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Love Them Sm - Blog Posts
HELLOO????
It's been SO long since I posted anything here, my god
I kind of got over my ninjago obsession for a while and started to get more obsessed with mha, so..... I've dedicated the last few months to posting more on my tiktok!!!
I'm currently posting some redesigns + HC'S of my hero academia and there are only two more posts left for me to finish this phase and start posting about my oc, so I'll leave a sneak peek of what I've been posting there and I would REALLY appreciate it if you guys would give me a little hand there :)))
There are a LOT more characters that I've done (more than 30) and I think if you're a fan of MHA, it's worth checking out. I put a lot of effort into these edits
Stuck in that cute hc (?) idea where Buzz calls Woody "Sunshine" and Woody to Buzz "his Moonlight" and I just start sobbing.
rough chart of how the dream/nightmare Narinder & Lamb counterpart mechanics function in Trod Au + extra doodles
Alumaria/Mariacard as fox and bat 🦊🦇
So glad I see more BL ponies around here :3
Even more ponies ❤️💛
a whirlwind romance in 5 gifs
The wizard pupils squad heuehueuoooe
Headcanon slugcat toebeans-
Featuring my adoptive child, The Listener~ I was not sure what colors to give them, but maybe keeping it monochrome is fine?
sad small big shy
The only thought in my head was drawing them all playing a card game :D
First time drawing Sam and Puffy so pls be nice :)
@claybrownie7566
Quick EuroDead
drew this last year then forgot about it<3
You want to make my dreams come true? This is my dream.
this is beautiful :ooo
My Alight Motion was lagging so badly when I made this. I swear I had better plans for this edit other than this choppy mess. 🙁 || Izumi.ito on TikTok
hiiii here’s my postgame au for the v3 survivors!! I will try to write down some stuff here and post them after 💟💟
“you never would you coward. (would you…?)”
the master getting teary eyed and scared when he realises the doctor is really considering to pull the trigger but still daring him to do it. He needs to know, he needs to see if the doctor is capable of it. is he? would he really? why is he still pointing the gun at him?
“go on then. do it.”
But he doesn’t want to die. you can hear it in his voice and see it in his face but he needs to know how far the doctor is willing to go. And besides he’s the master. He’s not gonna back down and plead. At least not in this regeneration. the subtle and terrorised headshake after works very well as there’s one part of the script missing in this scene
“don’t.”
and the doctor won’t.
There’s a light, and it flickers - philip watched his wife circle it, a look of exasperation mottling her face, and yet the image let solemn lips crack open into a smile. Be it that his gut tells him she is his wife, but the commitment says otherwise…or be it the idiocy he finds in watching her struggle rather than her asking for help, it curls the corners of slack maw all the same.
The hallway lightbulb, it was another something he had promised and not gotten around to. He watched her turn it on and off, each glow of the bulb illuminating a new line of frustration. Their house had so many knocks and notches now from a variety of fuckery and now it bore the scars of their life there. In truth, he liked it that way, in every crack lay a memory.
Both of them had the money to fix it and then some, but there was an unspoken understanding that they’d get around to it, the thin veneer of perfection was undone with a closer look, but it was them. It was their space and it illustrated every fight and every make up. Every kiss, every shag - the 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 in the oak floor, the creak in a floorboard set free the laughter they forgot about when times felt too tough to bear.
Albeit it was a ‘man’ way to think of things. For his wife, it was merely something else for her to bleet at him for. It ignited the ever present need in her; to nest, and home make, regardless of whether or not there were children present. Their lives had never been any different, even after all this time. It held the ever present guilt that he hadn’t been able to give her children; they both blamed themselves but took care not to dwell.
He watched her ferret from room to room, and knew by now the exact moment she’d snap and call him out for the useless son of a bitch he knew he could be. Philip was his 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 son, god rest her soul, and there was something in him that loved the banter, the opportunity to rise and fulfil the husband character he so 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲. To prove his point; to make it upto her and force them back into the small box in which they just were : in love with each other and each of their imperfections.
He knew the life they shared wasn’t perfect, it was hardly the shit fairy tales were made of but it suited them.
The smile grew wider over the lines in his face, and he relished in the ache. Philip rubbed grubby mit through the mop of inky locks at his scalp, stubbing out puthering tab end in waiting ashtray. Blair was made for him, and he her.
Crossing one boot over the other, he leant back in his chair, and he watched as his dainty wife shot a look over her shoulder, blonde tendrils tumbling past her shoulder blade, he wanted to 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧, he thought.
𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. Everyone said he used to laugh, and with her, with her there was still some cause to. To cat and mouse, to play house like children would.
Cerulean irises fluttered to the banal on the television, a ticking wheel of some bullshit American dream game show. “Feck me, Shirley, the answers fuckin’ 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞.”
It was just enough, a whisper of change in the air and he watched dainty palm make contact with the living room door. Blair crackled, an electricity to their coupling. To be sure, she was on the ceiling now and in probability rules she could have shorted the electrics in the whole house with her temper alone.
His eyes flickered again to meet hers.
“What’s wrong bird?” Door handle met drywall and slotted into the last fight hole it made. Long fingers reached for the next cigarette, running the filter over his lower lip, he lifts struck match to tobacco.
“Are ye’ yankin’ my fuckin’ dick Lip?”
He blinked, raising a playful eyebrow. Shaking the match out, he watches grey smoke meet the blue of his cigarette, curling around one another, and allows himself a moment to dwell on glowing embers.
“And why would I be doin’ that?” He inhaled, slowly, measured, turning his head back towards the tv. “M’ just watchin’ television, love.”
Anger meets television screen as she launches the laundry basket perched on her hip at blue glow. “Catch Phrase?! Ya kiddin’ love- you ain’t watched this with any degree of seriousness ever, n’ Stephen fuckin’ Mulhern turns me stomach the diddy wee cunt.”
She sighed, exasperated, and pottered to the hallway. He pressed his lips together, brimming with adoration for the fire in her, comical that her reactions were always gigantic even in the face of the smallest inconvenience.
This was it. The 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞 - she’d make to do it herself, teetering delicately on step stool, he watched every curve of her and resigned himself to the fact she’d ruined him for all other women. To be sure - he was more than okay with that.
He sighed, hauling himself up off the chair on which he had sunk. “Baby.”
“Fuck off will ya? I’ll do it myself.”
“Baby.” He moves towards her. “Son of a bitch B, let me do it would ya? You’re gonna fall and snap ye chuffing neck, and then ye'd definitely be no use at all.”
“Philip, I mean it, go away.”
He laughs, a low chuckle; and she blows, swinging for him, but she stumbles, he grasps her hips. And he couldn’t be happier to be right it fills him with a warm glow, same as the one he feels at the crown of his head as flat palm meets it. Still - he clings to wriggling woman.
Slowly, he props her onto her feet on the floor, and moves to twist flickering bulb from its mount. “Let me do it, darlin’, a’ said I would didn’ I?”
She sniffs, resigned, an unexplained smirk on her face. For a second he thinks he’s won, before thumb and forefinger find the heat in the bulb.
“Mother fucker.” He spits and she crumples beside him. Shaking his hand he turns. “You little bitch.”
Laughter breaks and he scowls. “Ya fuckin’ useless with me even now love. Cmon, rinse ya fingers and do it with a rag next time.” She takes his hand in hers and leads him to the sink, tending to the growing redness on his fingertips.
Fuckin’ perfection. P’haps it was time after all these years to make an honest woman of her, neither of them even mentioned it much anymore.
She won, even when she didn’t. His wife. His Blair, she was a force of nature and would outsmart him even in 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.
