hallo! ween is here! have smol ancient heroes in costumes :]
[In order of costumes; Phoenix, Dragon, Knight, Tree Spirit (/Millennial Tree lol) and Fairy]
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hallo! ween is here! have smol ancient heroes in costumes :]
[In order of costumes; Phoenix, Dragon, Knight, Tree Spirit (/Millennial Tree lol) and Fairy]
Hi. Can you look at this slugpup i doodled.
Thanks
Happy Birthday Boniface
Make a Wish
late night wips
the girl next door living in the haunted mansion...
It was nice to see you so relaxed under my song. There was something about you back then; it felt like you never truly relaxed. I hope things have changed in the past few decades, but knowing how stubborn you were when you heard me sing, I doubt it…and yes, you did have quite an impact. Perhaps you weren’t as threatening as other humans, perhaps something else…
-🧜🏻
Haha.
I suppose you knew me better than I thought—Given the time we had.
Unfortunately, it’s still the same—relaxation is something forced upon me by my family—I’m still always tense about something, and I believe that’s how I’ll always be.
Heyyyy
So we all know @t1ckity-t0ck s Political Marriage au right
Welllll
I wrote something for it actually (and drew something for it, it's old so don't mind some flaws and changes in character designs)! A minific if you will- without further adu lemme show it to yall
UnFair
Ludwig bit the bottom of his lip, furrowing his brow as frustration gnawed at him. He was tired and felt terrible. He felt used, worst of all.
Years of preparation, everything was going so well, everything was ready to be handed off to him in a few years tops, but no. It just wasn’t that simple, was it? Some kingdom he's never heard of comes from nowhere, asserting themselves, and now he's forced into a loveless marriage. It made him utterly bitter. It made his cold blood boil that he was being used as a mere pawn for a political marriage he had no ability to object. They could’ve chosen any of his siblings, any that could’ve been better off, but they didn’t. They chose him of all people. He was told it was for a good cause, for resources, for armies, for "peace" so that they didn’t kill each other. He couldn’t care less for that little sky kingdom.
He was supposed to be the ruler of darkland after Bowser retired. He wasn't supposed to be a house husband for some soft little parakoopa.
It wasn’t fair he thought, not fair in the slightest. Years were thrown away in an instant, and he felt utterly robbed of what he could’ve had. But, he couldn’t do anything about it. So in what little retaliation he had, he sulked alone in his study.
And as he sulked about his unfair situation, his hands danced over the keys of a piano, the tune he played being somber as he mulled over the raging storm in his mind.
He made a habit of playing an instrument whenever he was stressed, letting his frustration out by running his fingers down on ivory keys of a piano, pipe organ, or some other. Anything he could get his claws on, it didn't matter if he could play it or not. He played until his claws were sore, or until he felt better, the former usually being the case.
It created melodies he could write down and save for later. Melancholic and discontented melodies that perfectly put together how he felt, even if his mind was far from the music.
Though he used his piano to air out his grievances, it had seen years of wear and tear. Sometimes it comes all boiling over, and every once in a while he can't help himself. In his mind it all crumbles down so quickly that his fingers can't keep up with his thoughts as they fly from one frustration to the next. From what he could do, what he couldn’t do, pinballing him to memories of him and his father’s first meeting, to them practicing magic and the mishaps that went along with it. Such fond and detested memories he held close suddenly all crashed down.
It all builds and builds, becoming one string of notes he knew all too well. He couldn't help but slam his fists into the instrument, creating a familiar sour and deep note to his otherwise masterpiece, and then another, and more until the sound coming from the piano felt more like a cry for help from the poor instrument. It became erratic, mashing together notes both high and low forté until he felt better. But he didn’t, and so his claws curled tighter, banged harder, almost assaulting the poor instrument before he felt sweat drip onto his brow. Only then, out of breath, did he stop.
Hunched over the piano, breathing heavily in ragged and bitter breaths, his claws digging into the ivory. He stayed there, hoping he didn’t break his most prized possession. He thankfully never did when he had these sudden and ridiculous fits. Ludwig knew it was childish, he knew he shouldn’t do this with how mature he portrayed himself to be, but everything felt too much, and this was his only solution. He had made it abundantly clear how he felt about the arrangement, but to show someone how really hurt he was? That's a matter he'll keep in private.
But.. he hated when his thoughts ran rampant like that. He couldn't stop them, couldn't keep a grip on them like he should, like he knew how to. It embarrassed him. It made him feel utterly miserable and bitter. Bitter, angry, frustrated, every other word he could throw at the wall to describe how he felt. He stayed like this for a moment before his eyes turned and he squinted, staring at a dim reflection of himself in the polished dark blue fallboard.
He looked terrible. His dark blue hair was more unruly than usual, mixed with fast movement and sweat had made it look greatly tossed around. His collar had become unbuttoned and falling off his shoulders, and he only just now realized the heart shaped cravat he wore was uncomfortably warm against his scales. He only now noticed the bags under his eyes as well.
He sneered at the sight, fumbling to re-button his collar but giving up shortly after with a tired scoff. Looking down at the piano he cherished, Ludwig felt how sore his claws were from his immature fit.
And yet, he still played. He breathed, pulling himself together, and put his melancholy once again into a somber sonet.
It was all he could do, really. He couldn’t talk his way out of this, no matter how much he argued or fought his father tooth and nail to convince him this was a poor political decision. Marrying some parakoopa he didn't even know, all to satisfy his father's swollen ego, convincing himself it was for a peace they easily could've had as soon as they arrived. Again, it frustrated him.
So he mindlessly continued. He played until he felt his forearms become sore from use, and his eyes blinking closed. He stopped for a moment and stayed still, breathing heavily and slowly, sleepily even.
The thump of his hands on the keys made a dark tone that rang out for a few seconds. The study brings an ominous echo to the final note of his erratic and ridiculous lament and then there was finally silence.
What seemed like only moments later, a knock came from his door, soft and almost muted, but the echo brought it to his attention.
Ludwig shifted his eyes toward the door, and in the doorway, there she was.
"Oh.. It's you."
★ disabled person