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princess-self-shipping · 4 months

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How the fuck was I about to go to bed without posting this when I procrastinated on this like a motherfucker what- brain why you no work good

#princess reblog #cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run fanart #chess choco cookie #my babies #I love them so much

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bloodysparklez · 3 months

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wake up babe, hua cheng saying "as you wish" in the new tgcf dub episode just dropped

#tgcf #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #tgcf fanart #qi rong #he xuan #princess bride au #I REBLOGGED W MORE OF THIS AU - PLS CHECK THE REBLOGS OR MY ACC IF U WANNA SEE MORE #someone did a dub over of the he xuan doodle and its the best thing thats ever happened to me #kieran lastname and james cheek i owe u my life

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lil-mr-slipstream · 14 days

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-Voices-

A collection of portraits depicting the voices from Slay the Princess, taking inspiration from the style of the video game Disco Elysium! The Voice of the Hero, a knight, an iconic silhouette against a luminant halo. A color palette of black, blue, and teal.

The Voice of the Hunted, a beast trying to protect its heart from danger, represented here as a crosshair.

The Voice of the Smitten, the knife wound letting loose lovely streams of swirling bodily juices into the air.

The Voice of the Cold, dark, and angular. Something completely unafraid to kill.

The Voice of the Skeptic, attempting to fly, tearing himself away from chains and what looks like his own body.

The Voice of the Paranoid, Frantic and multi-eyed, clutching at a wound.

The Voice of the Contrarian, flying in stark contrast to the others, glowing instead of secluded, a mischievous fairy or will o' the wisp, instead of a grotesque figure.

The Voice of the Broken, shattered and leaking. A humanoid figure is no longer recognizable.

The Voice of the Stubborn, Fiery eyes, and big meaty claws. The brushwork is chaotic.

The Voice of the Cheated, smoke leaking from puncture wounds still embedded within him. He's holding a cigar, too; probably where all the smoke is coming from.

The Voice of the Opportunist, carrying multiple masks on his person, and wielding a poorly concealed knife.

And finally (for now) The Long Quiet itself, the night sky, swirling sigils blurred in the dark.

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s0ft-karina · 4 months

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cum to the thought of me tonight ✨

#me #gemini #princess #reblog #<333

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unfriendly-aesop · 5 months

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people were having trouble reading the names + i redid the opportunist's head

DESIGN PROCESS UNDER THE CUT

broken: given the shortest, smallest frame and the smallest wings; he is meant to appear small and delicate. his eyes are sullen but not despairing. his wings are small because he knows he will not fly away. his feathers drape down like a cloak, reminiscent of a priest's robes. he is done in the brightest colours to emulate the tower. his hands are clasped around the blade and held at his chest and throat to display his broken spirit.

hunted: given a scrappy, almost tattered look to give the imagery of a bird who has been caught over, and over again; but never killed. his feathers are dull greens to emulate leaves. there is a second, long feather in his tufts to emulate an ear canal like a rabbit, and he is the only design given none-front facing eyes. he is prey, and he knows it. his hands are covering his heart, protectively.

contrarian: given a rounded, friendly look. his feathers are formed to mimic a jester's cowl and puffy pants. the tufts of white feathers at the tip of his tufts are meant to mimic pompoms. his legs are rounded like a bird's at the ankles to give the impression of jester's shoes. his eyes are large and expressive, and his colours are some of the brightest like his personality. his hands are at his cheeks, almost giddy and giggling.

stubborn: one of the tallest, with squared off and rugged shape language. he has some of the thickest, and longest arms for fighting. his feathers are shaped to mimic a gentleman pugilist. one of his ear tufts is shorter than the other, and the other is tattered. his fists are ready for a fight. he's bulky to mimic the Adversary.

cold: he is small, but not because he is delicate or vulnerable. he has won, and finished his job. he has no wings, nor many visible features; he is very resigned. he mimics the look of plague doctors and ravens the most closely to emulate his association with death. he most closely emulates the Drowned Grey.

paranoid: one of the tallest, and streamlined designs. with white, skeletal patterns to mimic the Nightmare's mask and gloves. his ear tufts are down, and frightened, and his wings are raised to shroud himself away from the world. they are the largest; he wants to flee, and could, easily.

skeptic: his feathers are puffed out, and shaped to be like armour, or an executioner's garb (to parallel the Prisoner); he trusts nothing in the world. his ear tufts are made to mimic the shape of question-marks. his patterns are black-and-white; just like his thoughts on his surroundings. he has several eyes because he has several perspectives.

cheated: his feathers are shaped to be that of a medieval thief. his wings are puffed up and thrown out indignance, along with his hands and expression. his sharp, white feathers are meant to mimic the razor.

smitten: small but with a large personality. his mask is meant to mimic a heart, along with his chest plumage. his colours are some of the warmest, and brightest. his eyes are large and expressive. his ear tufts are meant to mimic the Burning Grey. his wings are large, but not for flight; but for display.

hero: thats you! the baseline

#slay the princess #if blacktabbygames sees this please do not reblog it <3 thank you so much for the game its been such a treat

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jonahmagnus · 1 year

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In world where there are two types of tower-dwellers, a Princess is locked in a tower.

There are two types of tower-people: A Princess, put there to remain pure until marriage or until rescued, and a Wizard, put there by choice to study and learn in isolation. Princesses are defined by their beautiful long hair, and Wizards are defined by their beards and impressive 'stache.

There is a Princess, and she lives in a tower. She was put there recently by her mother and father, to keep her pure and untouched until they can secure the marriage to another kingdom and a prince shes doesn't love. She has long, almost brown sandy-blonde hair, pale green eyes and a slim, tender build. She is not the fairest in the land, but she is tall and pretty. If compared to a rose, she would be the humble yet graceful willow tree, slender and long. She has wanted to be a wizard since a young age, but there is no way for a princess to become a wizard. Princesses are delicate girls to be protected and sold off until their either dead or Queens or have found True Love, unsuited to the life of experimentation and study of a wizard. That is what her mother tells her, in a quiet scolding that is far more forceful and cruel then it has any right to be. And the princess, terrified, believes her.

She used to run the castle halls, stick in hand, robe fashioned out of a delicate silk bedsheet, shouting fake spells at birds while her servants chased her. But as she grew older, her restraints became tighter, and more and more often, she was confined in her room to embroider in solitude with barely the comfort of a window or a maid. The life she is forced into makes her hang her head low, makes her hands be paper-soft, and demands her hair be long and beautiful and perfect like all other princesses. The world she longed to be a part of was a world of study and experimentation, and as the kingdoms princess and tool, she could not even dare to hint at her desires into adulthood. She could become a witch, she knew, flee the castle barefoot and sink into the loving embrace of the swamp. But witches don’t live in towers, and they make potions instead of spells, and they don’t grow the flowing whimsical beards that wizards do.

But that does not mean she has to be bored in her tower. Fascinated by magic as she always has been, she arranges with a long string of bribes for books on spells and forbidden potions to be smuggled along with her meals. She studies them while the clock ticks down for either a prince to arrive or her marriage to be finalized. Either one will doom her, and she wants to enjoy herself as much as possible until her marriage. She pours over the books long into the night by candlelight, and all day, she rests her pale, tired eyes. She experiments, and she reads, and she studies non-stop, barely stopping for meals and littering her books with an assortment of food stains. She cuts off her hair to use in bubbling gold potions, her skin becomes scarred with a rainbow of the consequences of failed experiments, and her dresses turn into makeshift cheesecloths and fire-fuel. She washes late into the night after she is done with her work for the day in the darkness, not glancing into the mirror that has become cracked and dusty. When her eyesight starts to fail from strain and working in darkness, she fashions for herself bottle-round glasses, blown by herself in the depths of her tower. Engrossed as she is in her studies, she does not notice the tower warp, and the meals stop rotting, and how she started out in one circular room but now has a loft and a second floor and the fact that the tower seems much much taller then it was originally.

What she DOES notice though, is when brushing crumbs from her face she feels facial hair on her upper lip.

She rushes to the bathroom and thrusts a candle into the holder as she looks at herself. In the dusty mirror, she sees the beginnings of a bushy mustache sit on her upper lip, much further along in growth then be logically possible without her noticing. It’s a pale blonde, like her hair, and she notices faintly that there are streaks of grey in it, a very familiar shade of classic wizard grey. She brings a trembling hand to her upper lip.

Much, much later, a prince rides up to the tower. It is tall, and warped, and very clearly belonging to a wizard, despite the royal family claiming their daughter lives here.

He shouts up, a bit nervous because of the thorny vines wrapping the beautiful stonework.

“Hey! Does a Princess live here?”

A young man with large bottle glasses and a rather impressive mustache leans out of the tower, his short, sandy-blonde hair spilling lightly in the wind. He starts to say something, then glances back into his house. A smile breaks out on his face as he seems to realize something.

“No!” He shouts back, after a moments hesitation. “But a wizard does!”