a messy bun; it was never good for Billie’s heart to see that combination. “It wouldn’t be the same without them.. I’d miss them.”

Billie could understand that. She never thought of having pups of her own, let alone, knowing if she could sire them. It hit her just then. If you take an omega away from their pups, even ones that were adopted and made pack, then they could enter a drop. She didn’t want to risk doing that to her favorite person in the world.

“Fine, after the brats graduate, we’re going to leave then. Will that be okay?” Billie sighed.

Stevie giggled, “Don’t call them brats, I know you have a soft spot for them too.”

“Whatever.” Billie huffed again.

“Oh, my big, strong, alpha, scared to admit she’s soft.” Stevie cooed.

That made Billie growl playfully. “Shut up.”

“You like when I tease you~”

“That I do, princess. That I do. Now c’mere, I need my morning kisses.” Billie tugged her close by her waist, sealing their lips together.

Happiness had never tasted so sweet. All it took was her to run away from her horrible future and into the loving arms of her perfect mate.

Forever never looked so promising.