#legs which cannot walk

[wingedferret]

Legs Which Cannot Walk

[abri-chan]

when men have this tattoo you know they eat cunt

[writerheria]

He is screaming “Fuck off” with his only eyes

[blushingguy]

Legs Which Cannot Walk by 흑살구

[plavi]

Facial expressions study of a thot

[yourfaveneedsakiss]

Minhyuk from Legs Which Cannot Walk needs a kiss! 💋

Requested by @abri-chan

[glosschi]

How dare he slap you across the face…? Your looks are your only asset.

Legs That Won't Walk

[fgcz]

Caught up today.

I'm... conflicted. It's pretty good but also... Taeseung annoys me, Minhyuk annoys me.

One needs to stop being an asshole and the other needs to, well, stop being an asshole. Minhyuk also needs to make up his mind. I'm pretty sure he'd have a decent chance with Sooyoung if he'd just actually try. Not that he's much more of a safe choice over Taeseung.

[wingedferret]

Legs Which Cannot Walk

[abri-chan]

I need answers!!!!

I want to see my boy murder!

[abri-chan]

Booty deserves a pay raise.

When they tip you, not only for the pizza delivery, but for your fine ass too. Blessed! 🙏🍑

(added both doodles bc I liked the initial one too)

[writerheria]

[blushingguy]

Legs Which Cannot Walk by 흑살구

[plavi]

Not me relating this scene to the meme

[milkweedman]

Setting up the warp for some towels. Wanted something lower stress to figure out the warping board on, plus my mom is visiting in a couple weeks and ive been promising her more towels for ages now.

Far as i can tell i kind of just need to take this off and start another one whenever the board is full (as it is now). Maybe thats not the right way to do it, but i do not (as of yet) see any downsides to that, so it's what im gonna do. Idk, im used to doing direct warping and just walking the warp.

Warp is all millspun cotton, leftovers from the cotton stripey scarf i did on commission last year.

This is 62 warp ends and i need around 180, so i guess i need 2 more of these.

[acourtofquestions]

Boots crunched in hay, and then he was knee to knee before her.

Aedion.

There was nothing kind on his face. No pity or warmth.

For a long minute, they only stared at each other.

Then the prince growled softly, "Your plan was bullshit."

She said nothing, and couldn't stop her shoulders from curving inward.

"Your plan was bullshit," he breathed, his eyes sparking. "How could you ever be her, wear her skin, and think to get away with it? How could you ever think you'd get around the fact that our armies are counting on you to burn the enemy to ashes, and all you can do is run away and emerge as some beast instead?"

"You don't get to pin this retreat on me," she rasped. The first words she'd spoken in days and days.

"You agreed to let Aelin go to her death, and leave us here to be slashed to bloody ribbons. You two told no one of this plan, told none of us who might have explained the realities of this war, and that we would need a gods-damned Fire-Bringer and not an untrained, useless shape-shifter against Morath."

Blow after blow, the words landed upon her weary heart. "We—"

"If you were so willing to let Aelin die, then you should have let her do it after she incinerated Erawan's hordes!"

"It would not have stopped Maeve from capturing her."

"If you'd told us, we might have planned differently, acted differently, and we would not be here, damn you!"

She stared at the muddy hay. "Throw me out of your army, then."

"You ruined everything." His words were colder than the wind outside. "You, and her."

Lysandra closed her eyes.

Hay rustled, and she knew he'd risen to his feet, knew it as his words speared from above her bowed head. "Get out of my tent."

She wasn't certain she could move enough to obey, though she wished to. Needed to. Fight back. She should fight back. Rage at him as he lashed at her, needing an outlet for his fear and despair.

Lysandra opened her eyes, peering up at him. At the rage on his face, the hatred She managed to stand, her body bleating in pain. Managed to look him in the eye, even as Aedion said again with quiet cold, "Get out."

Barefoot in the snow, naked beneath her cloak. Aedion glanced at her bare legs, as if realizing it. And not caring.

So Lysandra nodded, clutching Ansel's cloak tighter, and strode into the frigid night.

"Where is she?" Ren asked, a mug of what smelled like watery soup in one hand, a chunk of bread in the other. The lord scanned the tent as if he would find her under the cot, the hay.

Aedion stared at the precious few logs burning in the brazier, and said nothing.

"What have you done?" Ren breathed.

Everything was about to end. Had been doomed since Maeve had stolen Aelin. Since his queen and the shifter had struck their agreement.

So it didn't matter, what he'd said. He hadn't cared if it wasn't fair, wasn't true.

Didn't care if he was so tired he couldn't muster shame at his pinning on her the blame for the sure defeat they'd face in a matter of days before Perranth's walls.

He wished she'd smacked him, had screamed at him. But she had let him rage. And had walked out into the snow, barefoot.

He'd promised to save Terrasen, to hold the lines. Had done so for years. And yet this test against Morath, when it had counted ... he had failed.

He’d muster the strength to fight again. To rally his men. He just ... he needed to sleep.

Aedion didn't notice when Ren left, undoubtedly in search of the shifter with who he was so damned enamored.

He should summon his Bane commanders. See how they thought to manage this disaster.

But he couldn't. Could do nothing but stare into that fire as the long night passed.