#were they lovers? worse

[bibibbon]

I just got into watching link click and I just finished the 2nd ep and I have a question.

These two had something, right? Like, I am not tweaking when I say these two had something going on? Like the episode compared them to romantic partners way too many times for me to think it was casual.

[sketchyscholar]

“…my place was always here, in the lab. with you.”

“…you’re my partner.”

[amusingmusie]

Hi, I really hope you're faring well. Just wanted to say that I love your writing and yours truly, and I thought about something.

In hell, Alastor is a lot more durable and unkillable, so I imagine that's a lot more of a headache for Nel. She's walking behind him, ready to bash his skull and all of a sudden his head does a 180 and she's like >:0.

Also demon Al's hygiene must be HORRIBLE. So she's probably going to have to chase him around the hotel with a toothbrush and soap to no evail because he's a slippery motherfucker now that he's a demon.

Thank you so much for writing this masterpiece, and have a wonderful day <3

Fresh As Hell

Content warning for the Hazbin cast being themselves.

You're running out of ideas.

This has gone on far too long. The smell of an old shoe here, a hint of halitosis there, even a whiff of swamp water wafting your way if you get too close: it's all evidence that you can't ignore any longer.

Alastor kind of fucking stinks.

Sure, you've told him since your human days that his swampass stench is overwhelming, but that was a dig to piss him off, not the actual truth (usually, as long as his mother pressured him to scrub his tail). Nowadays? Well, if the demonic stop sign admitted that he bathes in his bedroom's wetlands, you'd be less than shocked. Shit, you'd actually be relieved if that were the case, because then you could fill the bog with soap and perfume to mask whatever funk perpetually lives on Alastor's grey skin. It's never overwhelming enough to knock you out; it's maddening subtle, the musk of his hair and the bite to his breath.

Maybe you could survive the Great Stink of '24 if he didn't insist on being on top of you at all times. Every time you turn around, you're assaulted by crimson, static, and Alastor's personal brand of miasma that wafts off of him since he insists on being no less than three atoms away from you.

Sure, it's possible you've got beef with his aroma since back in the day, the shitter smelled like freshly cut wood with notes of amber and his teeth sparkled like diamonds. You've seen his hygiene at its peak, which is why you cannot cosign this rank tomfoolery. Unfortunately, all of your attempts to rally the idiots at this hotel to agree with you that this is an issue have ended in disaster, leaving you without any allies in this fight.

"I haven't really noticed much, and hey, here at the Happy Hotel, we're receptive to more, um, eccentric lifestyles! As long as Alastor is being a team player and helping out with our mission, there's no reason to make him uncomfortable by bringing up his personal choices!"

"I don't get close enough to that pendejo to catch a whiff of whatever you're talking about."

"I dunno, tootz, I like a man with a little musk to 'em."

"Fuck off and fuck you."

"I like man stink~"

You're very much on your own here. The war on Alastor's subpar hygiene will be fought by you and you alone, and you won't be deterred- you've had worse battles before.

When you're once again yanked into Alastor's side and exposed to a faceful of his armpit in the lobby for the upteenth time, you vow to take action against him, more for your sake than his.

Game on.

---

Your strategy calls for small, stealthy actions in the beginning.

Positioning yourself in plain sight at the hotel bar with two cups of coffee, you wait for your target to appear. It's the perfect scene: you, alone (save for the bar cat, but he's passed out with his head down on the counter), with coffee. Alastor can't resist this. Hardly more than three seconds pass before a rush of static and a chill wash over you. A gentle pop sounds off to your left, and then you're greeted by your least favorite radio host smelling stale as ever.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" he cries, purposely shouting too loudly into your ear. "You're looking especially horrid this morning. Did you happen to catch a glance of your reflection in the mirror before it cracked?"

"No, I was too busy imagining all the ways I could skin you alive before eleven."

"Well, it is eight already, so hop to it, you need all the time that you can get to brainstorm!"

As his invisible audience laughs alongside him, you flick a handful of mints into his unguarded coffee cup. The jackass is too busy chortling at his tired jokes to realize that you've done anything at all. Perfect. Holding back your smirk is a damn hard move when Alastor finally lifts his red mug to his full lips and swallows down a mouthful of minty coffee.

Success.

Until-

"Hm..." Alastor hums, blinking his red eyes plainly. Then he promptly turns, spits out a stream of dark liquid onto Husk's bowed head, and snatches up your cup of coffee. After sipping down your drink, he sighs contently. "There, much better! Ah, that was a juvenile play, dear. You're losing your touch."

The deer motherfucker teleports away while you're left with a pissed off cat and determination to win this war.

---

Next comes the idea to douse Alastor in whatever perfume oils you can find as a direct plan of attack. Instead of using your precious concoction that you paid out the ass for from Rosie's Emporium, you decide that these other assholes living around here could stand to help out for five seconds. You're not asking for their support- just their cologne.

Angel is the unlucky winner that you approach since whatever he wears is pungent enough that it has your eyes watering on a good day. The spider leans up against his doorway, legs in your face and fluff looming above your head as you make your case.

"Listen." You crane your head back and fix him with what you hope is an amicable stare. "I'll shoot straight with you. I need a favor."

"Oh?" he asks, raising a perfect brow and examining his gloved fingers. "I don't do girls, sorry not sorry."

"No," you grumble at him. "Not that kind of favor. I need to borrow your perfume- whatever shit you wear is strong enough to be smelled across the Pentagram. All I need is to borrow the bottle for five minutes and I'll have it back to you good as new."

"HA! You think I'm letting you make off with my smell-good for free? No no no, nobody gets to borrow what I wear, not even Cherri. It's custom! You're out of luck."

"You're here at the hotel to redeem yourself- part of redemption is being selfless."

"Actually, I'm at this shitshack so I don't have to pay rent, and redemption don't mean you get a spritz of my good shit. Go ask some other shmuck." Angel laughs in your face one final time, then spins around to shut his door.

"I'll owe you," you spit out. That has the fluffy demon pausing and you fear that you've either royally fucked up or royally succeeded.

"...Owe me what?"

"One favor equal to borrowing your perfume that doesn't involve me getting my ass kicked or double dead."

Angel grins delightedly, retreats into his den, then sticks one spindly arm out with his perfume sitting pretty in his palm.

"Have at it!"

And you do, with fear of Hell's #1 pornstar in your heart.

Alastor comes in to kick your legs under the table during dinner and you immediately whip out Angel's perfume to soak the son of a bastard down. There's an ear-ringing screech before Alastor pops away, leaving you with a table full of coughing, gassed-out hotel inhabitants that are very, very pissed off.

Once Vaggie is done chewing you out, Angel Dust leans over and whispers, "You still owe me for my draining my fucking reserves, dollface."

Fuck.

---

After weeks of attempted baths, desperate tooth-brushing sessions, dirty bribery, and numerous double-death threats, you've decided that you have no choice but to go completely nuclear. Clearly, your rotten plague of a deer demon is determined to resist all attempts to freshen him the fuck up, so you are prepared to pull the dirtiest trick in your book. Forget screaming or cussing; you'll have his ass eating out of the palm of your hand in no time with this.

"Hello, my rotten peach!"

Ahah, it's time- you're about to win this little game no problem. You take one look at Alastor in all his awful glory here in the parlor, steady your face into an uninterested expression, and then you. look. away.

Alastor stares.

"I said, hello, my rotten peach! My fetid fruit! My most crusty crop!" he announces slightly louder as if you didn't hear him.

Nothing. No reaction. You refuse to engage with someone that smells of fragrant toes and has gums darker than his coffee; you'll have him suffering from your silence if those are the dumbass choices he'd like to make.

Just barely concealing his panic at the sudden lack of your attention, Alastor clomps closer, then pokes at your side with his staff. The thing winces from the contact. You, on the other hand, are not weak and will not relent, so you continue to watch the parlor wall with great interest.

All according to plan.

Charlie passes by, humming a happy tune. When she spots you lounging on the couch with Alastor hovering over you, she smiles at the familiar sight, and offers a happy, "Good morning!"

"Morning, Princess," you greet her. Then you return to wall watching.

Alastor wilts.

You smile.

And you play the winning game.

For days, you refuse to acknowledge anything having to do with your favorite least favorite parasite. If he materializes in front of you when you're reading a novel? You don't even flinch. If you awake to him standing over your bed and staring with glowing eyes? Well, there's no need to do anything but roll over, that's just Tuesday. You hardly bat an eye when a black shadow warbles over your shoulder as you brush your teeth; no, you simply show it the brush and toothpaste for a proper tutorial on how to avoid ripe ass breath. You're enjoying the power you hold over Alastor, and you especially enjoy the way his stupid tufts flatten against his head when you deny him any attention for a whole week.

You believe that victory is yours.

---

As you trudge downstairs for another miserable day at the Asscrack Motel or whatever they're calling this place nowadays, you're overwhelmed by a new scent permeating throughout the lobby- freshly cut cedar, something slightly floral and musky, hints of amber, and immaculately washed manass.

Shit.

You know that smell. You know that smell very well. It can only mean one thing.

Then you spot him in all of his glory; Alastor is leaning his spindly body against the hotel bar with a freshly patched suit, styled hair slicked back across his head, and shining teeth. Oh God, he smells and looks like Heaven, and suddenly you decide that maybe you don't give two shits about that white speck in the sky when you've got this presented to you on a metaphorical platter.

With a little grunt, you move closer, appraising Alastor with an indifferent expression. His static is whirring sweetly in the background while he simpers down at you- yeah, he's proud and peacocking a bit, you can tell from the manner in which his lips curl and the way his chest puffs out. Goddammit...he knows that he's got you hooked like a fucking sucker.

"Yeeeeees?" he sings when you stare for a second too long. "Something on your dreadfully empty mind?"

"..." Hm. You could shoot him for being annoying, but he did do all of this dolling up for you.

Ugh. You hate him so much.

So you yank him down by his lapel so you can kiss him square on the mouth. For the first time in a long time, he tastes of mint and sunshine instead of rot and coffee, utterly intoxicating you in the worst of ways. You drag your lips against his and feel that they've been moisturized, and when he bites down on your tongue, there's no slippery plaque to offend your senses.

All of this effort just to get you to look his way.

Good.

Then you release him with a pop, flip him the bird, and walk off with your head held high.

Alastor just hums in satisfaction from his place at the bar, idly commenting, "I've still got it," to a very disgusted Husk and Vaggie who are doing their damndest to ignore the scene.

You'll call this one even.

(Loosely based on a very old conversation with @gemrocknerd).

[the-meme-monarch]

sorry if this is Damn Incoherent or missing anything Glaring as i haven't seen Everything there is to see from the christmas event. anyway. i know i'm just making shit up based on my own oc-verse when it comes to delilah and toon creation and the effect it's had on her but like. i don't think i want her to be Just Evil. they said dandy isn't Just Evil so it just feels a little wrong to me that 'but there Will be a Just Evil one'. like i certainly see how she's shaping up to be The Villain in the way she's talked abt Particularly the holiday toons in the christmas event and giving All of the toons like. Experiment Number Designations. and maybe being the reason dandy can Go Twisted. but arthur seems to have a lot of trust in her and I don't want to believe it's just Him Being Naive.

(the following is headcanons territory) I like to think arthur and delilah have been friends for a long time and he like. just Gets her way of speaking and acting. she comes off very cold and clinical, she's so Guarded and these walls Barely come down but he Understands her. and inversely she cares A Lot about what he's passionate about. she admires his kindness and trust and unapologetic love for everything around him. she made the toons Real for him bc his show is important to him and she wanted to help him. i think she also cares about the toons but she doesn't quite see them the same as arthur does. she cares about them bc arthur cares about them, not exactly bc She Cares About Them Independently Of Arthur. she thinks it's really cool she was able to do this but yeah. they're a Feat to her first and foremost

and with my headcanons about toon creation, making a toon real is Physically making your investment of something intangible into an independently living thinking fully formed Thing capable of motor function and speech right out the gate. it wears on your soul bc it Came from there, it is borrowing bits of your heart and brain. i think with making like 28 and counting there's not much of her soul Left at this point. i think that's made her 'worse'. i think that's made her think 'it's a waste of resources' about the holiday toons disappearing and to 'think of it as a good thing' about them finding corners to die in like a spider of malnutrition in your bedroom. i think it has all Worn Away her identity and sense of self or sense of Care. and this isn't even factoring in whatever the fuck THE ICHOR has to do with anything bc I don't even Know what it is. but i Don't think it really helped anything. i just think she's like. a sick sick husk of herself by the time gardenview shuts down.

[eiivens]

Thinking about the very first time Viktor went back in time to save Jayce in that snowstorm; how he must have felt, knowing the fate he was handing to this poor little boy, dooming this child to his grave, knowing he won't be able to do anything; Viktor knowing he alone is not enough to break the cycle of obsession/his evolution. But Jayce is, and Victor witnessing timeline after timeline as Jayce is given everything and, yet, not enough. Not enough to stop what Viktor was going to become. How Viktor must have felt, giving Jayce that crystal, with different runes each turn, hoping that maybe this is the one to save them. Because he knew there was at least one—that's all they need, just one. And it had to be him, it had to be Jayce.

The sheer amount of trust Viktor had in Jayce to give him that chance, knowing that their fates are intertwines. He watched more than one timeline fall victim to that dreamless solitude, knowing it was his own doing, waiting for the one timeline where Jayce had enough to do what needed to be done.

"Do you believe in fate, doctor?"

[wisebeth]

why does the pjo series have to unnecessarily villainize goddesses (hera & athena) or show them as silly ladies (aphrodite & demeter) BUT posiedon and apollo are somehow shown as the coolest/most likeable gods, even though arguably, they're right after zeus on terms of corruption?

ares shown as the worst god after zeus and hera amuses me. last time i checked, he was the patron god of amazons and literally killed a man for attempting to rape his daughter but guess who cursed women for rejection? apollo. guess who raped women when they said no (aside from zeus)? posiedon.

[hanzajesthanza]

it is absolutely so weird to me to try to imagine a version of geralt that is like, my age. like, no. get back to being an old man

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing based on Pedro from the film Arrebato. At the bottom of the piece, there's a close-up drawing of Pedro's eyes staring listlessly into the distance, face upturned. The skin around his eyes is red and blotchy. This drawing melds into another drawing of Pedro. He's sitting on a bed and tightly clutching a cluster of grapes close to his face. His mouth is pinching together and a liquid strand falls all, implying that he's eating one. He's looking straight ahead with wide, wild eyes. One of his legs is pulled up in front of him so his arm rests on his knee. To the left, there's a circle that shows Pedro asleep in his bed, bathed in blue light. It looks like a lens, and is coupled with a red light above it, as if a camera. Other circles in the piece are randomly coloured red, specifically Pedro's right eye on the top drawing, one of the grapes in the cluster, and the highlight in his left eye on the bottom drawing. The lineart is a dark blue and alternates between stark shadows and scratchy shading. The background is a bright teal, which contrasts against the more sallow colours used for colouring Pedro.]

Inktober - Day 26 (Camera)

Film - Arrebato (Iván Zuleta, 1979)

[terymlxyrstdus]

Are they lovers? Worse. - but it’s Oliver and James in iwwv

[avrorean]

morning gamers, what if I said something controversial. what if I told you oghren and zevran are narrative parallels,

[ratatatastic]

congrats to mr "the worst is ekky (to sit next to). i like sitting next to gustav (because hes quiet)" not giving up on his principles despite the fact mr worst to sit next to is velcroed to mr quiet so really it cancels out

[rapha-reads]

Bloody hell, Moonlight Mystique is piling up the tragedies.

Halfway past the middle, and we have everything that happened to Bai Shuo, everything that happened to Fan Yue, all of Tian Huo's backstory and what happened to her parents, the whole story of Rong Xian and Ling Long, followed by the whole story of Chang Mei and Mu Jiu, followed by what happened between Mu Jiu and Tian Huo, and now there's the whole thing with Cang Shang and Chen Ye, who Chen Ye really is and what happened to him, and whatever is going on with Chong Zhao and Fu Ling and who Fu Ling really is.

Nobody is happy and everybody is traumatised in this realm.

[the-soro-art]

MEKKA EXTRAS- Sakai Style!

I wanted to draw Mekka and Adora in similar outfits of their OG counterparts, Miyamoto and Kitsune. While I was at it, I also colored the comic panels I took from.

[roboyomo]

some more sketchies of them before i go pass out okayy💥💥

[deus-ex-mona]

love it when the salty sillies make similar poses♡

[thedeadedhooman]

I was talking bout supernatural to a friend at uni and I had sent her pics and gifs and this was her rxn

I of course left out the brothers part till the last cuz I wanted to see how usually people perceive them, you know, just by seeing their interactions before mentioning that they are brothers :)