#this is the best des I’ve drawn

[crazymecjc]

tristamp character refs oughghghgh (got possessed by the need to draw the blorbos)

#trigun #trigun stampede #oof my art i guess #roberto de niro #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #this is the best vash I’ve ever drawn I am giving him a lil kiss #just very happy with these all around #gonna probably do a part 2 with knives and legato and such bc I am Also insane abt them #I just think they’re Neat!! #also the lil notes in here are so silly goofy agdhagdhabdhsbd truly just wrote down the first thoughts that came to mind #I am having so so much fun with this show she’s so good

[haoboutyou]

starlight | choi seungcheol

528 words | fluff

an: it was rare, i was there… mine x starlight? i don’t wanna live forever x dress???? we won the best eras tour surprise songs lineup i believe

“Woah, who is this pretty thing walking in?!”

Seungcheol walked over to you as you shut the front door of your apartment, hair still damp from the shower he had just stepped out of. He watched you removed your boots, the skirt of your glittery dress peeking out of an oversized hoodie he knew you hadn’t left the house with earlier that day.

“Hey!” He almost burst out laughing at the way your usually clear voice came out so deep and husky. You were tired and sweaty, but you had the largest smile on your face as you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Did you just get home too?”

As you shimmied out of the hoodie, Seungcheol took the opportunity to take in your look of the night: a black glittery dress, stars carefully drawn around your eyes, gems in your hair, and glitter all over your body.

Honestly, you looked like you were wearing a star-studded night sky. You looked like a goddess.

He hummed in affirmation. “I haven’t been home long. The guys begged me to stay longer, but I would’ve missed you too much” he grinned, gathering you in his arms. He pressed a kiss into your hair, not caring that glitter was getting on everywhere he touched. “How was the concert? You sound like you had a lot of fun,” he laughed, eyebrows wiggling.

You scoffed, slapping him lightly. Leaning in, you took comfort in his scent: clean laundry and familiar soap; home.

“I did! We had so much fun screaming and dancing about!” Just like that, your eyes sparkled as you recounted the night to your boyfriend. Lifting up the hoodie, you presented it like a cat showing off her prey. “Isn’t the merch pretty?”

“... Does that mean you’ll stop stealing my hoodies?”

“I’ll never stop doing that and you know it, Cheollie.”

As he guided you into the house, he let you animatedly recall the concert, describing every set in as much detail as possible as you began to remove your makeup. Ever the perfect partner, he wordlessly started taking down and brushing out your hair as he listened to you ramble on.

“...and her dress! Oh my god, her dress! Cheol, it was the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen! Did you see the video I sent you?” You leaned back into his chest, looking up from your vanity chair. You were staring at him like he had just hung all the stars for you instead of carefully de-geming your hair.

He did see the video selfie you had sent. However, rather than focusing on the singer on stage behind you, all he saw was how you were passionately singing along, glowing along under the strobing stage lights.

“Hmm? Of course, love. You’re always pretty.”

“Not me, Cheol,” you chuckled, melting into the way his arm wrapped around you. “How was your night? You did indoor soccer with the guys again?”

“It was fine, but its better now with you.”

“You’re always so cheesy, Cheollie.”

“Its true!” Seungcheol whined, another kiss on the crown of your head.

“Okay, okay…tell me all about it after I wash up?”

“Sounds good to me.”

#seventeen #scoups #svt #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #scoups fluff #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚ #smth a lil simple this time!

[son-of-a-top-gun]

Sky's The Limit Part 3

we're back baby and things are getting spicy (ish)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of strippers/lapdancing, two horny people who desperately need to get off, shameless flirting, Bradley being a babe as usual, continuation of the bob fucks agenda

Sky's The Limit Part 3

Bradley could tell you were starting to get a little down. As one of the only people who actually knew about the book, he was also one of the only people you can tell about how it was really going. You had been giving hints that it was not going well, but after he catches you lying face down in one of the Hard Deck boothes, he decides that’s enough. It was time for you to have a bit of fun, even just for one night.

“Bradley, it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“I know.” He keeps staring ahead, hands still on the wheel. He had offered to give you a lift to his house, where you were supposed to be having a few ‘casual drinks’. You took one look of the bag of balloons and had known exactly what that meant.

“You don’t have to throw me a stupid party.”

“But this isn’t just any party, baby girl. This is a Bradshaw party, which only get offered to the creme de la creme. Besides, you haven’t even been given a proper welcome to San Diego. There’s no way you can stay here one more day without an official welcome.”

You smile at him. Bradley truly was one of the best friends a girl could wish for. Losing his parents only meant he loved people harder and you loved that about him. You couldn’t have imagined anyone more perfect for your sister, you just wanted them to hurry up and realise they were in love with each other so he could legally become part of the family.

“Ugh fine, But you best make -

“Those biscuits you like. Honestly what do you take me for Ladybug? I’ve already got the ingredients in the back.”

You turn around. Of course he did.

******

Of course the party is perfect. Bradley had cued all your favourite songs, supplied all your favourite snacks (as well as some supposed San Diego delicacies) and invited all your new pilot friends, who you had really become quite fond of. They’d all been extra nice to you lately, which made you wonder what sort of desperate vibes you were giving off. Even Jake had been less annoying the last week, perhaps sensing your stress, making less sassy comments, leaving you well alone when you were trying to write and even occasionally letting you rant about the inaccessibility of online archives. The most surprising thing was that your favourite coffee had been turning up at the Hard Deck every morning before you arrived with a little ladybug drawn on it, along with anonymous notes that had literary motivational quotes on it. You had initially attributed it to Bradley, but he denied it and no one else at the party would fess up either.

The party is in full swing, and you are a couple of drinks in, starting to feel relaxed for the first time in weeks.  You were listening to Phoenix tell everyone about her new girlfriend, which was nauseatingly adorable. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt like that about someone. The last guy you went on a date with tried to give you his manuscript to read over the minute you said you were a writer, and after that you swore off casual dating. Which was lucky, because it seemed all the men here were Navy men, which you had sworn off a long time ago.

Without thinking, you find yourself scanning the room. 

Everyone is here, except one particular blonde pilot. You don’t know why you are looking for him. It was just wherever the pilots were, so was he. You had to admit, It was sort of odd for him not to be there. You find yourself wondering if he finally got that hot date he seemed to be begging for. From what the other pilots told you, Jake had always been a massive flirt and had been known to get around most of the women of San Diego. You hated that you were thinking about this so much and took another hefty swig of your drink.

“Hope you didn’t miss me, darlin’.” A familiar voice leans into your ear.

You almost leap out of your skin. “Jesus Christ, Bagman you can’t sneak up on people like that! You nearly scared the pants off me.” He looks down on you with that annoying smile of his and you suddenly feel very cold in your little strappy vest top.

He leans down. “Trust me,  don’t need to scare you to get you out of your pants sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at him and are about to come back with a witty retort when you see out of the corner of your eye Bradley brandishing an empty bottle. He claps his hands and everyone turns around.

“I think it’s time for a game guys.”

“Really Bradley?” You raise an eyebrow. “Spin the bottle?”

“What, are you scared?” Jake immediately chimes in. You shoot him daggers.

“Only of having to touch you.” You smile sweetly at him as he mimes an arrow going through his chest.

“Can it lovebirds!” Bradley announces, rubbing his hands with glee, “We’re not so basic to play Spin the bottle.” Bradley looks at you and grins. You know this means trouble. “It’s time to play Truth or Dare!”

There is a chorus of cheers across the room.

“Bradley, you are in your thirties.” You tut under your breath, but he ignores it.

He spins the bottle first. It lands on Fanboy first, who chooses truth. 

“Which superhero would you bang?” Bradley asks

“It’s got to be Catwoman right?” Jake is indignant.

Fanboy takes a moment to really think it through, “I dunno, I like to think about what Wonder Woman could do. The lasso could come in handy. What about you guys?”

“I like Batgirl.” Bob offers.

Coyote suggests “Mystique, you know, for roleplaying. It’s basically like having infinite wishes. Also love me a bad girl.” Payback sagely nods.

“How much have you guys all been thinking about this?” You turn to Natasha, who shrugs.

“Jean Grey does it for me.” This made sense, having seen the pictures of her new ginger girlfriend.

They spin the bottle again, this time landing on Bob. He says Truth and you can see Jake already brewing the question, so you jump in.

“How many hookups have you had in the last year?”

“That’s not fair, I was going to ask!”

“Quit your whining.” You turn to Bob, whose cheeks have tinged pink. “Go on.”

“Oh, er, I don’t know, maybe” He starts counting in his head. “Twenty, twenty-five” He looks up. “Are we counting repeat incidents?”

“As in you had sex with them more than once?”

“Uh, yes, I guess.”

“Sure.”

“Because that would bring it up to sixty, seventy- “ You watch as everyone’s jaws go slack. 

“Are you joking?” Jake is stunned. Bradley turns his head. “How?”

“I don’t know, I just like helping people, and I tend to run into women who need help with their coffee, or taking things to their car, or need something tall fixing around the house…” As Bob rambles, it’s cute to see how unaware he is. You lock eyes with Jake, raising your eyebrows to say I told you. Bob fucks.

Third time around, the bottle lands on you. 

“Truth.”

“Oh come on, not everyone can say truth or we are all going to die of boredom.” Jake folds his arms.

“Firstly, I don’t think Bob’s truth was boring at all. In fact I found it very interesting.” You say, throwing a wink to Bob. “But fine, have it your way. Dare.”

This time, Reuben, who has been very quiet, pops up. 

“You have to give Jake a lapdance.”

“What the hell Javy? I thought we were friends.” He shrugs. 

“Just for one minute.

“No way.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Jake sits back.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean Bagman?” There is a chorus of oos from around the room.

“Nothing, it means nothing!” 

“I get it that I’m not your usual type Seresin, but you think you wouldn’t enjoy it?”

“No, just… I mean you seem like the sort who would hate strip clubs.”

You go to speak but bite your tongue.

What Jake didn’t know was that for your last book you had a whole plot involving strippers which meant you spent several days with dancers researching their life. One of them, Brandy, became one of your best friends in New York and had given you many a lesson in lapdancing (to make your writing accurate, of course). But you figured this was a fact best left unsaid. Besides, this was a rare chance to get Jake to eat some humble pie.

“Yeah…But a dare is a dare. Javy…put on Pony.”

You were grateful that the hot weather had meant you had put on a vest and a fairly cute pair of daisy dukes. If you had been wearing a dress there was no way this would be happening. You make a show of stretching while they set the room up, Jake sat on a chair on the middle. You wink at him as you bend over and you see him flush just a little. 

Javy gives the signal for the music. You are kneeling on the floor in front of Jake,.

“Hope you’re ready to have your world rocked Bagman. Bradley, look away.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bradley, seeing you as his honorary younger sister, did what he was told. “You took a deep breath and then a large swig of whisky.

You sat on your knees and let your hair down, slowing rolling your neck as the music starts to play. You try to ignore the hand shaking and slowly look up towards Jake. You expected him to be smug but he’s looking at you with such a look of confusion and pity that you suddenly realise. He genuinely doesn’t think you can do it.  You are suddenly filled with a devilish combination of spite and rage and power. You close your eyes, slowly rolling your body and feeling all the way up yourself, grinding up on some imaginary guy until you flash your eyes open and send him one cautionary wink before slowly licking your fingers. 

You crawl towards Jake and push his knees apart, slowly rising up between them. It’s a good thing he’s wearing shorts right now, his thighs exposed, so you can feel how his skin burns under yours. The look of pity has turned into something else, both fear and astonishment and something darker, but you have no time for this. Your nails dig slightly into his flesh as you rise up slowly between his legs until you are eye to eye. You slowly wrap your legs to the outside of his thighs and slowly start grinding down on his crotch until. 

Oh. 

At least Jake’s arrogance was starting to make sense if all of what you were feeling was true. With this realisation you look up and lock eyes. Jake’s look burns through you like he could devour you whole and you feel him grip onto your thigh, just a little squeeze, and then you suddenly have a terrible physical urge between your legs, when the music suddenly stops.

“That’s one minute!” Reuben calls out. For a moment, neither of the two of you move.

“Guys? You can get off each other you know?” Phoenix interjects. You both leap away from each other. “Although I should say that was phenomenal.” You croak out a thanks before heading to the kitchen.

What the hell was that? You wonder as you pour yourself a glass of water. I guess it really had been a while. Your heart is racing and you steady yourself against the counter, closing your eyes.

“What the hell are they teaching you on that pHD of yours?” Your eyes open to see Jake standing in the door with his arm leaning against the frame. He must know how his arm looks when he does that. You hate how much you like it.

You take a moment and reassume your confidence, laughing a little. “Oh that? Just a little something I picked up back in New York.”

He walks towards you until he’s right next to you on the counter before leaning in. You can feel his hot breath in your ear. “I knew there was something fishy about this pHD stuff. And now I know.” Your breath hitches. Surely there was no way he could have figured it out, could he? Your lapdance scene wasn’t that similar in the book. He looks away from you. “I thought you reminded me of someone and now I know it’s JLo in Hustlers.” He looks over you with a slightly more sincere look. “So are you..you know?” He waves his hand. You can’t believe that out of all the things, the subject of strippers would make Jake Seresin awkward.

“And what if I was?”

But much to your surprise, Jake shrugs. “Everyone has to pay their bills somehow.” He turns back towards you.  “It’s just if you’re not, I think you should seriously consider it. I think you would earn a lot of money.”

“Would you come to my club then?” The alcohol is making you overconfident, so you gently stroke your index finger down his chest.

“Baby.” He now leans his arm on the kitchen cabinet behind you. His face is so close, just above you. You could smell his cologne again and you find yourself wishing you could lick it off his neck.  “I would be there every damn day.” You felt a flutter in your stomach. This was dangerous territory, but it was too late. What would it be like to kiss Jake Seresin, you wondered, leaning forward just a little -

“There you are Ladybug!” Bradley’s voice booms and the two of you pull apart once again. “Hangman, I hope you’re not trying to get seconds.”

The two of you return to the party. You don’t see Hangman for the rest of the party except once where you catch eyes across you the room. You smile at him and he smiles back, before you are pulled back into conversation. When you go to find him again, he is gone.  Weird that he left without saying goodbye. 

When you finally get home and get to bed, you find yourself instinctively reaching your hand between your legs when it happens. Who flashes into your head but a certain blond, handsome and potentially well-hung pilot.

You were fucked.

---

hope you all enjoyed! Let me know if you want to be tagged in part four!

Tagged:

@dizzybee03 @mrsroosterbradshaw @tgmreader @dgs8891 @alldaysdreamer @eloquentdreamer @ravenwtfbro @dempy @milkbummm @memoriesat30 @yourfavouritecitizen @burningwitchprincess @il0vebeingdelulu

#jake seresin x y/n #romance #fanfic #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun maverick #bob fucks #bradley bradshaw #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd

[moonshineplaydate]

Well, as (sorta promised), here are some of my other Hazbin Hotel Age Regression headcanons! I say sort of as I most likely won’t include Sir Pentious, and I’ll just bunch him in with the other miscellaneous characters that I like! Sorry about that but regardless, let’s go on with the show!

Hazbin Hotel Age Regression Headcanons, Part 2.

Alastor, The Radio Demon

•No one really knows what his deal is, I mean, the dude’s from the 30’s, he’s like prehistoric. No one expected him to know what age regression was, let alone indulge it.

•That was until he was seen casually taking care of a regressed Niffty, playing with her in the living room of the hotel.

‘Why, of course I know what regression, how else would I be taking care of this little darling Niffty here?’

•He just left at that, he didn’t explain much, people just accepted it as a fact of life.

•From what people have seen, he’s entirely a caregiver, mostly for Niffty but sometimes watches over Charlie if he’s feeling up for it.

•He likes talking to littles, but not in the same way Charlie does, he mainly acts like he’s gossiping with her.

‘Abababababa!’

‘(Gasp), I cannot believe she said that, she really shouldn’t be talking, I wish I had her confidence.’

•Alastor doesn’t like being touched, and that stays true with littles. He has no problem grabbing them or holding them, but touching him is where the line is drawn.

•The most he’ll do is let them hold his hand if they’re scared.

•Has to be reminded not to accidentally spook the little with any of his…everything.

•Has no idea what to do if a little starts crying and just dumps them onto Husk. Or, he’ll use his microphone to play some soothing music for them, which sometimes works.

•Also, he makes the best food for his littles, I’ve always believed Alastor is an amazing cook and he can make practically anything a little wants!

•He calls littles, ���Tiny Demons, Deerlings, Little Shadow, Princess (Charlie specific).

•Won’t really admit it but he likes taking care of littles. Even if it’s his ‘duty’ as manager of the hotel, he has a genuine liking to them.

•He’s not the safest with littles, he keeps them sheltered from most of Hell, because it’s Hell and that place sucks, but would honestly just watch if they climbed up some place high or played with a knife.

•Alastor keeps makes his shadows watch them at all times though, in case they seem like they’ll really hurt themself.

•He’ll also kill and or eat anyone who so much as makes one of his littles cry, not in front of them of course.

•No one knows if Alastor regresses or not, people are too scared to ask him, so they go to Husker but even he doesn’t know. Alastor is an enigma, after all.

Husker

•Husker is a caregiver! He never felt a need to be little, and really really took a long time to understand it.

•It took a while to wrap his head around the fact that people actually felt like a child when they were little, and weren’t just acting.

•He sort of understood it with Niffty, but really understood it with Angel. He always thought Angel was fake but could recognise that the way he acted when he was small but anything but.

•It was kinda like a moment where everything clicked for him.

•He wasn’t really interested in being a caregiver or looking after kids, by all accounts, he hates them.

•Still, Husk acts as a de facto babysitter of the hotel, especially if the littles just need some time to chill. Other people can be a liiittle hyper.

•So, Husker was stuck with a bunch of kids a lot of the time, he wasn’t exactly a fan but he didn’t hate it either.

•Once he learned how to take care of them mostly, keeping their little gear on hand (he has a bunch of bottles, juice and milk in the bar for them), giving them attention, he got the hang of it.

•He really cannot deal with tantrums though, and has to find someone else to before he ends up snapping at them which he wouldn’t want.

•He has the kind of vibe of a babysitter that’s just honest with the kids he babysits, and finds it amusing to lie to them about little things.

‘Hu-Husk, why are you a c-cat?’

‘It’s cause I ate a bunch of fur when I was alive.’

•It’s comedy gold to him.

•He never acts mean to littles, just a little blunt at times.

•Isn’t the best at handling crying but still tries, he doesn’t really do bottle feeding but he’ll do his best to calm a little down!

Niffty

•I imagine Niffty as a total regressor, I don’t think she’d be one for taking care of others!

•Her age range can be anywhere from 2-5!

•Her regression is mostly voluntary though sometimes she slips without even realising.

•She’s very hyper when she’s little, usually talking very fast and bouncing around the place!

•She loves piggy back rides, it makes her feel tall! Her favourite thing to do is get a piggy back ride off Husk and have him fly her around!

•She calls Husker ‘kitty’ when he’s regressed; Alastor’s her dada and Charlie’s her mama!

•Niffty finds Alastor more fun and prefers hanging out with him, but Charlie can be more comforting at times!

•Being taken care of by the two of them is like a dream for her, or when she gets to have play dates with a little Charlie.

•With Husker though, she finds him a bit boring but loves being able to blabber at him for hours and hours.

•She can talk fairly well when she’s a slightly bigger age but when she’s really tiny, it’s mostly babbles.

•Niffty doesn’t have that much little gear, she has this horrifying stitched together plushie that no one can really tell what it’s supposed to be, along with a red and black paci that Alastor got for her! She also has a pair of white PJ’s with light purple tints to them!

•She doesn’t really care for touch when she’s little, but she loves receiving gifts, usually sweets though; she goes absolutely insane for anything with sugar!

•Husker had to put a lock on one of cabinets as Niffty got in one time and ate half a bag of sugar.

•The one thing she hates about and gets fussy over is nap time, she always tries to weasel her way out of it and claim she’s not tired even if she’s actively fighting to stay awake.

•This usually goes on until Charlie says she’ll read her a story, or Alastor plays her some music that helps her fall asleep. After just a couple seconds of her head being on the pillow, she’ll be out like a light!

•Niffty does like nick names when regressed but she honestly couldn’t care what she’s called, even if it’s insulting she’ll think it’s a compliment!

•Still though, her caregivers stick to a couple! Alastor calls her ‘Little Darling’, Charlie calls her, ‘Sweetie’, and Husk calls her ‘Brat’.

————-

Whew, and that’s the main six done! It took a bit out of me, but I’m glad I got all this out of my system, it was fun to write! This doesn’t mean I’m done with Hazbin though, I still have other characters and I obviously want to write a fic at some point! Also I’m fine if you want to send in character requests for any headcanons, just keep in mind I may be busy! Thanks for reading starlights, I’ll hopefully be back soon with more cool stuff!

#age regression #sfw agere #agere #sfw age regression #hazbin hotel age regression #hazbin hotel agere #caregiver alastor #alastor agere #caregiver husker #little niffty

[miralyk]

man this is killing me, i didn’t intend to put any effort in doodling today but this ended up being the best des i’ve ever drawn 😭

#desmond miles #assassin's creed #protocreed #doodles

[citrusses]

AO3 Wrapped 🎁: Drarry Favorites Published in 2022

Featuring eighth year and fuck-or-die fics that were instant classics among classic tropes, steam and suds, mind-bending non-linear narratives, and character studies that made me consider anew the protagonists with whom I’ve spent so many years. 

January

Finely Drawn Lines by @the-sinking-ship (E, 61k) 

Draco doesn’t consider himself an artist (though the dozens of sketchbooks lining his shelves might suggest differently). Yet ever since Potter returned to Hogwarts, accepting a teaching position alongside Draco, his drawings have taken on a rather singular focus.

February

The Things We Need by @kbrick (E, 25k)

Three hundred and fifty-three days out of the year, Harry is in a monogamous, fulfilling relationship with Draco Malfoy.

Then there are the other twelve days.

Lateralus by @shiftylinguini (T, 2k)

The world after the war was so big, and so untamed. Magic spilled out of every corner, creatures never seen before watching from nooks that never used to exist. There were colours in the air, in the morning dew drops on the leaves―indescribable, and new. Otherworldly, and pulled from a spectrum that shouldn't be visible in their world.

March

Heartlines by @sorrybutblog (T, 22k) 

Just as Draco Malfoy's life seems to be getting back on track, the magic at Malfoy Manor is spinning out of control. Auror partners Harry Potter and Angelina Johnson are assigned to the case and quickly find that nothing about the situation is obvious. The flare ups are unpredictable at best, downright dangerous at worst, and why has a Hogwarts first year gone missing at the same time?

April 

​​Heal Thyself by @astolat (T, 47k) "Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.”

“What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

“Oh, I thought you might,” she said. “Well, goodbye.” And off she wandered again in her addled way.

any day now by @oknowkiss (E, 17k)

The rehabilitation centres were the Minister’s idea, or that’s what the Prophet said anyway. Their stated objective is simple: to provide a safe space for low-tier Death Eaters and high-tier sympathisers to reconsider the entirety of their life choices. All guests–because no one is a prisoner here, the literature brags–are to be provided with shelter, food, clothing, and the guided support of a Mind Healer via a programme they call “ideological restructuring,” which is, of course, mandatory. 

Lovesick by @corvuscrowned (T, 8k)

People keep spiking Auror Harry Potter with love potions. Healer Draco Malfoy keeps having to pick up the pieces. But it's getting harder and harder for Draco to watch Harry fall in love with everyone except for him.

The Only Magic Left Between Us by @lqtraintracks (E, 24k)

Harry goes to the market and ends up having to save Draco Malfoy’s life with sex. He saves Draco’s life with sex and ends up with a husband. The last thing he expects in all of it is to fall in love.

Once More With Feeling by InnerLilith (E, 29k)

Draco is dosed with a consummation-compelling potion, with Harry Potter as his intended. It’s a cruel irony, because he’s wanted Potter for years. But not like this.

May 

Not Nineteen Forever by @sorrybutblog (E, 6k)

A rogue charm hits on a mission and suddenly, Draco is nineteen again. Harry is still thirty-five and doing his best to look after his de-aged Auror partner (and forget about his long unrequited crush) until St. Mungo’s can brew the antidote. Only, Draco insists on wandering around Harry’s flat wearing nothing but Harry’s pants, flirting like his life depends on it and in the end, Harry’s only human after all.

June 

An Emerald In The Sky by @corvuscrowned (M, 7k) 

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone.

July 

Two to Lie and One to Listen by @fluxweeed (E, 85k)

It’s weird when Hermione announces that she and Ron have broken up. It’s weirder when this is followed by the revelation that she’s already moved on—and the new object of her affections is Draco Malfoy.

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not by @sleepstxtic (T, 6k) Astoria watches her husband fall in love with Harry Potter.

August

The (Third) Worst Year by TheFrancakes (E, 20k) 

Draco Malfoy has one year to fall in True Love with Harry Potter or be turned into a Dragon. And he knows that is never gunna happen. This is going to be the worst year of his life.

Well, minus that whole having to kill Dumbledore or be killed by Voldemort thing.

Second worst year.

Oh, but there was his whole 7th year while Voldemort was using his house as a home base for Death Eaters and making him torture his fellow students. That one was pretty bad too.

Fine, this is the third worst year of his life. Hoppípolla by @moonflower-rose (E, 21k) Falling in love was as easy as jumping in puddles, and Draco Malfoy was completely drenched.

September

The July Tree by @oknowkiss (E, 52k) 

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love. OR: It’s Eighth Year, and Harry Potter has detention. What else is new? Well, since you asked: Greenhouse Four and the Tree of Life, for a start, and then there’s the new shared Eighth Year common room, and Harry’s sexuality, and these pesky dreams he keeps having about a blond man pushing him into things…

Pack by @rockingrobin69 (Not rated, 1.4k)

It was cute when they were in school, the whole rivalry thing. 

What Makes a House a Home by @writcraft (E, 27k)

Ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts Draco Malfoy wakes up in an unfamiliar house owned by none other than Harry Potter. Even stranger is the snow in September and a night sky without any stars. Naturally it’s a matter of life and death, because isn’t it always?

The Unspeakable by @the-sinking-ship (E, 24k)

Healer Draco Malfoy took the job at the International Department of Mysteries for the paycheck and the prestige.But what he got was Unspeakable Harry Potter and the most fascinating curse he’d ever seen.

October

The wrong sort by @vukovich (Not rated, 1.6k)

Draco half-rolled, half-fell onto his back, his skin sweaty against Harry’s sheets.  He licked his dry lips and exalted the plaster ceiling with, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Howl by @tackytigerfic (M, 9k)

After an encounter with a vicious werewolf, Draco Malfoy wakes in a field hospital with a mangled shoulder, a furry little problem, and an inconvenient crush on Harry Potter. Potter, meanwhile, is still trying to save the world, only this time he wants Draco right there with him while he does it. Taking part in a rebellion against a corrupt regime isn't always glamorous, but at least sometimes there are organic farmshop pastries and fancy hotel bedsheets. Just don't ask about that smell of burning.

November

Under Giant Mountains by @wolfpants (E, 34k) 

Harry doesn't know where he's going. Everyone else has their life paths figured out; he doesn't even know where his map is. Who'd have thought Draco Malfoy bathing in a Norwegian forest would be the guidepost Harry needed?

but first, we fight by @nv-md (E, 8k) 

Fighting with Draco Malfoy has never been quite this thrilling...or this frustrating. Harry's always horny, Draco's in denial, and there simply isn't enough time in the day to fight crime and watch your ex-archnemesis wash his arse.

December

Tapestry by @kbrick (E, 51k) WIP

In 2017, Harry is on his way to Pansy and Luna's beach house. He’s a bit terrified of seeing Draco, to be honest. It’s been a while, and then there’s the little matter of Draco having married someone else in the interim.

In 2001, Draco is drunk, wearing Pansy's mother's ermine coat, and afraid to walk into the Leaky because someone might throw a curse at him. So, of course, he runs into his ex-nemesis and hopeless crush, Harry Potter.

The Same Sweet Shock by @xiaq (E, 17k) WIP

One day, Draco Malfoy is going to get his life together.

One day, he will be a respectable citizen. He will have a respectable job and his last name will no longer be a scarlet letter and people will no longer try to hex him in the street. One day, he is going to live a good, honest, ordinary life.

Today, however, is not that day. Because today, he is driving a stolen police car and will likely be responsible for murdering Harry Potter.

Accidentally, of course; not that the papers will care.

#drarry fic recs #citrus recs #drarry 2022 #i played fast and loose with publish dates for some of these because i wanted the months to be kind of *balanced* #there are lots more 2022 fics on my TBR (hello Erised) #and I'm sure I forgot some great ones I did manage to read this year #so the list itself is a work in progress.

[schweizercomics]

THE GREATCOATS by Sebastien de Castell

I drew these up as one of the (mostly literary) paper figures I do each month for Patreon.

Despite always being drawn to the trappings of fantasy, there are precious few fantasy books (or movies, etc) that have resonated with me. One very notable exception is the Greatcoats series, four novels that follow a trio of comrades from an effectively-dissolved band of dueling magistrates, who, in their heyday, had been charged with enforcing unpopular verdicts against politically powerful folks who had, until that point, been untouchable by the rule of law.

It’s kind of a thrust-the-Musketeers-into-a-medieval-setting thing, and there are swordfights and sucked-into-political-intrigues-even-though-you’re-ill-suited-towards-them a’plenty, for folks who like that sort of thing, and I very much do.

From the first read (I’ve now read them all thrice, along with a collection of short stories), these have become some of my very favorite books, and I could not recommend them more highly. They can, at times, be a hard read; the world in which the Greatcoats live is an unjust one, and whatever terrible things you can imagine people doing (torture, sexual assault, murder, animal cruelty, etc) can and probably are enacted in it, but what has, to me, set this series apart from some other “grim” fantasies is the balance between the knowledge that the world is an unfair, cruel, and terrible place, with the wholehearted belief that it shouldn’t, and doesn’t have to be. Idealism colors every action of the leads, and there’s something incredibly moving and powerful about characters who persevere against impossible odds towards fairness and justice despite encountering the very worst examples of their absence, never in ignorance or denial but out of pure stubbornness.

De Castell crafts a narrative with masterful control over how it’ll affect the reader; it’s melodrama in the best way, with huge operatic emotional beats. They never feel calculated – they’re all earnest, and they’re all earned. There are sections that make you weep, that make you laugh, and (I suspect this is the rarest, and most difficult to achieve) that make you want to cheer, stomp, salute. Moving speeches, incredible narrative payoffs, characters for whom you desperately root. Plus, of course, the suspense of peril and the best action sequences I’ve ever encountered in prose. De Castell’s first-person narration of fight scenes from the point of view of a strategist follows a pretty wonderful pattern of beginning the fight, edging the audience, and then turning to an aside that informs the context of the fight - a lesson learned long ago, an observation about the human condition, a technique frequently incorporated by duelists, an anecdote – and then return to the fight, the new context both heightening the peril and also providing a means by which the reader can fully appreciate the very clever way that the hero(s) win despite being outmatched. It���s a great internal “meanwhile, back at the ranch” and it gives each action encounter (and they are joyously plentiful) narrative weight.

Again, I can’t recommend the series more highly. It has some truly great characters – the leads, the supporting cast, the villains are wonderful and terrible, and the setting is rich and immersive. De Castell describes it as “swashbuckling fantasy,” and it swashbuckles its heart out.

You can get it in print, or in unabridged audiobook (Audible has it, and probably your library does, too), wonderfully narrated by Joe Jameson.

There are a number of other great characters, too – co-leads in their own right – but to draw them is to provide spoilers, so rather than do a whole cast, as I sometimes do, I’ve stuck to the three that you get from the first page.

Design (for process buffs)

There’s not too much visual description about the characters; Kest is described as of average height and build, with short hair, Brasti has hair long enough to tie back and a beard and is tall… and I think that’s it (at least so far as I’ve noticed, or remember).

There’s a tendency to make archers lean and wiry – it compliments the arrow imagery, and a tight, sinewy form seems a carryover of the bowstring to its user, but I wanted Falcio to be lean and triangular, and stoic Kest to be square, so it got me thinking that Brasti ought to have rounder features to offset and compliment the others. He’s a country boy, too, and where I’m from the troublemakers are often a little meatier, so it felt fitting, though it does suggest that he's physically imposing in a way the stories don’t push. But I kind of like that beefy, country swagger he’s got. He’s carrying two bows, as it’s a plot point that he has bows for different purposes: a fast one, and a powerful one.

The eponymous coats were tricky; they’re practically magic; serving as armor (via little bone plates sewn under the leather) and utility belt, with little pockets for whatever the story may require the characters need. I wanted a way to make them modular, so I figured on making a pretty sturdy chest piece that folds back to allow the coat to be open and unbuttoned, and a rolled epaulet that unrolls and can be used as a gorget to protect the neck during a duel (or from the cold).

I wanted each of the characters to be able to wear the coat differently, to reflect their personalities: Kest, always at the ready and doing things the “right” way, has his greatcoat fully rigged. Byronic Falcio needs to be able to dash about with tragic romanticism, so his coat needs to be a little more open – I probably should’ve had the chestpiece partially unflapped ala the Rocketeer, but I also wanted it to read clearly. And Brasti wears his because he has to, so he has all the trappings tied or buttoned back.

Last Thoughts

For artist and writer pals, I’d highly recommend listening to any of De Castell’s interviews on podcasts or on youtube; he’s generous with his process and has a lot of great thoughts about the act of writing.

#Fantasy Fiction #Swashbuckling #Sebastien de Castell #The Greatcoats #Greatcoats #Greatcoats Series #Fantasy Series #Book review #book recommendations #fanart #fantasy art #character design

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 3/?

Prev | Next

Feeling sad and wanted some fluff, so I wrote it. Enjoy

Danny woke up with tears in his eyes. He missed his sisters and his friends. He even missed how his parents, the Fentons, used to love him before they found out he was half-ghost. Danny tried to control his sadness, not wanting to wake up his dad, but he couldn’t help himself.

(It was weird, having the memories of a teenager but the emotional capacity of a child. He knew he should be able to control his emotions better, but he couldn’t.)

Danny sat with his knees drawn up to his chest. Was Jazz okay? Why hadn’t she and Danni been behind him when he came through the portal into Gotham? Was she still alive, or was she injured in the Infinite Realms? Why had Danny been de-aged?

So many questions he couldn’t get answers to. He had no way to access the Infinite Realms.

Danny looked up as the door to his room opened. It was his daddy.

(The teenager in him cringed at the terms ‘daddy’ and ‘papa,’ but the five-year-old in him loved them.)

“Danny-lad, what’s wrong,” his daddy asked. “you’re sad.”

How daddy could still say he wasn’t like Danny, he would never understand. He could feel Danny’s emotions. That’s something only a parent ghost could do with their child!

“I’m sorry, papa, I miss Jazz and Ellie, that’s all.”

Papa frowned, “Don’t worry, chum, I’ll find a way to open the Infinite Realms with the schematics you gave me. Then we’ll look for your sisters.”

Danny let go of his knees and launched himself at his papa. He had no reason to take Danny in, but he did. Papa gave up everything he had ever known and left his haunt so he could take care of Danny.

Danny thought of the figures he had seen in the dark jumping from building to building. White, hot anger suddenly overtook him. How dare they abandon daddy? They don’t deserve him!

“Danny, baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. Daddy didn’t like it when Danny talked bad about his old family. Danny understood; he didn’t like anyone to talk shit about the Fentons, either. That doesn’t mean he didn’t hate them.

“Chum, it’s not their fault,” Of course, daddy knew precisely what Danny was thinking about.

Danny rubbed his eyes, “If—if they came here and wanted to take me away would you let them?”

“What? Of course not, baby. Why would you think that?”

“You miss them; if they told you to give me up to return to the family, would you?”

Danny’s heartbeat was almost at a normal person’s rate as he waited for his dad’s response. Daddy got him and held him close to his chest.

“I miss them sometimes so much it hurts. I’d rather they hate me for the rest of eternity than give you up, habibi.”

Daddy only called him ‘habibi’ when he wanted to reassure Danny.

“And if they asked for forgiveness, would you forgive them?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, baby. I hurt—”

“Yeah, yeah, you hurt them first,” he repeated his dad’s words flippantly, “but don’t you see? I feel the hurt they caused you. I can taste it. You hurt them, yes, but they started it. They did something big that caused you to lash out, daddy.”

Danny tasted the sudden fear that overtook his daddy. It was an instinctual, overwhelming fear. Primal. (He could remember big words but couldn’t remember to control his emotions. That’s bullshi—poopy.”

Danny put his hand on his papa’s cheek and hummed a toneless tune. He projected feelings of safety and love.

“I’m sorry, lad,” papa said a few minutes later, “I was supposed to comfort you, and you comforted me instead. I’m not a good father, am I?”

“You’re the best daddy I’ve ever had,” Danny argued vehemently, “don’t think differently.”

Daddy snorted, “Considering what your last dad did, I don’t think the bar is too high.”

Danny smiled and then yawned.

“It’s time for your bedtime, little boy.”

“I’m sixteen. I can choose my own bedtime.”

Daddy rolled his eyes, “Well until you look and act sixteen, you have a bedtime.”

Danny pouted and then smiled, “Stay with me, daddy.”

Daddy smiled and got as comfortable as he could in the little bed. Father and son slept peacefully that night.

Miles away, a worried sister hiked through the woods with a baby wrapped around her chest. She followed Danny’s ectosignature north.

“Don’t worry, baby brother, I’ll find you.”

She got out to a rest area, and Jasmine Fenton stole a car for the first time in her life.

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @vythika96 @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @kilasmess @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange

#mending a family #dc x dp #dp x dc

[the-paper-monkey]

hello! what would you say is the best draco characterisation you’ve ever read in a fic? and what have you read recently that you really liked and would read again?

also, i love everything you write :) thanks in advance!

I once saw this fanart that depicted the three main forms of Draco in Drarry and I have to say it's the most accurate thing I've ever seen lmao. My personal preference is somewhere between 'nutcase' and 'fake it till you make it' Draco. For light-hearted fics, I like those that capture the meanness of Draco's humour and his difficult personality; for serious fics I enjoy those where he truly wavers on the line of moral ambiguity.

Away Childish Things by lettered

Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

A great exploration of all the parts that make up the whole of Draco Malfoy.

any day now by oknowkiss

Draco Malfoy considers the circle.

I like this Draco for his moral greyness, self-preservation, internal conflict and risk aversion

Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrims0n

Draco Malfoy is forced into hiding with the Golden Trio and dragged into their search for horcruxes. What ensues is a journey of redemption, unexpected friendships and an unwanted, turbulent romance with Harry Potter. Warnings for swearing, sexual content, and dark themes.

This is probably one of the most plausible DH-era Draco's I've ever read. The way he speaks to Hermione alone is enough to put it on this list. It's rare to find contemporary Drarry fics that are willing to commit to his nastiness and bigotry.

Such Great Heights by aideomai

Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

Draco's crabbiness and difficult personality here is so good. This Draco has always been a major influence for me. This line in particular is iconic:

“Due respect, sir,” Draco said, because apparently even weird romantic feelings or whatever they were weren’t enough to keep Draco from throwing Harry under the bus the moment an authority figure appeared, “I haven’t done anything. I’ve been working nearly non-stop the past few weeks - you can ask Mr Borgin—”

Lorelei in the Menagerie by BelladonnaLee

"I think my dead son is haunting the manor," says Draco when Harry runs into him in an antique book shop. Driven by yearning and suspicion, Harry offers his help and is drawn into a web of secrets and half-forgotten nightmare.

I think anything I say about this fic would be a spoiler but I really enjoy Draco's twisted grieving here. Also considering my usual character preferences, I think you'll see why I like this one so much if you read it.

Heal Thyself by astolat

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.”

“What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

“Oh, I thought you might,” she said. “Well, goodbye.” And off she wandered again in her addled way.

Amoral, ambitious character accidentally becomes a good person in their pursuit of status/money/power is one of my favourite tropes. It's also why I like Tom Riddle Snr in In the Bleak Midwinter so much. Astolat in general writes a great Draco.

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Despite the heavy sounded summary, this is actually a crackish humour fic. Certainly an excellent example of nutcase Draco. The villain reveal at the end is 100% my favourite part I stg.

#sorry im like a month or two late on this anon #asks #anon #fic rec #as for what i've read recently - i haven't really been reading much draco content recently tbh #it's all tom

[stray-kaz]

The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : one

You were with your friends when the time came, unbidden, to say goodbye. You had known it was on its way, this day in particular, but it still managed to creep up on you, as did the older man dressed in old fashioned butler clothing. The first notions you had of his presence were the hairs standing up on your arms and nape of your neck, and the sudden silence of your friends, where before there had been nothing but lively chatter.

“Miss Alexander” the man said politely, giving you a brief bow. “I apologise for the interruption.”

You glanced around at the worried faces and tried to smile reassuringly.

“Hello, Mr. Field” you replied, pushing your chair back with a concrete scrape and standing to your feet. “Is that the time already?”

He nodded and gestured to the black Cadillac idling by the curb.

“I’m afraid so, Miss” he answered you. “Best say your goodbyes.”

You turned around and looked down at your oldest friends, wishing you could explain to them where you were going and why, but knew that you never could. They wouldn’t believe you anyway. You had navigated primary school and beyond together, had nursed broken hearts, graduated high school and university together, but if they heard what you might say, they’d pack you off to the nearest asylum.

“I’ve got to go” you announced, and slowly made your way around the cafe table, hugging each of them for as long as you thought you could.

“But where? Why? Who is that man?” one of them asked, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

You kissed her cheek and shook your head.

“Don’t worry” you said. “He’s an old family friend. It’s time for me to go home, that’s all.”

A flurry of questions swept after you, swirling in the air inside the car with you as you slid across the backseat and Mr. Field closed the door after you. You gazed out the window at your friends as you were driven away, trying to memorise each precious face before they were out of sight and you’d never see them again.

“Happy birthday, Miss” Mr. Field said quietly from the front.

You smiled faintly and nodded.

“Thank you” you murmured. “I know the master is looking forward to celebrating with you tonight.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“He is?”

“Oh, yes, Miss. He is quite eager to take your hand. He has planned a ball in your honour. Twenty five is quite an age.”

You scoffed quietly, but you were smiling all the same.

“Not for him” you replied. “Twenty five means nothing to him anymore.”

“But it means something for you, Miss, and he does know that. He appreciates your sacrifice.”

You nodded and rested your head on the window as the town rushed by, blending into green and gold on either side as you were drawn closer and closer to New Carfax Abbey.

When you arrived, the lord of the manor was waiting at the end of the driveway, near the house, his hands clasped behind his back. You couldn’t help staring through the window at him; he was even more handsome than you remembered from your previous birthday. There had been a time when you saw him several times a year, but after you turned eighteen, they dwindled to only on your birthday.

“Are the others here?” you asked Mr. Field, lifting your gaze to the upper windows.

The butler glanced at you in the rear view mirror.

“The ladies Viktoria and Lucy are almost always around the manor, but they will leave you be” he assured you. “Mr. De Ville has given them strict instructions not to touch a hair on your head, Miss. Though Lucy has always been possessed of a kinder disposition than Viktoria.”

You nodded and opened your door, swinging one foot out and then the other. You had only the clothes on your back, but you knew that there would be more provided for you; Walter De Ville had been lavishing you with gifts since you were thirteen years old, and you doubted it would stop now that you were less than a month away from marrying him into the dark.

The lord of the manor started to walk towards you, and when Mr. Field hurried to introduce you officially, he waved him away.

“There’s no need for that, thank you, Mr. Field” he murmured, eyeing you closely. “I know exactly who Miss Alexander is, I do not need an introduction.”

Mr. Field nodded, but he continued to hover, so Walt turned back to him, eyebrows arched slightly.

“I can escort her to her room. Thank you” he said briefly.

“Very good, sir” Mr. Field said, giving him a shallow bow. “More clothes will arrive for you tomorrow, Miss.”

“Thank you.”

“Meanwhile...” Walt said quietly. “There are enough pretty nightclothes to fill up your wardrobe and then some, darling.”

You felt your face flush with warmth.

“Thank you, sir” you said politely.

His dark eyebrows shot up.

“You can call me Walt” he told you. “’Sir’ was my father.”

You nodded and he tipped his head in the direction of his home, reaching around you to press one hand into the small of your back.

“Let me show you to your room” he said. “It’s right at the top, just below the attic. I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

You shrugged and let him guide you inside the mansion, acutely aware of the press of his fingers as they never left your back.

You hadn’t visited the manor for nearly a decade, and there were new works of art placed carefully around the entry hall and throughout the house as Walt led you upstairs two flights and along another corridor until he reached an open bedroom and ushered you along in front of him. He smiled as your eyes widened and lips parted a little at the sight of the four poster bed, lush with velvet hangings, and the massive gilt mirror that sat above the duchess, makeup and brushes already placed upon it, ready for your use should you want them.

Buttery curtains fluttered in front of the windows and the plush carpet sank under your high tops as you walked across it.

“Wow” you said softly, throwing your head back to gaze up at the lofty ceiling.

“I could say the same thing” Walt murmured, watching you.

He moved past you and swung open the doors of the wardrobe, revealing an impressive row of women’s intimates, all in your size you realised as you ran your fingers along the fabrics, smooth, soft, silky, lacy, plain cotton.

“How did you know -?” you asked, voice dying in your throat as you turned to find Walt suddenly right up behind you, your nose bumping his chest before you righted yourself.

He smiled again, something a little wanting in his light eyes.

“I know everything” he said, his voice soft and low in your ear. “I’ve been around a long time, Miss Alexander. Besides all that, your father gave me your sizes and I made sure these were perfect. Do you like them?”

You turned around again and stroked your fingertips down the delicate edge of a white almost sheer baby-doll nightie, tiny pink flowers stitched all over it. Walt found his gaze being drawn to your fingertips, to the ruby red polish on your nails, almost the colour of blood.

“This one is beautiful” you told him, glancing over your shoulder to see his face.

He nodded, making a mental note of it.

“I’ll have more made for you” he replied.

“Why? You already gave me one” you said, puzzled.

His lips quirked at the corners to form a faint smirk, one that turned your knees to liquid.

“Because you never know how long it’ll last” he murmured, eyes trailing hotly up and down your body.

You shivered and he stepped back, content to leave you like that, already following him with your gaze, your body leaning after him before you could stop it.

Walt stopped at the door and turned back to face you, arms spread to brace against either side of the doorway.

“There is a dress waiting for you on the bed, for the ball tonight” he said. “And happy birthday, darling. It very well might be your last.”

He winked and disappeared. You forced your unsteady legs to work and made it over to the bed to stare down at the masterpiece laid out before you, a dress designed for a princess. You wondered what the wedding gown would be like.

You sat down with a sigh and gingerly touched the dress, running your fingertips over the pearl laden bodice and the pale green skirt that flowed out beneath it. It was the loveliest thing you had ever owned.

Walt De Ville. A man of ancient times and insatiable whim. A man soon to be your husband.

A/N: Please leave comments and let me know what you think. There is more to come.

#the invitation #walt de ville #walt de ville x reader #walter de ville x reader #liss writes

[hpowellsmith]

Yooo I’ve been following you since the beginning of crème de la creme. So proud of you to have more hard work published! Love the characters and world building. Asher my beloved. ❤️ And having Beaumont as a socially awkward bestie is the best. Also went back and played cdlc and I romanced Freddie the first play through ages back and thought I’d go for someone else this time around… HARTMANN my darling. My poor overstressd boy. He needs a solid five minute hug and 2 weeks of exactly no schoolwork and sleeping in every day. But I did manage to salvage my family’s reputation this go around. So that was fun.

But I had a question about the world building and the time period. It feels like it’s got a 1920’s sorta vibe by the technology? Or am I reading that wrong?

Ahhhh that's so wonderful, thank you so much - it feels so long since Crème de la Crème came out and I'm so pleased you enjoyed going back to it!

Someone else asked about setting timeframe on reddit - here's roughly what I said to them:

I play pretty fast and loose with technology - it's nice to have the freedom to do so when not writing something strictly historical! - but I tend to use 1930 as a very general guide for the upper limits of tech development unless I have particular reason to pick something from later in real-world history. The atmosphere is a bit of a mishmash of Edwardian and 1920s Europe, though as there isn't an equivalent of World War I for Westerlin and its neighbours, it's not an exact match by any means.

Gallatin has one telephone (this sort of thing) which you can use in Creme in some paths, as does Archambault, but phones aren't in most households outside of the upper class. Some businesses will have one, or there are also public ones - there might be one in a workers' club or post office, for example. (There are probably telegrams, though it's not something I've ended up mentioning yet.) There are cars/buses/taxis in Fenburg, though in most places it's a mix between them and horse-drawn carriages. Having your own car for recreational driving is more of a fancy thing, although more modern/prosperous farmers would have tractors and pickup trucks. Gallatin town is a bit rural and old-fashioned for many people to have cars, and the mountain roads don't make for great car-driving conditions, so horse-drawn coaches (and wagons/horses-and-carts) are used more often there.

The Royal Affairs MC and their family's lifestyle means they have access to a lot that others don't: the aeroplane (I picture something in the realm of this) is definitely an outlier, and would be rare even among the upper echelons! Cars are also getting a bit more common as it's a few years after Creme.

It's been really interesting thinking about how things will shift over time, because what I'm working on now will take place a few years after Royal Affairs - putting it nearly 10 years after Creme. Especially writing about a different country where developments have taken place at different times and in different ways, and writing about more modern (for the Creme setting) environments whereas Gallatin College, Archambault Academy, Teteriuk Manor, and the royal palace/Vossau/Staheli/the parliamentary buildings are centuries old. (Westerlin/Zaledo/Teran futuristic space race anyone?!)

#asks #creme de la creme series #creme de la creme #royal affairs #noblesse oblige #creme de la creme worldbuilding

[the-al-chemist]

A Mother’s Love

A/N: It’s Mothering Sunday where I am, and so in honour of both that and this month’s theme for @hp-12monthsofmagic, here is a story about mothers, featuring the most famous (and fecund) mother in the Wizarding World. To anyone who is a mother, is hoping to become a mother, or has lost a mother, I wish you all the very best today. Warnings: references to canon character death and discussion of bad parent-child relationships/child neglect.

Spring had sprung in Ottery St Catchpole. The trees along the riverbanks had burst into shades of emerald and sage, and the rolling fields were filled with wildflowers and young lambs. At The Burrow, the chickens were happily pecking their way around the courtyard, while the gnomes had taken over the garden. A ginger cat was attempting to stalk them, lionlike, through the overgrown grass, his fur gleaming like amber in the Sunday morning sunshine.

Artemis watched the scene from the kitchen window, a cup of tea in her hands. As Fergus the cat pounced on his would-be prey and missed it entirely, she stifled a giggle, feeling guilty for laughing at his misfortune. After all, he couldn’t help not being as sprightly as he used to be.

“Those gnomes have been busy, Molly,” she said to Mrs Weasley, who had joined her by the window with a plate of biscuits. “There’s loads of them these days.”

“Well, that’s what happens when there are no young people around to help get rid of them,” Molly replied. “The boys and Ginny are all too busy with their husbands and wives and little ones. Except for Charlie, of course, but then I can hardly expect him to come all the way here from Romania just to de-gnome the garden for me.”

A chuckle came from the other side of the kitchen, and Artemis turned to see Charlie leaning against the fireplace, shaking his head slowly.

“I don’t see why not,” he laughed. “You’ve already put me up to all the other jobs that you want doing around here. Why not have me de-gnome the garden as well?”

“If you’re offering, dear, I’m not going to say no.”

“Course not. Alright, I’ll deal with the gnomes for you. Just let me have a cup of tea first, I need a break from sorting out the roof.”

Charlie took two biscuits from the plate Molly held in one hand, and she used the other to pat her son’s cheek before summoning him a large mug filled to the brim with steaming hot tea.

“There you are, dear. Thank you for being so helpful.”

“You’re welcome, Mum.”

“Oh, and Artemis!” said Mrs Weasley suddenly, as if she had only just remembered something important. “I have a job for you, too!”

Artemis frowned. “Really? What?”

“Well, I’ve bought some new dress robes for little Molly’s christening. I’d love for your opinion on them before everyone else arrives for lunch.”

“What about my opinion?” Charlie asked through a mouthful of custard cream. His mother tutted.

“Don’t be silly, Charlie,” she said, and she walked across the kitchen and up the stairs without a backwards glance. Charlie shrugged.

“Alright. Bit rude.”

“Clearly, she thinks I dress better than you,” said Artemis, giggling into her cup of tea. Charlie raised a single eyebrow at her. “What?”

“That’s a very bold thing for you to say whilst wearing my shirt.”

“This is mine,” Artemis told him. “I’ve had it for years.”

“That’s funny, because I’ve been missing one just like that for years,” said Charlie, and Artemis pulled the flannel material of the shirt that used to be his around her protectively.

“If you want it back, you’ll have to fight me for it.”

Charlie sighed and shook his head. “You’re the worst.”

“No, you are.”

The sound of a woman’s scream pierced the air, and Charlie put his mug down on the counter, his head snapping towards the top of the stairs.

“Mum?” he called out, already walking across the kitchen, one hand reaching for his wand. “Is everything alright?”

No response came. Charlie frowned and looked back at Artemis before starting to climb the staircase. In an instant, Artemis was a step behind him, her own wand drawn.

They made their way up to the landing, where the door of Mr and Mrs Weasley’s bedroom was ajar. On the other side of it, Mrs Weasley was standing in front of an open wardrobe, teary-eyed and limply holding a pale blue dress, her husband’s dead body at her feet.

Charlie’s face blanched as he looked down at the floor, but a second later, the body disappeared with a loud crack, and was replaced with another, one that looked identical to his own. Artemis looked from the Charlie on the floor to the one at her side, and reached for his arm to check that he was really there. He was. Mrs Weasley shrieked in terror once more, and Artemis nodded her head, finally realising what was going on. Still, she swallowed hard before speaking.

“It’s a Boggart, I think,” she said, stepping forward and taking Charlie’s mother by the hand. “Here, Molly. Let me deal with it.”

She placed herself between Mrs Weasley and the body on the floor, which immediately vanished. There was another loud crack, and she found herself standing face to face with herself. As she watched her own features start to shift, she raised her wand, ready to banish the Boggart.

But, once its features had changed, she found that she was unable to do it. She was powerless, frozen to the spot as she stared blankly at the Boggart’s new form - one she had never known a Boggart to take before.

The first time she had seen a Boggart at thirteen, she had found herself facing the Dark Lord Voldemort. A few years later, her Boggart had taken the form of witch who had killed her best friend in cold blood. Today, however, her Boggart had chosen to imitate someone else entirely, someone unexpected, someone who should not have made Artemis’ throat turn to dust or her heart pound or her blood freeze in her veins.

Her mother.

Tears of confusion and frustration pricked Artemis’ eyes as her mother’s features shifted into her own and back again. She heard Charlie swear behind her, but his voice sounded strangely distant.

“Hey,” Charlie’s voice said. He spoke gently, but he sounded louder this time, and she felt his arm brush against the flannel material of her sleeve. “Why don’t you deal with me instead?”

Slowly, Artemis’ mother turned to look at Charlie, and as her eyes met his, she disappeared. In the place where she had been standing, a large spectral skull now hung in the air. The skull was green and cloudy, and glittered slightly in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. When it opened its mouth, a serpent protruded from it, and snaked through the air towards Charlie, who closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Riddikulus!” he shouted, and the Dark Mark exploded like fireworks. He turned to Artemis. “Artie…”

“Don’t touch me.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Charlie, as he said, made no move towards her, but still, Artemis flinched away from him. Seeming to realise that the air in the room had suddenly become too hot and too heavy for Artemis to breathe freely, he took a large step backwards and allowed her to walk past him, out of the room, down the stairs, and out to the garden, where she sat on the back doorstep with her trembling hands pressed to her hairline.

After what might have been a minute, or an hour, or three, she heard Fergus purring and felt his ginger body rub against her shin. She unfolded herself slightly to stroke one of his greying cheeks.

Fergus wasn’t the only one wanting to check that she was okay, because in her peripheral vision she saw a flash of bright red hair. She looked up, expecting to see Charlie in the doorway, but it wasn’t him. It was Molly, a cup of tea in one hand and a leatherbound book in the other.

“Here, dear,” she said, bending down and placing the cup down on the step next to Artemis. “It’s got sugar in. Good for the shock.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Artemis did not really care whether Molly sat with her or not, so she picked up the cup of tea and shuffled sideways to make room for Mrs Weasley to sit on the step beside her.

“Horrible things, Boggarts. You never really get used to seeing them.”

“No.”

“That was the first time you saw yours look like that though, wasn’t it?”

If Artemis hadn’t felt so shaken, she would have rolled her eyes.

“Charlie told you that, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t need to,” said Molly. “I remember how it felt when my Boggart changed to what it is now. I hadn’t seen one in a long time, and then after the war broke out… Well, you saw what it is now. Although, looking back, perhaps it changed to that earlier. I’d only ever seen one when I was very young. It might have been motherhood that changed it, as it changes lots of things.” She placed her hand on Artemis’ knee and looked at her with curious and concerned brown eyes. “When do you think your Boggart started looking like your mother, Artemis?”

“I dunno,” Artemis replied. She moved her cup in her hands, the untouched tea swirling around it. “I haven’t seen one in ages, not one that I’ve been facing, anyway. It changed once before, after Rowan died, but… It could’ve been any time. Maybe during the war, or before, like yours.”

“Or since then, maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“It would make sense. After all, the idea of turning out like your mother would be a more pertinent worry for you these days.”

“I dunno, Molly. I’ve never wanted to turn out like my mother.”

“No woman ever does,” Molly said conspiratorially, and Artemis let out a quiet laugh. “But now you’re at the age where you’re bound to be thinking about motherhood yourself…”

Artemis shook her head. “No. I mean, I have done, but the more I think about it, the less I want that. Motherhood, I mean.” She looked at Molly and shrugged. “No offence.”

“I’m not offended, dear.”

“It’s not that I don’t like children. Although I don’t really like them, except for Victoire and Dominique and the others, obviously. I like them.” Artemis looked out beyond the garden fence at the rolling countryside that extended towards the horizon. “More than anything, though, I like being able to go wherever I want, whenever I want. I like being able to do what I want to do for me, without having to put anyone else first.” Her teeth grazed her lip and she glanced back at Molly apologetically. “I know that sounds really selfish.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Molly replied. “I think that’s actually the hardest thing about having children, knowing that your life is no longer your own to lead. You lose a bit of yourself and a lot of your freedom. For you more than anyone, I can see why you wouldn’t want to give that up.”

“Yeah. I think that might be why my Boggart looks like that, like my mum. She had no freedom at all for years and years, and she was so hurt and so bitter about it that she lost almost all of herself. I don’t want that for myself, not ever.”

The garden was quiet, aside from Fergus’ purr and the gnomes scurrying around beneath the honeysuckle tree. Artemis sipped her tea. It was more sugary than she would have liked, but it stopped her hands from shaking.

“You still don’t speak to your mum, do you?” Molly asked her eventually.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have anything to say,” said Artemis. “I mean, we barely spoke when she was there. Physically, anyway. She was never really there in any meaningful way, not after everything that happened with my dad. I don’t really remember her before that, and so I don’t know her. Not as a person or as a mum.”

Molly nodded slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Artemis, can I show you something?”

“Sure.”

Artemis shrugged, and Molly picked up the leatherbound book. She placed it on her lap and opened it, flicking through the pages as she spoke.

“This is our family photo album. One of them, anyway. We had more before the house… Well, anyway,” Molly paused. She was smiling, but the look in her eyes was not entirely happy. “This page here is Fred and George’s christening. Summer 1978, so I think this would’ve been the year before your father died, back when your mum was still working for the Ministry. Arthur knew her, invited her to come along. There she is, look.”

Molly pointed to a photo in which a familiar-looking woman not much older than Artemis herself was standing next to a much younger looking Mrs Weasley. The breeze was blowing her dark hair and she was laughing at a joke that Artemis couldn’t hear. She looked happy and carefree, unlike the mother Artemis remembered growing up. She shook her head sadly.

“That’s great, Molly, but-”

“Wait a second. Just wait and you might just see - look, there!”

Molly’s finger pointed to the background of the photo, where a little dark-haired girl was running circles around a fully-bloomed honeysuckle tree. She was small, but not scrawny; her hair was untidy, but someone had taken the time to plait it; and though her clothes were dirty, it seemed as if they had only recently become so. Artemis tilted her head to one side.

“Hang on. Molly, is that me?”

Mrs Weasley nodded and laughed. She wrapped her arm aroound Artemis’ shoulders and squeezed gently, and the two of them watched the little girl Artemis had once been as she ran around the honeysuckle tree that still stood in the garden in front of them.

“There were going to be a fair few children there that day anyway, and Arthur knew you were around the same age as Charlie, so he told your mum to bring you with her,” Molly explained. “I remembered you being there, because I was so scared that day. I had three boys already, and now twins too, and the twins were just starting to move around and looking like they might crawl. I was exhausted and terrified about how I was going to cope, and then… you came along.

“You had these big wide eyes and those sweet pigtails and that pretty little dress, and you smiled like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. And then you took one look at the honeysuckle tree, and before anyone could say ‘bowtruckle’, your shoes were off, you’d climbed right to the very top of it, and jumped all that way back down to the lawn,” she laughed. “You landed on your hands and knees, wiped the dirt off on your nice clean clothes, laughed, and did it again. At least twice more. And I remember thinking that I might have my hands full with all these boys, but five boys couldn’t possibly be harder work than one of you.”

Artemis laughed out loud, tears pricking her eyes as she watched herself run across Mrs Weasley’s lawn and throw her arms around her mother’s waist in a hug that her mum returned.

“Your mum, though,” Molly continued, “she didn’t bat an eyelid. She was so kind and warm and funny. She was wonderful, and she clearly adored you. I don’t think she’d have changed a hair on your head, not for the whole wide world.” She ran her free hand through said hair, tucking a strand of it behind Artemis’ ear. “I know you don’t remember her before everything changed, but this is how I remember her, and you. Not that you’ve changed all that much.”

Artemis smiled in spite of the fact that she felt like crying.

“Thank you, Molly,” she said. “I’m glad you remembered.”

She leant with her head on Molly’s shoulder, raising it suddenly as her younger self ran over two a pair of red-headed boys. The two boys were both bigger than her, and they shared a look of apprehension, but they still allowed themselves to be dragged over to the honeysuckle tree. Molly laughed at the expression on Artemis’ face.

“Oh, yes,” she said, shaking her head. “Even then you had a way of dragging my boys into your shenanigans.” She leaned in closer and whispered into Artemis’ ear, “That I hope will never change.”

With that, Molly stood up and left, taking her photo album with her. Artemis finished her tea, looking at the honeysuckle tree that would soon start to bloom. Once she had finished it, she returned inside to find Molly preparing lunch. Artemis paused by her, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Molly.”

#hp12mom #harry potter fanfiction #molly weasley #artemis hexley #charlie weasley #hpff #hphm #hogwarts mystery #golden era fic

[quibbs126]

Here’s a random assortment of drawings I did

So first I drew an older Lucy/Abbigail, because in some of my previous scenarios where she’s involved (and she and her father reunite) she’s supposed to be older, so I just tried my hand at that

Next I decided to draw Des (yes that’s supposed to be him; not sure I’ve explained but basically after AL he fakes Sycamore’s death and so he’s changed his appearance to hide his identity) with a small Aurea, mostly because I remembered she existed again

I think I’m getting better at drawing child proportions next to adults

Then I drew Rachel and Des hugging, because I think it would be nice to see them reunite. Granted I don’t know what circumstances would allow this, Des finally dying, resurrection Azran magic bringing Rachel back from the dead, just a dream, whatever you decide, I just want it to happen. I imagine that unlike his father, whom he has at best mixed/complicated feelings towards, Des does genuinely miss his mother and would want to see her again. And I feel like Rachel would try to comfort her son after everything he’s been through

To be honest, I kind of wanted to stop drawing there, but I still had half a page empty, so I did more

Next, something I thought up some time ago, so I said that Aurea becomes an Interpol agent, though to be honest I might end up changing that. I think I really only gave her that occupation because it was ironic given that Des was a criminal? And I’m not sure that’s the profession that a reincarnated Aurora should have. Also, both of Layton’s kids already solve crimes, I don’t think we need another one. But anyways going back to this, I remembered that Hilda was part of Interpol, and that given Aurea’s likely age at the time of LBMR/LMJ, if she were a member she likely wouldn’t be very experienced yet, so why not have Hilda essentially work as Aurea’s mentor? In this scene Aurea’s supposed to be bringing coffee, though it looks more like she’s inspecting one of them to me. Ah well, whichever interpretation you like more

I like to imagine Hilda comes over to the Mystery Room and is like, “look Al, I got my own Lucy now”

And then finally I drew original Aurora, mostly because I needed to fill the empty space, and also because I don’t think I’ve drawn her before

But yeah

#I feel like maybe I should have done that Rachel and Des piece on its own or something #but oh well #I couldn’t find any good refs for the pose so I just had to wing it #anyone have any places to go for good pose references? #anyways #professor layton #desmond sycamore #aurora azran #jean descole #rachel bronev #hilda pertinax #azran legacy spoilers #professor layton oc #aurea sycamore #*not her actual last name but I have figured out Des’s new name yet #anyone have suggestions? #my art #edit: I forgot to add #cv lucy #abbigail sycamore

[woozapooza]

hi there! is there a lancelot post or anything that talks ab how insane lancelot is? i’m trying to just find basic info ab him for a start. i know he’s incredibly noble but i’ve heard he was also a bit of a freakazoid and i wanted to know how and what are the things he’s said and done that makes him insane ! thank you

Oh man I wish I could give a better answer, but I'll do my best. The best tumblr post I'm aware of that matches what you're looking for has got to be this hilarious ancient relic from 2014, but if you're the person who was going through my Lancelot tag a few days ago (nothing wrong with that—on the contrary, much respect) you've already come across that post. If by "post" you mean anything on the internet in general, not specifically tumblr, you could check out this post from a website whose existence I had almost entirely forgotten until right now, but which gave me countless hours of entertainment circa 2013. That second post is mostly based on Thomas Berger's novel Arthur Rex, but the episode it retells is drawn from Chretien de Troyes' poem Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart, which is the oldest (known) text about Lancelot, and which is the origin of some of the wackiest things he does. To give just one example, there's one part in the poem where he breaks into Guinevere's room through the window and cuts his hand in the process, but he doesn't notice, I guess because he's too horny to feel pain? And they spend the night together and neither of them notices that he's bleeding all over the sheets—again, I guess they were just having too much fun—so she gets in trouble because clearly someone was in her room, so he has to fight a duel to prove that she's innocent because that's how logic worked back then. So if you're interested in checking out a "canonical" (for lack of a better word) Arthurian text with some Category 5 Lancelot Moments, I recommend starting there!

P.S. I was just in the Arthuriana tag and I see that someone else had received a similar question (presumably from you) and gave you a much more thoughtful and detailed answer. Well, even so, hopefully my recommendation of The Knight of the Cart counts for something! I haven't actually read it in several years and, alas, I don't have my copy with me, but I do remember that it's a good time.

#Arthuriana #myths etc #x #Lancelot #le chevalier mal fait #anon #ask

[bermudianabroad]

So after talking with @amreekiyakasuula about accents, I figured I do a little summin summin about Bermudian accents and phrases. Also because Cup Match is coming up (click for cultural context: tldl version it’s a cricket match between east and west ends of the island in celebration of Emancipation. Four day weekend, people camp*1, you can gamble*2 and much swizzle*3 is drunk). It’s been yuuurs (years) since I went and I guess I’ve just been bit by the nostalgia bug (go St Georges btw; I’m a east end girl, true blue on blue). And one more video for a range of different voices. It is 8 mins long and about local cricket so don’t feel you have to watch any of it the whole thing lol. 

 Anyway. Here we go.

First of all you can’t get by without ya acebye/acegirl. Nothing to do with sexuality, your acebye/acegirl is your main man (genderneutral), your best gal pal, platonically speaking. The person that will alway have your back. Term of affection, also scathing and derogatory when speaking of a stranger whose behaviour you do not condone: for instance,‘What you doing, acegirl?’ you might say to someone driving erratically, you voice dripping with condescension. ‘Acebye is getting on my last drop of nerve,’ you’ll say when the electrician fails to turn up when he said he would for the fifth time in a row. Not to be confused with ‘bye’ which is a kind of Bermudian filler for ‘man’, ‘dude’ etc. ‘Those guys over there,’ would become ‘Them byes over there.’ (or ‘dem’ and ‘dur’, since “th” becomes d or f but let’s not go into that right now.)

Onliest. More than only, profoundly only. ‘I was the onliest one at acebye’s comedy show.’ For a completely random example, not at all based in reality. (A lie: this happened to me at the Edinburgh Fringe one time. It was awkward. Being the onliest one there, I couldn’t leave lol).

Well, (but said drawn out like vooow). Gooder than good. Usually in the context of delicious food. ‘Bye, she tastes well,’ you say, monching down on your fish sandwich. Delicious food, like a ship, is always female.

Mug. So shit it’s beneath your contempt. Not worth the time or effort to even explain why it’s shit. Also anything that’s a hassle or a minor inconvenience.

The Other Day. A period of time that could span 24 hours or 70 years. ‘Oh I went to the supermarket the other day (day before yesterday)’; ‘Oh, I was in New York the other day (27 years ago)’.

To mice. To daydream, to lack situational awareness. Micing or Myscing. Take your pick of the spelling.

Full hot (and fullish); to be inebriated (and foolish). See also half hot, for when you still retain some semblance of sober propriety. See also three sheets to de wind.

[A brief note on letters when speaking:  sometimes ‘e’ becomes ‘a’; ‘w’ is swapped out for ‘v’; ‘th’ can be ‘d’ or ‘f’ (Vans-dee for Wednesday; Furs-dee for Thursday; ‘de’ instead of ‘the’). ]

Vexed. Not best pleased. Grumpy as fuck. (thickest accents would say it like ‘waxt’ lol.)

Fack. For when you’re in polite company and can’t say fuck. Also chingas/cheekumburgers for when children are present.

Ax. the process of inquiring to ascertain an answer. As in, you axt me about Bermudianisms and I answered. :) 

*1. camping = put a tent up by the side of the road and drive back home to shower and use the toilet, get in a little sneaky AC use when it gets too hot.

*2. gambling is illegal, but during cup match you can play Crown and Anchor which is a dice game based solely on luck. No skill required which is great considering everyone is full hot on...

*3. a truly leathal rum based fruit punch. It goes down easy, and bye she tastes well. I’ve linked you lot a recipe here. Not responsible for any decisions you make make whilst three sheets.

#bermuda #bermudianisms #cup match #linguistic whatnot #can you tell i had fun with this

[giogio1998]

How I imagine the JLI looks like in real life, a post nobody asked for:

Lately I’ve been going through the worst art block and I wanna draw something JLI related but it’s not going to happen bc my life is a nightmare so I decided to use words to describe physical aspects I think the JLI would have irl.

Disclaimer: I’m sick, I took cold medicine and I should go to sleep but I’m here instead writing this soon to be terrible post so pls enjoy.

Height: (nem sei se é assim que se escreve essa porra mas tô com preguiça de pesquisar)

I won’t be saying how tall I think everyone is mainly cause idk basic math but I believe that: Guy is the tallest of the group, idk ginger people give the vibe that they’re tall, I’m Brazilian so I haven’t seen many gingers in my life so I could be wrong, after Guy comes Booster, bc he’s blonde it’s the second whitest thing a white person could be besides ginger and white people are tall, it’s science (it absolutely isn’t science) then after that comes Ted I don’t think he is a short king but I don’t think he’s super tall either. Then comes the girls and I 100% believe that Tora is taller than Bea bc she’s Norwegian and like I said earlier white people are tall, also Brazilian women are short, I would know, in fact this week I saw on Twitter that the average Brazilian woman is 1,61cm and I’m 1,63cm which I know u don’t care but I wanna put on the internet that I’m above average.

Body … shape ? Idk:

I just think the guys aren’t that muscular, I imagine them with like swimmer body type u know ? Idk how to explain it but I personally don’t like when super heroes are drawn super muscular it doesn’t look natural idk. And for the girls I always imagine them to be like Bea has big butt small boobs and tora has big boobs and small butt bc every best friend duo is like that irl, if you never noticed it now you’ll see it everywhere.

Hair and stuff:

Bea has long wavy light green hair with a side part (idc that it isn’t cool anymore it is easier to draw ok, leave me alone). Tora has shoulder length straight white hair and I mean white not platinum, she has ice powers, she isn’t Paris Hilton. For the guys nobody cares so … yeah :)

Eye color:

That meme that every DC character has blue eyes is so real, to me tho I think Bea and Guy don’t, Bea has green eyes and Guy has brown eyes.

Nationality:

“Giovana that’s not a physical thing” SHUT UP, this is my post. I just wanted to mention that bc isn’t it weird that the justice league > INTERNATIONAL < is formed by 3 American dudes, 1 Brazilian and 1 Norwegian? That bothers me so much idk why so to give me some peace of mind I diced that Guy is Australian, Ted is Canadian and Booster can still be American, I feel better already.

Skin tone and things on skin … idk guys it’s late and I’m groggy:

I think Guy has a lot of freckles idk if u notices but I add them to his face in all my drawings. Tora has a reddish nose bc you know when it’s cold and your nose gets a little red ? I think that’s a cute detail. In my head Ted has dimples and only my opinion matters. Bea has black eyebrows and lips that’s bc of a fanfic I created in my head, and to me she’s a white Latina I know some people feel uncomfortable that she’s white and I know that bc some gringos commented on my posts asking “why is she light skinned” and I could have an entire conversation on why this sort of question is very stupid but for this post I’ll just say that Brazil had a lot of European immigrants throughout its entire history and as a result of that a lot of Brazilians are white, including me and it’s not a big deal. And for booster there’s nothing to add he’s just booster :D

I wanted to write more stuff but the cold medicine is starting to kick in so I’m gonna head out o/

#fire #dc comics #beatriz da costa #dc #justice league international #jli #ted kord #blue beetle #booster gold #tora olafsdotter #guy gardner #green lantern