#they say roo

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

If I get this chapter done, I'm gonna have a special little preview of the fic graphic and other possible details :)

[millenniumscreampuff]

Where is he going? 🤔

[scissoring-saxa]

Maybe I’m just coping, but here’s why the cliffhanger isn’t absolute hell (also sorry if I’m not the first to say this):

TLDR: Esther’s behavior looks to me like someone who has confirmed that the person in front of her is unconscious and she is only somewhat worried.

From my years of being active as a first aider, what you do if you don’t get a fairly quick response out of someone by verbally or physically addressing them is check their breathing. By holding your hand or cheek or a phone (something that fogs up) etc in front of their mouth and nose. Preferably while tilting their head back but that’s not the point here.

Esther is slapping Leo’s face, and her hand is positioned in front of and near his mouth. After not getting a response, she doesn't appear to progress to the next step of properly checking his breathing.

My impression is that she’s instead attempting to console Adam. Which leads me to believe that she was able to feel Leo breathing. She kept her head cool throughout the episode, so for her to drop the ball on something so big seems unlikely to me. Ideally she would be turning him over to stop him from choking on his own vomit or tongue (especially in contrast to the front of his face leaning on Adam’s thigh making a nice vomit slope into his lungs), but as long as they’re keeping a close eye on him, I won’t complain too much. Thanks for coming to my coping session/special interest oversharing.

Also, maybe it’s obvious that he’s breathing, but I can’t tell with all the movement going on and especially with how heavy Adam is breathing.

Gifs from @thisfeebleheart this post

[lucyybradford]

Bradley, to Jake: Don’t worry babe I love the way you can’t shut up it turns me on

[youredreamingofroo]

How do you feel?

- -

[There's little details in most of these pics, so click/tap the pics to see those better :)] [ Names, Colors and Emotions/Feelings under the cut ]

- -

Red - Anger Nirvana represents Anger, Rage and Strength

Orange - Fear Hero represents Fear, Danger and Caution

Yellow - Joy Ithuriel represents Joy, Comfort and Happiness

Green - Jealousy Onia represents Jealousy, Envy and Possessiveness/Possession

Blue - Sadness Kyneva represents Sadness, Pessimism and Fragility

Purple - Mystery/Mysterious Roo represents Mysteriousness, Confusion and Frustration

Pink - Love Leo represents Love, Passion and Desire

Brown - Security/Secure Carter represents Security, Resilience and Responsibility

Black - Grief Phoenix represents Grief, Guilt and Isolation

White - Ease Nanel represents Ease, Calmness and Hope

[snowiet]

dont look at me

[gk-clips]

s3ep12 😏

[reasonsforhope]

If you're wondering why I set up ko-fi membership stuff after I really resisted monetizing in any way for so long, btw... Honestly, it's because taxes and some big surprise vet bills this month kinda. decimated my savings. by a lot.

Normally I'm okay enough financially, but I'm in a really high cost of living area, and it's just been a really rough month in a lot of different ways.

So, if you're interested in supporting me or my work, whether it's with a membership or a one-time thing or whatever - and only if you can genuinely afford it - that would honestly be amazing and more helpful than I strictly like to admit

As an extra incentive, if this ko-fi thing goes well, I'll commit to actually answering asks and shit again lol

Either way <3 <3 to all of you

[sui-imi]

fresh!roo in da house

bonus:

fresh belongs to loverofpiggies

[rachi-roo]

I'm sorry for the complete lack of content recently, friends. It's that time of the year and things are CRAZY in both good ways and bad.

Once things have calmed down again in the new year, I fully intend to get back into both drawing and writing!

Thank you all for sticking around, and I hope you're having a wonderful Christmas time! 🥰💕

[onesidedradiostatic]

H. Have we considered the possibility that Cain is a future antagonist, not Abel? Abel's a good boy he did nothing wrong

But I also remember from years of concept art that Eve is repeatedly implied to be a Major Overarching Antagonist- maybe Cain is working with his mom? He definitely ended up in Hell with her.

(prev)

LMAO idk we really don't know ANYTHING about eve, we know she ate the apple but we don't know her fate, only lilith and lucifer were stated to be cast down after the apple. although I mean it wouldn't be surprising if eve went to hell just for accepting and eating it I guess. I know there's theories she's actually roo but again. we know NOTHING, roo is not even a character yet as far as canon is concerned

and cain being a future antagonist? possible? but when it comes to him all we have to go off of is actual bible lore in which yeah he's the bad one for murdering abel. but we have no idea how much hazbin will deviate from it, they already deviated from it by having adam not eat the apple, for all we know maybe cain will be painted as more sympathetic but again. nothing to go off of, we don't even have a design for him and don't know any details about hazbin's take on the story other than that like. abel exists and is in heaven

[weremustelidae]

fuck you (aromanticizes your fave)

[ryebecca]

"It was a dark and stormy night for Bradley..." -> but make it romantic ⚡️ 💕 ✨ | (requested by @roosterforme)

[youredreamingofroo]

So I saw this post of Dulce by @matchalovertrait and was inspired to do this with Roo! I was gonna do freshmen Roo (13-15 year old Roo), but Idk I wasn't vibing with that version of Roo... But I did do it with the other ages, 2011-2013 is him in highschool (16, 17, 18 respectively) and 2016-2018 is him in college (21, 22-23 respectively), also if you didn't know, Roo dropped out after 2018, hence why there's no 2019-2020 ones :)

[kangaracha]

daffodil + chan

a song

the prompt: daffodil (a god bows before a mortal)

read it on ao3

---

"You have no power over me."

running through his hands like water, and suddenly the earth is not his to control. The skies do not turn with the twist of his head, lightning does not fork in the air when his eyes, dark as night and yet still lit by some unearthly light, fall upon you, his mouth wide as if to gasp for a breath he cannot take-

And yet, still, it shivers down your spine; the magic that draws you here even as you rip it apart, the prize of your conquest to rip the world into two.

"Take it back," he hisses through his teeth, the ground trembling with every syllable that slides down his tongue. You watch his mouth as it forms the words, the flash of teeth behind thin lips reminding you of the way that the swordsman you'd fought through to get here had smiled at you - the last of his seven challenges, the last of his demons, or angels, or citizens of the sprawling, damned city he claimed as his kingdom.

And here you stood, at the pinnacle of the eighth, and stared him in the eye without cringing away because now you knew the truth. Now you knew that what he whispered in the dark was a lie and what you saw with your eyes wasn't always true, and though he may be a god and a king amongst beings that you could never hope to rival, a god can only hold as much power as you give him. A god can only claim dominion over a beast that bowed to his dogma. 

You see now that you are no beast. You are no believer in any lie he utters to the darkness.

"Take it back," he says again, the note of his voice changing. He pleads, his brow furrowing and his shoulders curling in as if waiting for the final blow. "Take it back now, before it's too late."

"I can't," you tell him, and you watch him fall to his knees, and you know that it's wrong and your heart pounds in your chest and it

like the ground does at the impact of his knees, crumbling into the pieces it was in when you first took his hand, alone on the side of the road with only one thing to call your own. And what was that thing, the little warmth you'd held to your chest in the dark and the cold? What had you traded away for the comfort of the house that crumbled around you now? Why had you destroyed him to get it back, where was it now, why did it not appear within his hands at this, the hour of his reckoning?

"Please," he spits into the cold ground, the dirt and the leaves and the curl of ivy that grows up the walls around you, old and ancient and not yet sprouted from its roots all at the same time. His hands curl in the dirt like he can reach down and pull the earth to him, like he can stop the wane of his power if he just tries to hold on a little bit tighter. "I know what you want, and I don't have it. I can't lose-"

Broken, fragile thing. Small god of limited earth, crouched at your feet like he might worship you instead. You'd thought him all-powerful once, and then you'd thought him severe and his servants and beasts and playthings petty, and then you'd thought him

because he'd smiled at you in the garden that bloomed from his own hands when you expressed your desire for a flower to tuck in the braid of your dark hair, and his hand had been soft in yours, and when he looked out across his kingdom and the clamouring faces of the people he'd brought to live there, he'd looked at them the same way that he'd looked at you.

Beneath your foot, the ground cracks, fracturing outwards like a spiderweb. It's your heart, you realise morosely, sinking from your chest and into the depths of the earth, disappearing with whatever he'd taken from you; and it was a wretched thing and it had betrayed you a hundred times over, but you still mourn at the loss of it and all the dreams it had carried with it. It blooms in your flowers in the corners of the room, embeds itself into the land and sings along with the song of his power, a thing you can hear but cannot touch, a beast once born that now does not belong to you.

"I'm sorry," he says, his breath like mist in the cold air, and even without your heart, you can't bear to see him so cold.

Your hands reach for him without permission, your body kneeling in the dirt before you can stand your feet firm upon the earth and refuse to move. He flinches away, but your fingers are soft upon his chin and the curve of his jaw, gentle when they brush the soft dip of his neck. "I only wanted to know what it was," you tell him with a voice that cannot hold itself steady. "I thought if you loved me, you would give it back." It's the only voice you have - you are not like him, or like Felix, speaking with many tongues. You don't have any power of your own.

"It's because I love you that I can't give it back." His voice is hoarse, every word a knife that he swallows without ever once flinching. "It's because I love you that I couldn't tell you what it was."

"But didn't I deserve to know?" you question. "Doesn't my life belong to me?"

Finally, his eyes rise, looking up at you with a fire that belies the cold of his skin. "Of course it does," he gasps, and his hand reaches up, dirt-stained fingers dragging at your cheek. "That's why I gave it to you, and I never asked for anything else."

"But you wouldn't give back what you took in the first place."

The sudden violence of his voice crumbles the walls and fractures the sky, the clouds blooming te dark colours of a bruise. The absence of his hand on your cheek stings in the cold; his face turns away, screwed up in regret and a pain he won't allow you to feel. You lurch forward before he can disappear, drawing him into your arms; stiff shoulders, spine of beaten steel, slow beat of a heart you once held in your hands. 

He'd stood so tall and unmoving in the morning light, when you'd first walked down this path, and now in the dark of the setting sun and the ending of the earth, his weight slumps into your grasp, his resolve melting into the warmth of your body. "I didn't want you to suffer again," he says to the soft cotton of your shirt and the curve of your collarbone, his breath a whisper against your skin. "I couldn't watch that, when you asked me to make sure it would never happen again."

Surprise comes in the pause of your breath and the still of your arms, the jump of a heart you're not sure you still possess. "I asked you to make me forget?" you question the world behind his back, and into your neck, he sighs.

"You couldn't forget," he murmurs. "She was dead before I found you, and when I took her from your arms - you couldn't forget. There was nothing I could do to fix what had been broken. And then you begged me to let you forget, so I remembered her for you." He pauses, his throat hitching like he's swallowing something down. A sob maybe, or the tears he will never let fall. "I can't give her back though. She's not here anymore."

You push him upright, your hands on his shoulders, his neck, his face. Brushing away the hair that falls in his eyes, wiping at the blood that drips from the cut on his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, because the answer is incomprehensible. "Why did you let me go this far?"

"Because I was scared," he admits, and his teeth clench and his spine stiffens against the urge to hide away from you again. "Because I'm a wretched, evil, stupid thing who thinks they can-"

His words die in your throat; vile, wretched things that you store away to spit out later, into the ground where they belong. He is none of that; he is soft, and hesitant, until your fingers find the sharp curve of his hip and the lines of his back, dragging him closer and his lips open like there is nothing in the world to devour but you and

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Second Wives AU; each dark!dude is a recent divorce. They band together to find themselves new wives to terrorize.

Thots?