#like the new credits style too but . ok

[milkbreadtoast]

random but i resolved to post abt it every time i find a webtoon that I enjoy... and lately I've been having fun reading this one...

*rubs nose* heh... I do dabble in het from time to time... no but seriously it's a p straightforward lighthearted enemies to lovers romcom, not groundbreaking or anything yet im over here kicking my feet and giggling the main couple is SO cute to me... i luv them... I actually couldnt wait to find out what happens next so ive been slowly reading ahead in the kor whenever i have time and they're sooo cute😭😭 I also like the art style and costume design a lot!! it gives me like. a nostalgic 90s shoujo anime vibe tbh... w the puffy hair and babyfaces...

[wellofdean]

OK, I was going to reblog this excellent post by @luckshiptoshore so go read it, because yes. Yes!! YES!!! But then when I got started my post got super long and I felt bad tacking it onto her post and decided to make my own in response to these tags:

#i am actually a bit obsessed by the whole hunting as queerness metaphor#it’s so clearly something everyone involved in the show is thinking about#supernatural

Gurl, me too! Like go back to the start! By the time Supernatural began, the backlash against the Joseph Campbell Monomyth-style mode of storytelling had already begun in the hallowed halls of USC film school, and yo: I was there at the time of Kripke's graduation, and my best friends from college are full scale big giant time filmmakers now, whose names I will not share on main because it's uncool, and I don't want that attention, but... yeah. I am referencing FIRST HAND SOURCES on this.

But, for a real source? The Oxford English Dictionary places the first use of the term "Queer Theory" in 1990, with Queer Studies as an option in the academy by 1992. I know the kids think it's a new-fangled thing, but Kripke graduated USC in 1996 (I graduated in 1995) and it was ALL THE RAGE by then. My friends read queer theory in their Critical Studies courses in the Film School, I read it in the College of Humanities getting my degree in Literature. By that time, you could not get through that school with any degree in any non-STEM subject without knowing about ye olde postmodern lenses, queer and feminist theory, and without knowing how to employ those lenses.

Queer refers to sexuality, yes, but the word's earliest use (again, according to the OED) is in the 1500's, meaning: strange, odd, peculiar, eccentric. Also: of questionable character; suspicious, dubious.

So, ok, in 2005, Enter Supernatural, episode 1:

Presented? Two brothers. One actively seeking credit in the straight world that is not available to him in the bosom of his family: Stanford, law school, hot co-ed girlfriend, the other bound to his fractured, wounded family by duty, yes, but also by love, living on the fringe, alone, fighting monsters, and chasing after his father's approval, and who has long since given up any dream of being 'normal'. Episode 1 presents Sam's call to adventure, which he refuses when it's just familial duty, honor and love calling him, but accepts when the show takes a very straightforward and very telling path by classically fridging his woman. Ok, now he's on board. Like John, whose motivation is another dead woman, his motivation is revenge. So far so straight!

Dean though: he's different. He is already on the adventure and he was not 'called' or given the option of accepting or refusing because he had no agency when his feet were set upon this road. He does not fit the straight world at all, because he is cobbled together out of love, duty, deep guilt, striving, desperation and fear. This is who he is now, in some elemental, incontrovertible way. It was not a choice for him, he was born to it. His mother is dead, and we later learn, she made the choices that brought them all to this fate. Dean remembers her idyllically, but he is not motivated by revenge, more than any other thing, he wants to be worthy. He wants his father's approval, his brother's love.

Enter Supernatural's main theme: fucked up relationships between men enmeshed in patriarchy, which will eventually expand to include fucking GOD HIMSELF.

And like, there are SO MANY CLEAR STEPS ALONG THE ROAD in season one, and I am not even talking about sexuality and gender here, but there is SO MUCH TO SAY about it in season 1. But I am not talking about that -- I am talking at a structural, narrative level, the whole thing is just fucking all the way queered, yo.

The big climax?

At the end of the season, Dean says: "I just want my family back together. You, me, Dad... it's all I have." He is Sam's mother, John's partner! His vulnerability and emotion is feminized and contrasted with Sam and John's more overtly driven by their more masculine/straight heroic revenge quest. John: "Sam and I can get pretty obsessed, but you always take care of this family." Only that's not John talking, it's Azazel, and Dean knows it is because his father would never forgive how soft he is, how he will always choose love and family over revenge. Then, in the end, the show makes a huge point of telegraphing that Sam is finally aligning with Dean by refusing to shoot Azazel because he's possessing John, and Sam just can't do that to Dean.

Sam and Dean are thus bound together and cemented into a marginalised path, living on the road, haunting liminal spaces and cheap motels, confronting the monstrous everyday. Sam is presented as the brains of the operation, he does research, logics his way through things (masculine) while Dean is the heart who acts impulsively and on instinct and intuition (feminine).

It later transpires that Sam has a piece of the monster inside himself, and Dean has to learn to love the monstrous, he has no choice, because Sam is his brother and then Cas... and, and, and!

Like... I could go on and on, citing ENDLESS EXAMPLES. This could be a literal book. Maybe one you need to read with a magnifying glass like my condensed edition of the OED. LIke, the queerness of Supernatural is DIZZYING and MYRIAD.

But basically? FROM THE START, hunting is a queered version of family, and within that, Dean is a queered version of a Campbellian hero. Hunting is a metaphor for otherness and liminality, and that's even before you say a WORD about sex. It starts in deviation from the norms of family, masculinity and expands from there on so many levels both in story and on a meta level. The story is flesh on queer fucking bones.

I'm so sorry, but anyone who thinks queerness was not BAKED INTO Supernatural and more specifically into Dean from DAY 1 has clearly never seen Dean's insane lip gloss in season 1, and vastly underestimates the cultural awareness of people who write shit in Hollywood, and also the other people who put pink lip gloss on pretty boys in Hollywood. Nothing that gets on your screen wasn't a fucking choice made and approved by a LONG LIST of people who know what they are about.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Four Weeks in New York

gorgeous gif credit to @violaobanion

Requested: ☑️

Warnings: SO. MUCH. SEX. 18+, reunion jitters, potentially out of character actions due to rough sex? but then again, they’ve missed each a lot other, ok?! Also, i dunno, but beware he’s a horny over thinker and he’s in a funny headspace due to, ya know, war. Jean is a champ, Harry can’t manage to blow a load for awhile, mild breeding kink if you wanna call purposefully making a baby that…Gerry Hamilton and Margaret Blakely make tiny little cameos in here and I swear I’m half thinking of writing this trio of women all giggling over their legendary husbands

Word count: a hefty 7k and we’ve got more coming for ya

Coauthored with m’baby @crazymadpassionatelove

Synopsis: Harry Crosby is sent stateside to be with his wife for a month of terribly needed R&R in the summer of 1944

Caveat: this is based off a portrayal of real people in a tv series, while Jean wasn’t represented by an actress as Harry was, in this price of media I intend the same. I mean no disrespect to the real men and women mentioned and dramatized herein.

Scene One:

Jean had been at it so long in front of the mirror she began to notice every grain of powder collected in her smile lines and every infinitesimal blur of strong coal from around her eyes and -she needed to step away, at least a few inches from the reflective glass and get a grip. At the more sensible distance of gripping onto the edge of the counter -marble and swanky like everything in this posh and paid for hotel- she saw her face restored to what it was, a pretty decent cutie’s with a perfect mask of makeup and freshly styled hair: fit for a homecoming.

It was going to be fine. She was going to be fine. She was going to need to make him fine again, and give him back to them strong enough to come back to her for good. Happiness and dread swirled in a gnawing cocktail inside her, the cruel thought of almost wishing not to be teased with him at all until she could keep him for good fighting with the braver parts of herself that wanted every second of him she could have, even if it had a big red finish line drawn at a month.

A month was a long time, a month was about all they’d had to be married before he left. Technically, or at least Jean wondered if technically, it would mean she’d only been fully “married” for two months. Of course that was nonsense to the general public and the pastors who reminded about vows and the wedding band she flashed at over eager servicemen, but to her select little girl gang, the ones who worked at the factory with her and who had to give up their husbands too- they talked about their brief marriedness with hushed and giggly fondness, like something out of a dream and just as brief.

The fiancés in the girl gang were jealous of this topic and Jean supposed they had a right to be. She indulged the innocents with all their questions about being “actively” married, tried to repay them with the same frankness she’d so desperately sought before her wedding. But as it was, she’d only had a month of active service, and while it had been spent as vigorously as any young couple’s first four weeks of legal license, it had left Jean in the interim with a plain impression of herself being a little bit of a hussy.

She wanted Harry so badly this past year since he’d gone she hardly thought it medically sane. Wanted him so badly, and that was something not even the girl gang could always bring themselves to titter about. It was one thing for Margaret Blakely to joke about her Ev coming back the previous month ‘taking’ his leave in more ways than one, but they weren’t often out here asking each other if nothing really fixed the hunger since their man had been gone. It was all Jean thought of. Jean wanted to ask if it ever cooled, if the sticky frustration with one’s own inadequate fingers ever subsided.

By the dreamy eyed state of the recently visited Mrs. Blakely, the answer appeared to be a resounding no. Nothing ever beat the real thing. And that made Jean want to writhe in frustration before learning that she too, would be visited by a on-leave husband.

A year of being married and only a month of it “active”, Jean had concluded it was a chronic case on her part of salivating need for her Bing, the only cure would be him -him inside her, in perpetuity. All she’d gotten out of Maragret had been a grinning warning to Jean to “get in shape for Major Crosby’s furlough, you’ll spend it on your back.”

Jean could freely admit to herself that she needed to be ripped apart by her man, she needed him lingering inside her when he left again. She just feared that it wasn’t exactly their usual way. How could she tell him, what if that’s not what he needed. What if it was all different, what if it needed to be?

Jean pointed a finger at herself in the fancy gilt mirror, red nails pointing at her fancy clad self in pastel silk and tiny bows, “He’s your husband,” she told herself sternly, trying not to sweat at the idea he could be here any hour, catch her in this state of intentional undress, and help himself to her jittery body, “he loves you, you love him. All you need to do is let him have his husbandly rights and things will go smoothly. It’s a vacation not a death trap. You’ve got a man to patch up, get on with it.”

This speech gave her four whole seconds of empowered determination before a vigorous set of knocks on the hotel suite’s outer door made her jump out of her skin in surprise. She could go open the door but then -what if someone was in the hall with him? And saw her in this state of…lack of…well, her in her lingerie. He had a key, they’d have given him a key. He was the Mister to her Missus Crosby, they were allowed a shared suite.

“Jean?” Hearing that dear voice for the first time in twelve months, even faintly from far outside the bathroom door, flooded Jean with so much feeling her knees locked up and her throat collapsed on her response. He was her husband, her Bing, her first and only love, they’d be alright. They had to be.

Harry gingerly closed the door behind him, the heavy painted wood shutting with a finality that made him feel terribly anxious. While he had been trudging up the hall to their suite he’d been able to laugh a little at his dismal procession, morose shuffling and hang dog attitude. It had been absurd for a guy coming back to see the wife who he loved. He knew that and he could say that again and again in his head in a voice that morphed more and more into Bubbles’ voice an-

-and now he was in the room and he wasn’t anticipating anything, he had arrived and as if he’d just touched down in occupied Europe, he couldn’t help his braced posture or hunted surveillance of the oddly empty room.

“Jean?”

She wasn’t in here, but the en-suite bathroom door was shut. She wasn’t in here but from the bathroom came wafting something so viscerally nostalgic of her that he felt his heart pound in devoted recognition before his brain even caught up: her soap. Not some fancy hotel brand, it seemed she had brought her old stuff, the stuff he’d lathered on her as many times as he’d had the chance before leaving, the stuff she smelled of before church and the stuff that got more strong and pungent when he made her sweat in it from their exertions in bed.

It smelled like Jean in here and it was enough to make him drop his duffel bag with a decided thump. He was staying. This was his wife, everything might be different but some things like soap -they’d still be the same, as would the dry mouthed want it filled him with.

“Jean?”

He ventured further into the room, not bothering to call her name again, maybe being around guys had made him callous to spooking her but no real harm would be done, he was…him.

“Oh! Bing?” Jean sounded flustered behind her door and Harry found himself grinning. “I’m coming! I’m coming right out!”

It sounded less like a reassurance than it did an order to herself, which was amusing and it made him wonder, just how awkward were the two of them going to manage to make this? God knows he’d tripped over himself enough times winning her over the first round, he had such hopes never to revisit the bumbling stages of courtship. Seemed like once they’d married and joined it had been smooth as glass ever since- until…until he’d stopped being himself.

Until he had wandered into a hotel room with a woman who didn't wear a matching gold band. Jean knew nothing of that though. She never would. Sweet peaches and cream Jean who had come all this way to see him. Bringing that soap and the books he saw stacked on the night table. Bringing that sweet, pink pussy he needed to sink himself into. Remind himself of who he was. He didn't want to be Major Crosby at the moment. He wanted to just be Jean's husband. He heard the clock in the room ticking, felt the sweat pooling at the back of his neck as he waited for her. Her Elizabeth Arden lipsticks lined up like perfect little soldiers on the dresser. It had been so long that kissing her was surely going to feel like the first time all over again.

There was more amiss in the room, upon further inspection, besides her trunks and her hat boxes and the lipsticks. Amiss in that: there were elements no hotel should have, the plate of very delicious looking misshapen fudge, for instance, the plate itself looking suspiciously like their wedding set. Harry could describe that pink and green pattern on ivory in vivid detail if you had asked him yesterday, tracing it now was like no time had passed at all since that first breakfast as husband and wife, tittering over having “things” of their own. And beside the plate a book, one he’d not finished when he went over, he realized with a lump growing in his throat. Then there was the bed beneath these things, tidily made but not pristine, ha -how could it be with homey floral sheets in place of pristine white and a monogrammed pillow case each.

Giant embroidered C’s. For Crosby, of course.

Jeepers -he’d taken Jean for the first time on those very sheets, now he was recognizing them, and some very uncivilized part of him suddenly wanted to rip the covers back and find out if her virgin blood hadn’t fully scrubbed out-

“Bing!”

He is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed, thumbing through the pages of Look Homeward, Angel when Jean manages to saunter out with a summoned amount of calm. His hair is sleek and trimmed, his jacket well fitting, his whole self in his army duds seeming so comfortable, filled out, self possessed -it’s the floral sheets beneath him that ruins the effect just a little, makes him seem shifty, out of place. That and those great brown eyes suddenly round as a newborn calf’s at the long awaited sight of her.

She’s seen the soldier’s return posters -does he expect the same greeting? No little party at the station in satin and lace here, but they’d both agreed it would be better to be private, secluded, uninterrupted. Now it feels too tame and mild.

Does he want that? That reunion embrace?

Before she can rethink it she rushes him. “Binger!” she gasps out right as he stands to meet her head on, long arms outstretched to engulf her. This she knows, this she dreamed of. If she squeezes too tight she must be forgiven, it’s too fabulous to be considered real for many moments, the feel of his flexing back beneath her hands and his chest under her cheek. It’s tight and jarring and not a bit smooth but it’s him, it’s him and all is well.

Harry has his nose buried in her hair, that smell is wafting in again. It’s Jean -hits him with the force of a rocket and he’s suddenly responding in kind, arms crushing her to him, can’t get close enough, can’t tell her enough about missing her and loving her and how he’s put one step in front of the other all these years for this moment.

“Oh Bing,” she exclaims again, her face just barely pulled away to really get a look at him, her hands on his cheeks, “I can’t believe it. I’ve prayed, every day I’ve prayed for this.”

Prayers -the word sours in his mind after what he’s seen, after how many he’s sent up and not plane returned with an answer. “Mmm, Mrs. Crosby.” he contemplates the dear face before him before dragging his hand beneath her hair, cupping the back of her head with his large hand, watchface cool on the back of her neck. She’s been waiting for him to kiss her, wanting to let him lead, hoping her initial enthusiasm would embolden him like before. Instead he seems lost in archiving her face, those dear, melancholy eyes flitting over every feature, the hands studying and firm but not a caress. It’s obvious there’s something missing here, a piece ajar from the puzzle.

Jean stands atiptoe carefully, and determinedly slots her lips against his plush, red ones. That seems to rouse him a bit, Harry responds instantly, making up for his hesitancy, deepening it as his tongue meets hers in a heart wrenching reunion of sorts. He always was fond of kissing, her Bing. Now he was kissing her senseless and this -this was more like what she imagined.

His hands trail from her neck down the her ribs and into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hips where he vaguely notices she’s adorned in some silky little something, no doubt chosen and worn just for him.

Say something Croz, you big idiot —he thinks to himself, confronted with the fact he is gripping at her and sucking face without another word said besides inane repetition of her name.

“Jean you look…perfect.” he mumbles against her lips.

It’s boyish and reminiscent, the stumbling praises mumbled so earnestly. It makes her giggle fondly. She breaks their kiss and takes hold of his face in her hands, indulging a little inspection of her own. “My beautiful boy,” she croons, “you came back to me.”

She kisses the prominent bridge of his nose and his perpetually furrowed brow and the smooth below each heavily fringed eye, his cheeks, his chin, the corner of his mouth -she pressed at his chest till she’s got him sat on the edge of the bed again. He’s fully dressed, taut as a bowstring and she wants him, needs him, to relax. She can feel the tension, the uncertainty, rolling off him.

She won’t let them take this away from them, she won’t let them rob them of their comfort with each other.

She kneels gently before him and undoes his boots, enjoying the way he pets her hair, quietly admiring its shine and style. His trousers are creased and starched and knelt between his legs Jean finally notices it then, the prominent tent beneath the olive weave. It makes her breath hitch. Was he always this big? Even camouflaged by trousers?

“You must be tired,” she frets aloud, working on the laces, “and cramped from such a long flight. Did you take something? Your eyes are a little…funny.”

Harry nods before realizing she’s not one of his men. Wives tend to value words and sentences, the more syllables the better. “Yeah,” he croaks aloud, “something for the stomach.”

Oh Bing and his stomach. Ever the dutiful wife, Jean rubs the sock feet she just liberated and kneads her way up his calves, hoping to leech some of the tension out of him. She works her way to his thighs, rising back up to her feet when he grabs her wrists and pulls her into another kiss. It’s even hungrier this time and his first moan of the evening sends a jolt of longing triumph straight to her core.

“I’ve missed you.” she chokes out between kisses and he responds by biting her neck, his thumbs rolling the satin in circles on her hips. His front pressing hard and firm against her lower belly, making her mouth run dry.

Still, Harry’s not saying much and if he wasn't kissing and caressing her so ardently, she'd have no clue they were even on the same planet.

And so Jean decides to do something rather bold. Something her mother would not approve of. She puts her hands on his shoulders, briefly causing him to pull away from her neck, then she whispers temptingly in his ear, “Last night I…slid my ring finger inside me. pretended it was you…I won't have to pretend anymore, will I, Harry?”

She feels him twitch against her belly beneath his layers. It’s her turn to kiss his cheek and nibble his neck, finding his little groans to be intoxicating. His grip tightens on her waist as he buries his head against her with his eyes closed, breathing her in. That scent.

That's when she adds in a plea, “Y-y-you're gonna have to…open me

up again Croz.…..you know what I

mean?...my poor little fingers are so

tiny and now I'm back to how I was

on our wedding night…”

Harry’s groan is animalistic and pained and she -well Jean’s a horny, rambling mess and she can’t bring herself to be ashamed, she missed him too strongly. “You're a hero to America.” She swears into his panting mouth, “And to me. I'm gonna give you the strength to help you get through the rest of what you need to do. But I need something from you, I need you to put a baby in me Bing.”

That is what he responds to, like orders in war. He’s good at finding his way with directions. His head rears back and his eyes sharpen with concentration. Jean wants something? he’ll deliver it, always was that way.

He nods.

“Lay back on the bed Jean.” his voice is quiet but she’s never heard it so steady, so commanding. That must be the voice he uses when he speaks to his men over there. If she wasn't squeezing her thighs together and scrambling onto the bed to follow Major Crosby orders, well, she'd cum right then and there. This isn't the same Bing that reads the paper, his beautiful lips mouthing the words as he does, the one who brings her flowers just because, or is quick not to curse in public. This man before her is a war weary Major who is used to being obeyed. Jean intends to follow every word he says, the thought of seeing him off without a little piece of him nestled inside her would just devastate her.

She burrows up against their Crosby pillows, looking like an absolute treat and admiring her man's package that seems to be growing bigger by the second. He's panting like a wild horse above her and she realizes she should heed all that advice she'd been given. Be a good wife, take care of his needs. Her painted toes rub against the sheets as she slowly inches forward to help him undress. Major Crosby beats her to it though, ridding himself of his uniform efficiently and tossing it on to the floor in a rumpled mess accompanied by a huff.

Is he mad? Jean wonders to herself. His freshly exposed cock sure looks mad. It's red, and almost looks hot to the touch as it dribbles and leaks down his thick shaft.

Was it always that big? Were his eyes always so wild? Bright -she remembers them as being bright.

He collapses on her purposefully, a crushing embrace with his hands snarled in her hair, elbows to the bed, his belly to hers, his lips devouring her own. It’s a shock and a thrill, that first feeling of skin against skin again, Harry’s so warm his tongue is nearly scalding and she feels herself sweat in her skimpy finery. The anticipation is harsh, the dynamic fumbling in its ravenous rush, her head spins when an irrational spike of fear slices through the heady haze of desire that his touches coax. Touch? -a mauling of sorts, more like, he is all teeth and nails and assessing hands, grabbing at her ferociously.

Instinctively Jean begins to rub him, his shoulders, his neck, his forearms

-a soothing caress at a kinder pace than he allows but she means it well, channels that little spark of anxiety she feels to sooth his own keyed up self.

“I’m here, I’m here,” she keeps swearing as she feels him buckle just that little bit to the insistent kneading of her hands on his arms, “I’m not going anywhere.” she swears and the rigid line of his body sags further into her neck, some off kilter focus he’s carried about him slipping under her gentle persuasion. “Baby, how about a little rub?” she coos, lithely extracting herself out from under him before she thinks on it too long.

“That might be nice.” he manages, not sure what the hell it is he needs, “My neck maybe..took a little spill a few days ago...” he casually mentions the incident, underplaying that whole fiasco of passing out cold from exhaustion, splattering on the floor like the contents of a mop bucket.

“Then let me rub your neck.” she begs.

He allows it and with a slightly lost gaze he follows her movements as she props up beside him and brings him closer for leverage. She scoops his head into her lap with that familiarity that made him fall first and hard for her, and suddenly he is pillowed on the warm, giving belly of a woman. His woman. And Croz feels himself begin to melt from that feeling alone, long before her clever thumbs start working at the knots nearly calcified at the base of his neck.

She used to do this for him when he was at school, too much reading in an ill advised position had him often so stoved up he couldn’t be of any use on the baseball team. Jean had learned to work her magic then, and Harry had learned how very much he liked his face buried against the swell of a girl’s womb.

Oh fuck -her little speech comes rushing back to him- Jean wants a baby.

Damn the jet lag, the separation jitters and all the rest that got him sent here like a looney to a special holding facility. Jean wants a baby and he hasn’t been rock hard since Dartmouth only to let it go to waste by sleeping it off.

Right when she begins to feel the motion of her hands take effect on his rigid shoulders, her Harry is suddenly lifting his head again, face slightly flushed and creased from the lace of her nighty and he smiles at her then. Mischievous and warm, “C'mere,” he beckons with a voice that means something and so she follows him as he sits up, “stand up babydoll, show me that outfit. Let me appreciate ya.” He slides his warm palm into her smaller one and tugs her to her feet, an easy sort of dance move to bring her round in front of his position, swaying her back and forth just outside the v of his legs.

“Well, look at you.” he marvels at her, his expression gone soft under that wrecked mop of curls. Jean recognizes the old spark alight in him, the one that might go dormant for her when away or when she couldn’t make up her damn mind but anytime she wanted him back?—oh he looked at her like this, like he was lucky as hell to have her and intended to be brave with that luck. “Turn around for me, loverdoll, c’mon, show me what I’ve got, come onnnn Jeaaann,” he insists, his voice playful and insistent as he spins her with a hand at her hip until she shows him the back of this frilly little excuse for nightwear, “Look at that.” he whistles behind her and Jean feels her cheeks burn pleasantly, “Pretty as a fawn, Jean.” he punctuates this odd little compliment with the back of a finger running up the length of her thigh, to the little swell of her rump and Jean knows her legs tremble in helpless response. “Go on, strike a pose for me, I know you didn’t put on this get up for nothin’. Who'd believe it? My Mrs. Crosby out here lookin’ like one of those girls.”

‘Those’ girls, whoever they are exactly, are left nebulous and Jean likes it that way, it gives her a saucy bravery to pitter patter away from his hold and turn back to face his unabashedly admiring gaze. Jean cocks a hip and drops a shoulder, knee turned in, toes pointed. Gerry had made her perfect it a million times in the mirror when she should’ve been sensibly getting into a gown and getting some shut eye instead.

Thank God for Margaret Ann Blakely and her fun loving pastimes. And also: “Screw him for us Jean!!” -thank God for Gerry Hamilton and her brazen preoccupations with her own man, for how she piled on as she convinced Jean of an assortment of little silk things thrown into her suitcase, “Screw him good, for all of us! For Americaaaaa!” the young and empty Mrs. Hamilton’s candor had built until Jean was close to frantic to get into the taxi and leave her best friends and their antics behind.

Jean didn’t doubt for a single minute that Hambone and Ev would shortly be receiving letters that good naturedly bemoaned Jean and Croz’s luck.

“You think you needed to look like this to get me to nail ya?” her Croz teases her now and his grin is lewd and Jean likes it that way, it matches the disrespectful hands that reach out without her Harry’s usual calculation and instead paw at her tits like a sex starved man. It sends a line of electricity straight to the little button between her legs and Jean ends up leaning into those hands until she’s suddenly so near him she’s on top of him and then, easy as anything, he knocks her sideways and under him once more. Legs splayed wide and with a husband lying on top of her with a very determined look on his face -she reckons the games are over.

“Gonna be like a second wedding.” she squeaks out, giddy eyed in excitement, toes curling in terror, he feels so big slotted at the spot.

Was he always so big?

Harry slings her leg over his hip and he’s suddenly in her without even needing to fumble for entrance. Little Croz pries her open all at once in a smooth, brutal, unyielding shove and that’s all it takes, he’s so overwhelmingly substantial that Jean finds herself bowing under him in a climax from the painful pleasure of reunion alone.

“Really, already?” he chuckles at her as she hoarsely keens out her ecstasy beneath him, her nails digging crescents in the flesh of his tense shoulders, his own thumbs stroking along her throat, “I missed you too, Mrs. Crosby.” he laughs.

She slaps at him, lovingly as her throat still hasn’t fully come back to use, “God you feel good.” She croaks.

“Just wait till you learn there’s more.” he teases before pulling his hips back and keeping that far tip barely nestled in her petals before slamming in again so forcefully she feels something funny in her chest.

“Bing!” it’s not a protest on her part but, my God -he, they…they used to give it the ole college try before he left, but this? This must be what it’s like to get really and truly screwed.

Screwing her, that’s what he’s doing and she wonders in a vague haze of helpless sensations if he’ll auger a hole straight through her back to the mattress with this merciless rhythm. She’s as vaguely impressed by his strength and capability as she is by her own body’s ability to absorb it, her freshly rediscovered hole burning at the use and somehow it’s all just a wonderfully heated, overwhelming miasma of delight as she keeps on seizing under him and he bullies her right though one peak after another with only a wicked grin on those full lips to suggest he’s got any idea what she’s so happily enduring.

“I can’t stop, I just can’t stop, it's just so -it’s so much.” she babbles, very keen to get her point across but very unsure what her point actually is. All thoughts, feelings and intentions center around Harry and that fat schlong of his rearranging her insides. She’s not sure her toes have been uncurled in over a quarter hour and her mind’s not been her own for longer still. “You’re so much.” she wails, and for half of it she means not his size but how long he’s been going at it.

“And you’re gonna take it.” he confirms, the hand on her hip inexorable and his pretty face is half snarling at her in desperation. “You miss this?” his voice shakes from his exertions and Jean is sure she’s never heard a more attractive sound than his wrecked breathing, “Miss this, huh? Bet you did, so goddamn tight. No married woman’s got any…any…any business being so tight. Gonna fix that, gonna make you so married you’re not gonna-“ he presses her legs back until she feels her hamstrings burn, knees to her chest, his body lunging into hers…angry again? she doesn’t know he just keeps grunting “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She’s milking him so perfectly, peaking and shuddering and clenching more frequently than he ever remembers and he should be so saved up he can’t manage to hold on but instead -the fuck if he can blow. It just won’t let go. The noise of his work is a lew phwap phwap phwap of split splat suction and from her whimpers and begs he knows he has already spent her but-

Goddamn! Came all this way, waited all this time and he can’t let loose?

Through the haze of her overstimulation Jean can feel something amiss, the tension back and worse than that, there’s the frustrated anger of before. Harry is breathing hard and his face is dark and the prominent vein across his alabaster forehead is popping so significantly she worries about stroke. He’s about to crack a tooth at this rate, his tension is so extreme and then suddenly, there’s a pause.

He stares down at the wet mess where they’re joined, brows knit together and mouth firm before a flicker ignites in his eye and in a fit of rage at himself and this deficient cock, he grabs at one of the decorative pillows and throws it across the room. It bangs dully against the window and flops to the floor.

Unsurprisingly the outburst against cotton batting and fancy trim does little for his pickle, he’s still stiff as a board and nowhere close to relief. He fought a whole goddamn war and came back just to not be able to get his rocks off. What a joke.

Gently as he can, and with rampant self pity running loose, he disentangles from Jean’s snug self and throws himself beside her on his back.

Bewildered Jean is more than a little grateful for the intermission. She does her best to collect her wits, looking over at him and clocking his defeated expression and closed eyes, the hand pinching the bridge of his nose. And poor Little Croz that is a furious magenta red with veins about ready to burst from swelling, sticking straight up from between his legs.

Shifting onto her side to face him rubs her poor kitty just wrong -or right- and a helpless mewl escapes her as she creams herself again from that little movement alone. The sound and shudder of his wife makes Croz crack open an eye, watching intently as Jean bites her lip and timidly runs her fingers through the hair on his chest.

“Come sit on my lap, Jeanie.” he mumbles.

She perks up with a smile, “Whatever my hero wants, baby.” she condones before shakily straddling his lean hips and sinking down with a noticeable squelch. It earns a drawn out moan of satisfaction from both of them. Sensing the agony and desperation of the man beneath her as she begins to lift her hips and slam them back down, juices splash on her feet from the movement. To lift his spirits she attempts her best at shoving her tits in his face while she does it and gets her nipples tugged in thanks.

This right here is perfect, she’s so full she can hardly bear it but he feels so good she ignores the burn of her legs and keeps her pace up, the beautiful expanse of her man laid out before her a perfect spur. The sun seems to have set by now and through the open curtains the sounds and lights of the city pour in, glistening off his sweaty skin like a million stars and doing nothing to dim the noise of his appreciative moans, the hoarse grunts of her name, the sounds of their sticky hips colliding.

“I've dreamed about being full like this every night since you left.” Jean tells him, stuffed beyond her limits it feels like he’s so damn deep he could describe the feel of her cervix in detail.

She can feel those tight bowling balls she's sitting on that need to unload inside her, and precariously she reaches backwards to fondle them with one hand, remembering how he used to react to it. She gets her first high pitched whine of the evening from him at that, his chest heaving and his head thrashing, curls everywhere. “Bing -- oh it's big, it's big, I'll take it all though I-I promise….we gotta make you cum, baby.” she determines, not needing the discarded pillow or fuming passion to alert her to his desperation, “Lemme help you…just fill me up, let it alllll out... you need to, must be aching so bad”

At the mention of the ache he begins to buck into her wildly like a feral thing. Jean would have toppled off from his vigor if he hadn’t seized her hips in an iron grip and held her still for his assault from below. Jean hears herself squealing and whimpering and begging nonsense, still a bit fresh -and respectful- to this new and ferocious side of him. Somewhere in it though, Harry’s beginning to crack, frustration going from anger to fury to desperation to some boyish and pitiful need for relief.

Harry doesn’t mean to groan so loudly, so pathetically but it’s all so perfect and he’s so damn close and Jean’s like a sprinkler down there she’s enjoying herself so much and -why the hell can’t a fella just blow?

Jean instantly stills atop him and cradles his face tenderly, soft searching eyes and lips whispering about …something, something something “baby boy” -and he shudders. His pants are harsh as if he’s about to have a heart attack and his chest is so winded and achy he thinks he might. Or else cry.

Wouldn’t that be fun.

Beneath his hands he feels Jean’s hips begin to flex and she’s grinding on him again, twisting her hips in a slow figure eight that feels like a man’s heaven beneath his palms, and ten times that for his cock. It’s not doing it enough to make him blow but for a moment he decides that’s fine, he inflates his poor lungs again and lays back, admittedly a bit too stiff and rigid, and touches her as she pleases herself on top of him. She giggles shyly to him and her near constant moans are music to his ears as she swivels on his cock. He enjoys watched the pink little folds absorb him and the way their curls brush and mix where they meet, his lower belly a wet mess and streaks of the same running down to her ankles, they’ve made such a soup.

Clam fuckin’ chowder, by the looks of it.

Maybe he did blow. Doesn’t feel like it. And after watching and coaxing her through another melting peak, he lets her sag onto his chest for a minute and regroup before, with a kiss to her hair and a hard smack to her ass, he tells her,

“Hands and knees, Jean, if you want that baby -hands and knees.”

He barked it like an order, and while a little startled by it, she still wastes no time in flipping herself over and off him, scurrying into the position he specified, shaky from so many orgasms and the anticipation of him back atop her. Wincing inwardly at the thought of that package at this angle with how sore she already is-

-and he wastes no time. But instead of a cock she feels the shockingly familiar but never less exquisite feeling of his tongue running up the messy length of her slit. Her face collapses into the pillows along with her pleased shriek of “Bing!”.

He he laughs warm and wicked behind her, enjoying the ass up display of what he’s done to her.

“Spread ‘em Jean.” he tells her, and two dainty hands leave off from gripping the covers to bashfully pull her cheeks apart and show her husband where his fat cock belongs. He can see her pulsing down like a living entity of its own, even in this dim light.

“I'll be good... I'll be good for you, Major. Tell me what to do.” Jean swears hoarsely, those fawnish legs trembling again.

“Just take me.” he mutters simply, mounting her suddenly with his hand on the back of her head, keeping her cheek to the pillow and her scream muffled as he shoves in and begins to plow this squeaking little lady like tomorrow is indeed not promised to men like him.

Beneath him, between the high pitched squeals of pleasure and the urgent whines of endurance, Jean is muttering a litany of …something. Again and again she’s saying words like “it’s ok baby, it’s ok” and Harry isn’t sure if it’s meant for him or her, she sounds like a drunk fairy and his head begins to buzz with likelihood. “It’s ok baby, they told me you'd be like this, it’s ok. I can take it. I’ve missed you—“ she just keeps muttering that and vaguely Harry is pretty sure that comfort is meant for him and he wonders who ‘they’ are and what ‘like this’ even means.

On Jean’s part she is legitimately unsure who’s she’s trying to convince, likely herself but also, maybe that part of her between her legs that’s torn between panic and absolute ecstasy at his rough usage. Jean's mind spins at the realization of how much she likes it, likes the feral proof of how badly he missed her, needs her, wants her still. Her sweet and mild Harry climbed on top of her and is now railing her, and while it’s not your average little jaunt in the sheets, she clings to her pillow and takes it with something like pride…in between the moments when Harry’s fat cock wipes her mind a starry white as her legs kick up helplessly beneath him and her back arches and her hole clenches and another happy mess slides down her inner thighs to the sodden sheets.

And all through it the best of it is Harry and his voice, half sane sounding for once this evening as if to balance out the animalistic pose he has her in, groaning above her,

“That's it, be my good girl..my good, good girl. Always so good to me.”

He’s petting her hair like she’s a damn Labrador or something, wrapping her beautiful curls around his hand, arched over her like a cat, it’s perfect and he’s so deep he thinks he could fuck his balls in, foot placed sturdily on the bed beside her for further leverage.

“-Croz! You gotta!” His wife wails nonsensically beneath him, he picks her head up by the hair to hear what the hell she’s jabbering about now, husbandly rights or how she was ‘told’ he’d be.

She’s so cock wrecked it ain’t even funny but when he prods her with a “What's that Jean?” between thrusts he gets a slightly more formulated thought-

“You gotta put a baby in me!” she insists through sobs, orgasm after orgasm turning her into this shaking, shuddering, limp excuse of a woman.

A loverdoll, for real.

Her words ping in his head like that damn red light everywhere he goes on base. A light at the end of the tunnel, an eminent thing he’s needed for. Tightness seizes his belly and takes him unawares, suddenly Harry’s roaring out a resounding,

“Oh FUCK! Jean! Fuck-“ that bounces around the room like a cacophony.

The hotel guests next door might be

wondering why a moose is dying in

Manhattan? But no sweat, it’s just Major Crosby seeding his willing wife.

Like a soothing balm on a surgical wound, Jean feels him exploding warm and sticky and healing inside her at last. It doesn't stop coming, rope after rope of the thick, steaming hot gold of his body swelling her own and this adds the finishing touches to what was already a melted woman. In his last rapacious thrusts, she can feel her body playing the minx, trying to squeeze him out but her Croz is having none of it, like a dying man to water, he uses every bit of strength left to shove himself back in and flood her until she’s a collapsed and leaking mess.

In a haze, Croz pulls his now mercifully limp cock out of her and surveys her wrecked self with bleary, appreciative eyes. “Looks like you been through a war of your own, baby.” he jokes but his voice is so wrecked from his previous yells it startles his newly moderated self and he ends up toppled over beside her, no longer capable of giving a damn about anything.

His eyelids refuse to stay open and his neck is laying funny but -fuck! He was just inside Jean!

“You ok, Bing?” he hears her sweet voice whisper beside him and it was no dream then, and God forgive him he was probably mean. She’s panting beside him and when he can’t manage to answer he feels her hand grab his wrist and gently guide him somewhere until he’s petting startlingly warm petals that are saturated with his spunk.

“Think you managed to open me up, alright.” she titters, still sounding drunk and he can’t help the way his cheek crinkles in a returning smile.

Smashed into the pillow as it is, it’s still the prettiest expression of the best man Jean has ever known. “Y-Yeah.” her man croaks, half insensible but his beautiful hand keeps petting her where she’s sore and recently excavated, his identification bracelet jangling softly in the stillness, “You were such a good girl Jeanie..a good wife…ya did your job.” he mumbles more, fully in Major mode as he begins to drift off, forgetting entirely that maybe a fella shouldn't praise his wife like she's one of his men gotten back from a mission.

But Jean takes the compliment well, knowing how it’s meant, knowing that maybe tomorrow when he’s more conscious and healed, she may be blocked out from that world entirely. It’s a little glimpse and she takes it for what it is, with soft appreciation. Smilingly she lets go of his hand to give deflated Little Croz some pats, the sticky, shrunken thing is playing at being harmless and she has a longing to meanly suck on it until it shows it’s true colors again.

But no, for now, Croz’s heavy and nearly insessible arm throws itself over her waist and drags her to him, slotting the married couple together like spoons in their drawer.

They could try to shower but that seems too daunting a prospect at present, and highly futile considering what lies in store -more of the same. And for her part, Jean doesn’t dare move and slosh and waste any of what her Bing gave her. His forearm is heavy over her battered womb, cum and abuse swelling it just that little bit as if she were on her menses. She’s not, those were two weeks ago.

When his hand splays and cups the swollen bulge he made, Jean whispers to his already snoozing self, “We made a baby Bing, I just know it.”

And if not— there’s four more weeks to make certain.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[notiddygxthgf]

World famous rock star Choso Kamo's new live-in assistant is convinced that she can fix him -- substance abuse issues and all. Tensions ensue, and as new feelings rise to the surface, the two find it difficult to maintain an appropriate workplace relationship.

(or; the one where an unstable musician meets an assistant with a savior complex).

❝I GOT A BRAND NEW PLACE, I THINK I'VE SEEN IT TWICE ALL YEAR. I CAN'T REMEMBER HOW IT LOOKS INSIDE, SO YOU CAN PICTURE HOW MY LIFE'S BEEN. I WENT FROM STARING AT THE SAME FOUR WALLS FOR TWENTY-ONE YEARS TO SEEING THE WHOLE WORLD IN JUST 12 MONTHS, BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG, I MIGHTA JUST FOUND GOD.

WELL, PROBABLY NOT, IF I KEEP MY HABITS UP AND PROBABLY NOT, IF I CAN'T KEEP UP WITH LOVIN'...PROBABLY NOT IF WE TAKE 'EM TO MY SPOT. PROBABLY NOT, IF I TWEAK ALL DAY JUST TO SLEEP AT NIGHT, GOD DAMN, I'M HIGH. MY DOCTOR TOLD ME TO STOP, AND HE GAVE ME SOMETHING TO POP. I MIX IT UP WITH SOME ADDERALLS AND I WAIT TO GET TO THE TOP.❝

╭─ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─ ⋅ ─╮

▷ prologue

▷ the interview

▷ behind the scenes

╰─ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─ ⋅ ─╯

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : jun 6, 2024

cover art credits: @/2OARIN on twitter

streaming... Kiss Land (The Weeknd).

cw/tags: rockstar!au, loosely based off of 'the idol', keyword very loosely... bc it sucked., slow burn, mutual pining, sassy reader, not really enemies to lovers but let's just say they drive eachother crazy. toxic relationship, but it gets better, mental instability, mental breakdowns, mentions of relapse (will include tw!), implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, recreational drug use, implied/referenced drug addiction, HE GETS BETTER I SWEARRRR, eventual smut, sexual tension, explicit sexual content, oral sex, doggy style, cowgirl position, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, questionable decisions just like all around, dark romance, reader is a little delusional (me too its ok), rough sex, rough kissing, rough angry sex, just read it it'll be a sexy and amazing time, choso my beloved you can do no wrong, except maybe in this particular fanfic, LISTEN TO KISS LAND BY THE WEEKND.

[aziraphales-library]

Would you happen to know any fanfics where the two of them witness or take part in some kind of significant queer history / queer historic event?

We have the following tags which you'll want to check out: #queer history, #pride parade, and #queer guardian angel aziraphale. Here are some which explore some more general aspects of queer history...

Something New…A Rain Bow by Princip1914 (G)

Inspired by this Neil Gaiman twitter exchange: “So they’re gay, right?” Neil: “They’re an angel and a demon, not male humans.” “Ok, but they love eachother, right? :D” Neil: “Absolutely”

and at least in this lifetime (we're sticking together) by vivelegalite (T)

[GOD, NARRATING] People tend to be torn as to which side could be credited with legalisation of gay marriage across all of the United States of America. Most people consider it an act of Good, which it is of course, and attribute it to Heaven. Some, a much less pleasant lot, argue it to be the work of Hell. They tend to back their claims up with improperly translated lines from a book the Almighty had never actually written or even really bothered to read through — I tend to outsource that kind of work — and speak of God’s will and whatnot. Both groups are, however, mistaken. The legalisation of gay marriage across all of the United States of America was brought about not by Heaven, not by Hell, but by a tragically smitten demon with a rather high alcohol concentration and a plan.

And I mean to go on and on and on and on by yolkinthejump (T)

A wedding of old friends. Aziraphale gets drunk on Gay Love and Crowley absolutely adores him. Par for the course. Thoughts on the muddled history of marriage and the power of love, persevering.

The Questions We Don't Ask by EdnaV (M)

It’s 1989, and Aziraphale has been reprimanded for helping some people that Sandalphon doesn’t like. Crowley tries to take care of him. It’s 1941, it’s 1793, it’s 1020. Crowley and Aziraphale take care of each other throughout history.

The Stylings of Madam Glena by altsernative (T)

It's 1977, eight years after Aziraphale said "You got too fast for me," and Crowley hasn't seen him since. In Aziraphale's absence, Crowley helps set up the Sundown Club, a gay bar in Soho. He tells himself--and downstairs--that it's building a space for "workers of inequity," although he finds comfort in the community. He's settled into a quiet routine of drinking at the bar every week until a beautiful drag queen captures his attention. Crowley feels unexpected things. It's weird. And where is Aziraphale?

A Strong and Silent Pride by sleepyMoritz (M)

By the start of 1982, the disease - previously known as Gay Related Immune Deficiency, or GRID - had a new name. AIDS. This did not stop it from being called the gay plague in the media. This did not stop the rampant homophobia. This did not stop the fear.

- Mod D

[snaillock]

bllk boys helping their bf through his period

feat. sae, isagi, nagi

am having the worsssttt cramps rn so im revisiting this ancient ass draft (it’s really just from early july) and im abt to have a self indulgent fest with this enjoy!!

tags: afab/transmale!reader, descriptions of dysphoria and periods, clueless but cute boyfriends

sae itoshi

★ finding out that you started your period definitely explains why you were snappier with him despite you usually being so patient with his sassy and curt retorts.

★ you’re most likely his first relationship since he’s mainly been focused on soccer for literally his entire life so he has no previous experiences dealing stuff like this. so if you need anything you’ll have to tell him directly.

★ he definitely expresses his best love by giving you things you need and helping you out in any way he can. so you could literally ask him for anything and it will be done as quickly as it takes for him to pull out his credit card (which is very fast by the way.)

★ he would buy you some expensive teas since he heard they can help with the pain. does he have any clue on how to brew them? no. did you have to walk him through every step of the process by yelling out instructions from the living room all the way to the kitchen? yes you did.

★ even though it was a bit too bitter, his first attempt actually wasn’t that bad at all.

★ he wants to spend way more time with you even if his agent or coach complains about it. he does not care at all. he will be staying with you until you feel much better.

★ during his time off taking care of you, you can tell that he’s a lot more affectionate with you. he’s way more cuddly than usual and gives you plenty of kisses. if you try to bring it up with him, he’ll just deny it, claiming that he’s only giving you his body heat to help with your cramps (when he could literally just buy a heating pad if that was. the case like ok man).

★ despite your dysphoria acting up and telling you otherwise, sae will never treat you any different even when he sees this side of you. you will always be his beloved boyfriend even if he has trouble expressing that to you

★ well expressing that to you verbally at least. once your period is over, he will surprise you with a bunch of new clothes in your style to help sooth your dysphoria in his own way.

isagi yoichi

★ he may seem calm on the outside when you reluctantly told him but inside he is panicking. he’s just desperately trying to keep a chill demeanor for your sake.

★ he has absolutely no idea on how to help you but he is trying his best. he frantically looks up anything online that could help and speed reads through like ten different advice articles within a minute. (for sure has looked up “how to help boyfriend on his period” before)

★ if you’re ever insecure/worried that this whole situation being weird or even uncomfortable for him, then he will instantly gain back all his composure to reassure you that it’s okay and none of this grosses him out. he’ll make sure that you know none of this makes him see you as less of a man and that he loves him nonetheless

★ now that he’s super focused on just making you feel comfortable with your period, he’ll spend extra time in bed with you. he’s more than happy to take a day off and just movies with you (or just naps together if you wanna sleep the cramps away.)

★ he is so damn encouraging. if you’re experiencing a particularly painful cramp, he’ll immediately run off to get you some pain medicine before holding you close to physically comfort you through it.

nagi seishiro

★ the fact that you’re on your period doesn’t freak him out at all really. though he is very confused so he just texts reo every two minutes on what he should do. of course reo is more than happy to help out but it does get a little annoying when nagi asks him every little thing that he should honestly just google. (he’s just so used to his best friend’s help ok?😔)

★ he’s willing to put away (most) of his laziness aside to help you out because he knows you would do the same for him whenever he feels unwell.

★ literally the best cuddle partner you could ask for right now. that 190 cm mans is basically your personal heated blanket with extremely long legs. honestly an amazing deal.

★ he’s more than happy to just relax with you and just play video games while snacking on any sweet foods that you’re craving together.

★ if you’re too weak to want to walk on your own, then he will carry you around the house if you need to move somewhere. he loves doing it because he does NOT want to separate from you once you get out of bed. the only time he’ll let go is when you need to use the bathroom but he will mope around right outside the door.

★ if you express any insecurities caused by your dysphoria, he will put down his game and immediately smother you into the bed, not giving you any opportunities to doubt yourself any further. his body practically cocooning you with his nonchalant words on how you’ll always be a man in his eyes instantly cheers you up. nagi’s cuddles are the best dysphoria treatment (real!)

please read and respect my dni/byf before reblogging/following

taglist(sign up here!): @leosxrealm @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo @remy-roll @catmisu

[iingezo]

! ! ADOPTABLES ! ! Celestial Pact

Excited for my first go at adopts!: D LOVED returning to this style for them too! It’s first-come, first-serve -- if interested, message me here on Tumblr with your email for a PayPal invoice & once payment is received I’ll send you the full resolution of the adopt ! A : SOLD B : SOLD C : SOLD ( TOS below the cut )

- Same as commissions : Personal-use ONLY - Trading is OK & Reselling cannot go above the original price   ( unless you’ve accumulated more art of them by then ) - Expanding upon the design (like alternate outfits / styling) is OK, but please keep physical features relatively consistent (feel free to take or leave the tits tho) & do not edit the original art - Feel free to post any new art you might make/commission of them, but do not repost the original art   ( I’ll likely post the fuller watermarked versions myself here later ) - Credit me for the original design   ( somewhere! )

[hollowdeath]

ravenclaw fashion

starting a new collection of posts going in-depth on my personal interpretations of the different houses & what they (mostly femme) would wear outside of hogwarts! as always these photos are not mine!

blue

ok, i know this is a bit overdone, but stick with me here...the ravenclaw girlies own every shade of blue. navy, cerulean, cornflower, all of it! and they incorporate it into everything in the most subtle, adorable ways possible. oh, i love that, but does it come in blue? they just pull it off better than everybody else somehow. it's like it was meant to be...

skirts

doesn't matter what season it is or how much snow is on the ground, these ravenclaws will always bust out a skirt and make it work. i especially see them pairing it with tall boots/socks, cardigans, and, of course, pantyhose. they can rock any length, too. mini, knee-length, ankle-length, they really cannot go wrong with a good skirt. they just suit them so well.

eccentric

again, stick with me here. everyone already knows ravenclaws are smart & wise, but they seem to forget that ravenclaw is also the house credited with creativity. because of that, i definitely see ravenclaws on the forefront of every fashion trend, including eccentric and eclectic fashion. they get ahead of the curve and aren't afraid to try new things. sticking with the skirt theme, i see lots of layering, mixing textures/patterns, and unique pieces. they might get looks for it, but their strong sense of intuition lets them feel confident in their eccentric style.

accessories

again, this house is where creativity thrives! so i just know these students love to accessorize the fuck out of an outfit. it's what completes the look! even in their school robes, they're covered in rings, necklaces, watches/bracelets, and, most importantly, ribbons. like i said, these ravenclaws are constantly ahead of the trends! they were wearing ribbons in their hair, like, 2 seasons ago. always looking for different ways to accessorize themselves to truly express their inner artist, like nail art and fun hairstyles.

hufflepuff | masterlist

[fortunatelyenchantingtaco]

Get in loser, we are reconstructing canon. Sukugo style💫

Ok so just for preface, I do allow people to use these concept with a tiny caviat to credit me and send it to me cause i really wanna see it ok ok we good. As long as you tag me use them however you want, those are fun pieces of worldbuilding I don’t think i have the resources to fully write but they do be fun and i would be really happy if someone adopted them. Gonna add more here as they come but we have two on the agenda:

1. Gojo hopping different universes until he finds one with Sukuna and Suguru classmates and now he’s too stunned to kill anyone. Also Megumi following him through the universes

2. We are reconstructing Gojo, losers, he never went to Jujutsu High, he’s a cold and serious head of Gojo clan, and now they have to work together with Sukuna because Sukuna has been sealed and Gojo is the only one who hears him

1) Sudden attacks are not common on the school’s grounds, and Sukuna has been pretty confident that he knew everyone who could threated him. He didn’t account for one white haired man dropping from nowhere and blasting him before stopping in the air and just staring at them. Geto’s curses cant even touch him, and Sukuna needs to figure out his technique before cutting him. They’re locked in a stalemate, before the man finaly blinks.

“That’s weird. What’s Ryomen Sukuna doing here?” Ryomen, he says, like an insult, as if thats his name, sukuna grits his teeth and sends another slash that the man easily block, eyes wide open, but looking at Geto, as if waiting for his specific answer.

“Who are you? If anyone’s not supposed to be here, then it’s the man attacking teachers.”

“Teachers,” the man echoes before giving them a lookover and his eyes finally slid onto Sukuna, squinting. They’re bright, like flashlights, and Sukuna is deeply happy none of the students are here right now. “Huh. Do you not know me? And Sukuna is your buddy? That’s new,” he muses before rubbing his temples. His eyes bleed red before instantly healing back and he wuickly wipes it away. “Oh. I dont exist here,” he says quietly before dissapearing again.

What the fuck.

“Do we have any idea who that was? He was strong,” he asks Geto a couple of days later, lying on the couch in the schools lounge. “Too strong,” Sukuna muses. “Has anyone said anything about an identified sorcerer?”

“Gojo clan has declared they’re having a succession ceremony soon, but it was a long time coming.” Yaga interrupts and sighs deeply before pouring himself coffee and giving another one to Suguru.

“Timing’s too suspicious.” Sukuna says.

Once again, a presence interrupts them, appearing out of nowhere. Those techniques are so different than what Uraume uses it grates on Sukuna’s teeth, has him battle ready in a second. But it’s a different man now, it’s— it’s Megumi.

“Huh,” he says, distincly different. Older, his brain supplies, with a much heavier presence on him and shadows licking at his feet. He steeped out of them. Can he do that? “You’re alive. And here. Was Satoru here?” He asks.

“Who?”

“You know, Satoru Gojo? The Strongest? Annoying, tall, white hair, kirby blue eyes? I was sure he stopped here, but you’re alive,” he hums. “Are you guys teachers? Must have stunned him enough to finally stop.”

“Who are you two? What the fuck? He’s a Gojo?”

“Ah, he was here,” Megumi nods sagely. “I’m just here for him, don’t worry. He escaped the Prison Realm, but he’s… not fully here. I’m trying to fix that.”

***

2. “Itadori Sukuna was sealed!” Yuuji acreams at the top of his lungs and Satoru, who had just arrived in Shibuya, rubs his temple. He’s not even supposed to be here, this is the school’s mess, but it seems giving money isn’t enough of a contribution. He’s here mostly just because Megumi, the little shit, decided he’s too cool to be homeschooled and now Satoru’s forced to be here alogside Yuuta, or Tsumiki is going to have his head on a spike. He solely regrets whatever Ai taught her.

“Oh, that’s bad,” Yuuta trembles, gripping his katana tightly and Satoru rolls his eyes before tugging on his ear. “Ow!”

“You’re a Special grade, Yuuta,” he clicks his tongue before scrunching his face and styling the boy’s hear and unruly bangs on the side, and also puffing up his collar. Looks are important! Zen’ins are here and he’s not letting his wards appear weak. Yuuta pouts but stays put, the good kid. “You’re more than capable, and frankly all of us here is a bit of an overkill. Now off you go! Inumaki’s group shoulld be ahead and I’m going to give Megumi a piece of my mind.”

“He did what he thought was right,” he immediately defends the boy and Satoru rolls his eyes. Megumi has been thinking with his dick ever since he met Itadori junior.

“Yeah, yeah, off you go,” he nods before promtly running away and Satoru sighs.

“Strongest, my ass,” he grumbles, before tracking the Itadori boy. Megumi can’t be far behind.

“Watch your tongue,” a hiss rings out and Satoru freezes. There isn’t anyone here, the Six Eyes are quiet, so what is this.

“Who is that?”

“Oh, you can hear me, Gojo? Then I’m still the strongest,” the voice growls and ow.

“How the fuck are you talking from the Prison Realm, Sukuna?” He looks around, but there is no one here, no Sukuna and absolutely no artifacts near him. What is this?

“Have no idea, pretty face. Can only see you from here,” this is way too personal and friendly, in Satoru’s opinion. Pretty face, really?

“I’m going to get my unruly kid and then you tell me how in the hell you got sealed, Itadori.”

[meow-town]

Dee x Fem! Very Girly! Reader

Requested by @grape-flavored-lipgloss !! Took me a while because I wanted to mass-post a bunch of requests, but I really hope you enjoy this! (Pretty long because I adore this idea and went a little bit off of the rails)

Summary : Dee with very girly s/o who wears a lot of pink. The Shvagenbagens don’t necessarily like her at first but she gets them to warm up to her.

-You definitely weren’t the person he expected to fall for. He expected to start liking someone with his style, his taste in music, similar interests. Someone like Lif, to be honest.

-Obviously, you weren’t the person he’d want to date the least. Diana easily takes that spot.

-He recognized your sweetness, and how kind you were. You knew how to dress, and you obvious took care of yourself.

-The science fair was coming up, and teams were assigned for projects. His teacher forgot to sort him into a team, and when they found out, they were both pissed.

-The teacher, cause Dee hadn’t told him anything. And Dee, because now he couldn’t work alone like he wanted to. (Not me basing this off of my dee x reader story)

-Anyways, he got paired up with you and some other kid who didn’t do jack shit to contribute to the project.

-You we’re constantly nice and kind, and never got very aggressive with the other student, despite his laziness. You would give great ideas, constantly be giving words of encouragement to Dee when going through experiments, offer to hold equipment, etc, etc…

-You were a team, which means you all shared a group chat, which means he had your number. (Thankfully he already had it before he started crushing, otherwise he never would’ve worked up the courage to ask you for it).

-Because Dee’s petty as hell, he put credits in the science project so the teacher would know that you and him were the only ones who did work. He deleted the group chat, as well.

-After that, you spent the rest of the science fair with each other. People would crowd around your project stand, amazed. Because, lets be real, it’s Dee. He would explain how it worked, and you shared the thought process behind it.  -After that, he invited you to a drink at the vending machines, his treat. What a gentleman.

-You two had a conversation over fizzy sodas (or something else, if you don’t like those) and mostly complained about peers or teachers you hated. It brought you together, to say the least.

-He began to text you more, talk to you more and even choose to spend time with you over Lif! Lif!

-mf didn’t even notice he was crushing on you. He was just looking at you during lunch and it clicked.

-Dee’s internal monologue:

‘Are those new earrings? They look great. I should buy some jewelry for her, I know she likes that one brand. They match perfectly with her makeup. … She looks pretty in that makeup. …Prettier than… anyone else.  …

I don’t like her, thought. That’d be weird. She’s just my friend…. A very good friend….A very sweet friend who I can rely on… A very kind friend who just so happens to be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, sweet little thing. I don’t like  her though, soft as her hair might look and as badly I might want to run my hands through it. Caring as she may be. I don’t like (f/n).

….

HOLY FUCK I LIKE (F/N)’

-The man was too stunned to speak 😦

-When I tell you he turned his head away SO FAST

-His face and neck were as red as a fire truck, and he was starting to sweat bullets.

-He choked on his food.

“Dee? Are you ok?”

-Can’t even face you. His coughing fit was interrupted by small, broken syllables.

“YE *COUGH* YEAH, IM *COUGH* FINE. DONT *COUGH,COUGH* WORRY”

-He went a whole other level of flustered when you started to pat his back. Heart beating at a thousand miles per hour. Palms growing sweatier.

-He couldn’t look at you for a straight WEEK. He avoided you everywhere he went, otherwise the whole blushy routine would start all over again. A part of him wanted to be by your side at all times though, so it was hard for him.

-When he started to hang out with you again, he had to mentally prepare himself for it. Just imagine Dee shouting to himself while he did his makeup every morning.

“Okay, Dee! You will go out there and you will be charming! And handsome! And she will fall for you!”

 -Heavy doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he can hear him from his room.

-Heavy already knew you from around school, and wasn’t judgmental of your style or friendship with Dee whatsoever! He though you looked very pretty, too!

-And back onto that, he gave away his brother.

-You were chatting, waiting for Dee to leave his final period. And out of the blue, Heavy went :

“Yeah, he was planning how to ask you out for months now! Never gets it right either.”

“He what?”

“Wait, he hasn’t told you yet?”

“Noooooo..?”

…

-Of course, you kind of figured and told him you also liked him. He’s really obvious. But the second Dee heard his brother had told you he liked you, he was seconds away from choking Heavy the way he did in the 2nd episode.

-He was really grateful once you reciprocated though.

-He asked for a kiss so shyly, too.

-His hands trembled as they cupped your cheeks 💓💥

-Meeting the folks was… interesting -Glam was very polite, he just didn’t expect a person so different from his son would win over his heart. -And I love Victoria, but she was straight up judgemental 😭

-She’s had a bad experience with girly girls, so she’s initially quite defensive. Thankfully, once you’re gone, the kids confront her about it.

“Ma, what is your problem with (f/n)?”

“Yeah! You keep giving her the stink-eye! She’s nice!”

-She gets super nervous and over sensitive. Glam knows about her past problems with girly girls and talks her through it. She’s on much better terms the next time you meet :)

-It gets awkward with the parents, but once you’ve proven to them you won’t hurt their son and that you’re very sweet, they treat you as a child of their own.

-Ches just full-on didn’t believe you were dating. You passed by his shop with Dee and Heavy and he cackled when Heavy told him you were dating. Once things got cleared up, he was very supportive although surprised.”

“Wow, you actually got a girlfriend. And here I thought you were going to be one of those guys who stays a virgin until 40…”

“UNCLE CHES-”

-Lif through your dynamic was super cute and she drew you two together! (Also she’s very glad Dee likes you because she was scared of rejecting the guy)

[threadsoflacee]

Hi, I'm new to the fandom and unsure who to ask my questions. I recently joined Tumblr and came across your posts while browsing the Hannibal meta tag. I have a few questions: What are Hannibal's feelings towards Bedelia and Alana? I remember Mads once said that Hannibal is in love with everyone on the show to some extent, so what exactly does love mean to him? Also, I'm having trouble understanding the line by Will: "You will only do that if I rejected you" (sorry, I paraphrased). I apologize if these are too many questions. Thanks in advance!

Haiiii welcome to the fandom !!! This will be my own perception of things so if I’m wrong in any way it’s on me !!! Ok so. Hannibal has a very hierarchical scale on his friends and lovers. Don’t know if U finished the show but in s3, Hannibal sees Alana in his Memory Palace as having a deserved place in his psychiatric office in Baltimore, which shows that he has respect for her and she’s a big enough part of his life to occupy the more intelligent part of his attention. We can compare that to how he sees Will as having the first place in the chapel in Palermo, the Uffizi gallery, and the front door of his childhood home, that he described as "it’s the door at the center of my mind, and here you are feeling for the latch", and in a deleted dialogue in the script "you stumbled into the hall of my beginnings". Will is the one who has the most importance in his mind ! Alana is below that. So to Hannibal she’s only a past lover, past work colleague, and an asset to get closer to Will (like when he promised her he would save Will). In s2 he had sex with her ONLY for the alibi when he killed Abel Gideon. So he could tell Jack he was up all night sexing it up when he was actually cutting it up in Gideons guts. OK NOW BEDELIA !!!!! He doesn’t gaf abt her. They only got married under false pretenses so Hannibal wouldn’t get caught in Italy after the whole Mizumono thing. He cuts off her leg at the very end of the show (past the credits after the cliff fall). 1 scene that shows how annoyed he actually is with her is when he kills Anthony Dimmond in front of her, Bedelia is obviously in shock, and he raises her voice at her when she doesn’t answer his questions in time. She couldn’t even be a proper asset because of how sensitive she was to murder (as she should !!!!!). So to Hannibal she was only a piece in the puzzle in his grand scheme of Need To Kiss Will.

Ok now for the second question ! Will saying "you turned yourself in so I would always know where you were. you’d only do that if i rejected you" could mean two things. 1. Will knows that Hannibal is in love with him, or at least desperately devoted, and him saying this is like poking at where it hurts saying "you’re so in love with me you’d ruin your entire life if i rejected you" Which in this case ruining his life is Hannibal turning himself in to the police. 2. Will WANTED Hannibal to be put in jail so it could be done once and for all. He told him "I don’t want to know where you are or what you do" which is clearly saying Get the fuck out of my life we are Done breakup style not entirely out of hatred, but also because he KNEW Hannibal would manipulate his words. And since Will knows Hannibal’s mind so well, he knew Hannibal would find a way to turn this sudden dynamic / domination dynamic around and find a way to put Will in the lesser spot ; which is what he accomplished by turning himself in. He even told him "I want you to know exactly where I am and where you can always find me". In this way Will would always think about him and know against his will where he is and what he’s doing since Hannibal is in prison.

To Hannibal Love is violence. Maybe u read my post abt Will’s question "is Hannibal in love with me?" !!! Hannibal’s love is violence in the way that love and ache gets mixed together. It’s distance and intimacy. It’s sharing meals and music together and isolating Will from all of his friends so they can only be together (Hannibal referenced their relationship to Achilles and Patroclus with the phrase "Achilles wished all Greeks would die so he and Patroclus could conquer Troy alone"). It’s the stabbing wound that Will sees in his nightmare bleeding out his stomach into a bite then a kiss !!! The bite shape is symbolism of possessiveness and the kiss is love. He never fell in love with Alana or Bedelia. He appreciated them as friends, people to fill his days with, and assets to manipulate and eventually guide himself into Will’s way by scaring and erasing everyone that would try to stop him. Will is the only one who Hannibal truly loves on all aspects of the spectrum. Emotionally, physically, psychologically, and selflessly.

Ok now im done lol. I hope this helped !!!

[idontlikeem]

What made Geno your fave?

Oh boy!

For background, I started watching hockey in fall of 2009. I was bored over the summer and decided to get into a new sport. I’d never cared about hockey because my family didn’t follow it (we are football and basketball people), so I had no particular team I had allegiance to, so I did what any reasonable prospective fan would do: I looked up the most recent championship team and scanned their roster for hot guys.

There was Sid, of course. About my age, captain, and oh he’s cute, ok I can work with that. I did some research on his story and found it fascinating, because who doesn’t love a good golden boy narrative? A promising start.

Jordy Staal was also really cute to me, and Flower was pretty. And then we got to Geno, who the first picture I really remember seeing of him is one where he was smiling big, and as we all know he has the BEST smile.

After that, his backstory was just as interesting to me as Sid’s, in a totally different way. I mean, it sounds like a spy thriller, right? It’s crazy. And then he won the MVP that playoffs, and the highlights were up on YouTube, and wow, look at him skate. Look at him and Sid skate together, wow they’re so good. Look how Geno spins and cuts through guys out there, look how quick he is, how fast his hands are moving the puck.

I knew fuck-all about what I was watching but his skating style is so distinctive that I was able to pick him out on grainy 2009 and earlier footage with ease; let me tell you, focusing on ONE player for a full game or even period is such an underrated way to learn the sport. You see what they do when they don’t have the puck and it helps you figure out strategy, how plays develop, what defense is. Highly recommend.

He was still pretty quiet with the media then and I don’t think he was on Twitter yet, but he seemed funny and cute and I really liked his accent! And all the guys seemed to be friends, and I love that in a sports team.

It was summer so I watched a lot of the Pens’ old YouTube features. I learned about Mario and Jagr and the first set of back to back cups, and Sid’s draft, and how the team almost left the city. I learned about the rivalries with other teams, and the way the league worked, and what a salary cap is, and all the different penalties. And as it got closer to the start of the 09-10 season, I watched the road to the cup video for the run I’d just missed (it’s on YouTube now!) and there was that shot of Geno looking up, you know the one, with his scar, and that was my tipping point. The coverage of him in the Carolina series just sealed it.

He fascinates me. He’s shy but loud, funny but so publicly emotional. He’s flawed as hell but he tries so hard. He’s arrogant but he deserves to be, and he’ll never ever allow anyone to give him credit for when he’s playing well, he deflects. He’s accurately predicted the future twice. He’s so loyal it’s to the point of folly, almost. He has an unbelievable smile and rescues alley cats and is scared of big dogs. He’s a bully who’s never met a charity he didn’t contribute to.

And holy shit can he skate. Holy shit does he play beautiful, brutal hockey. He’s vicious with his stick and graceful with his hands.

And, yeah, he’s hot. That’s important to me too and I’m not sorry about that!

Anyway, I like him a lot. Thanks for sending me this ask and letting me talk about why :)

[sophietv]

Kaylor : The Eras Tour

First thread I'll import here is this one: Every Kaylor references on The Eras Tour

On Twitter I update this thread from time to time when I find new things, not too sure how it works on Tumblr 😅 But I'll figure it out!

So here's all the Kaylor references I could find while watching the concert, TikTok and by my beautiful moots on Twitter.

Let's start with a Kaylor classic! Daisies:

There is daisies on the necklace she wears during Lover Era.

Daisies on the ceiling during Love Story (Karlie's favourite song)

Daisies on the piano during the surprise songs.

My personal favourite: Karlie's birthday:

During Bad Blood - wich is Track 8 of 1989, there's a 3 light up on the ceiling.

8/3 = Karlie's birthday

The letter K now:

During Invisible String, you can see the letters KK light up in the audience.

This person found out that if you mirror two Ks, it gives a diamond. Just like the stage.

Sadly I screenrecorded it when I saw it and forgot to take note of who did this, so I can't credit...

Now the 2014 VSFS :

In Bad Blood Taylor on the screen wears something odly similar to what Karlie wore during the 2014 VSFS

Notice the floor that look like a chess game? Taylor recreated it during the Mastermind set.

And during the 2014 VSFS Taylor sang style and walked hand in hand with Karlie, well she does the same with one dancer.

More than that, with Karlie she walked exactly 16 steps.

With the dancer, she walks exactly 16 steps.

But she also points at the dance in the exact same way that she pointed at Karie.

The Eye Theory :

There's also A LOT of eye theory references during the show.

During Delicate

During My Tears Ricochet (PS I don't remembre where I took this picture, so if it's one of you, tell me and i'll credit you)

Also some pointed that the dilated pupils made them think of the Best Best Friends staring contest and Karlie's eyes.

During Illicit Affairs

During Fearless

During Mastermind. At some point the diamond look like an eye.

Other Kaylor Flagging:

During the reputation intro, the hands are not Taylor's, but looks a lot like Karlie's.

At the end of Delicate, the stage looks like a giraffe neck as pointed out by Gaylolore on Tiktok.

In Style when she sings "take me home" New York city appears on the screen with the sun moving toward something.

And there's a golden path illuminated in the streets.

The sun also appears on the screen during surprise songs.

The new Lover necklace has butterflies on it. (In the Best Best Friends video, Taylor described Karlie as a Fairy Butterfly, and there's also the ME! mural...)

The Folklore cabin is a replica of the Castro cabin where both Taylor and Karlie stayed at Big Sur.

Source: Kaylortruther on Twitter

The Delicate performance has a lot or ressemblance to this Caroline Herrera commercial Karlie did.

The entirerity of The Last Great American Dinasty with the Karlie look alike and their interactions.

Ok that's about it for the Kaylor references I could find in the tour visual.

I'll probably do a part two for all the Kaylor Koicidences that happened during the tour too. because there's A LOT.

[that-seems-stupid-lets-do-it]

an !!! i haven't drawn her in a while. don't mind the pose because i didn't use a reference and also. where she is it's very cold and so she must wear both pants and then shorts to be stylish (I COMPLETELY FORGOT SHE ALREADY HAD SHORTS ON BUT I DID THE LINEART. SCREW IT ANYWAYS) extra versions + maaaaybe headcanons (?) under the cut :]

you can use my art for stuff like profile pictures also !! just credit me ok slight rambling time - I think an is way too good at window washing and cleaning (mainly from helping her dad out at weekend garage). she can get it done in like 5 seconds and it'll be the cleanest thing you've ever seen in your life - her headphones are just. fully broken. they're only there for style. they weren't even wireless at first. the wires just kind of detached and she keeps saying, "okay, i'm going to get a new pair of headphones. i'll do it tomorrow i swear" and it never happens ever because it isn't at the top of her priorities - still has the recorder from elementary school, brings it out occasionally uses it solely to annoy akito. the only songs she can play are hot cross buns, mary had a little lamb, and if we're stretching it maybe a twinkle twinkle little star

[zelda-cooper]

My version of Loonatics Unleashed (Part 3)

This is just my interpretation of this universe of "Loonatics Unleashed", don't take it as a summary of the series or as absolute truth to interpret your version. NO! It's just MY view and you have every right to disagree. Furthermore, there will be low-level words (even though I censor some) and there may be sensitive topics for certain people. Besides, this refers to the universe of Loonatics Unleashed, so for those who don't care, you can skip this blog, but for those who are a fan or if this interests you, you can continue reading. Part one of this blog is at the link below if you want to see it.

Part 1

Part 2

Hi I came back! And this time with bombastic news (And I hope no one has forgotten me at this point-). This time it's going to be a simpler blog because today, I'm finally going to show the Redesigns of the protagonists of my version of Loonatics Unleashed! For those who want, the links to see my journey through this madness are there at the beginning, I don't want to go into detail here because I'm really, like... VERY excited to show them soon! So, let's go!

Credits again to @drakepad-luv-200, who was the person who inspired me to make this crazy saga!

Protagonists' Visuals (Reinvented/Redesigned)

Let's go, I wanted to start by saying that this was one of the parts where procrastination came STRONG... Because, first... I had to consider their new personality, think about the pose that would represent this, the clothes that would have a heroic look and, at the same time, is minimally simple to draw... And that's not easy...TuT

So I had to get a lot... But A LOT OF REFERENCES!!! And in this I have to talk about two artists who inspired me and who I NEED to give credit to thank them for how incredible they are! The first is @onyxonline, who is currently making a Smilling Crittens AU called Space Riders AU (I highly recommend reading it). She also has her Loonatics AU and her visuals are AMAZING! I really like her style, something very Anime and such. She helped me a lot with some clothes.

The second is @theangrycomet-art, he, in this case, helped me a lot with the proportions and also with the bodies of some characters. His art is very clean and he made sketches of how they would look. I also highly recommend checking out his blogs!

But now... Time to talk about MY Redesigns! Let's start with the Bunny brothers: Ace and Lexi!

For Ace's design, I wanted to give him a pose of a somewhat inexperienced leader, "mainly protagonist" and who is good at fighting (even on the street), I put looser clothes and bands on his arms to symbolize him as a fighter.

As for Lexi, I gave her a cuter look that could show a heroine power. I gave them very long clothes and some extra accessories. This was one of the easiest.

Danger Duck

Danger Duck was also reasonably easy (the pose was difficult, but ok-), I took a lot of inspiration from Darkwing Duck (because the personalities even match and are really similar), a very arrogant pose, a calm one to symbolize that he is the "most incredible hero of all time". The beak wasn't difficult, because... I draw a lot of ducks...-3-)

Tech E. Coyote and Rev Runner

MY GOD!!! TECH'S MUZZLE AND REV'S HAIR WAS HARD!!!! But it was worth it, I think... The Rev wasn't too difficult, I picked up some references from marathon runners and a scarf and glasses to add some charm. Tech I mixed a bit of scientists, but also a more "Mad Max" look with the torn shorts and scarf around his neck, I also took the opportunity to show him wearing the glove and projecting a holographic screen.

And finally, Slam Tasmanian.

This one was difficult, but it was one of the most fun. I got the fighter vibe and also made sure he had a muscular physique, I made his fur simulate a beard to make him look older and I gave him some stylized gloves to give him something similar to boxing gloves.

Final Considerations

Well... That's it, folks! It was actually shorter because I wanted to talk about the redesigns (and because my life is pretty busy these days-). I'll still work on Zadavia and us villains, I'll also show two of my OCs that will be relevant to the plot, but that's for another day. I hope you enjoyed it and I’ll see you in the next blog! BYE!!!!

[captainimfangirling]

I am surprised how much I loved it. I was gonna watch one episode per day but I failed and watched all 3 in one day.

Warning: Spoilers

I'm disappointed Clancy Brown and Patrick Schwarzenegger's character died in the first freaking episode but it wouldn't be The Boys without someone getting killed. Hopefully we'll see them in the flashback or something.

Honestly Emma is giving me Enid Sinclair (Wednesday Addams' roommate) vibe except more adult. I was expecting her to do some sort of sexual act while small but didn't expect it to be hanging off a dick. That shit was funny as hell.

I really like Marie's character but I really hope they don't do a plot twist that she was born with the powers because it was already confirmed that Ryan from The Boys was the first. I hate it when spinoffs contradict the originals. I know they're in the same universe but not every fan of The Boys are going to watch Gen V. I think Marie's parents giving her Compound V would be more interesting because that might mean her sister got powers too. Maybe she's in the woods. I had no idea the actress played Rosalind on Chilling Adventure of Sabrina. She looks so different with the new hair style and glasses (less nerdy looking).

I thought Jordan Li was going to be my fav because their super power seem really cool but I honestly don't like them. Their personal story is interesting but I don't like them as a person. Maybe that'll change later on. Actually someone said they shipped them with Marie and I'm actually interested. I love enemies to lovers trope.

I honestly thought Cate was gonna be the typical popular girl but she's a good person. Well her sexual assaulting people isn't cool but hey it's The Boys.

Andre as a character is ok but his story line is very predicable. There had to be at least one parent on the show who knows whats going on. I have to give credit to the actor who plays the dad. I loved the way he was able to express himself with his eyes.

I feel like Sam is gonna be my new favorite adorkable character.

I'm sure everyone noticed how God U is short for Godolkin University but do you see how it plays into the supes god complex? I mentioned this before a long time ago how Vought must've taught Homelander that he's basically a god and superior to humans. This proves that all these supes are being brainwashed to believe this.