#it's just..not how i envisioned it

[sivvan]

@kdramaspace + @userdramas YEAR IN REVIEW 2022 | Fashion Week Campaign

↳ CHOI SANG EUN (Love In Contract)

[astraystayyh]

A few hours before the wedding... (reader is referred to as wife)

"What are you doing?" you giggle as Chan peeks his head through your changing room.

"I'm here to see my future wife," he grins at you, his dimples full on display.

"Nooo don't come in. It's bad omen for you to see me," you shoo him away but the smile on your face betrays you. Truth is, you were glad he was here. The wedding was set to start in a few hours, and you've been feeling a little nervous without him by your side.

"Honey, even if the entire universe stands against us, they wouldn't be able to stop me from marrying you." He reassures as he walks towards you, hands deep inside his pockets, his black tie loosely hanging from his collar.

"Oh, yeah?" you beam at him, lacing your hands around his neck as soon as he's in front of you.

"Mm," he hums, before leaning in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. "Missed you," he mumbles against your mouth and you smile into the kiss, "missed you more."

Chan pulls away before leaning his forehead against yours. His hand finds your own and he brings it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on your palm. His touch is so tender; you are suddenly hit by the realization that you're the only one he will love this way for the rest of his life.

Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and you clear your throat to ride out this wave of emotion. Leave the crying to the wedding, you remind yourself.

"Be honest with me," you grin knowingly at Chan. "You are only here because you can't do your tie yourself."

"Whaaaat? I'm here because I missed you."

"And?" you watch amusedly as Chan fiddles with his right earlobe, his eyes looking up at the ceiling.

"And... I suppose you are the only one who can tie it for me." You giggle at the blush dusting his cheeks. Adorable.

"Come here, you big baby. How will you ever survive without me?"

"I won't."

-------------

the wedding and the morning after

[maskerat]

been thinking about this guy. Xero gives me huge samurai vibes so I tried to play around with his design, gave him katanas and stuff. still learning:)

[sysig]

Those wacky skeletons ♥ (Patreon)

[saltpepperbeard]

gnawing on my arm because i think there's something to be said about how stede not only dreams about himself with a beard, but ed with his full beard back too. like, the dream seems to be riddled with imagery that he thinks ed would want.

and i say this especially because of how stede reacted when ed had to shave his beard. he freaked out on his behalf. he shrieked in horror whereas ed was entirely unbothered. he feared he had ruined him, had dragged him down to some despicable level, when in actuality, ed was completely content to shed that part of his persona.

and then there he is dreaming about ed with that part right on back.

so there's very clearly still a part of his mind that's convinced that's what ed wants. because why wouldn't he? everyone else seems to. and why would he want the softness and femininity stede had been bullied for his entire life?

which in turn plays into his own imagery too. bearded, masculine, fiercesome, rugged...

because how could someone love what everyone has hated him for? how could someone want what everyone has tried to quite literally beat out of him?

[hoofpeet]

These were the last 2 things drawn on my old laptop 🫡 rip submas computer

[lumintsu]

or perhaps...another prince?

[capquinn]

Still The Same | Q. Hughes

summary: it’s the day after the canucks playoff elimination and quinn doesn’t want to think about it at all. based upon this quote from quinny's year-end interview :(

pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes

content: fluff, v mild smut but mainly hot and heavy kissing, sorta sad quinn

word count: 987

note: this came to me at 2am last night so its scattered and a lil wordy and doesn't have v much dialogue but nonetheless here it is. godspeed! <3

___

It’s still the same sun shining through the kitchen window.

It’s still the same hazy sky.

Still the same city with the same bustling streets and his same apartment with the same smells and the same comforts.

The world hasn’t ended.

There is still the same familiar embrace that comes from behind when he stands over the coffee machine bleary eyed and trying to keep his mind from wondering. The same squeeze around his middle and the same kiss to his shoulder.

“You OK?” You whisper, following his lead as he shuffles around and brings you close to his chest. Strong arms circle around you and hands rest splayed against the small of your back.

Still the same person he always wants and needs staring back at him. Still the same eyes and pouting lips. The same hands rubbing his back in the same circular motions. The same smell of vanilla body soap and floral laundry detergent that always reminds him of home.

The world hasn’t ended, he reminds himself. The other team were better and his team was eliminated but things could be worse and life goes on. At least the world hasn’t ended.

Everything is still here.

Quinn shakes his head and buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbles. “Don’t even wanna think about it.”

And the same as always, you take care of him.

After breakfast, you’re both curled up in the same spot on the sofa watching the same comfort movie that you always let him pick just so he didn’t catch a glimpse of the news.

“I won’t fall asleep this time,” he promises, laying his head down in your lap.

You roll your eyes and give him a knowing look, and just as he always did, he smiles sheepishly because, yeah, even he knows it’s a lie.

But there’s the same anxious bouncing of his leg and the same pursed lips as he bites the inside of his cheek that lets you know he’s less than okay.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I love you.”

The world hasn’t ended, he tells himself and relaxes into your body again.

There are still the same fingers carding through his hair lulling him into oblivion and the same slow breaths when he finally falls asleep.

He’s not thinking about hockey so you let him sleep for as long as he needs. 

After he wakes, you beg him to teach you the same card game you are never able to comprehend because you know he is unable to resist a challenge and it ends the same way it always does.

“Baby,” he groans. Same bewildered blue eyes fixing you in a stare.

Your inability to grasp the concept frustrates him beyond belief, and it doesn’t help matters when you’re laughing every time he sighs and mumbles when you get the rules wrong each and every round which makes it difficult for him to stay mad with you. After all, he’s still the same lovesick man.

“How aren’t you getting this? Can you be serious for a second? You need to create groups of three of a kind—,”

“I don’t even know what that means,” you cut him short.

“Well if you stop interrupting me you’ll find out,” he tells you, exasperated. It’s still the same bickering.

The world hasn’t ended, and he bites back a smile.

Fuelled by sheer determination, he reiterates the same rules and is even kind enough to demonstrate it all again but when you repeat the rules back wrong for the hundredth time and interrupt the game with the same bout of laughter…

“You’re lucky I love you,” he tells you as he packs away the deck of cards, finally admitting defeat. But he hadn’t thought about hockey so it wasn’t all bad.

And it’s still the same agonising existential dread that keeps him up at night. The same bouncing leg that wakes you. The same tossing and turning. The same sighs and deep breaths. If you didn’t know any better, you would have believed he was doing it on purpose.

You mould your body around his and everything falls back into place. The hurt starts to leave the room.

The world hasn't ended.

Quinn wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, hand nestling in your hair. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wish you would,” you tell him, desperate to be there for him in any way that he needs.

When he doesn’t respond, you’re angling your body enough so you can search his eyes for a truth. Quinn pushes the hair out of your face and cups your cheek in his hand. A thumb brushes over your pouting bottom lip. He’s unwilling to say anything at all and he hopes you don’t ask him to either.

But you’re still the same woman with the same ginormous heart that worries about him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet,” he mumbles, and cranes his neck to kiss you with the same passion as always. And so the same butterflies flutter around in his stomach and the same hammering of his heart in his chest returns.

He’s kissing you slowly, pillowy lips savouring every moment. Cold hands wander over too hot skin as Quinn drags you closer and now you’re straddling his waist, clawing at the hem of the cotton that covers his body, and when your hands meet his bare shoulders, he finally pulls his lips away from yours. You muffle a moan and paw at his back, trying to pull him closer against you again. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and pecks your cheek until his head dips to place spongy kisses against your neck, tongue swirling against milky skin.

Your fingers curl around the hair at the base of his neck. “God,” you moan. “I love you.”

Having almost succumbed to despair, he’s reminded that the world hasn’t ended.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

THE WAY YOU DRAW BARNABY AS BOTH DOG AND HUMAN FORM IS SO ABJZJSKWJWKSKZKZ 😭😭😭😭💓💓💓💓💓 STILL WAITING FOR HUMAN HOWDY DESIGN :')

oh hey i actually have a lil headshot doodle of him:

[ozymandien]

monk zhu chongba

[manasurge]

Guild Wars 2 OC stuff: So I finally figured out the full body design for Vallotash (Mordremoth's Scion a.k.a. who Mourynn actually is) They're more or less the same person, but it's complicated, but leans more to Vall believing she's Mourynn and kind of is since she inhabits her body and memories, but is technically an imposter and is very depressed and in denial about it. Inspiration from Jahai Bluffs: "Are you a dragon dreaming that it's a hero? If you were, how would you know?" (also it's my tumblr banner lol) I'm still sketching out the origin story to explain how this happens, but for now here is this sketch bc I am happy with how this turned out and wanted to post it early. It's basically self preservation turned to parasitism to accidental death of host to unintentional identity theft out of guilt/tribute + memory absorption to make her think she's the sapling + amnesia about the whole event taking place over the span of a year stuck in the dream (to super condense her origin lore). I'll finish these sketches once I'm done her origin story pages, or if I get possessed to do it earlier bc I'm still happy with how this turned out and might want to keep working on it sooner, hehe.

Here is more sketches of Mourynn/Vallotash under the cut:

She has some simpler looks for when she's flattened down. She looks SO SILLY but I love it. Beware the Scion of Mordremoth: This freaking wiggly silly noodle thing. A terrifying menace!! Beloathed parasite daughter vine of the mighty Jungle Elder Dragon!! /does a snake blep (Also the first two head sketches I did of her from last year when she still didn't have a body designed yet lmao. I still have to figure out how large she actually is, as well as her colouration. She'll have to match Mourynn's, so she's gonna be a funny mix of the colours in the cool spectrum, which doesn't look very plant-like, but sylvari can be all different colours, and she has the whole poisonous/hallucinogenic thing going on, as well as some Soo-won influence bc she's based off a leafy sea dragon and is very attuned to water, so it kinda works yeah????) I also have no idea what her large chin whisker things are supposed to be. I just kind of made them up on the spot and fell in love with them, so they're STAYING, even if they make no sense. I mostly just love that they'd look so cool underwater and while glowing in the dark, and they are vaguely alien and jellyfish-like.

[kyurochurro]

exploring the woods with some little buddies!!🌿

[tomurakii]

I know I have a semi-popular post about how Gale would not have made a good teacher and that's why I'm so happy that it does happen canonically. It shows so much growth in him: not only does he learn to love himself regardless of his magic ability, that love extends to others. He can now educate students in the field of magic that has always clearly been his true favourite without being "irked by their ineptitude". He shares the art he loves and his enthusiasm, talent, and newfound patience make him a great teacher. With Tav by his side he becomes a happier, less guarded, more caring person and I can't think of anything better for him.

[good-wine-and-cheese]

Dramatic piano tantrum redraw but make it Pink

[antiquitea]

⇾ callum turner, c. 2011

[hwaitham]

⸝⸝ ˙˳ ⑅ first piece of marginalia ( of many , hopefully :3 ) about eremite!al haitham && akademiya student!reader ♥︎ f!reader + not proofread + subtly implied trauma on both reader n haitham's end

you first meet the eremite who's to serve as your bodyguard throughout your research expedition on the day of your departure, at your designated meeting spot under the pavilion in pardis dhyai. its stone pillars cascade with vines of sumeru roses that shine a sweet lavender hue under the morning sun— one of which you've plucked and tucked into your hair earlier, leaning over the railing to gaze at your reflection in the pond and smile at the beauty of it.

(and a petal which has unknowingly slipped off and fallen to rest ever so delicately within the dip of your clavicle.)

“al haitham, yes? um, hello!” you greet the eremite as he walks into the pavilion with a quiet waver to your voice, bow respectfully, try to still the timid pitter-patters of your heart that only seem to worsen the longer you're in his presence.

because this man standing before you is large— tall, broad, as stunning as the pale blue moon. his upper body is strapped with tough sinew and yet his waist remains lean, torso mostly bare save for the pashmina shawl draped about his neck and the worn leather holster slung across his chest.

and he's silent. offering you only a small bow in return before giving you a quick once over, gait unhurried as he takes one, two long strides to stand by your side. it's an arduous task to bring yourself to look up at his face, but you do— lips parting in awe when you realise he's unlike any other desert eremite you've met before.

the trimmed red silk tied around his head shelters only one of his eyes.

how interesting, you think to yourself, for what you know of desert eremites is that they are convinced all things betray, even their own sight.

you bite your tongue to stop the questions that bubble and ebb at the forefront of your throat from tumbling past your lips, the innate scholarly need to learn and dissect and digest and know. a surprised little squeak escapes you instead when he turns his head and catches you staring, meeting your curious eyes with technicoloured cyan.

“is something the matter?”

“no, not at all! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to stare,” you flush hot under the intensity of his gaze, play with the flouncy sleeve of your blouse while you giggle nervously. you're unsure whether it's his size, or his beauty, or his quiet dominance that makes you feel much more shy than you'd like to feel, far too giddy— as if you're a little girl back in grade school.

“alright. shall we get going then? we're losing daylight with each second that passes.” al haitham holds a hand out in front of you, waiting expectantly.

you tilt your head in confusion and pout. what's he asking for? a tip? your hand?

“your bags?” he heaves a sigh, rests his other hand on his hip. you feel a hint of irritation in his words, and your heart wilts a little, “did you want me to carry them?”

“oh!” you exclaim in realisation before hoisting your travel bags further up your shoulders, force a reassuring smile on your lips. “it's okay, i couldn't possibly ask that of you. i can handle it myself, really!”

that couldn't be further from the truth, and al haitham sees right through it, with your shoulders hunched forward from the leaden weight of your bags slung atop them, the wince in your step as you walk towards the pathway, how you nearly topple over when you lose the slightest bit of balance.

“hey,” he pinches his brow, a certain roughness in his voice when he calls out to you that withers into something more gentle, tender after you turn to look at him. sweet and innocent and dewy-eyed. like a flower too frail, one whose stem may snap clean off if looked at the wrong way. “let me take them.”

al haitham doesn't allow you to protest, swiftly lifting your bags from your shoulders and holding onto them with ease, their weight nothing compared to what he's had to endure throughout the entirety of his life.

“it's my job to take care of you these next few weeks, and i intend to do it well.” he walks ahead of you, the longer mint strands of his hair swaying with the wind, the air around him lifting into something lighter— even if it's only by the most minute amount. “besides, you'll tip me generously if i do, won't you?"

his voice lilts mischievously, and you can only bring yourself to watch on in awe. nerves melting into excitement, cheeks warming not from timidness, but anticipation of what lies ahead in the next month— for your research, yes, but also for something closer to your heart.

a companion, a friend.

you smile a smile that reaches far past your eyes, bounding up to him with those clumsy fawn legs as you try to match his pace. two of your steps for one of his own. “of course i will, thank you so, so much! and i'll do my best to keep from making trouble for you— it'll make your job easier too, i hope!”

al haitham hesitates for a brief moment when you thank him so earnestly, so wholeheartedly, so unlike any of the other scholars he'd been commissioned to act as a guard for. with your smile so cloyingly sweet and your kindness so childishly naive, he can't help but feel a bit grim.

how much violence did it take for you to become this gentle?

the faintest of smiles— honeysuckle soft— curls up on his lips and he gives your head a single pat, sweeps the spare rose petal off of your clavicle, quietly wonders what he's gotten himself into by accepting this commission.

“silly girl. come, let's get going.”