#but he is still a princess at heart

[melodyartist-blog]

i like your menelaus design sm he's such a princess

Oh wow thanks! *Hands more Menelaus stuff*

OK, i tend to draw him as pretty and condescending as possible but sometimes I also have to show that he was moody and at times mean spirited.

I wanted to draw him crying and get angry, especially after the duel with Paris but they were too many emotions to convey in that fragment so I kinda gave up maybe I'll try a next time :P

[the-phantom-peach]

I saw ur Tp fanart and it made me wonder

Idk man teenage Colin gettin a big hug from his big bro Adult Tp link

can i tell you about the hard reset my brain did when i first read your ask some time ago and how the exact same thing happened when i read it again to respond to it (i mean this positively i love these two so very much you don’t understand).

So here it is. I’m normal and didn’t spend an hour on this yeah

[aioliravioli-69]

Here you go!!

Silver in a pretty dress, that ISN'T her usual one!

Some of you may already know this, but I LOVE drawing frilly and poofy dresses! ESPECIALLY when they're moving!!!

I love the ways the folds rearrange themselves!!!

This first dress wasn't really inspired by some barbie doll dress, just a random redesign I guess??

I feel like the lineart isn't that visible though, but I'm too lazy to fix it lol

Aight, up next is a request!!

This dress was requested by @tea-132 and I thank them!!!

It's REALLY pretty and I would've missed out on it otherwise aqnd it was extremely fun to draw so thanks a lot :DD

here it is!!

And yes, before you ask, she will come in more poses I just need to figure them out and nothing seemed more fitting for this dress than the 'joyful-walk-with-a-new-skirt' pose!!

I will say that I totally put no effort into the design on the outer lace and ibis Paint was a giant help with the stars (I love you ibis, marry me <333)

I'm happy with how it turned out and be prepared to expect more dresses soon

I will draw them until y'all are drowning in them

MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

[redrobin-detective]

My favorite part of my Adventure Time binge is I pick what looks like the most silly episodic episode with a weird title and a plot that seems pretty open and shut and it goes in the most unexpectedly painful and lowkey horrifying direction that leaves me shook. I expected shenanigans and got an existential crisis instead.

[oceans-beloved]

Meme dump yayyy🥳✨️

(off to make more now muhahaha >:3)

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

respectfully requesting a drawing of taichi and sora together and maybe with the proud satosho parents in there too 🥹👉👈

ÖISEDÖIOKJYEGRJN.KYBR always. I love the mole babies. Ugh i cant not draw them Head canon dump in the tags

[brynnstic]

Real footage of sapphic parents comforting son who is having autistic meltdown

I’m the son

[ananinidraws]

A good ol fashioned princess hunch

[winepresswrath]

Natori is desirable, has always been desirable, had "the looks and the grades," makes a living off of being beautiful and charming and good at provoking feeling in other people and is at the same time totally uninterested in pursuing any of that interest and seeing if it could develop into something deeper. he rejects the girls at school even more preemptively than he rejects matoba, who suggests he might be useful. he's deeply, profoundly lonely throughout all of this and tbh I think being wanted actually makes it worse in some ways, because the people closest to him who should love him best think he's a curse and that makes casual interest and affection feel cheap, unearned, and ultimately disposable. naturally his two careers are:

attractive man plays pretend

loner weirdo does rituals on outskirts of society

[pianokantzart]

Impromptu

Quick one-shot based on the body-swap concept by @elitadream because you guys know I had to write something. It was inevitable.

Also available on Ao3: X

____________ “Psst. Princess.” Princess Peach was deep in thought when she heard someone call out to her from the nearby window. Despite the distinct familiarity of the voice, she couldn’t help but let out a little gasp, nearly dropping her tea as she turned to see Luigi clinging to the branches of the tree outside of her bedroom. That tree, “The Mario Tree” she had taken to calling it, was tucked behind an old vine-covered wall in the inner courtyard, out of the way of anyone who wasn’t thoroughly familiar with the garden. Mario had climbed it to reach her window a number of times at her beckoning, so that they could speak for a moment in perfect privacy. Strangely enough, she always felt safer with that window open and that tree in view.

But now, it was Luigi dangling from the branches, his arms and legs wrapped awkwardly around a drooping limb like his life depended on it. When he realized the Princess saw him he shuffled closer, and flung himself from the tree to the window sill like an unsteady kitten.

He seemed unusually clumsy tonight, weary and exhausted as Peach grabbed his shoulders to ensure gravity didn’t send him tumbling to the ground below. When Luigi's feet touched the floor of the bedroom he hunched over, clutching his knees as he breathed heavily. “Thank you.” Peach smiled, but felt little amusement. Luigi was trembling terribly, like something horrible had chased him up that tree. 

Mario's little brother was not a particularly spontaneous individual. He knew he was welcome to use the front door, and would have done so gladly unless the situation prevented it. Princess Peach glanced around, looking for some hint as to what to blame for Luigi's current state, but seeing nothing she took him by the hand and made an effort to lead him to the small tea table near the bed. “Come, sit down.” But Luigi pulled away, opting instead to spin around and shut the curtains behind him. “I can’t. I can’t be seen here… he…” he stuttered, “It’s Mario, but it’s not Mario… he’s not Mario.” It was a message he needed to relay quickly– but he couldn't quite figure out how to explain it. What proof could he give to elevate his word above that of the most trusted man in The Mushroom Kingdom? What evidence could he provide that the doppelganger couldn't effectively explain away? That he hadn't explained away? He stammered for a moment, getting out nothing but fragments of sentences, when he felt Peach's hand on his shoulder. “…I know.” Luigi froze, caught off guard by this reply. “You know?” “Well... I suspected." Peach corrected herself in a whisper, adopting Luigi’s hushed tone. "I’ve only seen him at a distance as of late, but he has been acting strange. I could sense something was wrong, but I couldn’t put a finger on what, and I could never get ahold of him to inquire about it.” Indeed, Mario had been more ever-present, yet more avoidant than ever before. He seemed to drift in and out of locations like a ghost, wearing an expression that mimicked his old kindness like an ill-fitting mask. Then, there had been strange goings-on in her castle; troops being shuffled about without her command, frequent miscommunications between guards, strange little incidents were never properly investigated, doors left open when they should’ve been shut…

Princess Peach was about to explain this, when she suddenly felt herself wrapped up in a hug, Luigi’s face pressing against shoulder. Surprised as she was, her heart ached at the sensation, the desperation in the gesture speaking volumes about what Luigi had been experiencing for the past few days. Peach was on the verge of returning the hug, when Luigi backed away as suddenly as he had embraced her, red with embarrassment, hands tucked to his chest. “S-sorry. I’m sorry. That was out of line. It’s just, I… I thought nobody would believe me.” His gaze drifted to the ground as he rubbed the back of his neck. This was a common tic of his, but as Peach took in the shy gesture her eyes widened. There were dark bruises on his throat. She had glimpsed them when he had first climbed through her window, but at that time she had assumed it was merely the shadow of the tree leaves in the light of sunset. Now, with the curtains shut and the lamps lit, there was no mistaking it. She gingerly lifted a hand up and brushed her fingers against the injury. Luigi winced, but made no motion to stop her, tilting his chin a little as he felt the light tingle of healing magic, The Princess slowly fading the marks to nothing. “He hurt you.” “No more than I’ve been hurt before. It’s Mario I’m worried about. The real one.” Luigi shrugged. “He said he’d kill him if I tried anything, but if Not-Mario is who I think he is… I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.” Peach nodded. Luigi did not need to elaborate, they were both thinking the same thing: if not The King of The Koopas himself, the imposter was no doubt someone working under his command. At last, Luigi was calm enough to allow himself to be ushered to a nearby chair, where Princess Peach sat him down and searched him over for further injuries. She found nothing life threatening, mostly bruising, the worst of it being a large, swollen lump on the back of his head. In most situations, she would have opted to mend the wounds traditionally rather than use healing magic, but there was more that needed to be healed here than simple physical injuries, and as Princess Peach gingerly undid every wound Luigi's shivering slowed, and his breath gained a gentle, steady rhythm. “I’m going to go to The Darklands.” He said after a time, “If I don’t find Mario there, then maybe I’ll at least find answers.” “When do you leave?” “Tonight.” “Good.” Peach brushed off her skirt and rose to her feet, her hands cupped determinedly in front of her. “I’ll join you after I inform Toadsworth about what is happening. Wait for me at The Grasslands Outpost.”

Luigi stood up, appearing surprised and concerned in equal measure. “Your Highness?” “Toadsworth is clever, he should be able to cover for me and keep things in order until we get the real Mario back. Besides…” She reached out and gave Luigi's hand a reassuring squeeze, “… I’ll be a lot safer with you.” Luigi was startled by the affirmation, looking down at the hand that gripped his like a lifeline. He nodded, lifting his free hand to give the brim of his hat a sharp, confident tug. “Thanks. I… I won’t let you down!” Princess Peach gestured for him to lower his voice, and Luigi let go of the hand to clamp his palms over his mouth. They both stood perfectly still for a few seconds, examining the surrounding darkness, ears pricked for evidence of eavesdroppers. When they were both content that they were truly alone, Luigi crept back to the window and leapt to one of the branches. He climbed down as quietly as he could manage, not taking his eyes off the princess the entire way to the ground. “Please be careful,” he called up in a whisper. “You too, Luigi.” Peach called back quietly, and once she saw him disappear into surrounding garden she took hold of the shutters, looked around one more time for anything amiss, and cautiously clicked her bedroom window closed.

[silviakundera]

more Li Rong/Pei Wenxuan/Su Ronqing dynamic thoughts...

Ep 18, Su Rongqing: "Don't forget that if it wasn't for His Majesty's fear of the imperial relatives, you wouldn't have even been able to get close to Her Highness in your life. Not to mention to be with Her Highness."

imo it's key that SRQ is from a super prestigious land-holding family, whose wealth and power are old & deeply entrenched. He's your modern day chaebol nepo baby, smart & educated & ready to inherit his family's slice of the empire.

Because he's every insecurity PWX has, tied up in a bow and sneering dismissively at him lol. PWX whose family worked hard to get out of the countryside and entered officialdom just in his dad's generation, and who doesn't even have the backing of that family. He has had to work 40x as hard and without being the princess consort he would never in his lifetime have achieved the stuff that's just handed to SRQ.

Part of PWX being determined to fight for Li Rong and not letting SRQ get in his head is that he needs to internalize that she sincerely thinks PWX is valueable and has never thought he was inferior to SRQ. None of their problems were ever about that. She saved SRQ for her moral conscience. Then she settled for him because her husband couldn't let go of his childhood engagement crush (plus his own acknowledged pride issues about a marriage arranged by the throne). He never actively tried to repair the marriage - his insecurities overtook him and he gave up. SRQ didn't "win". There was never any contest.

But though Pei Wenxuan tells himself this and tells Su Rongqing that she'll never say yes to him.... we gotta know that it's not that easy to defeat all your inner demons. That's why I think he gets a bit erratic and overblown in his romantic moves in the succeeding episodes - subconsciously anxious to tie Li Rong further to him.

[arson-09]

And everybody said

Save a horse, ride a cowboy!

Cowboy Tamlin Design!!! I don’t want to talk about how long this took me (and how im still meh about the results but im determined to post this) close ups down below with my notes

Full body | Napping with Eilionoir Muir (his horse) (note: I hate drawing hats) | Tamlin awoken by the ranch dogs barking (Note: woke up cause the dogs were barking something fierce) (note: not as built as my acotar design)

Belt Buckle and Fiddle design (Note: fiddle he definitely didn’t get from the devil) | Bound journal (Note: He writes in a mix of languages to keep it extra secure. English, Gaelic, Spanish, indigenous languages) | His boots

[adrift-in-thyme]

Twilight Princess Link is just the cutest, sweetest, little cinnamon roll I’ve ever seen and I adore him

[lizzybeeee]

Zevran ambushing the Warden in DAO:

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 59

Chapter; Highlights

His ears still rang with the din of battle, his breath a rasping beat echoed by Aelin.

Atop the blood-slick battlements, their allies and companions around them, Rowan wordlessly passed Aelin the waterskin. She drank deeply, then handed it to Fenrys.

An unleashing and release. That's what the battle had been for his mate.

Hasar at last looked Aelin over. "I heard you put on a show today."

Rowan braced himself.

Aelin turned from the battlefield and inclined her head. "You look as if you did, too." Indeed, Hasar's ornate armor was splattered with black blood. She'd been in the thick of it, atop her Muniqi horse, and had ridden right up to the gates. But the princess made no further comment.

Irritation, deep and nearly hidden, flashed in Aelin's eyes. Yet she didn't speak again-didn't push the princess about their next steps. She just watched the battlefield once more, chewing on her lip.

She'd barely stopped during the battle, halting only when there had been no more Valg left to kill. And in the minutes since the walls had been cleared, she'd remained quiet�� distant. As if she was still climbing out of that calm, calculating place she'd descended into while fighting. She hadn't bothered to remove any of her armor. The bronze battle-crown was caked with blood, her hair matted with it.

Chaol's father had taken one look at her armor, at Rowan's, and gone white with rage.

For now. They had bigger things to consider. Things that drove his mate to gnaw on her lip. When Prince Kashin's army might arrive, if they would indeed head northward to Terrasen. If today had been enough to win them over.

"Any nearby are to run here. Those farthest out will have to flee for the forest." Rowan met Aelin's stare. Her hands began shaking.

This cannot end here, she seemed to say.

Panic—panic indeed flared in her eyes. Rowan gripped her trembling hand and squeezed.

But there was no truth or lie that might soothe her. No truth or lie to save the army on the plain.

Something had gone wrong. Something was wrong.

The battlefield stretched into the distance, healers darting amongst the felled bodies with white banners high to indicate their locations. So many. So many dead and wounded. A sea of them.

Elide reached Chaol's side just as Nesryn Faliq leaped atop her beautiful ruk, launching into a dive for the army below. No-the other ruks.

Elide laid a hand on Lord Chaol's shoulder, drawing his attention from where he watched Nesryn fly off. Blood-splattered, but his bronze eyes were clear. And full of terror.

Any message that Yrene had given Elide faded from her memory. "What's wrong?"

It was Aelin who answered, her bloodied armor strange and ancient. A vision of old. "The dam is going to break," the queen said hoarsely. "And wipe away anyone on the plain."

Oh gods. Oh gods.

Elide glanced between them, and knew the answer to her next question: What can be done?

Nothing.

Ruks took to the skies, flapping toward them, soldiers in their talons and clinging to their backs.

"Has anyone warned the healers?" Elide pointed to the white banners waving so far out into the plain. "The Healer on High?" Hafiza was down there, Yrene had said.

Silence. Then Prince Sartaq swore in his own tongue, and sprinted for his golden ruk. He was spearing for the battlefield within seconds, his shouts ringing out. Kadara dipped every few moments, and when she rose again, another small figure was in her talons. Healers. Grabbing as many of them as he could.

Elide whirled to her companions as soldiers began running for the keep, trampling corpse and injured alike. Orders went out in the language of the southern continent, and more soldiers on the battlefield leaped into action.

"What elsewhat else can we do?" Elide demanded. Aelin and Rowan only stared toward the battlefield, watching with Fenrys and Gavriel as the ruks raced to save as many as they could. Behind them, Princess Hasar paced, and Chaol and his father murmured about where they might fit everyone in the keep. Those who survived.

Elide looked at them again. Looked at all of them.

And then asked quietly, "Where is Lorcan?" None of them turned. Elide asked, louder, "Where is Lorcan?" Gavriel's tawny eyes scanned hers, confusion dancing there. "He ... he went out onto the battlefield during the fighting. I saw him just before the khagan's troops reached him."

"Where is he?" Elide's voice broke. Fenrys faced her now. Then Rowan and Aelin. Elide begged, voice breaking, "Where is Lorcan?" From their stunned silence, she knew they hadn't so much as wondered.

Elide whirled to the battlefield. To that endless stretch of fallen bodies. Soldiers fleeing. Many of the wounded being abandoned where they lay. So many bodies. So, so many soldiers down there.

"Where." No one answered. Elide pointed toward the battlefield and snarled at Gavriel, "Where did you see him join with the khagan's forces?"

"Nearly on the other side of the field," Gavriel answered, voice strained, and pointed across the plain. "I—I didn't see him after that."

"Shit," Fenrys breathed.

Rowan said to him, "Use your magic. Jump to the field, find him, and bring him back."

Relief crumpled Elide's chest.

Until Fenrys said, "I can't."

"You didn't use it once during the battle," Rowan challenged. "You should be fully primed to do it."

Fenrys blanched beneath the blood on his face, and cast pleading eyes to Elide. "I can't."

Silence fell on the battlements.

Then Rowan growled, "You won't." He pointed with a bloody finger to the battlefield.

"You'd let him die, and for what? Aelin forgave him." His tattoo scrunched as he snarled again.

"Save him."

Fenrys swallowed. But Aelin said, "Leave it, Rowan." Rowan snarled at her too. She snarled right back. "Leave it."

Some unspoken conversation passed between them, and the hope flaring in Elide's chest went out as Rowan backed down. Gave Fenrys an apologetic nod. Fenrys, looking like he was going to be sick, just faced the battlefield again.

Elide backed away a step. Then another.

Lorcan couldn't be dead.

She would know if he were dead. She would know it, in her heart, her soul, if he were gone.

He was down there. He was down there, in that army, perhaps injured and bleeding out — No one stopped her as Elide raced inside the keep. Each step limped, pain cracking through her leg, but she didn't falter as she hit the interior stairwell and plunged into the chaos.

She had made him a promise.

She had sworn him an oath, all those months ago.

I will always find you.

Soldiers and healers fled up the stairs, shoving past Elide. The shouting was near-deafening, bouncing off the ancient stones. She battled her way down, sobbing through her teeth.

I will always find you.

Pushing, elbowing, bellowing at the frantic people who ran past her, Elide fought for each step downward. Toward the gates.

People screamed, a never-ending flood surging up the stairs. Still Elide pushed her way down, losing a step here, another there. They did not even look at her, even try to clear a way as they flowed upward. It was only when Elide lost another step that she roared into the stairwell, "Clear a path for the queen!"

No one listened, so she did it again. She filled her voice with command, with every ounce of power that she'd seen the Fae males use to intimidate their opponents. "Clear a path for the queen!"

This time, people pressed against the walls.

Elide took the small opening, and screamed her order again and again, ankle barking with every step down.

But she made it. Made it to the chaotic lower level, to the open gates teeming with soldiers. Beyond them, bodies stretched into the horizon. Warriors and healers and those bearing the wounded rushed toward any stairwell they could find.

Elide managed all of five limping steps toward the open gate before she knew it would be impossible. To cross the field, to find him on the endless plain, before that dam burst and he was swept away. Before he was gone forever.

He was not dead.

He was not dead.

I will always find you.

Elide scanned the gates, the skies for any sign of a ruk that might carry her. But they soared to the upper levels, crawling with soldiers and healers, some even depositing their charges onto the mountain face itself. And at ground level, none would hear her cries for help.

No soldiers would stop, either.

Elide scanned the other end of the gates' entryway.

Beheld the horses being led out from their stables by frantic handlers, the beasts bucking at the panic around them as they were hauled toward the teeming ramps.

A black mare reared, her cry a sharp warning before she slashed her hooves at the handler. Lord Chaol's horse. The handler shrieked and fell back, barely grasping the reins as the horse stomped, her ears flat to her head.

Elide did not think. Did not reconsider. She limped for the horses and the stables.

She said to the frantic handler, still backing away from the half-wild horse, "I'll get her." The man, white-faced, threw her the reins.

"Good luck." Then he, too, ran.

The mare Farasha-yanked so hard on the reins that Elide was nearly hurled across the stones. But she planted her feet, leg screaming, and said to the horse, "I have need of you, fierce-heart." She met Farasha's dark, raging eyes. "I have need of you." Her voice broke.

"Please."

And gods above, that horse stilled. Blinked.

Horses and handlers streamed past them, but Elide held firm. Waited until Farasha lowered her head, as if in permission.

The stirrups were low enough thanks to Lord Chaol's long legs that Elide could reach them. She still bit down on her shout as her weight settled on her bad ankle, as she pushed, and heaved herself into Farasha's fine saddle. A small mercy, that they had not even had time to unsaddle the horses after battle. A set of what seemed to be braces hung from its sides, surely to keep Lord Chaol stabilized, and Elide unhooked them. Any weight, anything to slow her, had to be discarded.

Elide gathered the reins. "To the battlefield, Farasha."

With a whinnying cry, Farasha plunged into the fray.

Soldiers leaped from their path, and Elide did not stop to apologize, did not stop for anyone, as she and the black mare charged toward the gates. Then through them.

And onto the plain.

[scarletbellatrix]

@raiiryuu sent: [ LAZY ]: sender concedes to receiver's requests for a piggy-back ride home because they don't want to walk anymore, and carries them the rest of the distance home.

ERZA HAD THOUGHT THAT THEIR mission would finish early, but with the complications that unexpectedly arose, it had extended to a whole day. She was exhausted. She wanted to go home quickly on a train, but with his natural hatred for vehicles, he insisted on his preference to walk. She wasn't a complainer. She knew how to endure inconveniences, but she discovered this newfound delight of needling him every chance she could get.

        They could have gone home their separate ways, yet she sought excuses to prolong their time together. She had ended up suggesting a piggy-back ride—well, more like a challenge—and it was supposed to be a joke, yet he conceded, much to her surprise.

        She wraps her arms around Laxus from behind, holding onto him tightly as he lifts her up, her legs dangling in the air. The whole scene is straight out of a romantic-comedy novel. God help her imagination for running wild. Resting her head on his shoulders, she nestles comfortably. He feels warm and cozy, his body heat just the right amount, balancing the coldness of the evening. His warmth radiates through her skin. She had requiped off her usual armor, out of mercy, despite his insistence of being able to carry such weight. She may have been taunting him but she's not a savage.

        ❝This feels really nice,❞ she mumbles, lethargic as relaxation washes over her.

based on REASONS TO CARRY SOMEONE prompts || accepting