#Would wear to battle

[ask-cloverfield]

This interpretation is contradicted by pretty much everything but I really like the idea that Ultraman was not conscious for anything in the 1966 series when Hayata doesn’t summon him

He has no clue what’s going on, but he just loves fighting so so much

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

Glinda really had an entire musical number expounding on the theme of "success in life is not about being highly qualified or even competent, but manipulating people's superficial perception of you." and then she went into POLITICS. truly the #girlboss representation the world has earned

[1000dactyls]

Rewatching all HTTYD media and realising Hiccup is one of the best shots of the show like genuinely sticks funeral arrow hitting the target that far away, the fact he shot down toothless in pitch blackness while toothless was completely camouflaged there's some more I'm missing but damn get that kid in the Olympics right this second

imagine how much shorter rtte would’ve been if they gave hiccup a gun

[picory]

decided to rework my riju redesign. i like this much more, though there's still room for improvement

[teyrnacousland]

We do not give Illario enough credit for being able to look Zara Renata in the eyes as she climbs out of her gross blood pool, covered in blood, and act like the thought of touching her doesn't make him physically ill.

[shortnotsweet]

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

[apolaskiart]

The letters that never spoke it again wouldn't, because in your mind it never happened...

based on ep. 53

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance - Braig / Xigbar

[jojo-schmo]

What if I wanted to break out my tenor sax and play in the Kirby 30th Anniversary Music Fest, too!?

Plus, the outfits the Kirby crew wear are PEAK, look at them!!

[asvidema]

got around to making a full body reference for henry as well, adding some ingame clothes and some newly designed armor too.

once again, i took inspiration from Auguste Racinet's The Costume History!

[doodlebugsreal]

gym leader burgh challenges you to a triple battle !!!

[viric-dreams]

Impressed and unimpressed. A slightly more historical take on Ockham ca. 1813.

[chiropteracupola]

cecil winge & mickel cardell and stephen maturin & jack aubrey are the exact same Shapes of guy, except that you swap which guy the awful terrible fucked-up wig goes on

[rainbowsparklecur]

do you accept

[smile-files]

a doodle of my new teardrop gjinka!! i think they turned out pretty cute :)

[akkivee]

me, stubborn asf: why the hell do you keep trying to change your narrative the earrings are samatoki related drama no matter what points you can concede we’ve been thinking this since 2018 stop—

brain unable to stop thinking about ichiro’s earrings: okay but he and samatoki were on a team for a while before he got those piercings and got them only after kuukou left and kuukou similarly changed his prayer beads after he left ichiro they used to be all black but he added two red beads on them it can’t be a coincidence if iT LINES UP SO WELL—