#so princes instead of princesses

[do-you-like-this-pjsk-ship]

PolyPrinces

[a-lilacsong]

This was originally meant to be a 100% goofy funny comic, but somehow it turned into angst halfway through. I still think it's funny that Minimus canonically learns the truth before Amber and James though.

(And thanks to @ograndebatata for helping me rewrite the script to be more fitting).

Comic Script: Roland: … So, now you know the truth about my first wish on the well. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. If any of you has anything to say, please do. Roland: Okay… one at a time please. James: Does this mean I'm half-wishing well? If someone put a coin in my mouth could I grant their wishes? Roland: WHAT?! NO! Absolutely not! Sofia: I'm sorry dad. Minimus and I already knew, and I think he has told every horse in the kingdom by now. Roland: That's not… how did you…? Amber: Daddy… does that mean I could have killed Sofia when I turned her into a cat? Would she be dead because of me? Roland: No Amber. That wouldn't have happened. Don't worry, no one got hurt. Amber: But Sofia almost was! Roland: But she wasn't. She's alright. All of you are. I'm sorry I only told you now. but please remember we both love you all very much. And we'll all get through this together.

[demaparbat-hp]

crawling up the walls over zuko kyosho makeup concept uGH

Bit of a sneak peek!!!

In this AU, Zuko is sort of an unofficial warrior. He wears face paint, but the style is mixed with that of a river spirit from home. He has a headband engraved with the character for fire. He fights, sometimes with the fans, sometimes with the niuweidao. Armor? Sure, but does it come in black and red?

There's definitely some Kyoshi influence in his life, but he's still Zuko. And that's something I love about him.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

Okay I saw more of your art and had to come back (if it’s okay)

Maybe this time….King Marty? Like in a kings outfit with the septor

and crown and stuff? Idk

no problem at all! i'm just happy you enjoy :D

anyone with any remote knowledge of historical dress from any vague period or region please avert your eyes.

[smilesrobotlover]

Love at twilight doodles with Kori actually here! In fact, 90% of this is Kori lol.

First two pictures are Kori at 17 years old with his younger siblings! And him with an Ordon/Twili inspired outfit! Didn’t mean to make his eye shape to look more like Link’s but it’s pretty good cuz he doesn’t have a lot of traits from him!

And the last image is various chaos doodles of Kori. Mostly him hanging out with Renado and Luda.

[lesbianfakir]

One thing I enjoy about The Narrative in Princess Tutu is how implicitly tied to gender Drosselmeyer’s story roles are. Take Princess Tutu and the Knight. They ostensibly have the same fate: dying for the Prince while achieving absolutely nothing. But while Princess Tutu gracefully turns into a speck of light after confessing her love, the Knight is gruesomely torn apart. Over and over again in Drosselmeyer’s narrative, femininity is associated with romance while masculinity is associated with violence.

The Princesses are given one goal: earn the heart of the Prince at any cost. Meanwhile the Prince and the Knight are both expected to be fighters. The Knight will fall against the Raven and the Prince will be left to battle for the rest of his days. And while the Prince is strongly tied to love—he loves everyone—he isn’t expected to compete the way the Princesses are pitted against each other. The men are protectors against the Raven while the women are left to fight over them.

We see the strain these toxic gender roles have on the characters. Without the influence of the story, Fakir most likely would have grown up to be a writer. Instead, the combination of trauma and growing up under the expectations encapsulated by the role of the Knight hardened him. In this way, violence was something that was imposed on him, something he learned to embrace. Likewise, Duck doesn’t want to compete for Mytho or make him hers. She’s more preoccupied with protecting her friends than finding romance.

That’s why it’s so cathartic to see these characters defy their fates. Duck is perfectly contented without her Prince, Fakir puts down his sword in favor of a peaceful life that he’s much more suited to, and even Mytho rejects the idea that he must love everyone equally to pursue romantic love. In this way, defying fate is also defying gender.

[sunflowertoonz]

Katana’s gracious fucking chest vs my art style and dignity. Also Prince has more detail than him.

Me struggling on Medkit: Why am I struggling on this guy???

Then I remember.

[jingycakes]

Fun fact: there is a movie from the 80s with Olivia Newton-John that had a scene animated by THE DON BLUTH and it showed up in my YouTube recommendeds.

It is two and half minutes of pure sweetness and artistry and for some reason I felt the extreme need to edit the characters like Duncan and Courtney

[tetrahedrals]

Kiriona-centric Locked Tomb fics I want to read but not write.

1. The Emperor's Construct

Timeline: post-HTN pre-NTN.

Setting: Antioch.

POV: epistolary fic narrated by the Blood of Eden soldiers unlucky enough to have to fight against Kiriona- unkillable, furious, Saddest Girl In The World Kiriona who spent her whole life dreaming of serving the Cohort on the frontlines. Kiriona, whose incorruptible body was dropped in rivers, left out in the sun, given to the carrion creatures to eat. Kiriona who still looks like her mother, imbued with all the hideous blessings of her father, fucking-out-of-her-mind Ninth House Big Pissed Off. I would kill to read this fic.

2. The Crown Prince

Timeline: Same as above

Setting: Antioch, Ida, and/or aboard the Dead Fleet.

POV: Kiriona as a Byronic Hero, apt pupil of the ideology of decadence, material excess, and artificiality. First or third person narration by Kiriona on her off-hours, enjoying the tawdry privileges of her rank as Crown Prince, heir to all the hedonistic masochism and moral decay of the Nine Houses, sitting through endless balls and dinners held in her honor. And afterwards- Kiriona fucking her way through literal frontline titties of the Fifth, feeling Absolutely Nothing because her body is dead and that blood isn’t pumping anywhere anymore. It’s everything she ever wanted and she can't enjoy it. It's a 5 course meal and she can’t taste it. She doesn't want much of anything, anymore.

[maskyartist]

look i cant forget how to use CSP while i doodle mindlessly in mspaint so here

have a mindless doodle in clip studio :D

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Daughter of the House of Dreams: A Fragment

Author's Note: This is the opening to a long-abandoned "Sleeping Beauty" retelling that I no longer plan to write, but I still like it as a piece of prose, and it sparked my enduring interest in second-person narration, so it feels relevant, and why should long-dead authors be the only ones who get to have their unfinished fragments published?

If you ever travel to Monetta City, be sure to visit Faraway Lane. Walk past the glittering new shops, and the shoppers in their bright silk dresses and top hats, and you'll find a cozy stone shop at the end of the street. This shop isn't grand and mighty like the other shops. It won't sniff and turn you away if your clothes aren't the latest fashion. It's a grandmotherly old shop that shakes its head at the prancing and preening of the younger shops, and invites you in instead. It holds no wares in its windows; it hardly has windows at all. But it has a warm and wide wooden door, with a shingle hanging above—Alessia Day, maker of dreams.

Don't ponder the sign's message too long—it means exactly what it says. Just slip inside, shut the door behind you, and look. Don't breathe too deeply, unless you want a week of crazy dreams, but allow yourself one gasp of astonishment. You won't be able to stop yourself. No living person has failed to feel awe toward the rows and rows of shelves, longer than streets and taller than palaces, filled to bursting with glass bottles in such bright colors that the dresses in the other shops' windows would weep in envy. Some bottles are the size of thumbnails. Most fit comfortably in the palm. Some are as large as breadboxes or steamer trunks or carriage horses, but the shelves manage to fit them all. And each bottle is filled to the brim with dreams.

If you don't understand, ask Alessia Day. You'll find her at a counter half a mile from the door, polishing bottles and humming a song you've heard but can't remember. She's an old woman now, and proud of it, but squint your eyes and start to daydream, and you'll see her as I remember her—a willow-wand girl with shining brown hair and eyes that sparkle with half-formed jokes.

Tell this girl how pretty she is (she'll laugh and call you crazy) and ask about her dreams. She'll tell you of her stock and sell you any dream you ask for—daydreams and pipe dreams, dreams of love, dreams of adventure, dreams of loved ones lost and loved ones found and people you've never met but wish you had. She'll show you dreams of lush and perfect islands, dreams where fishes fly through the air, and dreams where people swim the seas with fishes' tails. She'll pull down dreams that last a second but linger a lifetime, dreams that fill a month of stormy nights, dreams that fade on waking and dreams that drown out memories. If you let her, she'll talk of dreams until you drift off, and she'll bottle up your dream while you doze.

But if you're smart (I know you are) you'll step to the counter with a clear glass bottle, empty of everything but air, and ask for her story instead. She'd distill it in a dream for you, and be glad to do it—I once saw her whip it up in half a minute, and I'll bet she's even faster now. Buy the dream, but don't drink it right away. You won't be ready for it. Linger in the shop a while. Hear the story first from Alessia Day's lips, in that voice of hers that's sweeter than singing.

You won't believe half of it, but when you stagger from the shop and wander the empty, starlit streets, you'll ponder over passages until you stumble into bed at sunrise. And when you wake, the world will be different—you'll see tiny footprints on the windowsills, know things about the shadows on the walls, tip your hat to creatures in the corner of your eye, and realize there is another color no one else can see. You'll laugh and call it your imagination, but every second Tuesday, you'll start to wonder if the old woman was right, if the things she told you were true.

If you drink the dream she made, you'll know. I'll understand if you don't—some things are easier not to know. But if you do, and dream through her story, come to my house and ring the bell. My man will let you in—he'll know you by the wonder on your face. He'll bring you to my study, set you in my oldest, softest chair, and get us both settled with a steaming pot of tea. Then, once you've finished babbling, I'll close my eyes and tell you my part in the tale.

[lithi]

Andersen’s The Little mermaid Seiusa AU…. Woah… My brain….

[kaeyx]

The fic has me thinking...... I'm bringing back the royal au because I know damn well Dazai would do absolutely anything to be your princess

[dairyfreenugget]

The second hand gender euphoria from talking about my blobro's gender and self-expression is so real

[rokiie]

"Things are Not Well."

[bataddictedloony]

listen this might be something that seems obvious to me because I actually like the art of film and storytelling and art in general, but maybe… don’t make movies based off of old movies you very obviously hate. Why should I watch your remake if all you do is shittalk the source material you based it off of? How is that supposed to convince me your “new and improved” version is going to be better if you keep telling me the bar is literally rock bottom?