#we stan a fashionable queen

[fangirlmodeactivated]

Fashionable fits by Stella Bak on The Morning Show (S2) played by Greta Lee

[princessnamora]

@hotvintagepoll

[reginasbread]

Shohreh Aghdashloo attends 10th Annual Society of Voice Arts and Sciences Voice Awards Gala at The Beverly Hilton on December 10, 2023 in Beverly Hills, California. (Photo by Leon Bennett)

[ray-elgatodormido]

Counterattack for @the-kingdom-of-wei Woe! Ya Gal be upon yee Moz!

Loved drawing the armor. I just fell in love with ancient chinese armors. So stylish and varied and GAgdasgjgvhc. Was unsure of the lower part so I improvised while looking at refs.

Negotiations with Wu. Feat Pookie Bear I mean sleep deprived Origins protagonist

Yes this was an excuse to try to draw 3K period style hanfu. My instagram feed is 45 percent C-drama costumes and hanfu and accessories lol but I ain’t complaining because they gorgeous and free references to fill a folder or two with.

Moots’ Oc: Dian Zhao | Lady Dian

[ilovetoslytherwin]

Went out to eat today and saw a lady wearing a cow printed sweater ordering a 500 grams beef steak.

Iconic behavior. I have no notes.

[thelien-art]

Fëanáro, Nerdanel & Telperinquar

Latest portraits

Sons of Fëanáro

Now to the house of Fingolfin!

HC:

Feanor: Feanor dresses in pale colors like Miriel. I like to think Miriel dresses in light colors, not necessarily white. I don´t think he adorns himself with a lot of jewelry, just enough for him to be stylish, but not more, as he cares more about making things for those he cares for than himself, and if it is for himself, he would rather focus on something more practical, like lamps and machines.

Nerdanel: I have a surprising lot of thoughts about Nerdanel, one of them being that she´s a very loud Feanorian stan, although there´s a lot she thinks is plainly stupid she still supports her husband(ex??) and most of his ideals fierily. I think she dresses much more plainly than other Noldor, but will not necessarily turn down the option to adorn herself in jewelry. While I think she eagerly awaited her crowning, I don´t think it ever came, and she therefore never really had the possibility to wear a crown (not circlet she could still wear circles) as Finarfin was crowned when his brothers left. I don´t think that married in, in the Noldor royal house, could wear crowns before they themself was crowned kings/queen, even if it was just over a smaller piece of land. This left her to never wear a circlet as she was waiting to be crowned queen which never happened, meaning she never wore something on her head. She still wore royal braids and such, as that was accepted. All this leads her to be called Ríantaú by those who are against Feanor**. * She ends up going to Formenos and taking in all the Feanorian loyalties over the ages, becoming a queen at the end although never crowned, and known as a bitter woman because of her sons' departure.

Celebrimbor: I don´t read Celebrimbor as a naive person, rather I read him as someone who bears a lot of guilt, and in some cases let it control him, even if he was not the one at fault, this makes it easier for him to welcome everyone when the second age begins, after all evil was destroyed right? That was what the Valar said, and it does harm to everyone to throw someone out in the wilderness. I do believe he was aware that Annatar was a Maia of Morgoth, I also believe that while he didn´t think Annatar was all good, he believed in himself that he could make Annatar a better person. When Celebrimbor is reborn he ends up seeking out Nerdnal, who welcomes him in her city with open arms where he stays most of his time. On jewelry, I was helped by a lot of people (@lulukeskywalker pointed out that Eregion was named after the hollie trees it´s said to have) with the holly HC some might have heard about him, and it comes from that Eregion had a lot of hollie trees, which is a very sweet note professor, thank you for that, so I, of course, had to give him some holly themed jewelry. On a last note of jewelry, I tried to give him something between art nouveau and brutalism, to give him his own style. - note Celebrimbor follows second age fashion, therefor having his braids at the back instead of both at the front and back. - note Celebrimbor´s circlet is very intentionally inspired by Maglor´s.

Other HC:

I like to think that both Thingol and Finwe ruled their land as Empires, meaning that there were smaller kings and queens under their rule, while the rest, like Owlë and Ingwë ruled as only kings. I think it makes most sense with Thingol but I also like it with Finwe as his family was so big so it would make sense. - examples would be the roman empire and Scandinavia around year 0 to year 500 where the really where no kingdoms as we see them today but many small kings and later one king over the small kings. *

**Ríanta = To crown/Coronate: Quenya - Ú = Without/Destitute of: Quenya - Ríantaú = Without crown/Crownless: Quenya

Grey, mostly a pale grey close to white, is the mourning color for the Eldar´s as it´s associated with Nienna.

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.  Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[piteousfangirl]

A practically perfect recreation of Rose’s boarding dress from Titanic I can’t even

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

tapis rouge groovies + new rhythmic/twistune ✨

***Spoilers below the cut!!***

Ooooh!! As usual, Vil is striking a model-esque pose and showing off not only his own looks, but the best aspects of the ensemble he’s wearing. (If his outfit looks different than how you remembered, it's because Vil gets new sleeves and a cape added on in part 4:)

I like how the lights behind him and on his face are so bright, yet the shot is framed darkly since we’re looking from his shadowed side. It makes Vil look so mysterious!!

He’s holding up a black piece of cloth that seems to glitter; I believe this is “Black of Night”, the signature color of the high fashion house, Luxe, that prepared his and the other NRC boys’ customized outfits. (The name of the color is a reference to an ingredient in the potion the Evil Queen makes to turn into an old lady.) It’s iconic, and only Luxe knows the secrets behind achieving the color of this dye. Many celebrities wear certain brands on the red carpet as free advertisement for the brands they wear, so this makes sense for Vil to be doing as well.

JAMIL 😳 I feel like both he and Azul are helped out a lot by moving in their outfits; the in-game models are a little too stiff-looking to fully convey the elegance of these particular looks. Jamil’s braids are so pretty here, they flow in the wind with such grace!! His expression is also nice, he’s giving the camera a cheeky little smirk from the side…

The shot’s composition is pretty interesting too! Jamil sort of has his arms spread out and his back revealed, and Vil, in front of him, is blocked out by an onlooker/reporter’s elbow. It gives off the impression of Jamil both showing off his coat while also playing bodyguard to Vil. Jamil is a trained bodyguard and can be protective, so… very fitting! Even moreso since Jamil was the card paired with Vil on the limited banner.

Another outfit helped by movement!! You can see how the tailcoats trail behind him and how his jacket’s wide sleeves actually pull/bunch back to allow the green sleeves of his undershirt come out. The light being so prominent on him also highlights his golden frames very well; it’s usually hard to spot small details like this from the model itself so I’m glad we can better appreciate it here!

I love how Azul is soaking up the attention and making the most of it (as opposed to Jamil, who seems to be playing it cool and serious). Smiling and winking for the crowd… Azul stans eating good www He’s even in his usual “poor unfortunate soul, please allow me to assist you” pose 😂 Reeeeeally trying to paint himself in rbe most flattering way possible, eh??

We can see Vil’s head and Jamil’s pants + shoes here. Vil’s the SSR and the star of the show so of course he won’t be left out! Jamil is the other card on the banner that goes with Vil. You can tell it’s Jamil because of the long coat and baggy pants; his shoes are white but appear darker in this illustration probably because of the shadow over them. Ace is not high enough in rarity to cameo in other Groovies/j

Note: Ace is the R card, so his illustration does not change significantly. A shame, really. I like his look the best in this batch 😔 It would have been fun to see what an interpretation on an Ace Groovy would have been!

There is a second rhythmic/twistune that features Vil and co. strutting down the red carpet! There are many cute details in it, such as Vil interacting with his fans by taking selfies with them, giving his signature, and speaking with a reporter.

Jamil and Azul play their parts as "huntsmen" to the Fairest Queen by bringing Vil boxes akin to the one that was meant to contain Snow White's heart.

When Jamil presents Vil with the first box, Vil pulls out his poison apple luxury bag. Then a fog of green covers the screen and when it fades away, Vil is in his new sleeves and cape combo.

Here he is, posing glamorously for the camera! The others do their best to show him off too. (fhbalifiyabifeab Azul is really doing his best to present Vil...)

At the very end, Azul and Ace step up to help Vil with final makeup touch-ups. Jamil seems to spritz him with some perfume too! Then Vil finally ascends to his rightful place up high!! Such a triumphant ending for a super fun rhythmic 🥺

[melmedarda]

Hi!!! I love your theories and absolute adoration for Mel (we stan a queen!!). Wondering what you think of Ambessa wearing white now? There's some REAL interesting imagery of her painting red over the white of Mel's Piltover.... I'm foaming at the mouth over it fr

Hello lovely person! Thank you for your kind words and for sending this in! You have no idea what you've unleashed.

Okay so I have an entire theory on this. Two really. Her wearing lighter colors is reminiscent of Mel donning darker colors when Ambessa shows up. But the increase of gold in her wardrobe is that she is becoming more and more aligned with family interests rather than Noxian interests. Through Arcane, gold is used as a motif to represent or allude to Mel & the Medardas. At first, we see when Ambessa arrives, she is wearing no gold, but she dons gold only after what we assume the worst has happened to Mel. Her allegiance is not to Noxus, but to her family.

And then, for her clothing. Ambessa is giving very much wolf in sheep's clothing. Notice that Piltovan fashion is light/brighter than Noxian garb. Ambessa adopts this bright, ornate way of dressing, I think, to have them think she is part of them. She is on their side. However, we know that Ambessa has a fox and wolf philosophy, and what is the most well-known wolf in Runeterra?

Kindred the wolf, the entity of a violent death, wears the mask of the sheep, and the sheep, entity of the gentle death wears the mask of the wolf. The wolf is in "sheep's clothing". And notice she wears a mask for war.

But Gentle, that is a reach, even for you. Ambessa's mask does not even look remotely like Kindred's. I am aware, but who remembers local cuisine?

He was not only Ambessa's escort, but he wears the wolf mask. The very fact that he is so closely associated with Ambessa rang alarm bells in my head from the moment I saw who he was and made the connection between them. Ambessa wears a mask, but behind her mask is not beauty, or pleasure. Pleasure, bright clothing is her mask. Her true face, is the face of death. Of war. And next season, everyone will know, but too late. Far too late.

[imnameimswrld]

ㅤㅤㅤⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐍𝐅𝐖𝐌𝐁 ⁰⁰ ׄ ⑅ XMH ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

— DESCRIPTION ੭ in which hao and y/n's gets wrongfully exposed, and hao does not stand for it ( inspired by hozier's song "nfwmb" – Nothing Fucks With My Baby )

— PAIRING ੭ the8 x fem!fashion!designer!student.

— FILE ੭ social media au.

— WARNINGS ੭ language.

❪ main masterlist | kpop masterlist | svt masterlist | the8 masterlist ❫

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

dispatch

liked by user, user, and 675 224 others

dispatch netizens rage over leaked pictures of SEVENTEEN'S THE8 on, what appears to be a weekend getaway to Paris, France, with alleged girlfriend.

#dispatch

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user now who the hell...

user oh ???

user picture 2 is giving gold digger, she's obvs using myungho for his money omg.

↳ user wow, u can tell all that from a picture 😄 !? shut the fuck up and find something better to do than drag an innocent woman.

user ya'll are some wild mfs, she hasn't done a single thing wrong the hell.

user and you guys call urself the8 stans ? nah, bro ain't gonna stand for this

HYBE Ordered By SEVENTEEN's THE8 To Take Legal Action For Maliscious Comments Made Towards Newly Revealed Girlfriend.

May 01, 2024ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤby K Choi

The SEVENTEEN member was recently sighted roaming the streets of Paris with an unfamiliar woman. Fans claimed it to be a partner, and later THE8 himself confirmed by addressing it on his Weverse Live on April 29th.

The idol claimed that she deserved respect and to be treated like a human being, and that those who are being inhumane towards her do not label themselves as his supporters.

HYBE revealed that they will take further legal actions on any hateful comments they come across, and that netizens should refrain from being disrespectful of her, and their private relationship.

We wish the couple everything of happiness and prosperity !

ynusername added to their story ! • 1hr

seen by ho5hi_kwon, xuminghao_o, and 767 222 others

xuminghao_o replied to your story !

I love you baby 🤍

I love you more hao 🤍🤍

ho5hi_kwon replied to your story !

they could never make me hate you y/n ✊

...thanks ? 😭

I gotchu girl

thanks hosh 😭

xuminghao_o

🎧 Home – SEVENTEEN

liked by ho5hi_kwon, pledis_boo, and 933 232 others

xuminghao_o always yours, 亲爱的 💋

( trans: my love )

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user she's so gorgeous...

↳ ynusername thank you, you are too !

↳ user oh- hi queen !!

ho5hi_kwon hao I got ur girlfriend to do horanghae w/me 😝

↳ xuminghao_o is that so ? proof.

↳ ho5hi_kwon ...damnit, ofc she deleted it.

↳ joshu_acoustic lol

↳ jeonghaniyoo_n lol x2

↳ pledis_boo lol x9, vouching for the others 😄

↳ ho5hi_kwon you're all jester haters of the tiger club 🐯 !!!

↳ ynusername ...yeah, sorry hosi :)

↳ xuminghao_o don't apologize love, it's ridiculous and he knows it

↳ ho5hi_kwon RAAAAAWWWWW 🐯🐯🐯

user nah y/n is locked in for life.

ㅤ

ㅤ

[crimsonbastard]

Alright, might as well adress the elephant in the room:

- The absolute desecration of Alicent's Character is infuriating. Her straight up surrendering to Rhaneyra and throwing her sons to the wolves?? And betraying her own Father? Alicent HAS her issues with her family but there's no way that she's going to stoop as low as straight up giving them up. And oh, her saying that she was "fond" of Viserys?? Like what?? You mean the man who groomed you?? Put his rot in you and neglected you and your children??? What the actual fuck??? Was this the same woman who attacked Rhaenyra when her son got mutilated?? All of that for what?? Nothing! And what of your Grandson Alicent?? The little boy who was butchered?? Does his death mean nothing??

- Helaena's complete 180. Seriously?? Her guiding Daemon? The man who orchestrated her son's death? I understand Helaena not wanting to fight, and as Queen she has every right to deny Aemond, but her guiding Daemon towards his path?? Seriously?? And since when did her Visions get Lucid enough to pinpoint Aemond's grave?? Atleast Condom and Hiss had the courtesy of Helaena feel something towards her husband when she confronts Aemond about what he did.

- Oh Aemond, literally the only Green who (besides Cole & Daeron) who's fighting for his family. Him trying to force Helaena felt out of character, as, besides his mother it's her he cherishes the most. We see him lash out, that cold calculated mask finally dropping as he starts getting desperate when he lashes out on Sharp Point and it's innocent citizens as well as his sister. He still is that angry boy who lost his eye.

- We've got Rhaenyra openly admitting what Team Black had been denying all along. That for her to ascend, Aegon must be put to the sword.

- Cole finally being vulnerable and showing what's going through that head of his. How he thinks that this war is for nothing, and that whatever ideals he held onto before, have been let go of and that the only thing that keeps him going is Alicent. He knows that chances of him making out of this war are slim but he goes along with it, for her. Him admitting his hypocrisy, and that he has no shame was the cherry on top. A Jaime Parallel.

- Ah yes the Weirwood vision that conveniently removes any daemyra angst later on. Daemon realising how serious the upcoming horrors from beyond the north are, and that Daeneryes cameo is nothing but a cheap attempt by Condom and Hiss, just to:

a) Shoehorn Daenerys to appease Dany Stans

b) Remind the audience of the "divine right" of the Targaryens to rule westeros as only they can "unite" the realm.

c) Completely absolve all the future atrocities comitted by Rhaenyra and Daemon, as it is for the "Greater Good"

d) By doing so, they gave Daemon a convenient excuse to go on his "murder suicide" battle with Aemond other than abandoning his wife for one last girl he groomed, her being Nettles who is cut from the show, so as to not anger the Daemyra stans.

e) It doesn't even matter in the end, as it's Arya who kills the Night King.

- Alyn verbally decimating Corlys for abandoning him and his brother until his legitimate heirs were gone was satisfying to see.

- Aegon wanting to fashion himself as "The Realms Delight" Is interesting. Considering he will go down into the history books as the Rightful King whereas Rhaenyra goes from being "The Realm's Delight" to "Maegor with Teats". Aegon being negatively viewed by the smallfolk this season despite wanting to do good by them (to get their love and approval) whereas Rhaenyra leading innocent people to their deaths (by dragonfire) and watching from atop, and also sending a few "gifts" to the starving smallfolk, she herself being the cause of their starvation, via the blockade. If the writer's don't further fuck up, we might hopefully see the smallfolk shift their perception towards both rulers, with Rhaenyra being finally called "Maegor with Teats" and Aegon being somwhat looked at positively.

- Sunfyre cannot be dead. He's too important. I hope they made Larys mention that just to subvert our expectations.

- We finally get to see Tessarion, and she looks like a recolored Arrax. Hopefully with a bigger budget they'll give her a more fitting look.

[pinkandpurple360]

Hey pink did you saw the new 4chan leak?

https://desuarchive.org/co/thread/145383112/#145394767

But the main thing for me was that Leviathan is a queen obsessed with fashion, and in principle, Envy is based on fashion(i already love her omg slay queen 😔)

We can’t assume these are real. So let’s talk in hypotheticals.

Leviathan sounds like “Him” from PPG. Using a drag queen who is evil, to embody jealousy is…a choice. A choice that could become queer phobic at light speed. I think the sins are more important to the story and world building, than stolas and his entire Bridgerton family bullshit only a few stolitz stans care about. And really, everyone is gay in hell? Everyone?

I think the idea of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ sins is childish. But especially sin embodiments who are pure good and didn’t at least work to get that way, is plain oxymoron. Sloth Lust and Gluttony are not better than Wrath Envy and Greed. One half is focussed on self indulgence, the other on harming others directly. BOTH are bad.

I wish she did a little more research into how hierarchy and power works. But this is a millionaire we have to remember …

There are no good monarchs, drug lords, and factory owners, if there is an oppressed working class and caste system. Even ‘nice’ gentle personalities can be part of the supremacist caste.

It makes a lot more sense to me if they are all morally dubious. Beelzebub and Asmodeus are both favourites, making them “nice” just because they’re faves, requires explaining their role in oppression as “they can’t help it” that writing is cowardly?!

“Asmodeus didn’t have a choice but to build fizz robots in his factory, and didn’t profit off it!” -> but that’s ridiculous. He’s not a helpless woobie. He should’ve had agency and decide to willingly work with mammon and sin openly, then changed when he grew close to fizz.

“Beelzebub hates the caste system and pounds but she can’t change it!” -> she feeds off of her subjects, keeps them happy and drunk, can’t handle negative emotions. She caused Ver to become an addict and enables her. The hell pounds is the same as a government leader not understanding how bad the foster care system and not prioritising it. She was the biggest potential for a morally grey character.

Why are you throwing out moral ambiguity and extremely interesting story elements??? !!

The only one that does make sense is Belphegor. This demon has been described throughout as an inherently neutral entity. One that refused to pick a side in the hell vs heaven conflict.

If I can add alternative.

Lucifer - a deadbeat leader too obsessed with himself to see the damage he has done and how his nation is suffering. he becomes malicious if questioned. Callous Neglect. He is malicious.

Beelzebub - The epitome of an addict. She is too engrossed in feeding off of energy like a parasite to enact her duties as a leader. She ‘cares’ about her subjects when they foul her mood and don’t feed her. Her addiction causes her to blackout frequently and forget years of memories. Her nature prevents reel growth. But she quickly removes and discards them. Like most government leaders she doesn’t prioritise having any improvements made to the foster care system, or more closely hells equivalent to puppy mills. She likely allows the system because she has no idea how to handle hellhound overpopulation. Think of her as being a teenager in charge of a bunch of babies and children. She lacks the maturity required. She’d rather sneak out to the club and give her baby a piece of bread to gnaw on while she’s gone.

Bee is the sin with the most gray morality potential but Vivienne medrano is terrified of moral greyness, the closest attempt is Alastor and Blitzø/imp. Bee is not malicious and dangerous. But she is not good either. As she is immortal, she doesn’t understand mortality and the fear around it. Marie Antoinette is actually a perfect figure to invoke, she was interested primarily in indulgence, while not the most malicious of the royals, not pure evil, but she was complacent and deeply classist in a polite seeming way.

Asmodeus - Because lust is a social sin, requiring interaction, it makes perfect sense that Oz would want his citizens to mingle with each other beyond castes and with himself for maximum pleasure. Lust also thrives off subverting power dynamics. I think him being non malicious but obsessively lustful and defensive of his sin, makes perfect sense to me. Like Bee, he cares only about having a good time. Any malice is hidden so the citizens don’t flee. But like porn does to the mind, it numbs it, erodes someone’s integrity emotional intelligence and their decision making skills. It really irks me that the Vees are a far better “sin of lust” symbol than Asmodeus who has become quite pathetic?

Basically, his “Ozzies” characterisation would be perfect if it wasn’t a facade.

Beelzebub - She’s a drug Lord. Enough said. She’s the embodiment of the evils of the Pharmaceutical industry. She’s also too lazy to be confrontational and violent. The real bel is like this.

[hrrtshape]

FAME DR —  scandals !

⋆  caught sneaking out of the ritz carlton at 4 a.m – nobody knows who with, but the paparazzi sure caught that smudged lipstick and tousled hair.  

⋆  accused of lip-syncing during a live performance – the audacity, when it was clearly a technical glitch !!!!!!!  twitter fans are fighting for their lives in the comments. 

⋆  secret affair with a director on your latest project – everyone swears the chemistry was more than just “method acting.” who knows. . . . . . .  . .

⋆  caught vaping in a luxury boutique – iconic or embarrassing ? the footage is grainy but very much, uh, on brand.

⋆  skipping a major award show for a last-minute ibiza trip – the scandal isn’t missing the show, it’s the very visible hickey i come back with. meditation trip or possible bacchanalia ? with ibiza you never know. 

⋆  breaking up a high-profile celebrity couple – But how was i supposed to know they were “on a break” ?

⋆  walking out of a live interview mid-question – that silence screamed volumes !!!, and now everyone’s guessing what they asked. and yes, it was at ellen’s. 

⋆  hooking up with TWO a-list celebrities at coachella – reps deny it, but those blurry tent photos don’t lie. anyway…i don’t kiss and tell. 

⋆  storming out of a fashion show after they seat second row – because who in their right mind thought that was okay? but, like, genuinely. (insert blue emoji guy with raised eyebrow) 

⋆  getting kicked out of a vegas casino for ‘causing a scene’ – it wasn’t my fault the dealer was shady, and i definitely didn’t toss chips into his face (allegedly). allegedly. 

⋆  recklessly driving a golf cart at a private resort – the poor palm tree never stood a chance, but at least i walked away laughing ?

⋆  leaking dms from a famous ex – petty? maybe. satisfying? hell YEA. feminism

⋆  being too tipsy on a live talk show – that margarita wasn’t supposed to hit like that, and now the clip is meme material. and at least i looked hot?? meanwhile doing it?? 

⋆  fighting with airport security over carry-on – the footage shows me slamming my birkin on the conveyor belt and storming off barefoot. once again, allegedly.

⋆  disinvited from the met gala – anna wintour herself (allegedly) bans me for a cheeky remark about her hair. that IG story? “girl dinner > gala dinner.” they were begging for my return by 2024, though, trust. 

⋆  caught yelling at paparazzi – but i wasn’t yelling, tho… i was singing. OK, it’s giving britney ’07 for some, but my fans are out here screaming “ART.”  take it or leave it . 

⋆  feuding" with an iconic diva – a messy exchange with madonna (hypothetical queen) where i….maybe… claimed she “isn’t the queen anymore.” the interview spins my comment out of control, and fans are at war.  real ones know we #cockedout 

⋆  tweeting that melania pegs trump back in 2017 — ok…guys…i was 19. basically a baby. besides, she told me. she didn’t, but the voices did. 

⋆  “fake" activism accusations – a photo resurfaces of me wearing leather boots at a vegan protest. laugh it off with “they’re vintage!” but the vegans are not amused.  

⋆  over-the-top rider demands – allegedly (once again) asking for 500 freshly-cut peonies in my dressing room. stans call me iconic; everyone else calls me “insufferable” (pussies).  what y’all want me to do?? i have 4 oscars !! or is it five? i forgor. 

⋆  telling a journalist to “shut up” mid-interview – the question was offensive to my peace, but somehow i’m the villain? whatever. whatever. whatever ! i stand by it.  

⋆  skipping a charity gala to go on a yacht – yes, the photos are incriminating. no, i don’t regret it

⋆  skipping rehab to headline coachella – rumours fly that i had “issues,” (pfftt) but I show up looking radiant in glitter eyeliner anyways !

⋆  late to my own movie premiere – because i “got lost” wandering Paris with a random stranger i met in a café. they were playing edith piaf on the accordion, and i HAD to vibe, OK?

⋆  rumoured love triangle – yours truly and her ex AND their new partner are photographed at the same soho house event. ‘body language’ experts on tiktok are having a FIELD DAY over that “smirk.”

⋆  crying in the louvre – captured having a total meltdown in front of the mona lisa (because she just like me fr). the discourse ranges from “a raw artistic moment” to “get her a matcha latte.” discourse… 

⋆  THAT one paparazzi photo – where i’m smoking (uh oh) in a dior gown while barefoot in the château marmont parking lot. the aesthetic is undeniable. discourse once again has the “is she genuinely okay?” player and the “CUUUUNTY YEEEEEEES.” 

⋆  be that girl who goes on a whirlwind 48-hour ibiza trip, parties with billionaires, then comes back to NYC looking so radiant people whip out the “illuminati” accusations. 

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Alright my dudes, it’s time for another episode of Bedtime Stories With PCE,

•Comeback Of The Year•

For those unfamiliar, the Bedtime Stories series has been continuations of fics I published on ao3, within the OrangeJuiceVerse, that I don’t feel necessary have a place within the official lineup. This one is a little different.

This story isn’t a continuation or something that happened when we were in another character’s perspective; rather it’s a what we didn’t see. Chronologically, this takes place after the main 5’s first year of college, during the time Cartman’s leaving Colorado and Kenjorine and Style are moving into their campus apartments, set between Extremely Stupid And Incredibly Avoidable and It’s Not The Frat Flu. (As usual you don’t need to be familiar with those or the OJV in general to read this lmao)

ALSO!!! This idea is inspired by a suggestion from my dearest sickfic queen Ana @alwaysinstyle and I’ll explain under the cut before we get into the story!

(Tw for Kyle’s eating disorder thoughts, mention of behavior and mentality surrounding)

So I’ve talked before about OrangeJuiceVerse Kyle being a recovered anorexic, and said I probably wouldn’t write something with him actively struggling with his ed, BUT, my fine friends, last week in the R.A.N.T. Park chat the girlies and I were discussing my impending move and the factors surrounding it (including your local Whumpshot Wizard trying to kick her own relapse’s ass before my husband and I move rip lol), and Ana slid into my messages like “I have an idea that could work for OJV Kyle” and I RAN WITH IT!!!

Thus, this was born. A tale of everyone’s favorite ginger coming face to face with an eating disorder relapse in the middle of moving apartments in the summer heat. There is a fair amount of angst, but a lot of wholesome moments too, a lot of hope and healthy communication in typical PastorCraigEnjoyer fashion! And plenty of Stan being the sweetest boy on planet Earth lmfao I’m obsessed with OJV Stan it’s fine

If y’all read this, PLEASE let me know what you thought, and I hope it pleases and sparkles!!!

Without further ado, here y’all go:

——————————————————————————

Mid July was excruciating, to put it mildly, even in Colorado. Kyle couldn’t imagine how rough summers must be for someone in, like, Texas or something.

Maybe the weather would be tolerable if he was lying in the shade somewhere with an ice cold drink in his hand, listening to Stan play the guitar, maybe watching lazy clouds float through the endless blue. That idyllic mental picture was a lot more pleasant than his current reality.

“Ay! Get your lazy ass over here and help Kinny with this chair!”

Moving.

The weird little house they’d spent the last year living in no longer suited the group’s needs, with Cartman declaring his gap year done and announcing that the online matchmaking and wedding planning service he’d been building up had taken off, that he’d be moving to Nevada. It was a fitting career for him, Kyle thought, but even if he and a certain abrasive fuckwad butted heads from time to time, that big of a change to the group dynamic made him anxious. They’d collectively decided to disband the SP Survivors Safehouse, all knowing that it wouldn’t be the same from here on out, but none of them giving voice to that.

It wasn’t that he was completely sad about leaving that place behind; it was kind of a shitbox, and these campus apartments were nice and well maintained. He and Stan would only be a few doors down from Kenny and Marj, and the units were decently spacious for what the rent was. Just… the adjustment of it all. The change in routine and life in general. That’s what had him stressed.

With a groan, Kyle pushed himself off the wall where he’d been taking a breather. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

Out of the minute shade the shadow of the building had cast, his vision went spotty with the shift in temperature. Seriously, it was too goddamn hot for this shit.

Kenny unclipped the ratchet strap holding his favorite recliner (a well loved sidewalk find) to the bed of the truck, turning to look at him with a quizzical expression.

“You good, firefox?”

“I’ll be better when we’re done getting everything inside,” Kyle complained, and immediately regretted his tone. All of them were out in the sun, not just him. “It’s just hot,” he amended.

Hopping out of Resurrection, Kenny gestured for him to climb into the bed. “I hear that, brother. Even Fatboy’s helpin’ speed shit up.”

From the staircase, arms laden with boxes, Cartman called down a “I heard that, broke ass bitch!”

“I’m commending your work ethic!” Kenny argued back, wide grin on his face. He braced himself to catch one side of the chair. “Gonna miss that fucker.”

Kyle shook his head and slowly walked the furniture to the edge of the tailgate. “He’ll be blowing up our phones with stupid shit even more than he already does.” Though, it’d take more getting used to than he wanted to think about. He didn’t have the energy to stress over it more than he already had been. He sighed. “We’ll get used to it. Ready?”

“When you are.”

“Yep, careful, Ken.”

“When am I ever not careful?” The blond replied with a smirk.

“I’m not answering that.”

Kenny chuckled, enviously buoyant and upbeat in a way Kyle couldn’t seem to match. The guy had always been a little more go with the flow, cryptic and weird sometimes, yeah, but overall good for a smile when you needed one, and Kyle very much did right now. He’d been driving everyone up the wall the past few weeks with his neuroticism; maybe he should take a page out of Kenny’s book.

“Alright, dude,” he said, “it’s coming down.”

Step one and done, chair on the grass, Kyle hopped out of the bed to begin the arduous task of helping his friend haul the damn thing up the stairs. Not particularly heavy, but awkward, and Kyle wasn’t feeling very strong today. Past month or so, come to think of it.

He knew why, of course, and it was his own damn fault.

Stress had always effected his appetite, and with everything going on, he’d fallen into some… old habits. And the worst part was, he was good at hiding it, even from his boyfriend. For nearly five years, Stan had been diligent (on his ass) about his eating habits, his health in general. Stan didn’t find Cartman’s ed jokes funny even when Kyle himself did. None of it was funny now.

He didn’t realize what was happening until he was already in it, an involuntary deficit awakening long dormant thoughts and behaviors, secrecy and avoidance. The lying came naturally, and that made him feel worse.

But it wasn’t a problem, Kyle told himself. He’d get back on track and no one would have to know, once they got this new chapter of their lives up and running. Just a momentary slip up, nothing to start an upset over. He was fine.

To prove it, Kyle let Kenny lead in front, taking most of the weight as they climbed the stairs. His friend whistled something he couldn’t quite place while he walked backwards, like he didn’t have a care in the world. A sickening trickle of sweat ran down Kyle’s back, an annoying ringing in his ears.

His arms were shaking when they at long last made it to the open door of number 207, and he spared a glance across the hall and down a ways to unit 210, his new home with Stan, who was currently inside with Marj getting the couch set up.

“Kyle? Hey, man, you hear me?”

Snapping back to attention, Kyle pulled his focus back to Kenny. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

Kenny raised his eyebrows and started backing up into the apartment again. “Dude, I was saying we could put the chair in the corner for now. You alright?”

“Like I said, just the heat,” Kyle assured him. Though now that he was inside, out of the open concrete hallway with its hot wind, he was suddenly freezing. Freezing, but still dripping sweat from what felt like every pore. Maybe coffee wasn’t enough to get him through the morning after all, but he hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of anything else.

Cartman rounded the corner, wiping his hands on his jeans and scowling on his way to the front door to grab some more stuff from the truck.

“This is why I told you guys to hire movers like I did,” he started condescendingly. “By the time I get to my sweet new house tomorrow, all I’ll have to bring in is my backpack.”

“And yet you’re still helping us out of the goodness of your big fat heart,” Kenny pointed out. “You do love us.”

“Nah, fuck you guys.” Cartman flipped them a middle finger on his way out.

Kenny laughed as he set his side of the chair down, Kyle following suit on that, but not the laughter.

His head felt like it was being squeezed on all sides, blood fervently racing through his veins, clouds at the edges of his sight. He hadn’t even straightened yet, but the room was spinning. Kyle slowly pulled himself up, undeniable dread flooding his gut when the vertigo worsened.

“I’m-“ he started thickly, swallowing hard with a throat that felt like a stale desert. His own voice sounded like he was hearing it underwater. “Ken, I don’t feel so good-“

Kenny’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit, you look like a ghost! Okay, get down, get down, you’re good, dude, sit down…”

Even with Kenny’s secure grip on his arms, Kyle felt his legs turn to jelly right as his vision turned white.

He couldn’t decipher what his friend was saying, only that his tone was calm, reassuring and steady. How was Kenny so calm? Kyle was abruptly made aware of his own panicked breathing, eyes burning with tears while they struggled to focus again. He was on the floor, and didn’t remember getting there. Why was it so cold?

“-re you are.” Kenny’s voice still sounded distant, but a little clearer now. “Just keep your eyes open, dude, we know how to handle this, you’re fine.” The blond turned his head to the open door. “STAN!”

Kyle felt wrong. He hadn’t gotten snappy and irritable like he usually did when his blood sugar dropped, so even if he was low (definitely on the table here), it wasn’t just that. There was something else up too, and he was scared, and embarrassed, and whyisitsohardtohearanything-

“Ky?! Shit, baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.”

He could blearily make out the shape of his boyfriend kneeling beside him, feel the hand that burned like fire on his cheek. “Can you hear me, dude?”

“‘S hard to,” he managed.

“That’s okay, we’ll fix it, I’m here,” Stan repeated, and looked up at Kenny. “What happened? Did he fall? Pass out or just get really close?”

Kyle was vaguely aware of his tears being wiped away by someone who smelled like green apples. Oh, fuck, he was probably scaring Marj. He had to calm down; panicking never helped in a situation like this.

Kenny stood up, beelining to turn the ceiling fan on. “Said he wasn’t feelin’ good, and then he went all white, and then his eyes rolled back so I got ‘im on the floor. A low, right?”

His hands were tingling. Stan was shaking his head.

“He doesn’t freak out like this over it normally, you know that. Kyle, dude, what else is going on? You get too hot?”

Marjorine sounded worried. “Oh, geez, should we call 911? I’ve heard heat exhaustion can be real bad.”

Kyle’s heart felt like it was working overtime to get blood to his brain, stomach twisting with nausea and mouth drier than the wrinkled up orange peel he’d found in one of Stan’s drawers when they were packing.

Oh.

“Hypotension,” he whispered. “Gotta… legs above my head. Drink something.”

Stan nodded, already sliding a box under his sneakers. “Ken, there’s Gatorade in my bag at our place. Can you grab the full sugar one?”

“On it, bossman.”

Marj softly ran her fingers through his hair, rubbing his temples in an almost motherly gesture. “You just lie still and catch your breath,” she advised. “You’re probably just dehydrated with how hot it is and all. You’ll be feelin’ better in no time.”

Oh, no doubt, but if only it was just that. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Dude.” Stan took his hand and kissed the back of it. “Shit happens, okay? You’re just gonna need to take it easy for the rest of the day, right?”

“Right.” Kyle sighed, uneasy and hating how much his body was still shaking, but at least his senses were starting to come back after a few minutes horizontal. “‘M just not built for summer.”

His partner snorted. “I know, baby. I’ve heard you complain about how sunburned you get every summer for our whole lives. Full on lobster the second the sun comes out. I don’t think I’ve seen you faint from low blood pressure, though, not since-“ Stan’s face fell at the realization. “…oh, Ky, no…”

The mix of shock and concern and guilt and sympathy and fear on Stan’s handsome face felt like a punch in the gut. Kyle couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s not what you-“

“You were up before me,” Stan cut in. “Did you eat breakfast?”

His head hurt. “I told you I did.”

“And you were lying,” Stan inferred, his voice cracking.

His sweet, sensitive Stan. The regret of hiding his recent bullshit from the man who worried so much about him threatened to, ironically, eat Kyle alive.

Before he could think of something to say to save face, Kenny returned from his side quest, Cartman close behind and carrying a box labeled ‘Another Man’s Treasure’, also known as Kenny’s assortment of random junk to hypothetically be used in a project at some point.

Their no-longer-resident asshole set the box down on the kitchen counter. “You just had to have a dramatic little moment today, didn’t you, Jew?”

“Cartman,” Stan warned, ripping the the nutrition information off of the Gatorade bottle Kenny passed him with far more force than necessary, “I’m telling you right now to lay the fuck off him.”

Naturally, Cartman didn’t lay off. “Hell no! Using his sneaky little ways to get out of physical labor? I must say, Bone Broth, I’m impressed.”

Kyle managed something resembling a weak laugh at that; “Bone Broth” was a new one, so stupid it was almost funny. That is, until the other three shouted “JAR!”.

How were they going to keep up Fuckwad Jar records if the five of them no longer lived together? What even was the point of it anyway? It was too much, all too much. Too much change, too much going on, he felt like microwaved garbage and Stan still had an unreadable look in his eyes. Maybe that was just still Kyle’s brain catching up to full consciousness, though. He could always read Stan, eventually.

He’d have to explain himself later, because his boyfriend had shifted into full caretaking mode.

“Ignore him, dude,” Stan said, taking Marjorine’s spot at his head. “I’m gonna sit you up, really slow, okay?”

Kyle nodded, blinking away the dark spots in his eyes at the movement and letting Stan hold him against his chest, one arm around him for stability, the other guiding him to drink. The cloying taste of lemon lime flooded his tongue, but the thickness in the back of his throat from unshed tears lingered.

Kenny squatted down beside them, extending a fist. “Aight, grandma, dap me up. C’mon, I’m checkin’ your motor functions and shit.”

He obliged, slowly completing the handshake with an eyeroll. Leave it to Kenny McCormick.

Unfortunately, ignoring Cartman was easier said than done, especially when he let out an exaggerated groan.

“I’m so seriously, you guys. I could already be relaxing by the pool at my hotel instead of watching the rest of you coddle the damsel in distress, but nooooo, we have to pause the whole move just because one bird boned bitch can’t pull his weight.”

Kyle was willing to let that one slide; it was true, wasn’t it? Even if Cartman could have phrased it a little less cruelly. Marj stood up on his behalf.

“Eric!” All four boys stilled at her rarely used stern voice. “You know darn well you’re only actin’ out because you don’t do well with change either, mister! Now, apologize right now!”

“Damn, Buttercup,” Kenny whistled, audibly impressed. “Called Fatboy out.”

Cartman grumbled, rolling his eyes, but sighed with genuine defeat. “I’m sorry for being an asshole, now will you guys hop off my dick?”

“None of us want to be on your dick, fatass,” Kyle pointed out.

“Keep it that way, you anemic twink.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough of this,” Stan groaned. “Ky, the bed in our place isn’t made, but it’s put together. Let’s get you somewhere quiet to lie down, okay?”

That sounded nice, but Kyle really wasn’t looking forward to the third degree he was about to get. He didn’t want to get defensive like he knew he would, didn’t want to act like a dick. Still, he resigned himself to be swept up into a safety that didn’t feel deserved.

“Sorry I freaked you guys out,” he muttered, arms draped around Stan’s neck, Gatorade bottle dangling loosely from one hand. “I’ll help finish up in a little bit, promise.”

“No the fuck you won’t.” Stan tightened his grip, pulling Kyle closer to his chest.

As his boyfriend carried him to their apartment, he could hear Cartman taking over command of getting the rest of Kenny and Marj’s stuff in. Dread pooled in his empty stomach, dread that he wanted out. Kyle felt exposed. He’d been seen right through, and scrutinized, all over again.

———

The summer before and into his ninth grade year had been one of the lowest points of Kyle’s life.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had all started, but by the time he started to notice the changes to his body, to his pattern of thinking especially, he was spiraling down a dangerous path.

There was comfort in controlling what he could in the here and now, Kyle had realized, especially with the future seeming so uncertain. He wasn’t fucking stupid; he had known right off the bat that obsessively counting, competing with himself to see how little he could get away with eating, even shoving his fingers down his throat on a few occasions just to prove to himself that he had control, all of that was dangerous and would only make him feel worse in the long run. And yet, he’d spent months getting extremely efficient at running on nothing but his own stubbornness.

Kyle hadn’t been the one in control, though, not after a certain point. No, his eating disorder had controlled him.

His mother had seen it, because of course she had. But Sheila Broflovski, loving and caring as she was, hadn’t a clue as to how to approach the matter. One of her “solutions” had been to organize a dinner party with all his friends and their parents, a subtle way, he’d find out years later, to try and get her eldest son to associate food with celebration and love again; good things, not something to be avoided. But the well meaning idea had only sent Kyle into an anxious frenzy.

“Ma, you have got to be fucking joking! You didn’t think, oh, I don’t know, maybe you should ASK ME?”

“Now listen here, young man-“

Oh shit. Kyle knew that tone, and had dreaded hearing it his entire life. Worried and angry at the same time was easily the most frightening version of Sheila Broflovski. He’d seen a good amount of that side of her around that time, come to think of it.

And Kyle could out-argue anyone; he could diffuse high tempers or match them, whatever the situation called for. At fourteen, he counted that as the best tool in his arsenal.

But he had been tired, for months. So fucking tired.

Plus, the only people he’d never won a screaming match against were God and his mother. His voice had, for once, faltered.

He would find a way to make a damn dinner party work.

“S-sorry, ma,” he’d managed. “That sounds like a good idea. Just, uh, just remember that Stan doesn’t eat meat, when you’re cooking. Like, leave the bacon out of the green beans.”

She had looked like there was something on the tip of her tongue that she wanted to ask. Kyle felt the weight of her stare settle on his shoulders like the shirt that had been hanging off of them; incidentally what had caught the attention of the captain of overbearing mothers in the first place.

But she’d softened, apparently having agreed to his unspoken truce and switching tactics. “Alright, sweetie. Now, you’re doing homework in your room again, I’m assuming? Oy, you’ve just been working so hard since high school started! I’m so proud! I’ll bring you some snacks later so you can keep that focus up, bubbeh.”

Kyle had fought to keep his face even. He couldn’t tell her. Not even Stan knew he couldn’t focus if he ate, which was why he… kind of hadn’t been. But he’d nodded and said,

“Okay. Thanks, Ma.”

He hated to think back to that party. The whole night had been spent dodging pointed looks, staying talking as if on autopilot to act okay, to distract the people he loved. To hide. It was his problem, not theirs.

But everything that passed his lips that day did so twice.

———

Now here he was, and it was a problem again.

Kyle’s anxiety only spiked entering the apartment that was, in theory, his home for the next few years. It didn’t feel like home yet, just an impersonal cookie cutter one bedroom, its beige walls and vertical blinds taunting him. New chapter, they seemed to say. New chapter, but there’s a misprint; we’ve read these words before.

Stan softly kissed his forehead and set him down on the bare mattress. “You’ve got some color back,” he noted. “How do you feel?”

Looking anywhere that wasn’t into worried blue eyes, Kyle shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Hands are cold.”

“Baby, look at me.” Stan took his hands in his own warm ones and drew a deep breath. “Dude, are you relapsing?”

“That’s not-“ Kyle forced himself to pause and take the hostility from his voice. He needed to communicate clearly and honestly; immediately acting like he was being attacked would help no one here, and Stan only got overreactive when he had cause to freak out.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted quietly. “It just kind of… happened, I guess. I didn’t realize, dude, I swear. Not really.”

“…okay.” Stan was chewing his bottom lip, and Kyle’s heart lurched, feeling his boyfriend’s fingers twitching but not letting go of his hands even though he obviously wanted to chew at his own like when he got nervous. “How long?”

“Past month or so?” Kyle guessed. “Seriously, I was gonna go back to normal after we got settled in; it wasn’t on purpose-“

“That’s not you talking,” Stan interrupted. “Honey, you know that’s not you. That’s the anorexia. Trying to justify it.”

Stan was never this blunt. He hated using that word, always had. He said it felt too big, too scary. Kyle didn’t want him to be scared.

“Dude, it’s under control,” he insisted. I just needed one less thing to think about for a little bit.”

“Do you even hear what you’re saying?!?” Stan asked incredulously. “Ky, you know better! You know that’s not how this works!”

“Don’t fucking yell at me!” Kyle sobbed out, overwhelmed and hating that he was crying again. He was the least prone to tears of the group; another thing that was apparently crumbling.

Stan slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, hands up in surrender and eyes like saucers.

“Baby, baby, shh, I’m not yelling, okay? I’m not mad at you. I’d never be, no matter what.”

“I… I know,” Kyle whispered. He didn’t protest Stan’s hand moving up to cup his cheek tenderly.

“Kyle, you remember what you told me your therapist said when we were in high school? That it’s a slippery slope, dude. You give it an inch, it takes a mile, right?”

She had used a metaphor that stuck with him. say you’re climbing a mountain, sticking to the path that you know you’re supposed to be on. A few feet to the side, there’s what looks like a shortcut, something easier than the path. But what you don’t see until it’s too late, and you’ve already strayed, is that the shortcut gives way to slippery gravel, and eventually you slide back down to where you started.

“Fuck, dude,” Kyle groaned. “Can we just pretend this never happened? It’s out in the fucking open now, not like you’re gonna let me get away with more bullshit.”

Stan shook his head. “I’m not gonna let it keep trying to get you, dude. It made you sick.” He looked down, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I knew you were stressed, I just-“

“Sweetheart, c’mon.” Kyle wasn’t about to let Stan blame himself for missing the signs. “Don’t do that. I’m just really good at hiding it.”

“Making your ancestors proud with your deceptive ways,” Cartman quipped from the doorway. He turned his attention to Stan. “Hey, Big ‘n Tall. Marj needs help with a bookshelf.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “So why aren’t you helping her? I’m busy.”

“Because.” Cartman crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “I need to have a little talk with Kahl.”

Clearly suspicious, Stan stood up and squared to their friend. Kyle knew the two of them didn’t usually have real beef, but Stan was obviously on edge and feeling overprotective.

“He’s not feeling well, assclown. I don’t want you to work him up.”

Cartman raised one eyebrow, unfazed by Stan’s intimidation tactics. All five of them knew that while he could certainly look scary, he wouldn’t hurt a fly unless completely unavoidable.

“Relax, Lancelot, I can babysit your languishing fleshlight without starting a fight.”

Annoyed, Kyle raised his hand. “You two realize I can hear you.”

Stan glanced back and forth between them for a pregnant moment, then sighed. He knew Kyle could handle himself, especially when it came to Cartman being an asshole, which was much appreciated. Finally, he sighed, relenting.

“Alright. Ky, just take it easy, okay? I’ll be right back. Cartman-“

“-Don’t piss off the Jew, got it.”

Stan bent down to kiss Kyle gently while Cartman pretended to gag. “We’ll beat it together, baby.”

“Together,” Kyle agreed, feeling like there was a fist clenching his heart when his partner left the room. Cartman sat on the edge of the bed and glared at him.

“You’re a fucking dumbass.”

Classy. “Thank you, Cartman, is that all?”

“No, that’s not all, bitch. Listen up.”

And Kyle was, picking up on the seriousness in his friend’s voice. He sipped at his Gatorade and gestured for him to go on.

“I need you to be okay, you idiot.”

That made Kyle pause. Cartman anxiously ran his hands through his messy brown hair.

“Look, dickhole, it’s no secret that your body hates you. Sucks to suck, and all that. But you’re stupid for thinking you can outsmart it. That shit-“ he gestured vaguely in the direction of Kenny and Marj’s place. “-That shit can’t happen. You can’t get sick like when we were in high school.”

Kyle opened his mouth to insist that he was never planning on letting it get that far, but Cartman held up a hand.

“We all know you love to talk, but let me finish.” He shot Kyle a look that meant business until he was sure he wasn’t going to be interrupted. “Good. Okay. Fuck, this is hard to say, alright. Okay. You can’t get sick,” he repeated. “It would fucking break Stan. The stupid hippie would cease to exist if anything happened to you, and you know I’m not fucking around. He needs you. We… all need your annoying ass.”

Against his will, Kyle started to smile. “Is this you admitting you’re gonna miss me, Eric? Kenny was right, you do love us.”

“Fuck off, I hate you guys,” Cartman muttered. “And Christ, just call me “fatass”, it’s gross when you use my name. Save the faggotry for that misguided simp of yours.”

Kyle laughed. His face was tingling, but he really was feeling a little more human. “Just trying to annoy you, fatass.”

“Good. Keep doing that. Don’t make it weird. Listen…”

Cartman took a deep breath, like he was about to dive into the unexplored. Well, he kind of was, starting his career away from the safety net of the rest of them, Kyle supposed.

“This doesn’t leave this room, am I clear, Starving In Suburbia?”

“You know, it concerns me every time you reference one of those movies.”

“Damnit, Jew, am I clear?”

“Jesus, yes. What?”

“If you, uh, if you want, I can ask my therapist for some recommendations. You know, colleagues of his that do remote sessions and specialize in your bullshit.”

Kyle knew Cartman hated talking about therapy, about his fucked up brain and cocktail of medications, so the fact that he was offering was wild. Probably not necessary, but wild.

“Dude,” Kyle started, “I appreciate that, seriously. But I don’t think it’s at that point, you know?”

“I have a call with him day after tomorrow, I’ll at least get some names.” The way he said it made it clear that he needed to feel like he was helping. Not for Kyle’s sake, but for his own peace of mind.

Kyle sighed. “Thank you. Seriously, that’s really nice of you, dude.”

Cartman scoffed. “Please. I just need you to have your shit together so I can torture you without, like, karmic consequences.”

Typical. “Karmic consequences, huh?”

“Uh, duh, dumbass. You can’t rip on an anorexic if they’re actively in it. Everyone knows that.” He rolled his eyes. “For real, though. Get your shit together. I’m not having this conversation again.”

Movement caught Kyle’s eye in the doorway. Stan, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, but his face was relaxed, like he’d heard that last part.

Cartman turned. “Oh good, the guard dog’s back.” He sprang up like he hadn’t just hit Kyle with the tough love he didn’t know he needed. “Later, cocksuckers.”

“Thanks again, fatass,” Kyle repeated.

“Thank me by not being a delicate little bitch next time.”

Stan took his spot on the mattress, eyebrow raised. “Dare I ask?”

Kyle sat up against the headboard, curling his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. “Just wanted to tell me to get it together. Apparently kicking me when I’m down would cause cosmic chaos.”

“Can’t have that,” Stan chuckled. “But really, dude. What do we need to do here? I’m not letting this thing fuck with you anymore than it already has.”

Thinking back to the first time around, Kyle remembered how strict his rules had been in early recovery. Meal plan, online school, limited physical activity, outpatient therapy multiple times a week. Granted, he’d been pretty fucked physically and mentally back then. This hardly even compared, in his eyes.

“I… think I just need accountability,” he said carefully. “For a little while, it’s not like…” Kyle sighed again. “Believe me when I say it’s not like it was the first time, Stan. It’s just… call it a sophomore slump, I guess.”

Stan cracked a half smile, still visibly worried, but like he trusted him. “Little slip up? You’re feeling like you can get yourself healthy pretty quickly?”

Kyle reached a hand out to take Stan’s. “Promise. The mentality behind it isn’t the same, you know? The body dysmorphia and the compulsions aren’t there, I just fell into some of the habits. Call me on it if you see it, okay?”

“I will, dude,” Stan swore. “I’ve always got your back.

Stan used their intertwined hands to pull Kyle into his lap, softly rubbing his back. “I need something from you too though.”

“Mhm?”

“I need you to tell me when you need support, baby. With words. I don’t want to miss the signs again, dude.”

Kyle looked up into his impossibly soft gaze, both vulnerable and open. “Oh, sweetheart, hey. That’s not on you, at all.”

“It is, though.” Stan cupped around the back of Kyle’s neck, bringing his head back into his chest protectively. “We’re a team, Ky. How many times have you told me that? Whatever the game is, we’re on the same side.”

“Dude, don’t quote me at me,” Kyle laughed. It had the intended effect, though, for sure. “But I hear you.”

“Yep, and we’ll be all good in no time,” Stan promised. “We’ll get used to this new place, start our second year of school, all that shit. It always works out, right?”

“We figure it out,” Kyle confirmed.

Stan’s grin was audible, brilliant and soul stirring, even if Kyle couldn’t see it. “Turn that sophomore slump into the comeback of the year.”

Then Kyle did pull away enough to see his face, trying to feign annoyance on his part. “How’d I know you were gonna quote Fall Out Boy at me?”

“Hey, you started it, I just finished it.”

“Proud of yourself, Stanathan?”

“Very much so.” Stan lightly ran his thumb over Kyle’s bottom lip before kissing him softly.

And Kyle believed him when he said, “but more proud of you.”

[themushroomgoesyeet]

For the first installment of this series, let's start with something easy!

Arcana characters as Disney princesses/princes

Julian - Flynn Rider/Eugene

These two are so similar istg

Dashing, dramatic, swashbuckling rogues with dry humor and a secret, insecure soft side?

The only difference between them is one is ginger with an eye patch and the other isn't

Honestly Eugene would probably be a good pick for a voice hc tbh

Oh hey they're both orphans with big brother vibes too look at that

Asra - Elsa

White hair? Check. Water-related magic? Check. orphans? Check. Unconditional fashion style that doesn't really match everyone else but still looks drop-dead gorgeous regardless? Check

Both of them also have familial abandonment issues and feel the need to isolate themselves from the people they love instead of confronting the problem smh

I will admit their romantic interests are a bit different, with Asra being bisexual and Elsa either being a lesbian or aro/ace at best

Both of them have also been described to have seductive singing voices 👀

Nadia - Princess Jasmine

We👏stan👏 headstrong 👏 independent 👏 middle eastern- inspired👏queens👏here👏

Ngl Jasmine is one of my favorite Disney princesses & she & Nadia would definitely hit it off

Both feel stuck in their respective lives while also wanting to rule, and try to take action for themselves whenever they can

Also both of them would look absolutely stunning in an outfit swap

Muriel - Hercules

Honey you mean HUNK-ules

I know Hercules isn't technically a Disney prince but he fits Muriel too well

Big and strong but shy and genuine at heart? Hell yeah

Their reactions to fame are a little bit different but they are the same when it comes to falling in love; both are so gentle and genuinely caring, and can't stop gushing about their partner

Also amazing idols for how men are supposed to treat women - a.k.a with respect

Both have a heathy amount of respect for their partners modesty (even when said partner is trying to seduce them on purpose), as well as their partners autonomy to make their own decisions

Not to mention they both have estranged families that they didn't know about, and a supportive animal companion

Portia - Rapunzel

I know some of you might be thinking "why not Merida? They look so alike with their frizzy mop of ginger hair!" Well, dear chat, let me explain

While they may look similar, Portia and Merida do not act similar. Merida is rebellious, headstrong, and airheaded, fighting her loved ones on everything and doing what she wants regardless of the consequences until said consequences come back to bite her in the butt. Portia on the other hand, while also headstrong, is spunky, kind, and takes others feelings and opinions into account instead of doing the first daring thing that comes into her head

Which brings me to Rapunzel. Admittedly, Rapunzel is a lot more sheltered and inexperienced about the world than Portia was but they are still kindred spirits. Curious, spunky, headstrong, kind, compassionate, and unafraid to fight for themselves.

They're ready to take on the world even if they don't know enough about it

Both also have evil and manipulative family members (ik Mother Gothel isn't Rapunzel's family; she was still the one who raised Rapunzel & Rapunzel considered her family long enough for it to count in this situation)

Both also meet love interests who guide them through the part of the world that's unknown to them, be it magic for Portia or the world as a whole for Rapunzel

Lucio - Merida

remember all those traits I listed for Merida? Yeah Lucio fits those

Merida and Lucio may be hella good warriors, but boy are they stupid sometimes

Both also have mommy issues™

Both are also wildly inexperienced with magic and should really be more cautious about it

Both just go "oopsies" and expect everything to be fine because of their status when it's never fine

Can you tell yet that these two bother me lol

Both were brought up in a Scottish-sounding culture and you can't change my mind